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DR. COLLISSON 
 
 IN AND ON 
 
 IRELAND 
 
DR. COLLISSON 
 
 IN AND ON 
 
 IRELAND 
 
 A Diary of a Tour^ with Personal 
 
 Anecdotes^ Notes Auto - Biographical 
 
 and Impressions 
 
 BY 
 
 W. A. HOUSTON COLLISSON 
 
 B.A., MUS. DOC. (DUBLIN), L. MUS., TRIN. COLL. 
 LOND, 
 
 PRIEST-IN-CHARGE, ST. MARY'S, SEYMOUR ST., N.W, 
 
 London 
 
 ROBERT SUTTON 
 43 The Exchange, Southwark St., S.E, 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I 
 
 IN IRELAND. 
 
 A DIARY OF A TOUR 
 
 ON IRELAND. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. 
 
 The Religion of Ireland . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 119 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 II. .. 
 
 The Church of Ireland 
 
 128 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 III. 
 
 The Music of Ireland 
 
 . 136 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 IV. .. 
 
 Home Rule . . 
 
 143 
 
 THE LAST CHAPTER 
 
 The GaeUc League . . 
 
 148 
 
 808 
 
PREFACE 
 
 After five years work in London, I woke up one 
 morning with a consciousness that I was " no good 
 for anything." My nerves were shattered and my 
 memory was — all but gone. I went to my doctor, 
 and told him that I was ill, and that the only defini- 
 tion I could give of my sensations was — that I felt 
 my brain as if it were a sponge that had been wrung 
 dry — absolutely dry. He didn't order me a rest. 
 He ordered me a change of work. 
 
 " You have a hobby ? " 
 
 " Yes !— Music ! " 
 
 " Follow it up ! " 
 
 I have not always been a Priest. For many years 
 before taking Holy Orders, I had been in the musical 
 and dramatic world, and having had considerable 
 experience on the platform, I thought it would be 
 a good idea to return thither for a little while, and 
 devote the profits of my labours thereon to charitable 
 and philanthropic work. 
 
 I therefore resolved to give a prolonged tour in my 
 native country — Ireland — a tour of all the towns, big 
 and little, where I was likely to get an audience of 
 any size, for, as my entertainment was to be what 
 is called a " one man show," of that type which 
 George Grossmith, Percy French and Corney Grain 
 
\nn PREFACE 
 
 have made familiar, even a fair audience would mean 
 considerable profit. 
 
 It was a bold step to take, for I knew that con- 
 ventionally minded people would be certain to think 
 it a strange thing that I, a clergyman of the Church, 
 should appear on the platform in this manner, but, 
 as I had no qualms of conscience of my own, as I 
 had the promise of the support of many of the clergy 
 of the Church of Ireland as well as those of the Roman 
 Catholic Church, and, bearing in mind the dual object 
 for which I was working, that is to say, the cause of 
 charity, and my own much needed recreation — I had 
 little difficulty in replying to the objections of one 
 or two much valued friends who wrote to me, showing 
 their disapproval of what I was about to do. In all 
 my replies I quoted the words from a well-known 
 song — " Cannot the clergy be Irishmen too ? " 
 
 Nothing will ever make me a sanctimonious person. 
 I believe that sanctimoniousness is one of the deadliest 
 enemies of real Religion, and I hope I shall never 
 become so degenerate as to admire the affectation of 
 it in anybody. I have learnt by long, constant, 
 tried and oft-times bitter experience to mistrust it, 
 and every day I live my mistrust is more and more 
 confirmed. 
 
 I am sure I shall never regret what I did, and were 
 I ever in need of another change of work, particularly 
 if I could turn it to such good account as my Irish 
 tour was turned, I should cheerfully do it all over 
 again, but it was work with a vengeance. 
 
PREFACE ix 
 
 I am deeply indebted to all my kind friends in 
 Ireland who did so much — so very much — to make 
 my visit a real joy, which indeed it was. 
 
 I do not know how I can ever repay my dear 
 friend, Harry Dudley, for all he did to help me regard- 
 ing " the business " of the tour. He acted as secretary, 
 treasurer and manager, for me all through, and his 
 work was done untiringly and well. To him, more than 
 to anyone else, do I owe a deep debt of gratitude — 
 for all he did, and for his cheerful companionship 
 during a period of much fuss and real hard 
 work. 
 
 I had some strange experiences on my tour, but 
 altogether it was a time of much happiness to me. 
 It did my health untold good, and by means of the 
 money I cleared I was enabled to help many individual 
 cases of sickness and need which otherwise I could not 
 have helped, so that I feel I may look back upon 
 it all as an almost unqualified success. 
 
 A number of friends having requested me to do 
 so, I feel constrained to publish this little account 
 of my adventures in the Emerald Isle in the season 
 of 1906-1907. 
 
 The first part of my book takes the form of a diary, 
 amongst the pages of which I have freely sprinkled 
 what I may call personal anecdotes — echoes of the 
 past. The second part of my book consists of my 
 impressions on the burning Irish questions of the 
 moment, religious, political and artistic. 
 
 Probably some of my readers may think the 
 
X PREFACE 
 
 manner in which I have mixed the sacred and the 
 secular all through my book somewhat strange. 
 
 To all such people I would explain that this is 
 truly Irish. Religion to an Irishman is not a thing 
 separate from his life. It is a part of his life. Is 
 it to be wondered at that I should strive to do that, 
 which in the true Irishman is only natural ? 
 
 Lady Day, 1908. W. A. Houston Collisson, 
 
 London. 
 
IN IRELAND 
 
Dr. Collisson in Ireland- 
 
 His Diary. 
 
 The impatient reader should skip to page 55. — W.A.H.C. 
 
 Monday, October 15th. Portarlington. 
 
 The First Recital of my Tour. 
 
 The entertainment took place in the building 
 formerly known as the " English Church," so called 
 to distinguish it from the " French Church," where, 
 until comparatively recent years, the services were 
 read in French, because of the residence in Portar- 
 lington of many descendants of the Huguenot refugees 
 who made Ireland their home after the Edict of 
 Nantes. 
 
 As I had been at one time Conductor of the Queen's 
 Co. Choral Society, my Recital in Portarlington was 
 more like a large social re-union than a public enter- 
 tainment, so many dear old friends gladdened me with 
 their smiles of recognition during the evening, amongst 
 them being the Rector, the Rev. J. F. Cole, who showed 
 my secretary and myself much hospitality during our 
 stay. 
 
2 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 At the same time let me say that nothing would 
 ever reconcile me to the desecration of a Church, 
 and although I was aware that the building had be^i 
 used for some time as a Parochial Hall, I felt nervously 
 uncomfortable throughout the entire evening. 
 
 Jupiter Pluvius, was, alas, most unpropitious — a 
 deluge of rain coming down about nine o'clock. It 
 was a pitiful sight to see the audience, including many 
 ladies, in a hatless, &c., condition, driving home in 
 open carriages through the drenching down-pour, 
 at the conclusion of my Recital. 
 
 J^ ^^ J^ ^^ 4^ ^^ 
 
 JR ^^ 4^ ^^ 1^ 
 
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IN AND ON IRELAND 3 
 
 Tuesday, October i^th. OvocA. 
 
 In torrents of rain I made my way from Portar- 
 lington to Ovoca. Although I had lived in Dublin 
 for many years, I had never seen the " Sweet Vale 
 of Ovoca " before, and so, I hailed with delight the 
 opportunity which my Recital afforded me of visiting 
 what was one of the loveliest spots in God's creation, 
 but is now sadly marred by tin mining companies. 
 
 The beauties of nature, however, do not appeal with equal 
 intensity to all of us. 
 
 Percy French once asked a west countryman what he 
 thought of " The Meeting of the Waters." 
 
 " What did I think of it, Misther French ? " said he. 
 
 " Well now, to be candid with you, I didn't think much 
 of it at all, for all I seen was two small sthrames and forty 
 acres of the worst land in Ireland ! " 
 
 The Rector of Ovoca, Rev. J. Moore Robinson, is 
 an original and altogether delightful man — the very 
 life and soul of the neighbourhood. He presides over a 
 rifle range, a well worked tea-room, a swimming bath, 
 and several other flourishing organizations. 
 
 He has been in the past, like many other good men, 
 grievously misunderstood by narrow minded people 
 all over Ireland. There are few such people who 
 have not by this time learnt to admit that it would 
 be well for Ireland if she possessed many more men 
 of the type of the beloved Rector of Ovoca. 
 
 The audience here, though small, was large in pro- 
 portion to the population. 
 
4 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Wednesday, October lyth. Arklow. 
 
 A Surprise. 
 
 My friends had prophesied disaster for me in Arklow. 
 A certain Mrs. Troy came to the rescue, and, through 
 her great kindness, what would probably have been 
 a fiasco was turned into a great success. Mrs. Troy 
 secured the best amateur help in the neighbourhood 
 for me, and the result of her indefatigable labours was 
 more than gratifying. A large audience assembled, 
 an audience which included many of the Roman 
 Catholic clergy of the neighbourhood. 
 
 Mr. Hamlyn-Browne, a most accomplished musician, 
 acted as conductor. I shall never forget all his kind- 
 ness to me. It seems a pity that a man of his ability 
 should have for his field of work a parish where the 
 minimum of energy and enthusiasm would seem to 
 be the ideal of the powers that be, so far as music is 
 concerned. 
 
 The organ upon which he plays, and the Church 
 which contains it are beautiful — beautiful beyond the 
 telling — but the manner in which the Services are 
 conducted are as much out of harmony with this 
 lovely Church as the teaching of the local clergy is 
 with the inhabitants of the district, persisting as 
 they still do, in creating discord in the place by street 
 preaching, which, in Ireland, is a fatal mistake. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 5 
 
 Thursday, October 18th. Gorey, 
 
 The audience, though large, began by being as cold 
 as ice, but towards the end of the evening they 
 gradually warmed into quite an enthusiastic condition. 
 When will audiences learn that a sensitive performer, 
 (and no performer is worth a pin if he be not sensi- 
 tive,) cannot give them of his best, nor even of his 
 second best, if they start by freezing him off ? 
 
 I spent so much energy in trying to make the 
 audience at Gorey laugh between eight and nine 
 o'clock, that by the time I had succeeded in provoking 
 their cachinnatory exuberance I wanted to go to bed. 
 
 Just as I was leaving the hall, at the conclusion of the 
 entertainment, a lady came up to tell me that she enjoyed 
 it very much indeed, but that what she hked best of all was 
 my singing of " Maguire's Motor-bike." 
 
 " It was," said she, " so delightfully vulgar ! " 
 
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6 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Friday, October igth. Wexford. 
 
 A small but delightful audience awaited me in the 
 quaint little theatre of which Wexford boasts. I 
 enjoyed my evening there considerably, the house 
 itself being by no means an un-inspiring one. 
 
 As I entered the theatre I was carried back in my memory 
 to an awkward fix in which I was once placed in Wexford, 
 a long time ago. It was during a concert tour in which a 
 Costume Recital of the Garden Scene from " Faust " formed 
 the second part of the programme. Mephistofeles' luggage 
 went astray, and my readers can easily understand that of 
 all imaginary costumes, his would be the most difficult to 
 find in a remote country town. Something had to be done, 
 however, so I sallied forth to a draper's shop, and bought 
 several yards of a material known as " turkey red," a felt 
 tennis hat, a couple of red quills, and several safety pins, 
 and with these materials we managed to dress our Mephis- 
 tofeles. 
 
 At nine o'clock we all agreed that a more truly awe-inspiring 
 Mephistofeles could not be imagined, but, alas, we had 
 forgotten his foot-gear, and our Basso had to go on the stage 
 withl^his ordinary boots on, which, horror of horrors, were 
 elastic-sided ones. The scene went beautifully until Mephis- 
 tofeles' first entrance, when a small boy in the gallery yelled 
 out, " Where did the Divil get his boots ? " 
 
 The audience never recovered its equilibrium until the end 
 of the scene. 
 
 ********* 
 
 These Costume Recitals very frequently landed us into 
 difficulties. One night we were giving the prison scene from 
 *« Maritana " in a hall where there was no scenery. Red 
 curtains hung at the back of the stage. Don Caesar should 
 be " discovered " lying asleep on a prison bench when the 
 curtain rises, but we had no curtain to raise. How then 
 was he to be " discovered ? " The " local man " saw our 
 difficulty and said : — 
 
 " Lave it to me ! " We did ! 
 
 What the " local man " did was to place Don Caesar — 
 dear Henry Beaumont on this occasion — on a bench behind 
 the curtains which draped the back of the stage, and when 
 the symphony which introduces the act had come to an end. 
 two dirty men in their shirt sleeves suddenly appeared upon 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 7 
 
 the scene. At a signal from the " local man," they carried 
 my Primo Tenore into the middle of the stage Uke a corpse, 
 or rather, he would have been like a corpse had he not shaken 
 convulsively with laughter, the infection of which spread with 
 a rapid crescendo to all parts of the house. 
 
 ******** 
 
 " Have you a good stage ? " I once wrote to a provincial 
 impresario. 
 
 " It'll be all right on the night," he rephed. 
 
 When we arrived at the Hall we found that we had to 
 perform Donizetti's ** Don Pasquale," on four large kitchen 
 tables, not fastened together, and all of unequal heights. 
 
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 So So So * 
 
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t IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Saturday, October 20th. 
 
 I had firmly resolved, before starting on my tour, 
 never to appear on Saturday night, so as to give 
 myself one day's rest every week. 
 
 My dear friend, the Rector of Ovoca, made, how- 
 ever, far too deep an impression upon me to permit 
 of my refusing his request that I should come back 
 and help at his Harvest Festival, and so, I journeyed 
 all the way back to Ovoca, and played the organ 
 at the first Evensong of the Festival on this Saturday. 
 
 Merciless rain came down in torrents, and although 
 Dr. Bernard, the Dean of St. Patrick's, was the 
 preacher, and a largely augmented choir sang, the 
 attendance was small. The Service was beautiful. 
 
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IN AND ON IRELAND 9 
 
 Sunday, October 21st. 
 
 The Harvest Festival at Ovoca was continued. I 
 preached after Matins. A veritable deluge of rain 
 came down all day so that the attendance at all the 
 services was much smaller than it would otherwise 
 have been. 
 
 What a real joy it is to do anything for the Rector 
 of Ovoca, whether out of his churches, or in them ! 
 The Services in either of his churches might well be 
 copied by many another parish, where an infusion 
 of some such brightness and real life would prove a 
 blessing. 
 
 I could scarcely believe that I was in Ireland. We 
 had a surpliced choir, which did not monopolize, 
 but led the hearty singing of an earnest and reverent 
 congregation — the members of which seemed to be 
 weU instructed as to their behaviour in God's house. 
 We had Choral services in which the Responses were 
 taken up with vigour and spontaneity. There was 
 a well ordered and stately procession led by the 
 churchwardens carrying their staves. The people 
 seemed to enjoy the privilege — ^by no means general, 
 so far as the Church of Ireland is concerned — of being 
 able to worship the Lord in " the beauty of holiness." 
 The atmosphere seemed charged with gratitude, with 
 reverence, and, best of all, with sincere reality. 
 
 My best thanks are due to the Rector of Ovoca 
 for introducing me to his church, and both to him 
 and to Mrs. Robinson for the warm reception which 
 they accorded to my secretary and to me during our 
 
10 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 visit to their lovely house, one of the most beautifully 
 situated rectories in the kingdom. 
 
 My Sunday rest at Ovoca reminded me of an amusing 
 thing that occurred to a httle Opera Company of mine during 
 a tour in the " eighties." We had been performing in a 
 southern town for the local impresario at a week-end. This 
 gentleman was a kind of local factotum — theatre proprietor, 
 auctioneer, architect, bill-sticker, and carrier — rolled into 
 one. ;f My artists and I all went together to the parish church 
 on^Sunday morning. There was a crowded attendance, and, 
 as most of the people present knew who we were, they stared 
 at;]us to their hearts* content and, as usual, looked as if they 
 were astonished to find that we, wicked theatrical people, 
 should think of going to church. 
 
 On our way out of the church at the end of the service, 
 we espied our impresario, dressed in resplendent style, much 
 be-jewelled, adorned with a red rose of large proportions, 
 and smoking a huge cigar. To our horror, upon seeing us, 
 he shouted out at the top of his voice : — 
 
 " Good business ! Pros at church ! That's what the Stalls 
 likes ! ! Bumper house to-morrow night ! ! ! " 
 
 A * * * * A 
 
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 a. is, if, i> 
 
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IN AND ON IRELAND ii 
 
 Monday, October 22nd. Enniscorthy. 
 
 In drenching rain I started for Enniscorthy, where 
 a large and most appreciative audience gave me a 
 pleasant reception. The fact that there has been a 
 well organized Musical Society in Enniscorthy for 
 many years, is probably one of the reasons that the 
 public there are so entertainable, but, whatever the 
 reasons may be, they are charming. The memory 
 of Mr. Blanchard, one of Ireland's greatest professors 
 of music, is still green. His influence has lasted 
 for many years. Mr. Blanchard had a knowledge 
 of voice production which was quite wonderful. He 
 also had the power of imparting his knowledge 
 to other people. I am glad to know that music still 
 flourishes in Enniscorthy and I was delighted to 
 hear that my old friend Grattan Flood, organist of 
 the Roman Catholic Cathedral at Enniscorthy, had 
 been honoured by the Royal University of Ireland 
 in the bestowal of the degree of Mus. Doc, honoris 
 causa — a fitting tribute to his zeal in the cause of 
 Irish National Music. It was when he was organist 
 at St. Peter's, Belfast, that I made my first appear- 
 ance as a church musician. He asked me to accom- 
 pany Gounod's " Ave Maria " one day at High Mass. 
 When was it ? Well, I had to be lifted on to the 
 organ stool. Needless to say I did not pedal. • 
 
 Once, long ago, a lady who lived near Enniscorthy asked 
 me if I would give her my photograph. I complied with 
 her request. Some time afterwards, I was calUng upon her 
 and, seeing my photograph on her drawing-room table, I 
 ventured to say : — 
 
 " Nearly as ugly as the original, eh ? " 
 
 Her reply was. " Oh ! by no means, Dr. Collisson ! " 
 
12 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Tuesday, October 23rd. New Ross. 
 
 My entertainment took place in the Town Hall, which 
 is in the hands of a most delightful and courteous 
 man — Canon Michael Kavanagh — the Roman Catholic 
 Priest of the parish. 
 
 I confess that I felt more than unhappy all 
 through the evening, conscious as I was, that the 
 building had been used — not so long ago neither — 
 as a place of worship. The elevation where the stage 
 is now, was the Sanctuary. On the very spot where 
 I sat at the pianoforte trying to make merry, the 
 most soleron rites of the Christian church had been 
 performed. From the ceiling over my head only the 
 other day had hung a red lamp, that red lamp which 
 tells the Faithful that the Divine Presence is there. 
 Sacrament ally tabernacled. At that Altar many a 
 Solemn Requiem had been sung for the souls of 
 departed men and women. There many a Christian 
 man and maid had plighted their troth awaiting the 
 Benediction of God's priest. There, day after day 
 for many a year, was celebrated the most Holy Mass. 
 
 Now all that is left to tell the casual observer what 
 the ancient glory was, is some painted glass in the 
 windows with the Sign of our Redemption on them. 
 
 I am sure — quite sure — that no irreverence is in- 
 tended, but, I, personally, could never feel a " dese- 
 cration " like this as altogether satisfactory and right. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 13 
 
 Wednesday, October 24th. Waterford. 
 
 My visit to Waterford was one of the happiest 
 experiences of my tour. I gave two Organ Recitals in 
 the Cathedral on the day of my arrival, handing the 
 Dean the entire amount collected for the organ fund 
 of his Cathedral. 
 
 What can I say in sufficient praise for the singing 
 at Waterford ? Rarely indeed have I heard a choir, 
 which for absolute purity of tone, could approach, 
 much less equal, the singing of the Waterford choir. 
 No elaborate music was attempted, a sweet Anthem 
 by Mendelssohn being the only part of the Service 
 reserved for the choir, but the chanting of the Psalms, 
 the intoning of the Responses, yes, even the singing 
 of the Amens was quite lovely. The boys' voices were 
 not forced, they were naturally — and therefore beau- 
 tifully — produced . 
 
 Best of all there was the real ring of devotion in the 
 singing. It was not a performance by the choir. One 
 felt that it was an offering presented to God by the 
 Servants of the Sanctuary. Much, if not all, the credit 
 for this was due to the late energetic Succentor — the 
 Rev. Charles E. Davis — now working at Littleborough, 
 near Manchester — himself a born musician. 
 
14 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Thursday, October 2$th. 
 
 The members of the Cathedral choir, under the 
 baton of the Rev. Charles E. Davis, gave a superb 
 rendering of two of my cantatas — " The Game of 
 Chess," and " Samhain."* The City Hall was crammed 
 to overflowing by a most enthusiastic audience, the 
 members of which gave me a real Irish welcome. I 
 could not help feeling gratified by the thought that 
 my old Water ford friends had not forgotten me. To 
 the Dean and Mrs. Hackett I felt deeply indebted 
 for their genial hospitality to my secretary and myself 
 during our visit to Water ford. 
 
 One night in the early " nineties," I was giving a concert 
 in the Waterford Theatre. My Tenor was a dear good fellow, 
 but an oddity. His voice was not in its best order, and to 
 my amazement, he suddenly stopped in the middle of (his 
 first song and said, " Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you|will 
 be indulgent with me. I find the Irish air too strong." Where- 
 upon a gallery boy shouted out " Or the whisky ? " 
 
 Irish gallery boys are proverbial for smart sayings. I was 
 present myself in the Gaiety Theatre, DubUn, on that memor- 
 able occasion when the trap-door stuck in the last Act of 
 Gounod's " Faust." Snazelle, who was the Mephistof eles that 
 night, did all in his power to make the trap-door move. 
 Barton McGuckin — the Faust — kicked at it and every efiort 
 was made to expedite the Devil and his pupil upon their 
 journey to the Inferno. All to no avail. Suddenly a voice 
 from " the gods " rang out joyous and clear — " Hurroosh I 
 boys. Hell's full at last ! " 
 
 ♦ These Cantatas were written respectively for the Belfast Musical 
 Festival of 1900 and for the Dublin Musical Festival of 1902. They 
 are both published by Messrs. Weekes and Co., 14 Hanover St., 
 London, W, 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 15 
 
 Friday, October 26th. Dungarvan. 
 
 In a deluge of rain we left Waterford for that not 
 altogether delightful place, Dungarvan. I approached 
 my Recital there with feelings somewhat mixed, for, 
 in addition to the fact that the weather was horrible, 
 I' was conscious that my visit was not going to be a 
 welcome one to everyone. 
 
 I had sent a circular letter, which I invariably did, 
 to all the clergy, gentry, etc., of the district, asking 
 for their support and patronage, a request which 
 was almost universally conceded with alacrity and 
 graciousness. 
 
 From the Roman Catholic Parish Priest of Dungar- 
 van, however, came one of the most remarkable letters 
 of which I have ever been the recipient. 
 
 I reproduce the letter verbatim. 
 
 Here it is — 
 
 ; Dungarvan. 
 
 12 — 10 — 06. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I beg to inform you that I cannot see my 
 way to patronize, or take any part whatever in 
 your proposed entertainment in this town. 
 
 I disapprove of most of the items in your pro- 
 gramme. As president of the local branch of the 
 Gaelic League, I protest against such a mawkish 
 and maudUn exhibition. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 John Power, P.P. 
 Dr. Houston Collisson. 
 
i6 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 What this reverend gentleman's meaning could have 
 been I was unable to understand, and when I asked 
 him for an explanation he had not the courtesy to 
 reply to my letter. 
 
 I here append a complete programme of my Dun- 
 garvan recital. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 * Prize Irish Suite in E minor " Rosaleen " 
 
 Houston Collisson 
 
 (Written for the Dublin Musical Festival " Feis Ceoil " 1903.) 
 
 {a) " The meeting at the Ford " 
 
 (Built upon the Melody ** Avenging and bright ") 
 
 (6) " Ovoca " 
 
 (Built upon the Melody " The meeting of the waters ") 
 
 (c) "Tara of the Kings" 
 (Built upon the Melody " The wine-cup is circling ") 
 
 * Arranged from the Orchestral Score for the Pianoforte by 
 
 the Composer. 
 
 Humourous Dissertation on Music 
 
 LOVE SONGS— An Irish Love Song, " Wait for a while now 
 Mary."* A Love song of the 1 8th century. A Mid- Victorian 
 Love song. An intense ballad, up-to-date. 
 
 HOW TO COMPOSE— A popular tune treated after the 
 manner of Mozart, Mendelssohn, Chopin, Gounod, Wagner 
 and the Abbe Liszt. 
 
 A Children's Party 
 
 " Little Harry's solo." " The man with only one joke." A 
 Recitation after G. R. Sims. "The singer who hesitated." 
 
 * Published by Messrs. Williams & Co., 32 Great Portland Street, 
 London, W. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 17 
 
 PART II. 
 
 My Adventures in a Flat 
 
 My Irish Lift-man. The Httle girls next door. The lady 
 
 who sang whose name was 
 
 ********* 
 By special desire Dr. Collisson will play 
 Three light Pianoforte pieces — 
 [a) " Pavane " 
 {b) " Spinning Song " 
 (c) " Mazurka " 
 Published by Messrs. Piggott & Co., 112 Grafton St., Dublin.) 
 
 ■ Houston Collisson 
 
 Percy French and 
 Houston Collisson 
 
 Irish Song and Story 
 DR. COLLISSON wiU conclude his entertainment with some 
 of the Irish Humourous Songs which were so successful last 
 season in London at his Recital in the Steinway Hall, at the 
 Royal Academy of Music Club Banquet, and for H.R.H. 
 Princess Louise (Duchess of Argyll). \ 
 
 * " Donnegan's Daughter " 
 
 * " Maguire's Motor-bike " 
 
 * " Rafferty's Racin' Mare " 
 
 * " No more o' yer Golfin' for me " 
 t " The Pride of Petravore " 
 t ** Are ye right there, Michael ? ' 
 f " The Mountains o'Mourne " 
 
 A UTOGRAPHED PHOTOGRAPHS of Dr. COLLISSON can 
 
 be had from the Attendants, 6d. each, the entire proceeds of 
 which are given to charitable and philanthropic objects. 
 
 The words of the songs not written by Mr. Percy 
 French and myself are all well known, and I challenge 
 anybody to find one objectionable line, word, sentiment 
 or suggestion in any of the songs on my programme 
 in which Mr. Percy French and I collaborated. Father 
 Power should be more careful in the use of such words 
 as " mawkish " and " maudlin." 
 
 * Published by Messrs. Williams & Co., 32 Great Portland Street, 
 London, W. 
 
 t Published by Messrs. Pigott & Co., 112 Grafton Street, Dublin. 
 
 c 
 
i8 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 It is just little actions like this that give the enemies 
 of Religion an opening for finding fault with the clergy, 
 the action of one individual man being taken — quite 
 unnecessarily of course — as representative of the 
 entire body. 
 
 Whether it was the miserable weather, or Canon 
 Power's disapproval, or both influences combined, I 
 cannot say, but my attendance at Dungarvan was 
 not so large as usual. The people who came repaid 
 me by forming one of the best audiences that I 
 have ever entertained. 
 
 * ^ ^ * * * 
 
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 jfe * * ^ 
 * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 19 
 
 Saturday and Sunday, October 2yth and 2Sth. 
 
 Although a Captain Boyton suit with " K " boots 
 was the only suitable costume for my visit, still I was 
 glad to leave Dungarvan for Lismore, where I rested 
 for two days. I just managed to get to church on 
 Sunday without being quite drowned. The once 
 beautiful Cathedral has been so much " restored " and 
 " modernised " that it is almost quite spoiled. The 
 choir and organist were irreproachable — too much so 
 in fact — for the congregation seemed frozen. Not a 
 sound was audible, neither in the hymns nor in the 
 responses, from " the people " from beginning to end 
 of the Service, 
 
 During my visit to this part of Ireland, the railway arrange- 
 ments were greatly disorganised in consequence of the starting 
 of the Fishguard and Rosslare route to Ireland. Time-tables 
 seemed to be of Uttle use. 
 
 An English commercial traveller told me that one day a 
 train (not on the Great Southern Une) was two hours behind 
 its time in reaching a certain station. There was no fire in 
 the waiting-room and the poor man was getting gradually 
 frozen. At last he plucked up all his courage and boldly 
 asked the stationmaster if he thought the train would ever 
 arrive. 
 
 " She's just comin', sir, now." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Because the engine-driver's dog has been sighted, runnin* 
 along about a quarter of a mile down the line ! " 
 
20 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Monday, October 2gth, Lismore. 
 
 A most appreciative audience assembled in the 
 Court House for my Recital, despite an awful down- 
 pour of rain. 
 
 ^ ^ & ^ ik S) 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 21 
 
 Tuesday, October 30th. Fermoy. 
 
 Alas ! I had made a fatal mistake. 
 
 I had arranged to give my Recital in the Military- 
 Barracks, where " England's cruel red " was then 
 being worn by the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. 
 
 The town wouldn't come ; the county didn't ; and, 
 as the various regiments stationed in Fermoy chose 
 the evening of my Recital to dine with one another, 
 in honour of something, my audience consisted of 
 two or three officers of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers 
 (one of whom was McClear the well-known footballer), 
 a handful of " Tommies " and their wives. 
 
 It seems a pity that in Ireland political and rehgious 
 differences should be dragged into everything, but 
 so it has been ever since that eventful and unhappy 
 day in 1172, when — but there, I am not writing a 
 History of Ireland. All I say is that it is a pity that 
 " the difference " has lasted all these years. Who can 
 say when it will stop ? Who indeed ? 
 
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22 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Wednesday, October ^ist. Mallow. 
 
 The Archdeacon of Cork and Mrs. WiUs showed my 
 secretary and me much kindness. I gave my Recital 
 in the Parish Hall, and although there were seas of 
 water in the streets and the rain came down veritably 
 like cats and dogs (like elephants would be nearer 
 the mark), the audience was large, representative, 
 and enthusiastic. 
 
 * * * JK * jfe 
 
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IN AND ON IRELAND 23 
 
 Thursday, November 1st. Youghal. 
 
 My visit to Youghal was most enjoyable. Canon 
 and Mrs. Beecher gave us a right royal welcome. It 
 is so nice to be made feel at home when one is not 
 at home. 
 
 What an interesting — surprisingly interesting — place 
 Youghal is ? There one can see Myrtle Grove, for a 
 time the residence of Sir Walter Raleigh, and the tree 
 under which he sat when his boy threw a bucket of 
 water over him, imagining him to be on fire, whilst 
 he was only smoking a peaceful pipeful of tobacco. 
 There one can see the ground where the first " praties " 
 grew, those " praties " which were afterwards destined 
 to become the staple food of Ireland. The streets 
 too, and many of the houses are well worth seeing, 
 whilst the magnificent Parish Church is one of the 
 glories of Erin. 
 
 I should dearly like to visit Youghal again. The 
 people of Youghal welcomed me. I saw " friend " 
 writ large on their faces as they sat in the hall at my 
 entertainment. 
 
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24 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Friday y November 2nd. Midleton. 
 
 A delightful audience. It was worth while going 
 to hear the boys from Midleton School laugh. The 
 hall is not beautiful, nor is it weU arranged, for it 
 seemed impossible to get at a dear old drunken man 
 who had not quite made up his mind at which end of 
 the building the entertainment was going on. To me 
 it was at his end. 
 
 The hotel was ! 
 
 * * * * 3o * 
 
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 4^ 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 25 
 
 Saturday and Sunday, November '^rd and 4th. 
 
 We spent most of our time in Cork in the house 
 of a dear old friend, circled round the fire, pitying 
 the outside world splashing about through the flood. 
 
 I am certain that, in the process of evolution, the 
 people who live in Ireland will, like the Cornish, one 
 day develop webbed feet to suit their surroundings. 
 Merciful Pro\H[dence ! Never have I seen such rain. 
 On Sunday we meditated swimming to Church 
 (St. Luke's), usually full, I believe, but on this Sunday 
 the congregation was sadly thinned by the weather. 
 The singing of the choir was excellent, and the organ 
 plajdng really splendid, but the members of the con- 
 gregation were as mute as graven images throughout 
 the entire service. 
 
 Going to the services of the Church of Ireland has 
 a depressing effect upon me. What is the matter 
 with them ? 
 
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26 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Monday, November $th. Bandon. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that, literally, rivers of 
 rain washed the streets of Bandon from six o'clock 
 until eleven, there was a splendid audience of most 
 delightful people, who, having once braved the 
 elements, seemed determined to enjoy themselves, and 
 evidently did so. 
 
 I went for a walk in the afternoon, before the cloud 
 burst, but slunk back to the hotel with something 
 akin to shame. A Celtic Cross, standing in a most 
 conspicuous part of the town, attracted my attention. 
 I crossed the street to read the inscription upon it. 
 The inscription ran thus : — 
 
 " LEST WE FORGET " 
 
 THIS CROSS WAS CAST OUT OF 
 
 KILBROGAN CHURCHYARD, BANDON, 
 
 BY THE RECTOR, CHURCHWARDENS 
 
 AND SELECT VESTRY, 
 
 2yth April, 1903, 
 
 AS BEING ROMISH, IDOLATROUS AND RITUALISTIC. 
 
 A SUBSEQUENT APPLICATION FOR RE-ADMISSION 
 WAS REFUSED, AND SUCH REFUSAL WAS UPHELD 
 BY THE DECISION OF THE CORK DIOCESAN COURT, 
 
 21 st November, 1903. 
 
 IT IS ERECTED HERE TO VINDICATE 
 THE INSULT OFFERED TO THE CROSS. 
 
 When I read this inscription I confess I wanted to 
 hide myself. Is it possible, I thought, that the Church 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 27 
 
 of Ireland, which professes to be Catholic, which claims 
 to be the Church of St. Patrick, which boasts that she 
 is in communion with the Church of England, of which 
 I am a Priest — is it possible, I asked myself, that this 
 historic Church could tolerate such an act of sacrilegious 
 intolerance as the above inscription records, to the utter 
 disgrace of some of her members ? 
 
 What did I see ? The Cross, the standard of our 
 faith, the sign of our redemption, turned into a 
 memorial of narrow minded bigotry. 
 
 It would be a magnanimous, a noble and gracious 
 act if the Roman Catholics of Bandon were now to 
 remove this monument of Protestant ignorance, but 
 a generous procedure of this kind should be preceded 
 by something in the way of an act of reparation by 
 those who treated the Cross with such irreverence, 
 by an amply expressed admission of wrong and by 
 a promise to erect this same Cross in its proper position 
 the old and painful inscription being chiselled out, 
 and a new and suitable one being put in its place. 
 I feel deeply for the outraged feelings of my Roman 
 Catholic brethren, not only in Bandon, but in all 
 parts of the country to which the miserable notoriety 
 of this scandal may have spread. 
 
28 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Tuesday i November 6th. Kinsale. 
 
 Before the Urban District Council would grant 
 me permission to have the Court House at Kinsale 
 for my entertainment, they asked me if any songs 
 of an anti-national or unpatriotic sentiment were to 
 be included in the programme. In my reply I assured 
 the Council that no such songs would be included, as 
 my entire sympathy was with the National feeling 
 of Ireland, struggHng as she is, to free herself from 
 a bondage which is as painful as it is undesirable. I 
 received a most courteous reply, which told me that 
 the Hall was mine, and not only so, but free of charge. 
 
 The audience at Kinsale — what shall I say of it ? 
 It augured well for the success of the evening that, 
 at about seven o'clock, the people came and broke 
 open the doors, so anxious were they for admission. 
 By half -past seven o'clock the Court House was packed 
 and when I came out to play my Irish Suite at eight 
 o'clock, I found myself surrounded by quite a little 
 crowd who had overflowed from the auditorium on 
 to the stage. The greatest good humour prevailed. 
 Every man who ascended the stage from the body 
 of the Hall, got a little reception all to himself. 
 
 There were rows and rows of the prettiest of Erin's 
 daughters in the audience, whose charming frocks 
 contrasted pleasingly with the mess-uniforms of 
 several military men who were stationed at Kinsale 
 at the time. The very air seemed to make things 
 go well at Kinsale. From start to finish I gave my 
 Recital amidst peals of laughter. My programme, 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 29 
 
 which usually took an hour and a half or so, lasted 
 for more than two hours. 
 
 Mr. Barry, who managed the concert, was invaluable. 
 
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30 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Wednesday y November yth. Skibbereen. 
 
 The arrangements at Skibbereen were distinctly 
 primitive. I shall never forget the kindness of poor 
 Mr. Donovan (since then departed this life). He and 
 his son worked like Trojans to make my recital a 
 success, but it took the combined efforts of Mr. Donovan 
 and his son, my secretary and myself, together with 
 a large body of men, to get the hall into ship-shape for 
 the evening. 
 
 Whether it was that I was fatigued from sweeping 
 the stage, and carr3dng forms, etc., and so, not in good 
 order for the evening, or whether the audience was 
 dull, I cannot say, but however it was, nothing went 
 well at Skibbereen. There was a large audience, but 
 they seemed un-moved and un-movable. Nothing I 
 could play, sing, say or do had the slightest effect. 
 If they had hooted it would have been a relief. Not 
 even the efforts of two young Irishmen, who gave some 
 excellent illustrations of Irish step-dancing, moved 
 them to enthusiasm. No ! Not even the really 
 splendid performance on the Irish pipes by Mr. Bernie 
 O'Donovan (The Carbery Piper). It has never been 
 my privilege to hear the Irish pipes so skilfully played 
 before, and I have heard many pipers in my time. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 31 
 
 Thursday, November Sth. Bantry. 
 
 Through the mismanagement of the hotel people 
 at Skibbereen, my secretary and I had to drive all 
 the way to Drimoleague Junction to catch the train 
 to Bantry. We were very angry at first, but very 
 glad afterwards, as the expedition was wild and 
 interesting. When we reached Bantry I could not 
 resist the temptation of driving to Glengariff, round 
 beautiful Bantry Bay. I shall never forget lunching 
 at the Eccles Hotel, from the windows of which there 
 is one of the most beautiful views in the world. 
 
 Canon O' Grady very kindly lent me his school- 
 room. There was a very jolly audience, who were most 
 responsive, but the impression that sunk deeper than 
 any other at Bantry was that made by Mrs. Sullivan, 
 the delightful, though very voluble lady who acts as 
 caretaker at Canon O' Grady's school. She amused me 
 so much in the intervals of my entertainment that 
 it was with difficulty that my secretary could urge 
 me to go on with the next item when it came. Dear 
 Mrs. Sullivan, if there were more women like you 
 in Ireland she would never lose her reputation for 
 buoyant good humour. 
 
32 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Friday, November gth. Cork. 
 
 A really gieat musician lives at Cork, by name 
 Herr Theo. Gmiir. He is more than great ; he is 
 also good. If I had been coming to Cork for his 
 own especial benefit, I could not have received more 
 attention and real kindness than I received at the 
 hands of Herr Gmiir. He wrote me some scores of 
 letters and kept up a constant fire of telegrams with 
 me for weeks before I came to Cork. He told me 
 everything that I should do, and also everything that 
 I should not do, and in all things he was right. Mr. 
 Charles Johnston and Mr. Mack also did much to 
 help me, but wet raw weather just prevented the 
 Recital from being a really^ great success. 
 
 At the request of several friends I played a few 
 pieces on Mr. Magahy's fine organ. 
 
 Dear Belle Cole once sang for me in Cork, a good|many 
 years ago. As most of my readers will remember she was 
 very stout, but, unlike most people, she was never touchy 
 on the subject, taking the matter as a huge joke. When her 
 last song was over she asked my manager, Mr. Machin, to 
 call a covered car for her. Irish covered cars have very narrow 
 doors, and Madame Cole was enveloped in a voluminous fur 
 cloak. She looked vanquished when she saw the vehicle. . 
 
 " Thry it sideways, ma'am," said the cabby. 
 
 All to no purpose. 
 
 Mr. Machin then suggested that the'great Contralto should 
 take ofE her cloak. This she did, and after a good deal of 
 pushing and squeezing on Mr. Machin's part, she succeeded 
 in getting in. Meanwhile the astonished Jehu gasped out, 
 " This is all very well now, ma'am, but what am I to do with 
 you all by myself when I get you back to the hotel ? " ' 
 
 No one enjoyed the little incident more than Madame Belle 
 Cole herself. 
 
 ♦ ♦*«**** 
 
 In the spring of 1888, I was conducting a Costume Recital 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 33 
 
 of Wallace's " Maritana " in the Cork Opera House. Sinico 
 was Lazarillo and Burgon was the Don Jos6. We were 
 stajdng at Stevens's Hotel. We were dining, and had just 
 reached dessert. Burgon was helping himself liberally to 
 walnuts. Sinico looked at him, laughed and said, " Ah ! 
 Don Jose, I would not give much for your * Happy Moments * 
 to-night." At that very moment a band in the street started 
 playing the song " In happy moments " — Madame Sinico 's 
 speech acting Hke a cue. I always thought this a striking 
 co-incidence. 
 
 * * * * * ^ 
 
 * * 3o * ^ 
 
 * * * ^ 
 
 * * * 
 
34 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Saturday, November loth. St. Ann's Hill. 
 
 Through the kindness of Mr. Martin, the able, 
 courteous and energetic secretary of the Hydro at 
 St. Ann's Hill, I was enabled to give a Matinee Recital 
 in the dining-hall. The hall was packed and the 
 whole affair was a perfect success, but then everything 
 at St. Ann's is a success. I shall never forget what a 
 haven of rest I found St. Ann's Hill after some of 
 the experiences I had had in my rambles in Ireland. 
 I stayed on and spent such a quiet, happy Sunday 
 there. 
 
 Since then I have given many Recitals at St. Ann's, 
 and on one occasion gave a Recital consisting entirely of my 
 own compositions. The event is memorable to me, for just 
 as I was about to begin my programme a dear lady, who was 
 stajdng at the Hydro, came forward and said, " I see we are 
 going to have all your own compositions to-day. Are we 
 not going to have some good music as well ? " 
 
 * ^ * ^ * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 35 
 
 Monday, November 12th. Roscrea. 
 
 There was a good audience, not over enthusiastic, 
 but — good. 
 
 Mr. Johnson Slater showed a degree of business 
 capacity in " the arrangements " which is rare to 
 meet. 
 
 My background on this occasion was a most 
 unlovely affair. 
 
 Talking of backgrounds reminds me of a performance of 
 Verdi's " II Trovatore," which I conducted some years ago. 
 We had to produce the opera with the scenery which had 
 been painted for the harlequinade of a Christmas pantomime, 
 Leonora singing the celebrated prison scene with a sausage 
 shop as a background. 
 
 No one laughed. This was in the North. 
 
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36 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Tuesday, November i^th. Birr. 
 
 I shall never forget Birr. The fine Hall of which 
 the town boasts (or is it Lord Rosse who boasts of 
 it ?) was well filled, and my entertainment was going 
 gaily until a gentleman in the gallery, who had 
 evidently been indulging in a little too much " John 
 Jameson " began to talk. He succeeded in killing 
 two or three items and would have kiUed the whole 
 programme if he had not been induced to go into 
 the outer air, a proceeding which was the result of 
 a prolonged argument between himself, a constabulary 
 man, and my secretary. Then I had peace, but not 
 for long. The worst was to come. 
 
 One of my most successful efforts is a little Irish 
 love song entitled " Wait for a while now, Mary." * 
 The words are by Percy French. The music is an 
 arrangement of two very beautiful Irish melodies. 
 
 I had scarcely begun to sing this song when five 
 or six occupants of the gallery began to hiss with all 
 their might and main. I could not understand what 
 I had done to displease my friends upstairs, so I 
 quietly told them that I would not proceed unless 
 the noise ceased. This, however, had no effect, and 
 until I had finished the song the hissing continued. 
 
 I have every sympathy with the movement that 
 has sprung up all over Ireland for the revival of Irish 
 Art, Music and Literature, and nothing makes my 
 blood boil more than when I hear the most vulgar 
 
 * Published by Joseph Williams, Ltd.. 3a Gt. Portland St., W. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 37 
 
 American march tunes trotted forth as real Irish 
 music, or even as characteristic of Irish music. With 
 the magnificent wealth of folk-song that Ireland can 
 boast of, I have often wondered how Irishmen could 
 tolerate this rubbish being foisted upon them. As 
 an enthusiast then for the " real Irish," in music as 
 well as in literature and poetry, I felt at least that 
 my gallery friends must have misunderstood me 
 grievously, or they would not have acted so rudely 
 towards me as they most certainly did in Birr. 
 
 The " Stage Irishman " is an awful creation, no 
 doubt, but the songs he usually sings are ten times 
 more awful still. I have for many years wondered 
 at the patience of my countrymen, who listened to, 
 yes, and laughed at the vulgar inanities, which have 
 been given to the public as Irish in the Music Halls 
 and, during the past fifteen years or so, introduced 
 into most of the musical comedies and popular bur, 
 lesques — idiotic attempts to portray Irish character by 
 depicting Irishmen as being always either fighting 
 or in a state of intoxication. 
 
 I do not blame Irishmen for rising in their wrath 
 and denouncing all this blatant vulgarity, but I defy 
 anyone to find even the slightest tinge of such a 
 thing in the work of Percy French. Could it have 
 been that Mr. French's humour was too subtle for 
 the audience at Birr ? 
 
 I hope that my countrymen are not losing their 
 sense of humour. Then indeed we might ask '* Is 
 there a blight coming upon the land ? " 
 
38 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Can it have been because the audience did not 
 like my singing " with a Dublin accent." Well ! I 
 was born there, and I can't help it. It seems strange 
 that an Irish audience should not like an Irish accent. 
 What is to become of all our humourists if they must 
 not introduce provincialisms and localisms ? If Scot- 
 land should sulk, if Farmer Jones and Hodge should 
 turn rusty, if Cousin Jack from Cornwall should rebel-, 
 if the Cockney from Camberwell or Whitechapel should 
 rise in his wrath, if the denizens of Belgravia and 
 May fair should rise en masse and cry aloud, " Down 
 with ' The walls of Jericho ! ' " what would become of 
 our music halls and theatres. I do not, however, 
 think it is likely that they will do so. 
 
 Do we Irish people imagine that we alone are to 
 be placed upon a platform above all pleasantry and 
 innocent badinage ? Are we to be treated as sacro 
 sanct ? I am sorry for my countrjnnen if this must be 
 so, for, when people lose their sense of humour, then, 
 and then indeed, must they be in a parlous condition. 
 
 When I sang my next Irish song at Birr, some 
 members of the audience dehberately rose from their 
 seatc and walked out. 
 
 I did not feel the least bit annoyed with them for 
 doing so, but I was pained and grieved to find that 
 any assembly of Irishmen could think that I would 
 appear upon a public platform to offer an insult to 
 Ireland. 
 
 The extreme rudeness of my reception at Birr was, 
 I am sure, the result of a complete misunderstanding. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 39 
 
 I append an extract from a criticism out of a local 
 paper. I do not say that the critique is faultless as 
 to style, etc., but I do say that the man who could 
 write an " attack " of such vigour and vehemence is 
 worthy of fame. 
 
 DR. COLLISSON'S MUSICAL (?) RECITAL. 
 
 Insipid Entertainment in Birr. 
 
 The musical — save the mark — recital, so extensively 
 advertised for some weeks past, and to which those of us 
 who were not in the know, looked forward with such antici- 
 pations of pleasure, is over, and Dr. Houston ColUsson is 
 gone. Our sincere wish is that he may never return to regale 
 us with another repast of Tuesday evening's vulgar insipidity. 
 The performance in Oxmantown Hall clearly proves that 
 Dr. CoUisson is a man who can at a glance fathom the thoughts 
 of his audience, and thus cater for them in the manner in 
 which he will tickle their fancies. The audience which aristo- 
 cratically graced the Hall in Oxmantown Mall on Tuesday 
 evening was distinctly fashionable, a branch of the " smart 
 set " on a small scale. Fashionable, indeed, it was, in the 
 meaning given to the term in the Society Papers. There were 
 opera cloaks and evening demi-toilettes, or apologies for 
 the full regalia of evening entertainments. It was in every 
 sense of the word a full muster of the " garrison " society, 
 and their musical tastes must be of the very lowest order, 
 considering the applause which greeted the great " philan- 
 thropist's " attempts at what he was pleased to style music of 
 a first class order. The music alone might have been perfectly 
 harmless and appreciative in fact, but combined with the 
 inane Music Hall wording of the songs which did not at all 
 do credit to the supposed refinement of the audience that 
 applauded, the whole affair was a veritable fiasco from a 
 musical point of view. If the entertainer had been engaged 
 in the task of amusing children who had not reached a reason- 
 able intellectual standard, then he might have succeeded in 
 his efforts. That he was successful in pleasing the Castle 
 satellites and shoneens of Birr, speaks volumes for their 
 intellectual abilities. Dr. CoUisson, who wore a semi-clerical 
 garb, introduced himself with a rendering of the Prize Irish 
 Suite in E Minor, entitled " Rosaleen," built on the melodies 
 " Avenging and Bright," " Avoca," etc. This item was right 
 enough, but did not %n its execution show the great musical 
 
40 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 talent which we expected. However, the audience appreciated 
 it. So did we for what it was worth. The next move reminded 
 one of the opening of a meeting, when the " Musical " Doctor 
 came forward to address those present. He thanked them 
 for their large attendance, and said the proceeds of all his 
 entertainments were devoted to charitable and philanthropic 
 objects, not to great institutions, but to the rehef of individual 
 cases of want, without consideration of creed or politics, 
 that came under his notice in London. Note the final words, 
 " in London," and he had the audacity to say this in what 
 he called " his native land." The people of Birr and other 
 towns in Ireland were to subscribe to the relief of London 
 and to be partly repaid for their charitable acts by the mis- 
 fortune of being permitted to witness a third rate music hall, 
 one-man, shoddy performance that had neither the merit of 
 originality nor any other qualification. The Rev. Dr. continued 
 to drone away a very sleepy address, interspersed with ante- 
 diluvian jokes and atrocious attempts at punning, at all of 
 which the " 6iite " of Birr laughed. To the credit of the 
 town be it said that a few Irishmen — not shoneens — signified 
 their objection to the stale jokes at the expense of their 
 Nationality, by murmurs of dissent, but the imperturbable 
 doctor went smilingly on. His '* humorous " dissertation 
 on music began with an English love song, which the reverend 
 gentleman sang, and he contrasted it with a burlesque 
 on the Irish character, with what he called an Irish love 
 song entitled, " Wait for a while now, Mary." Certainly the 
 contrast was great, as great as was the inconsistency of a 
 clergyman singing slipshod songs of love in public. The 
 contrast in the two love songs was well marked, and the 
 intention was evident, namely, that of throwing ridicule 
 on Irishmen and women. It pleased the majority of the 
 anti-Irish members of the audience, who were, we are glad 
 to say, in the majority, as the place would have been wrecked 
 if there were a fairly large number of Irishmen present. The 
 whole theme of " his reverence," for upwards of a quarter 
 of an hour, was love, and the meaningless rhymes, for which 
 he said he himself was responsible, would not reflect credit 
 on the intelligence of a budding poet of ten years old. There 
 were attempts at humour, and certainly the humour was in 
 the attempts, not in the third rate Punch and Judy Show 
 productions called songs. We sigh that Barnum and Bailey's 
 Circus have not acquired the services of this wonderful piano- 
 conjuror. It was certainly an acrobatic feat of hand, and 
 it made a lot of noise. Certain it is that the fashionable 
 audience appreciated it. They were generous, as the performer 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 41 
 
 told them in his opening address. Our opinion is that they 
 were not alone generous, but that their intellectual grasp did 
 not give them the means of ascertaining whether it was worthy 
 of applause or not. The only thing we can conscientiously 
 say for it is that it was not objectionable. But save us from 
 a repetition of what was entitled the " Children's Party." What 
 a great exponent of Music Hall talent has been lost to the 
 English stage. A word or two here lest we forget it. If 
 anyone of our readers intend giving a children's party, and 
 wi^h to amuse the children, they should not forget Dr. Col- 
 lisson's capabilities. We are sure his rendering of " the man 
 with one joke " will appeal irresistibly to the little ones. By 
 whose special desire did Dr. Collisson render what the pro- 
 gramme called ** three light pianoforte pieces ? " Not by 
 ours certainly ! We hope the desires of those who asked 
 for them have been gratified. The " piece -de-resistance " of 
 the evening in the mind of the author-composer-collaborator, 
 etc., brought him smiling on the boards. But " Donegan's 
 Daughter " did not have the desired effect. The " garrison " 
 giggled and smirked, and the hisses of the Irishmen were 
 heard rising. The day is gone when we pay our money to 
 go and hear our Nationality insulted, and our method of 
 speaking the tongue of the alien ridiculed. There were hisses 
 and groans, and the doctor ceased fire. He declared indig- 
 nantly that he had never been hissed before in his own country 
 for insulting his own countrymen. What forbearance ! The 
 doctor was indignant, and so were the " aristocrats," at not 
 being allowed to enjoy the heaping of ridicule on the " dirty 
 Irish." On resuming his seat at the instrument of torture, 
 he again started a song of the " Stage Irishman " description, 
 entitled, " Maguire's Motor Bike," and this was also received 
 with hisses which astonished the " clawsy " semi-dressed 
 people. They would be delighted evidently to hear the 
 people held up to ridicule. The few of the Birr populace 
 who went to Dr. Collisson's entertainment showed him that 
 Birr was not entirely shoneen. The men off Birr are not 
 going to tolerate such rubbishy entertainments as that of 
 Tuesday evening. They may be good enough for the effete, 
 semi-aristocratic residents of the town which is watched 
 over by an old statue of Julius Caesar to represent the Butcher 
 of CuUoden, but they are an insult to not only the intellect, but 
 the patriotism, of the people, and will not be permitted. The 
 time is gone when we will laugh at the man who heaps ridicule 
 on our countrymen from the stage. We are a nation now, 
 not of crawling, hat-raising sycophants, but men and women 
 who are reviving our industries and our Mother Tongue — 
 
42 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 and that reminds us. Dr. CoUisson said he wished he could 
 sing one of the songs in GaeUc. We thank God he could not. 
 We have borne enough, but we could not stand by and listen 
 to the words of which those meaningless, pattering " Stage 
 Irishman " songs are composed, translated into the language 
 of saints and scholars. Dr. Collisson had a taste of Birr on 
 Tuesday, and if it had been known what form his entertain- 
 ment would have taken, there would have been enough Gaels 
 present to uphold the dignity of their country. Dr. Collisson, 
 as a self -professed Irishman, should not have the temerity 
 to come to Ireland to cast contumely on the people with 
 his penny-show performances, and certainly, if he is the great 
 genius he claims to be, we are too dense to perceive it. We 
 notice in the programmes a note to the effect that auto- 
 graphed photographs of Dr. Collisson could be had from the 
 attendant for sixpence each. We can easily reconcile this 
 piece of conceit with the musical treat which we have described. 
 
 X jfe io ^ * * 
 
 S) s> S) s> ik 
 
 * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 43 
 
 Wednesday, November 14th. Nenagh. 
 
 A horribly wet evening introduced me to Nenagh. 
 On my way to the Town Hall I was met by a body 
 of youths, some of whom were dressed in suits of 
 the knickerbocker kind, and some, poor fellows, in 
 ragged garments. They were trying to march in step, 
 two and three deep. Their manner was objectionably 
 aggressive, a something undefinably rude and coarse 
 about it all. What had I done ? I do not know, but 
 in a moment I knew that I was an unwelcome visitor 
 to Nenagh. They all but jostled me off the pavement. 
 
 Their leader addressed me in " School " Gaelic. 
 As the studied impertinence of the youth was so 
 manifest, I did not pay the slightest attention to his 
 remarks, most of which I understood thoroughly. 
 My seeming indifference was met with hissing, hooting, 
 and cries of " Sassenach," which rather amused me. 
 These young gentlemen then did me the honour of 
 escorting me as far as the gates of the Town Hall, 
 upon arriving at which they struck their heads through 
 the railings, and, proceeding no farther, sent me into 
 the building amongst groans and hisses. This was 
 not encouraging, and I at once came to the conclusion 
 that I was going to have a repetition of the reception 
 to which the audience at Birr treated me, but I was 
 agreeably surprised. The audience at Nenagh was 
 refined, appreciative and evidently really musical. 
 The noisy element having let off their superfluous 
 energy in the street, and being either too poor, or too 
 superior, for my entertainment, they honoured me by 
 staying away. 
 
44 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Thursday, November i^th. Killaloe. 
 
 My memories of Killaloe are delightful. I enjoyed 
 a most interesting ramble in the midst of lovely scenery 
 at the top of Lough Derg, and visited the fine Cathedral 
 and the dear little Oratory of St. Flannan. Canon 
 and Mrs. Stannistreet gave my secretary and me a 
 very warm welcome. The Bishop of Killaloe most 
 kindly lent me his pianoforte. Entertaining the 
 audience at Killaloe was just like playing upon a 
 finely made instrument of music, so perfectly responsive 
 were they all through. The moment I had played 
 two bars of my Irish Suite I knew that I had real 
 musicians in the hall, and afterwards I found that 
 I was indeed right. 
 
 ^ * * * * * 
 
 Jo * * ife * 
 
 So S> S> S) 
 
 Jo * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 45 
 
 Friday, November 1.6th. Limerick. 
 
 Rain came down in tropical fashion, and my Recital 
 was given to an attenuated audience in consequence. 
 
 The next day, Saturday, November 17th, I gave a 
 Matinee Recital, and had it been at all fine I should 
 have had a very large audience. Those who could 
 not come on the previous evening in consequence of 
 the rain, had made arrangements to come to the 
 Matinee, in addition to a large number of the outlying 
 county people, who always prefer Matinees at Limerick. 
 
 The rain, however, did not cease. A strong wind 
 accompanied the rain, and the streets of Limerick 
 were for once swept free from all mud, but they pre- 
 sented more the appearance of mountain torrents 
 than the streets of a city. Many people who had 
 secured places were obliged to forfeit them, so terrible 
 was the weather. 
 
 When I say that the choir boys of St. Mary's 
 
 Cathedral occupied the front row of the hall, it is 
 
 sufficient to say that I had an intelligent audience. 
 
 Whenever I go to Limerick I think of a funny httle incident 
 that happened to me there in the spring of 1888. I was 
 accompanying Signor FoU at a big concert in the Theatre 
 Royal. He was going to sing the old German song " Drinking " 
 which he usually ended on a very low note. We were all 
 in a very frivolous mood that night, and just before he went 
 before the foothghts, he arranged with me that I should play 
 the last note softly but deliberately. He was just to open 
 his mouth and not sing the note at all. The effect was 
 wonderful. The audience was completely taken in. Imagina- 
 tion did its work and the house cheered itself hoarse, fondly 
 beheving that they had heard one of the great Basso's 
 phenomenal low-notes. 
 
 On Sunday I attended the services at Limerick 
 
46 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Cathedral, and was greatly pleased with their reverence 
 and with the beauty of the music. It was all unpre- 
 tentious, but thoroughly good. Mr. Muspratt, the 
 organist, gave a really magnificent rendering of Bach's 
 Fugue in G Minor after Evensong. Here, everything 
 was done in a devotional manner and with loving 
 care, but where were the people ? At Matins there 
 were not a hundred people present, and at Evensong 
 I doubt if there were a dozen. It speaks badly for 
 the Church people of Limerick that they should so 
 lightly esteem their Cathedral and its services. It 
 must have a most depressing effect upon the Clergy, 
 the Organist and the Choir, all of whom work together 
 at St. Mary's Cathedral to produce excellent results, 
 but results seemingly quite unappreciated by the 
 people of Limerick. 
 
 ****** 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND ' 47 
 
 Monday, November igth. Thurles. 
 
 There is a fine Roman Catholic Cathedral at Thurles, 
 whilst Holy Cross Abbey, a few miles from the town, 
 is one of the most beautiful ruins in existence. What 
 a pity it is a ruin ! Why could it not be given back 
 to its rightful owners, the monks, once more ? By a 
 careful restoration its present beauty could be in- 
 creased tenfold, and surely it would be more useful as 
 a religious house than merely as a rendezvous for 
 tourists and picnic parties. 
 
 When I was in the middle of my professional career I 
 once played at a concert at Thurles. It was in the Court 
 House. The platform consisted of planks laid loosely 
 upon the tops of barrels. Madame Florence Daly (Mrs. 
 Hermann Lohr) had sung an Irish song, as few vocahsts 
 can sing them. She received many recalls, but as the hour 
 was late, she refused an encore. Again and again she bowed 
 her acknowledgments. Again and again the audience 
 clamoured. At length I, unhappily for myself, suggested 
 that I should hand her out, to make one grand formal bow 
 so as to finish the matter off. The audience yelled with 
 enthusiasm. Her hand in mine, Madame Daly bowed, 
 backing all the time. Of course I had to back also. I did 
 not look behind me, unluckily for myself, and finally I fell 
 backwards on my head into a barrel, which stood behind 
 the back of the platform. Providentially the barrel was full 
 of straw, and so I escaped unhurt, but it took the combined 
 efforts of Barton McGuckin the concert giver, and the late — 
 sadly missed — Denis O'Sullivan, the Irish-American Baritone, 
 to extricate me from my ludicrous position. The concert was 
 killed. From that moment the audience unavoidably, and, no 
 doubt, unconsciously, went back in their minds to my *' event " 
 and every few minutes burst into roars of laughter, which 
 they did their, best to restrain, quite unsuccessfully. 
 
 When we returned to the hotel at the conclusion of the 
 concert, McGuckin asked one of the maids — ^to whom he 
 had given a pass — what she hked best in the concert. 
 
 He had been singing the " Preislied " from Wagner's 
 " Meistersinger," and some others of his greatest songs. 
 
 " If you plaze, sir, I'd rather aot say what I liked best." 
 
48 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 " Oh ! nonsense ! Go on, what was it ? " 
 " Och ! sir, it was — 'faith, I'd rather not say." 
 " Go on, girl, go on ! " 
 
 " Well, sir, it was — it was whin the little gintleman fell 
 into the bar'l ! " 
 
 Poor Barton McGuckin ! 
 
 I had thought perhaps this amusing little incident 
 would have served as a letter of introduction to me 
 on my 1907 visit to Thurles, but no ! — I had a miserable 
 attendance in a large hall, and the night was so 
 wretched that the audience seemed ice-bound, they 
 were so utterly unresponsive until the end of the enter- 
 tainment. Then they suddenly woke up and honoured 
 me by refusing to leave their places, even after I had 
 given an extra item, so I concluded that they were 
 pleased. 
 
 3o 3o * * * * 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * iR * 
 
 if, 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 49 
 
 Tuesday, November 20th. Tipperary. 
 
 A cold wet night. A handful of people. They 
 
 looked so nice, however, that I could not send them 
 
 away, so I went through my programme as though 
 
 I had my usual throng, finding that the Tipperary 
 
 audience were as nice as they looked. The town was 
 
 billed extensively for a lecture on a subsequent night 
 
 by Canon Ryan, the Roman Catholic Parish Priest, 
 
 a very able and well known man. The subject was 
 
 " Ourselves.'* I could not help surmising that the 
 
 reason I had such a small attendance at Tipperary 
 
 was because of the popularity of Canon Ryan's subject. 
 
 Many years ago I was invited to a musical party in the 
 neighbourhood of Tipperary. During the course of the 
 afternoon I played Mendelssohn's " Andante " and ** Rondo 
 Capriccioso," a Valse by Chopin and my own little Mazurka. 
 I shall never forget my feelings when my hostess rushed 
 up to me after the third of those pieces had been played, 
 and said " I liked the last piece the best of all the three, 
 but then I suppose it shows my bad taste to like rubbishy 
 little trifles like that ! " 
 
 ****** 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
50 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Wednesday, November 21st. Cahir. 
 
 I was strongly advised not to go to Cahir. I 
 approached it with suspicion. Rain came down in 
 torrents, and it was through a quagmire that I (and 
 the audience) entered the hall. To my surprise the 
 place was crammed. Even then, I was not happy. 
 The memory of the treatment which I had received 
 at Birr was still fresh in my mind. I came on the 
 platform with a feeling of awe. The crowded audience 
 seemed to regard me with the same feeling. I played 
 my Irish Suite upon an ancient square pianoforte. 
 
 A good instrument is an absolute necessity for a 
 pianoforte solo, so my little Suite was listened to 
 with respectful silence. What a change, however, 
 ensued at the close ! From the moment I began my 
 humourous entertainment proper, until ten o'clock, 
 that charming audience rocked and roared with 
 laughter, and, if they only enjoyed themselves half 
 as much as I did, they got good value for their money. 
 
 i^ A * * A A 
 
 * ife * i^ A 
 
 A jfe * * 
 
 * ift A 
 
 if, if, 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 51 
 
 Thursday, November 22nd. Cashel. 
 
 We drove from Cahir to Cashel, but could not see 
 the celebrated view of the Rock through the blinding 
 rain. Cashel was a sea of mud. 
 
 The group of wonderful buildings on the rock is 
 unparallelled and needs no praise from such a humble 
 pen as mine. What a halo of interest surrounds the 
 place ! There stands the Font at which St. Patrick 
 baptised the king of old, whose earnestness for the 
 Christian Faith was so great that, when a spear 
 pierced through his foot by accident, he never flinched, 
 thinking it was a necessary part of the ceremony. There 
 stands that gem of antiquity, Cormac's Chapel, in 
 which the Irish chieftains made their hateful oath 
 of submission to King Henry II., seven hundred years 
 ago. There stands the ancient Cathedral of the 
 diocese, now a picturesque ruin, tenanted only by 
 the birds of the air. What a contrast to that fearsome 
 structure which does duty as a Cathedral now ! 
 
 I had a good audience and a merry one, but two 
 adverse influences prevented my entertainment in 
 Cashel from being a really brilliant success. 
 
 One was the weather, which was truly appalling, 
 and the other was the extraordinary report that was 
 put into circulation about me in the neighbourhood. 
 
 It was rumoured that I, forsooth, of all men in 
 the world, was an agent of the " Irish Church 
 Missions ! " If I had been so, the pubHc would have 
 been deserving of much credit for staying away. 
 
 Those who stayed away ought not to allow them- 
 
52 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 selves to be so easily "led by the nose," but those 
 who came, including many charming Roman Catholic 
 clergymen as well as some equally charming Church 
 of Ireland clergymen, amply made up for the absence 
 of the timid ones. 
 
 That I, with my reputation of being a " Jesuit in 
 disguise " could ever have got associated with the 
 " Irish Church Missions " in the minds of the good 
 people of Cashel seems wonderful, but it was more 
 wonderful still that the people of Cashel could have 
 for a moment imagined that anyone connected with 
 the " Irish Church Missions " would allow it to be 
 thought for a moment that he possessed a sense of 
 humour. 
 
 ^ ^ * * * io 
 
 * * * * JK 
 
 iR S> S) S) 
 
 * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 53 
 
 Friday, November 23rd. Clonmel. 
 
 A great personality lives in Clonmel. I hope, for 
 Clonmers sake, that the people there recognise and 
 appreciate that fact. To live within three miles 
 radius of William J. McClelland, head master of 
 Clonmel Grammar School, is to be infected with 
 some of his undying energy and buoyant enthusiasm. 
 I knew him when he was head master of Portar- 
 lington. His residence there — Portarlingtonians will 
 testify to this — seemed to infuse new life into the 
 erstwhile moribund condition of the place. Out of 
 the most unpromising elements he saw the materials 
 of a Musical Society there. People thought he was 
 mad. " None of the people have voices." " No one 
 understands music ! " and so forth, said they 
 aU. 
 
 In a few months' time he collected a choir of nearly 
 a hundred voices, in a place, the reputation of which 
 was very unmusical. In two years the works per- 
 formed included Bennett's " May Queen," Locke's 
 "Macbeth" music, Weber's "Jubilee Cantata" a 
 selection from Haydn's " Creation " and many light 
 works, including a performance of Gilbert and 
 Sullivan's " Trial by Jury " with all dramatic require- 
 ments. The bulk of the success of the Queen's 
 County Choral Society was due to Mr. McClelland. 
 I was the conductor, and I know. 
 
 When I visited Clonmel last year he was the same 
 charming man as ever. His house was thrown open 
 as Liberty Hall to my secretary and myself, and his 
 
54 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 fine pianoforte was placed at my disposal for the 
 Recital. 
 
 As there is no very attractive hall in Clonmel where 
 entertainments can be held, it was really wonderful 
 what a large audience attended my Recital. The boys 
 from the Grammar School came en massBy and they 
 alone would have formed an excellent audience. 
 
 My visit to Clonmel brought up memories of days 
 long since gone by. My hot-water-bottle experience, 
 however, I dare not relate. No living man can 
 describe that but Henry Beaumont, the great English 
 tenor. If any of my readers are ever fortunate enough 
 to meet him, — he is married to one of the most 
 charming of Erin*s fair daughters — Adelaide Mullen — 
 I strongly advise him to ask Beaumont for the story. 
 
 * * * * * X 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
HENRY BEAUMONT. 
 
 To fare naae M. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 55 
 
 Saturday, November 24th. Dublin. 
 
 It was in " Dublin's Fair City," on May 20th, 1865. 
 that I iirst saw the light. I lived there for thirty- 
 two years, so I ought to know it well, but I don't. 
 I never understood Dublin, and I am quite sure that 
 Dublin never understood me. I received an over- 
 whelming amount of kindness in Dublin from a 
 veritable multitude of the dearest of dear friends. 
 On the other hand, I was, for a period of ten years 
 or so, the recipient of more abuse and ridicule than I 
 like to think of even now. I had hundreds of faith- 
 ful friends, and at the same time I was — I know it — 
 most cordially detested. 
 
 When I was a mere child I wanted to become a 
 Priest, but through adverse family circumstances I 
 was obliged to " start in life " at a very young age, 
 and, thanks to the determination of my dear good 
 mother, I had had the advantage of an early musical 
 training, the result of which was, that at the age 
 of sixteen, I found myself organist of St. Patrick's, 
 Trim, where I enjoyed the friendship of one of the 
 greatest men that the Irish Church ever produced — 
 Charles Parsons Reichel — afterwards Bishop of Meath. 
 He was a learned theologian, one of the best preachers 
 of his day (or any other day for that matter), a great 
 authority on Ecclesiastical History, and — a fact that 
 the outside world knew but little — he was a profound 
 and accomplished musician. His knowledge of the 
 science of music was wonderful, and he played both 
 the organ and the pianoforte to perfection. 
 
56 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 I shall never forget those happy Sunday evenings 
 in Trim, when, after dinner was over, he played 
 Bach to me, and I played Grieg and Schumann to 
 him, until the midnight hour drew nigh, when I 
 used, timidly enough, I admit, to walk through the 
 quaint little churchyard, alive with bats and owls, 
 to my rooms. 
 
 Whilst I was organist of St. Paul's, Bray, at the 
 age of nineteen, I took the degree of Mus. B. in the 
 University of Dublin, and my " Harvest Cantata " 
 was performed, with full band and chorus, in the 
 Chapel of Trinity College, in the presence of a large 
 assemblage of people. 
 
 In 1885, I began my work as organist and director 
 of the choir at Rathfarnham Church near Dublin. 
 Never shall I forget the enthusiasm with which the 
 members of my amateur choir there worked for seven 
 years. Mrs. Charles Murphy, of Templeogue House, 
 to whom more than to anybody else, the success of 
 the music was due, was the leader of the choir. Her 
 fine, true voice, her absolute loyalty, and, best of all, 
 her charming personality, did more to weld my choir 
 together than any other influence. Large crowds 
 of people used to flock to Rathfarnham Qiurch, and 
 we sang a great deal of good music during my seven 
 years of office there. Our Festival Services were 
 quite wonderful. We chanted the Psalms every 
 Sunday, a proceeding which many people in Ireland, 
 twenty years ago, thought was the sure road to Rome. 
 We sang Anthems and Services, and our Church was 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 57 
 
 nicknamed " Little St. Patrick's." The Rector, the 
 Rev. J. Sandys Bird, took the deepest possible interest 
 in the music, and helped in every way to make it 
 a success. I am glad to think that my old friend 
 Bridge- Whelan is now the organist and choirmaster, 
 as I know he loves his work and it could not be in 
 more capable hands. 
 
 One Sunday, after a Service at Rathfamham, an old lady- 
 got into a tram-car with me and asked me who it was 
 that played the organ that morning. I could not resist 
 having a little fun and so I said " Dr. Collisson." 
 
 " Well ! " said she, " he plays too loud ! " 
 
 It was in the spring of 1885 that I started the 
 " Dublin Popular Concerts," which were destined to 
 become so celebrated and to make my name so well 
 known. For the first two seasons they were given 
 in the Antient Concert Rooms and in the Rotunda. 
 Mr. J. M. Sullivan took them over when they started 
 in the new Leinster Hall for their third season, but, 
 after their fifth season, the reins of management came 
 into my hands once more. 
 
 I inaugurated the " Belfast Popular Concerts " in 
 1887, the same year in which I became Conductor 
 and Manager of the " London Saturday Evening 
 Concerts " in St. James' Hall. These were followed 
 by the " Londonderry Popular Concerts " and the 
 " Cork Popular Concerts," also the beginning of these 
 Concert Tours, by means of which almost every town 
 in Ireland was supplied with a first rate concert or 
 two every year, and many towns in England and 
 and Scotland as well. It would be impossible to give 
 
5B 
 
 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 a full list of all the artists who appeared for me at 
 these concerts, but I append a few of the names : 
 
 VOCALISTS 
 
 Mesdames — 
 Albani. 
 Sinico. 
 Nordica. 
 Hutchinson. 
 Adelaide Mullen. 
 Rosa Leo. 
 Bauermeister. 
 Fanny Moody. 
 Ella Russell. 
 Scott-Ffennell. 
 Alice Gomez. 
 Hope Glenn. 
 Joyce Maas. 
 Belle Cole. 
 Anna Williams. 
 Alwina Valleria. 
 
 Messrs — 
 Ravelli. 
 
 Henry Beaumont. 
 Barton McGuckin, 
 Alfred Long. 
 Orlando Harley. 
 J. M. Turner. 
 Isidore de Lara. 
 Plunket Greene. 
 FoU. 
 
 Abramoff. 
 Gordon Cleather. 
 Denis O' Sullivan. 
 The Meister Glee Singers. 
 
 Marie Decca. 
 
 Zelie de Lussan 
 
 Teresa Blamy. 
 
 Annie Marriott. 
 
 Rosina Isidor. 
 
 Otta Brony. 
 
 Bertha Moore. 
 
 Trebelli. 
 
 Schalchi. 
 
 Enriquez. 
 
 Carrie Curnow. 
 
 May Pinney. 
 
 Dews 
 
 Agnes Jansen. 
 
 Antoinette Sterling. 
 
 Edward Lloyd. 
 Ben Da vies. 
 Percy Palmer. 
 Charles Chilley. 
 Lawrence Kellie. 
 Josef O'Mara. 
 Charles Magrath. 
 Herbert Thorndike. 
 Joseph Claus. 
 Ludwig. 
 Maggi. 
 
 Charles Manners, and 
 Sir Charles Santley. 
 
 INSTRUMENTALISTS 
 
 Mesdames — 
 Nettie Carpenter. 
 Kate and Mabel Chaplin. 
 De Pachmann. 
 Sasse. 
 Lady Halle. 
 
 Anna Lang. 
 
 Clara and Marianne Eissier. 
 
 Frickenhaus. 
 
 Ethel Beningfield. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 59 
 
 Messrs — 
 
 Johannes Wolff. Sir Charles Halle. 
 
 Tivardar Nachez. Guido Papini. 
 
 Duloup. Henri Seiffert. 
 
 Arbos. Alfred Stauffer. 
 
 Rudersdorff. ' Josef HoUmann. 
 Bottesini. (The great contra Popper. 
 
 basso player) Howard Reynolds. 
 
 De Jong. The Chevalier Bach. 
 Albeniz. 
 
 During these years I became very well known as 
 an accompanist. Again and again have I been 
 asked how I learned to accompany. My answer to 
 all these questions is — " By regular attendance at Mr. 
 Swanwick's singing class in Dublin, and by implicit 
 obedience to his commands." Dear Mr. Swanwick, 
 " thoroughness " is your guiding principle in every- 
 thing. 
 
 Whilst I was at Rathfarnham my kind friends 
 presented me with a purse of sovereigns to pay for 
 the fees, robes and expenses of the Mus. Doc. degree 
 in Dublin University. This degree I took — after 
 much unpleasantness — in 1890, the Credo from my 
 Mass in C being performed in Trinity College Chapel, 
 in the presence of a large audience. 
 
 In 1893 I undertook, voluntarily, the charge of the 
 music at the little church of St. Maelrune, at Tallaght, 
 Co. Dublin, and for three years was the recipient of 
 nothing but the greatest kindness and attention from 
 the Rev. Eugene O'Meara, Mr. Robert Boardman and 
 all the members of the congregation, who every year 
 made me the hero of a presentation, amongst which 
 
6o IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 were a study clock, my gold watch and a heavy purse 
 of sovereigns. 
 
 The charming little concerts at Tallaght, of which 
 Mrs. Charles Murphy was the prime mover, will always 
 remain amongst the happiest recollections of my 
 time in Ireland. Our Choir was, perhaps, not quite 
 so good as that of St. Patrick's Cathedral, but I am 
 sure we thought it was. 
 
 On one occasion a clergyman was announcing a Christmas 
 Carol Service at Tallaght Church and what he intended to 
 say was : — " On next Thursday, being the Vigil of Christmas- 
 Day, there will be a Service at eight o'clock p.m., when the 
 Choir — God willing — will sing a selection of Christmas Carols.'* 
 What he did say was : " When the Choir, God help us, will 
 sing a selection of Christmas Carols." It may have been 
 absent-mindedness. Whatever it was, he said it. I was there 
 myself and heard it. 
 
 During these three years, through the kindness of 
 Mr. Vipond Barry — the finest organist in Ireland — I 
 had the privilege of being allowed to sing in the Choir 
 of St. Bartholomew's Church (one of the then few 
 Catholic strongholds in the Church of Ireland) on 
 Sunday evenings. I could never say how much I 
 valued the privilege of helping in Mr. Barry's Choir, 
 more particularly as it was in a church under the 
 ministry of my dear departed friend. Canon Smith. 
 St. Bartholomew's has been described as an oasis in 
 the desert. This description is not a true one, for the 
 Irish Church is by no means a desert. All the same, 
 St. Bartholomew's was an oasis. My English readers 
 will hardly beheve that, for a long period, contention 
 waxed fast and furious, because a brass Cross was 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 6i 
 
 placed on a stand between the Altar and the east wall 
 of the Sanctuary of St. Bartholomew's Church. Years 
 of litigation and strife resulted, and finally the Cross 
 was placed in front of the Altar, a position which, I 
 think, is unique in Christendom. Canon Smith was 
 a power in the land, a deep scholar and a mighty 
 spiritual force. The annoyances to which he was 
 subjected for many years reflected little credit upon 
 the general Synod of the Church of Ireland. 
 
 The beautiful services at St. Bartholomew's in 
 those days used to stand out conspicuously amidst 
 the general unloveliness of the Irish Church. 
 
 Where all was well ordered and seemly a hitch or contretemps 
 of any description was naturally more noticeable than in 
 churches where there was Uttle or no attempt at " decency 
 and order." 
 
 Whilst I sang in St. Bartholomew's Choir, a daughter of 
 one of our Basses got married. It was a "big" wedding 
 in every respect. We had a Procession and as much music 
 as could be got into the Service. We were all anxious that 
 everything should " go " right. The Church was crowded. 
 The elaborate nature of the function worked one of the Clergy 
 into a state of extreme nervousness and fussiness, and he 
 suddenly sang out " Let us pray " at the top of his voice. 
 " No ! we won't," said the father of the bride, " We'll sing 
 the Anthem." The extraordinary effect produced by the 
 whole choir and vast congregation dropping suddenly upon 
 their knees and instantaneously rising again is easier to 
 imagine than describe. 
 
 In 1885 I became Organist and Choirmaster at 
 St. George's Church, Dublin, where I had a very 
 happy time with Canon Scott as Rector, and valued 
 much the help of the late Mr. Henry T. Dix, an 
 influence for good in the parish — and in the world at 
 lairge. 
 
62 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Between 1893 and 1897 I went through the Arts 
 Course of DubHn University, where, as I could never 
 make a hand of science in any shape, I had to 
 depend upon my classical work to pull me through^ 
 Having had to make up all the work for each suc- 
 ceeding examination during concert tours and the like, 
 I was only able to take an ordinary (very ordinary 
 I fear) B.A. degree in 1897, when I left Dublin to 
 be quiet for a year or so before taking Holy Orders. 
 
 My dear old friend, Richard Chaplin, of whom I had 
 been a school fellow, invited me to spend my quiet 
 time with him at his place in Kildare. I had known 
 him for many years. I had also had the honour 
 of the friendship of his dear mother and of his dis- 
 tinguished father, once President of the Royal College 
 of Surgeons of Ireland, as genial and courtly an old 
 gentleman as it has ever been my happiness to meet. 
 The Rev. Richard Chaplin was — in 1897 — Priest in 
 charge of Fontstown, Co. Kildare, and I shall never 
 forget our Sunday drives to Church across the bog- 
 road and our wonderful musical services at which 
 some of the greatest luminaries of the Irish Church 
 used to preach. What a day that was when we were 
 attacked by drunken men, and had to fly for our 
 lives ! 
 
 The ladies of Kildare, with much original ritual, 
 presented me with a gorgeous silk cassock and a new 
 Mus. Doc. hood, in the drawing-room of the Deanery, 
 a few weeks before my Ordination. 
 
 X received Deacon's Orders at the Trinity Ordination 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 63 
 
 of 1898 in Truro Cathedral, at the hands of the saintly 
 Bishop Gott. I was ordained for the parish of St. 
 Tudy in Cornwall, where, with an ideal Rector — the 
 Reverend Cuthbert Bridgewater — and a flock of the 
 nicest people whom I have ever met in my life, I spent 
 the first three years of my ministerial career in perfect 
 happiness. At Advent 1899, I was ordained a Priest 
 by the Bishop of Crediton, in Truro Cathedral. 
 
 As I am writing a book about Ireland, I must not 
 allow myself to say too much about Cornwall, but 
 some of the dearest friends I have ever known are 
 in " the delectable Duchy,'* whilst some — God give 
 them rest — lie sleeping in God*s Acre — their souls 
 ripening for the great Harvest at the end of all 
 things. 
 
 My farewell to St. Tudy was one of the most trying 
 experiences of my life, and I went away knowing that 
 I left behind me many true friends, who regretted my 
 departure as much as I regretted leaving them. Can 
 I say more ? The parishioners presented me with a 
 purse of sovereigns and every possible expression of 
 esteem, regard and affection. When I said " Good- 
 bye I " I cried steadily from St. Tudy to Exeter as the 
 train bore me away to my new home in London. 
 
 Shortly after my Ordination I was paying a visit to a dear 
 old Cornish woman, who greeted me with a long description 
 of the merits of one of my predecessors. He was " a splendid 
 preacher, a grand singer, a constant visitor, so kind and 
 natteral-like, and a handsome gentleman too." 
 
 " Dear me ! " I thought, " I shall never be able to live up 
 to all this." I felt humbled. 
 
 Something that the dear old soul had said made me think 
 
64 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 that my illustrious predecessor was Irish, so to make sure I 
 said, — 
 
 " I beg your pardon, did you say Mr. was an Irish- 
 man ? " 
 
 " Bless 'ee, no, sur, he wer a gentleman ! " 
 
 Visiting sometimes lands one into strange positions 
 and makes one say curious things. 
 
 A Vicar once asked me to visit a lady whom he thought 
 was dying. I went immediately and called to find that 
 the lady, though in bed and suffering great pain, was merely 
 temporarily laid up ; I called again in a few days and found 
 her sitting up at the fire and dressed. 
 
 " Well ! Mrs. " said I, '" you are improving rapidly. 
 
 The first time I called you were in bed, now you are up. I 
 hope you will be out the next time I call ! " 
 
 People are very often unconsciously humorous. 
 
 At the end of the Spring I once told an old woman, who 
 had not been at the final Mothers' Meeting, that these meetings 
 would be discontinued until November. 
 
 "That will be a nice change, sir," she said, leaving me to 
 wonder what she really did mean. 
 
 As I am drifting into my anecdotage I know I shall 
 be forgiven for telling a little story about a St. Tudy 
 choir-boy. 
 
 The Rector was away for his holiday. I was in sole charge 
 of the Parish and in full possession of the Rectory. 
 
 As it was Christmas time I thought I would give an entertain- 
 ment to the choir-boys, and so I issued invitations for a httie 
 evening party with games, etc. We had a grand evening, 
 and all the boys seemed to enjoy themselves, with one 
 exception. Our principal boy — Stafford Button was his name — 
 looked as solemn as a judge and not a bit pleased with any- 
 thing. I put it down to a trifling indisposition or something 
 of that kind. But I was mistaken. A few days afterwards 
 there was a Cinematograph Show at the neighbouring town, 
 Wadebridge, and my boys were invited to go. This little 
 outing necessitated some small expense on my part for the 
 boys' tea at Wadebridge and for their railway fares. 
 
 Stafford Button came, but was even more solemn that 
 at the last entertainment. He was worse, he was angry. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 65 
 
 At last I could stand it no longer and 1 said to him point 
 blank : 
 
 " What is the matter with you, Stafford ? " 
 
 " Nothing, sir ! " 
 
 ** Yes, there is. Come, tell me what it is ! " 
 
 " Well, sir, if you must know, it's this. You are far too 
 good to us boys, and I don't like to see you wasting your 
 money on us." 
 
 I was thunderstruck, and was going to make a reply when 
 he suddenly jerked out : 
 
 " If you were to save your money you'd be a gentleman, 
 sir, and then you needn't be a clergyman ! " 
 
 In 1901 I was appointed Junior Assistant Priest 
 and afterwards Senior Assistant Priest at St. Saviour's, 
 Chelsea, parochially speaking — Belgravia geographi- 
 cally speaking — and there I remained, enjoying much 
 happiness, for more than five years, until my health 
 broke down, upon which my kind Bishop gave me 
 six months leave of absence from the diocese, which 
 he afterwards, with his good nature, extended to twelve. 
 
 I was temporary Chaplain at Venice for that most 
 charming of all Continental Chaplains, Canon Ragg 
 of Lincoln — for the Spring of this year, and were I 
 to say all I feel about the lavish kindness which was 
 showered upon Harry Dudley and upon me during 
 my three months term of office there, not only by the 
 English and Americans, but also by the Venetians, I 
 could extend my book to three volumes, but there — 
 if Cornwall is not part of Ireland — still less is Italy. 
 
 In 1891 a well known name became inseparably 
 linked with mine, the name of Percy French — author — 
 poet — humourist — painter — engineer — mathematician 
 entertainer — and — best of men. 
 
 No living man has got such a grasp on real Irish 
 
66 t^ AND ON IRELAND 
 
 humour. When Percy French sends me a new MS.S. 
 on a postcard or on part of a band-box, to set to music 
 as a song, it usually means that I have to sit down 
 and rock with laughter at the real fun contained in 
 it before I dare think of setting it to music. His 
 humour is never forced, but always subtle. 
 
 Well do I remember when he was Editor of *' The 
 Jarvey " in Dublin, and I used to wonder why on earth 
 he did not make mighty London his centre. I knew 
 he would one day make a big name in the world, and 
 now one has only to go to the Steinway Hall to his 
 refreshing and delightful entertainments to see what 
 a marvellous hold he has upon the great British public. 
 Few men can go on attracting such audiences in 
 London, audiences overflowing with literary men and 
 actors, who flock in hundreds to enjoy his performances. 
 With all his success he is as unassuming and lovable 
 as the day, eighteen years ago, when we sat down 
 to plan out the construction of our first Comedy 
 Opera, which was produced in Dublin in 1891 with 
 much success. 
 
 In 1892 we again collaborated and produced an 
 historical Comedy Opera entitled, " Strongbow." This 
 was a big financial failure, because, quite unintention- 
 ally, and unconsciously, we touched upon a question 
 which is, naturally, most painful to all true Irish people, 
 i.e., the conquest of Ireland in the reign of Henry II. 
 
 This was followed by a Musical Comedietta which 
 we called " Midsummer Madness." " Midsummer 
 Madness " was a success. 
 
To face page 66. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 67 
 
 Percy French has since then given to the world 
 a number of Irish humourous songs, for which I 
 have had the privilege of either composing or finding 
 the music. These songs are now sung in every part 
 of the world where an Irishman — or an Englishman 
 for that matter — is to be found. There are few places 
 in Africa, Australia or America, where " Maguire's 
 Motor Bike," " Wait for a while now, Mary;" 
 " Rafferty's racin' mare," " Golf," " The Mountains 
 of Mourne," " Are ye right there, Michael," etc., have 
 not penetrated. 
 
 I once got Percy French an engagement for a political 
 meeting. The hall was so crowded that he could not even 
 get inside the door and there was no entrance from the plat- 
 form end of the hall. As I was responsible for the programme 
 I was in despair when I could not find him. Presently we 
 saw a leg coming through a window over the platform, then 
 a ladder was thrust through, and our humourist descended 
 the ladder amidst a bevy of Members of ParUament and 
 their wives. It was an ideal entrance for a comic man, and 
 he never performed more brilliantly than he did on that 
 occasion. 
 
 We again collaborated in 1906 and produced a 
 Christmas fairy play, " Noah's Ark." The public gave 
 it, and us, a most flattering reception at the Waldorf 
 Theatre. Madge Lessing, Agnes Thomas, Messrs. Ross 
 and Philip Comyns Carr worked hard to make it a 
 success, and they succeeded. 
 
 Dr. Annie Patterson, a very distinguished Irish 
 lady, the first, and one of the only lady Doctors of 
 Music, wrote several libretti for me between 1898 and 
 1902. In 1898 I wrote " St Patrick " for the Dublm 
 Musical Festival, and in 1899 the " Game of Chess " 
 
68 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 for the Belfast Festival, in 1902 " Samhain " for the 
 Dublin Festival, and in 1903 an orchestral suite 
 named " Rosaleen." 
 
 But I am forgetting. This is my diary. Where 
 was I ? Oh, yes ! I was in DubHn. 
 
 My Recital in Dublin on November 24th was a 
 wonderful success. All my old friends flocked to the 
 Antient Concert Rooms which presented a very pretty 
 sight that evening. Four London artists came over 
 and gave me — yes, gave me — their services for the 
 occasion. Where can one find such real generosity 
 as in the dramatic and musical world ? 
 
 Madame Annie Albu, erstwhile Prima Donna in 
 the Royal Italian and Carl Rosa Opera Cos., 
 left London for a whole week to oblige me. Mr. 
 Alfred Long — the best male alto I have ever heard — 
 and Herr Joseph Claus (the big Austrian baritone) 
 were the vocalists, whilst Miss Keevil, who is the very 
 greatest of English mandolinistes, also gave her 
 services. The artists' room during the interval became 
 so congested with dear friends who came in to give 
 the kindly greeting and the warm and sincere hand- 
 shake, that I thought we should never be able to 
 proceed with the second part of the performance. 
 
 Whenever I play in the Antient Concert Rooms, my mind 
 goes back to one night in the " eighties/* when I was plajdng 
 the organ obbhgato in SuUivan's ** Lost Chord " for Mrs. Scott- 
 Ffennell (the queen of Irish vocahsts). It was only when I 
 sat down at the Uttle organ that I discovered that the chair 
 was minus a leg. Signor Esposito had started the symphony 
 and I had to make the best of my position, which was a very 
 unsettled and unsteady one. Every time I used the bellows 
 I was obUged to wobble and wriggle on that miserable chair. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 69 
 
 The audience was quick to see my difficulty, and instead of 
 listening to dear Mrs. Scott-Ffennell's magnificent rendering 
 of " The Lost Chord," they all levelled their attention on 
 me and determined to enjoy themselves. We never got 
 further than the second line of the first verse, for when Mrs. 
 Scott sang, ** Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and 
 ill at ease," the humour of the position was too much for 
 the Dublin public. They burst into a roar of laughter, whilst 
 Mrs. Scott-Ffennell, Signor Esposito and I fled from the plat- 
 form. 
 
 On Sunday morning, November 25th, I accompanied 
 my friend, Herr Claus — who is, by the way, a 
 very devout man — to High Mass at Marlborough 
 St. Cathedral. The ceremonial was dignified and 
 impressively carried out, whilst the Sermon was grand. 
 
 I was delighted with the music. Everything was 
 devotional. The music was really Church music. 
 The choir sang a Mass in which there was much diffi- 
 cult imitation of a florid order, but it was all so well 
 sung that, to the ordinary worshipper, the choir seemed 
 as if they were not doing anything difficult at all. 
 The balance of tone was perfect, the quality and 
 production of the boys' voices delicious or — may I 
 say it — angelic. To me — with my boyish recollections 
 of the badly executed and irreligious music which 
 used to prevail in the Churches in Ireland, this Mass 
 was a revelation. The greatest praise is due to 
 all concerned as regards the music at the pro-Cathedral. 
 It was soul-stirring. It was ideal. 
 
 In the afternoon Herr Claus accompanied me to 
 St. Patrick's Cathedral. 
 
 My happiest early musical recollections are con- 
 nected with St. Patrick's, Never shall I forget the 
 
70 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 days, when, as a boy, I used to go there Sunday after 
 Sunday and listen to that wonderful genius — Stewart — 
 pouring forth his very soul at the organ. I do not 
 believe there ever was a man who could improvise 
 like Sir Robert Stewart. Before the service began 
 he would take up a theme and literally lift the whole 
 congregation with him into the realms of the unseen. 
 Often enough he would keep the clergy waiting in 
 their stalls for ten minutes before the Office could 
 be begun. With any other organist this would have 
 been insufferable, but with Stewart it was a delight 
 and welcome. 
 
 He used to get into the spirit of the day, whatever 
 the day might be. His Voluntary was an epitome of 
 the whole service. Was it Christmas night ? Stewart 
 would bring the drama of the Incarnation right before 
 your very eyes. You forgot that you were in the 
 nineteenth century, and in the British Islands. You 
 were worshipping the Infant Saviour in Bethlehem's 
 Cave ; you were transported to the fields where the 
 shepherds lay " keeping watch over their flocks by 
 night ; " you heard the Hosts of Heaven singing forth 
 the first " Gloria in Excelsis." 
 
 Was it Easter Day ? * Then Stewart would bring 
 you to the empty tomb, he would make you in your 
 heart rejoice with the risen Lord, " the first fruits of 
 them that slept." 
 
 Oh, those days ! What lovely days they were in 
 
 * The day on which the great Irish master was called away. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 71 
 
 Dublin ! When Bapty used to sing " Comfort ye, 
 my people ! " as no living man ever sang it. What a 
 combination that quartette was when Helmsley, 
 Bapty, Grattan Kelly and dear old Ben Mullen used 
 to join in " I beheld and lo ! " 
 
 How my dear father loved it all ! 
 
 Oh ! What memories of days long since gone by the 
 service on that November afternoon brought back ! 
 The music was as lovely as ever. The choir sang with 
 all their old sweetness and "go." Marchant was 
 magnificent at the organ, and — by the way, what a 
 magnificent organ it is ! 
 
 Dean Bernard's sermon on " Sunday observance " 
 was splendid, but then everything Dean Bernard does 
 is splendid. What wonderful changes he has made 
 at St. Patrick's. The music was always lovely, but 
 the " tone " of the place was not always so. Dean 
 Bernard's wonderful personality seems to have 
 influenced everything and everybody at St. Patrick's 
 for good. The Altar is cared for, the Sanctuary 
 looks dignified. Well do I remember when the 
 Sactuary steps were used as seats for an overflow of 
 the congregation. Well do I remember when the Sedilia 
 were used as a cloak room. Well do I remember when 
 the congregation talked and laughed, and oft times 
 walked through the service. St. Patrick's is now a 
 place of worship. There is no mistaking that. 
 
 Where all is so beautiful it seems ungracious to 
 find a fault, but as it is a very bad fault in my eyes, 
 I must out with it. Why are those irritating barriers 
 
72 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 still in use — those barriers which keep the people out 
 of the body of the church ? I confess it, I felt ashamed 
 when my Austrian friend and I were turned away 
 from one of the barriers by a verger, and told to 
 find seats in the back of the Cathedral. My friend's 
 indignation knew no bounds. " Do you call this the 
 House of God ? " he said. " Never on the Continent 
 have I seen such a thing happen in a church. It is 
 disgraceful." And so it was. Having found the Dean 
 I told him that there were scores of vacant seats and 
 yet my friend and I were told to find places in the 
 back of the Cathedral. The Dean very courteously 
 sent a message to say that we were to be shown into 
 his pew. That was all very well for us, but what 
 about the other people ? What about the hundreds 
 of people who go every Sunday to the Cathedral and 
 never get near the Choir nor Pulpit, much less the 
 Altar? 
 
 This sort of thing has ruined the Church of Ireland. 
 For generations before the disestablishment of the 
 Irish Church, England, and the Irish Church herself, 
 I am sorry to say, being really far more English 
 than Irish in sentiment — did everything that could 
 possibly be done to make the Church the Church of 
 the classes and not the Church of the masses. That 
 is one of the many reasons for her failure in laying 
 hold of the Irish people. The Church was the Church 
 of the squire, the Church of the landlord. The 
 people who went to the Church sat in pews with doors, 
 doors which were opened with scant courtesy to any 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 73 
 
 but those who were well known, unless indeed, they 
 were well dressed. 
 
 It seems a pity that in the National Cathedral of 
 Ireland — called after Ireland's Patron Saint, this 
 spirit should be kept alive. 
 
 In the parish churches in Dublin I have often seen 
 people kept standing in the aisles until a good part 
 of the Service was over, through the discourtesy 
 engendered by the pew-system. It is bad enough 
 there, but in the National Cathedral it is an outrage. 
 
 I asked my Austrian friend how he liked the Service. 
 " The music was beautiful, and so was the Sermon," 
 said he, " but as to the Service, there was too much 
 King — Queen — Prince and Princess of Wales — Royal 
 Family — High Court of Parliament and so on." I am 
 afraid the same charge might be levelled against many 
 of our Churches in England, where the atmosphere is 
 still so redolent of the Lion and Unicorn, and red 
 velvet. 
 
 ****** 
 
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74 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Monday, November 26th. Banbridge. 
 
 All my kind friends from London having given me 
 their services for a week, we journeyed northwards 
 and began a little tour at Banbridge. Canon Grierson 
 and his brother Priests had worked up a splendid 
 audience, which was most responsive and appreciative. 
 The concert took place in a hall that is a credit to 
 the town and to the good taste of the people who 
 built it. 
 
 ^ jfe X * ife ^ 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
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IN AND ON IRELAND 75 
 
 Tuesday, November 2yth. Downpatrick. 
 
 Under the auspices of the local Musical Society 
 our concert took place here. It is always a pleasure 
 to help at Downpatrick, where a good audience 
 invariably assembles, all charming people, with such 
 pleasant faces. The organisers too. Captain Hender- 
 son, Mr. Roden Johnston, Mr. McConnell, etc., are all 
 the very best. 
 
 We had a very high pitched pianoforte which caused much 
 annoyance to Herr Claus. In the middle of Beethoven's 
 " Adelaida," he turned round, shook his fist at it, and shouted 
 out, " Dat is a beastly piano." Alas for me ! The audience 
 thought he said, " Dat is a beastly man," andjthey shrieked 
 with laughter. 
 
 ****** 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 -^ ^^ /^ 
 
76 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Wednesday, November 28th. Belfast. 
 
 What hosts of recollections the concert of the City 
 Choral Society in the Ulster Hall brought up to my 
 mind ! 
 
 I thought of my first concert here in 1887, when about three 
 thousand people rushed into the hall like a flood, knocking 
 down the ticket checkers and smashing a well known citizen's 
 umbrella, the cost of the repairs of which (Hke a true 
 Northerner) he charged me. I remember sending him a 
 crossed cheque for eighteen-pence, which I heard he after- 
 wards had framed and hung in his of&ce. 
 
 In the spring of 1888, a very remarkable American Prima 
 Donna, Miss Marie Decca, appeared with me in Belfast. She 
 was one of the many artists whose " discovery " was due 
 to that wonderful impresario, Colonel Mapleson — a most 
 delightful old gentleman, by the way. 
 
 Decca was nothing if not original, and whenever I led 
 her upon the platform I felt more like the ring-master of a 
 Circus than a staid and serious Concert conductor, as I had 
 literally to run along with her when she tripped upon the 
 platform, somewhat after the fashion of Genee at the Empire. 
 Her sight was not of the best, and therefore I always avoided 
 these impromptu pas de deux on my platform. 
 
 The Belfast public received the new Prima Donna with 
 unbounded enthusiasm. Her reception, which — for a Belfast 
 audience, was quite astonishing — completely overcame her, 
 and she quite lost her head with excitement. After five 
 rapturous recalls she seized my hand to drag me along to 
 the pianoforte, running practically all the time, but, alas ! 
 she did not observe a chair which was on the platform. Her 
 dress caught in an arm of it and we both fell flat upon our 
 faces in full view of the audience. 
 
 I was once placed in rather an awkward position in Belfast. 
 It was on an " Albani " night and, of course, the Ulster Hall 
 was crammed to its utmost capacity. 
 
 The programme was to have commenced with a trio of 
 Gade for violin, violoncello and pianoforte. Eight o'clock 
 came, but to my utter consternation, no violoncellist arrived. 
 We waited for a quarter of an hour and then Madame Albani, 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 75^ 
 
 with that sweet and beautiful nature of hers, offered to begin 
 the concert herself. Miss Kate ChapUn (one of our best 
 English violinists) would not hear of it, and insisted on being 
 allowed to play her solo as the opening item. 
 
 Just as we came off the platform at its conclusion, our 
 violoncellist — dear old Rudersdorff — came puf&ng and blowing 
 into the artists' room saying : — 
 
 " Ah ! my dear doctare, I did meet with an accident, and 
 vill you please ask Ze audience to give me zare best indulgence ? 
 In ze thrain coming from Dublin, a shentleman let his 
 tin thronk fall on my shin, and when I come to Belfast 
 I do send for ze doctare and he dhress my leg for two-three 
 hours, so I am late. You vill tell ze audience, vill you 
 not ? " 
 
 Anxious to pacify the public on account of our want of 
 punctuality in beginning the concert, I rushed upon the 
 platform and told my dear old friend's pretty little story. 
 The audience, instead of being sympathetic, shouted with 
 laughter, believing the narrative to have been a concoction. 
 When Rudersdorff appeared carrying his 'cello, and limping 
 the while badly, I beheve that audience was sorry, and then 
 when the artist — (and what an artist he was !) — played as he 
 had never played before, all was forgotten and a mighty storm 
 of applause burst forth. He rose to bow his acknowledgements, 
 but he forgot his limp and proceeded to walk triumphantly off 
 the platform. 
 
 " Limp ! Limp ! old man," said I. Rudersdorff heard me, 
 but so did the audience, and when my violoncellist started to 
 resume his limp, laughter burst forth in peals, loud and long, 
 such as one does not often hear in the capital of Ulster. 
 
 What really did occur was that Rudersdorff had gone to 
 sleep after dinner at the Hotel and did not awake until eight 
 o'clock* 
 
 ****** 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
78 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Thursday, November 2gth. Armagh. 
 
 Here the Philharmonic Society performed my 
 Cantata — " The Game of Chess." Dear Dr. Osborne 
 Marks — I love you. You are always the same — 
 amiable — quiet — easy-going — but making everyone do 
 exactly what you want. It was delightful to the 
 composer to hear your band and chorus give such a 
 fine rendering of his work, but it was not a delight 
 when he found that he — who has no voice — ^had to 
 be Primo Tenor e on this occasion. It is wonderful 
 what one can do when one has to do it. I shall not 
 chronicle what Herr Claus said when his voice cracked 
 on the high note. The audience will never forget it. 
 
 jfe ^ * ^ * * 
 
 is io * * * 
 
 * io * * 
 
 35 io 4o 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 79 
 
 Friday, November ^oth. Lurgan. 
 
 A crowded audience came to the concert in the 
 Town Hall. 
 
 It was at an " At Home " near Lurgan some years ago, 
 that a hostess asked me if I wouldn't mind playing something 
 by Chopin or Grieg, whilst the servants removed the tea- 
 things I 
 
 ****** 
 ***** 
 
 ,-K A^ /^ ^> 
 
 * * io 
 
8o m AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Saturday, December ist. Dublin. 
 
 We gave a Matinee in the Antient Concert Rooms. 
 
 Matinee audiences can be terrible, but this one -! I ! 
 
 Talking of Matinees reminds me of one at which Adelaide 
 Mullen, Henry Beaumont, Douglas Powell and I were 
 to appear some years ago at Bognor. Whatever was the 
 reason I cannot tell, but our audience only numbered two 
 ladies. Of course we told the ladies that their money would 
 be returned — (they had taken tickets for the sixpenny gallery) — 
 and that we could not go on with the concert. We had no 
 idea that there would be any dif&culty in getting them to 
 see things in a proper light. They were most indignant, 
 however, and refused to leave the hall. It took the combined 
 efforts of the local manager, Madame Mullen and myself to 
 get them to go home after a twenty-five minutes' conversation. 
 
 I once appeared at Cowes, Isle of Wight, to an audience 
 consisting of fifteen people. We went right through the 
 programme and gave nine encores. 
 
 io * * * * * 
 ***** 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ik 
 
 * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 8i 
 
 Monday, December ^rd. Tallaght. 
 
 I organized a little Concert for the Rector of St. 
 Maelrune's for Parish expenses. It was a huge success, 
 and my old friends, Bridge Whelan and Sealy Jeffares, 
 brought me a host of helpers to make up a splendid 
 programme. Whelan was as airy and as elegant as 
 ever. Did you ever hear Jeffares sing one of Percy 
 French's songs ? Well, just hear him ! 
 
 We missed Mrs. Murphy. 
 
 Oh, what memories of the past that little Concert 
 brought back ! Those performances of Gilbert and 
 Sullivan's " Mikado " and " Trial by Jury " upon a 
 stage fifteen feet by five ! The awful perils we escaped 
 when paraffin lamps fell and exploded on the floor, 
 so common an occurrence at Tallaght, that on one 
 occasion a little child was heard to shout out, 
 " Mummie ! when will the lamp fall ? " 
 
 ft * i^ * :fe ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft ft ft 
 
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 ft 
 
82 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Tuesday, December 4th, Portlaw. 
 
 A beautifully situated place, but what an extraordin- 
 ary town ! Rows and rows of small houses all built 
 in the strictest uniformity, and tumbling down in 
 the same style. They say the factories will one day 
 live again. I hope they will. 
 
 My Recital took place in a vast structure, the 
 audience being mostly seated near the platform. 
 
 The rain, which had been rather kind for a week 
 or so, now returned with redoubled energy, and just 
 prevented my Recital from being a great success. 
 
 On the next evening I gave an Organ Recital in 
 the Parish Church, such a nice Church, with such 
 nice services — but then Mr. Flemyng is the Rector. 
 He and Mrs. Flemyng gave my secretary and myself 
 a delightful time during our visit to Portlaw, at the 
 Rectory. Just before my Organ Recital, there was 
 something like a water-spout. Rain came pelting 
 down in sheets. The streets ran like rivers of water, 
 and yet there were people who had the courage to 
 brave the elements. 
 
 ****** 
 
 ***** 
 
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IN AND ON IRELAND 83 
 
 Thursday, December 6th. Carlow. 
 
 On our way from Portlaw we passed dear old 
 Kilkenny with its fine Cathedral and round tower. 
 
 Once long ago — in 1888, to be strictly accurate — when 
 journeying with a small concert party from the west of Ireland 
 to Kilkenny, we were put into a wrong part of the train, the 
 result being that we arrived at the " City of the cats " an hour 
 late for the concert. The whole audience waited in patience, 
 and most good-humouredly too. A costume recital of the 
 " Garden Scene " from Gounod's " Faust " was to be our 
 piece de resistance. 
 
 It was. 
 
 The stage consisted of loose planks. A huge pianoforte, 
 quite immovable, was placed in the middle of it. Plants 
 were distributed at exact intervals of a yard apart in pots. 
 Never shall I forget my feelings when I found myself seated 
 at the pianoforte in the middle of poor Margherita's garden, 
 for that I was ! Burgon, of the Carl Rosa Opera Company, 
 was our Mephistofeles. When his Incantation on the flowers 
 came he calmly reclined on the top of the piano, but the 
 audience did not even smile. The performance was full of 
 contretemps. Occasionally Faust and Margherita would get on 
 the same plank, enacting an impromptu see-saw performance, 
 and poor Madame Sinico, who was our Siebel, disappeared 
 altogether in the middle of the " Flower song." It was an 
 awful experience at the time, but we all enjoyed many a 
 hearty laugh over it afterwards. 
 
 And this reminds me of a chapter of accidents which once 
 befel us when we gave " Faust " in a theatre down South. It 
 would be kinder not to mention exactly where. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon, Burgon went down to the 
 theatre to rehearse his entree by the trap-door in the first act. 
 The man who worked the trap-door was indignant. 
 
 " Me rehearse ! " said he. " Never.'* 
 
 " I suppose you'll be all right," ventured Burgon. 
 
 " There's no suppose about it," said the trap man. " I'll 
 bring you up with a hop." 
 
 He did. 
 
 That night, just as Faust invoked the Powers of Evil to aid 
 him — (I was in front conducting) — I heard a gigantic gong 
 sound, and saw my poor Basso shot up into the air to a height 
 of about six feet, after which he measured his length on the 
 
84 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 ground. The man had put Mephistofeles on a Pantomime 
 spring trap, only used by acrobats, and when Faust saw him 
 enter in this undignified fashion he could scarcely sing the next 
 Hne. 
 
 This was not all, however. 
 
 The boy who worked the red fire thought he could not give 
 his Satanic Majesty a sufl&cient quantity of his friendly element, 
 and put at least a pound of the powder on a iron pan under- 
 neath the trap. 
 
 Faust and Mephistofeles were well nigh choked. Margherita, 
 in the vision, was seized with a fit of coughing that doubled 
 her in two, and by the end of the act the whole theatre was 
 filled with white smoke and such an awful stench, that fully 
 half the audience had to go into the outer air until it had 
 cleared. 
 
 During the garden scene a very funny thing occurred, 
 Sinico wcis doubUng the parts of Seibel and Marta — a procedure 
 which necessitated a very quick change of costume. The 
 stage manager had pushed the back cloth as far as ever it 
 would go to get space for the garden scene in this httle theatre. 
 Shall I call the dressing-rooms primitive ? Perhaps I had 
 better say at once that there were no dressing-rooms, and that 
 the artists had to dress immediately behind the back cloth, the 
 ladies being divided from the gentlemen by a canvas sheet. 
 Something was wrong with the works, however, and in the 
 middle of the Jewel Song, down came the back scene with a 
 crash, reveahng Madame Sinico changing from her Seibel to 
 her Marta dress. It was an awful moment. The audience 
 laughed as if their sides would spHt. Sinico yelled, rushed 
 to the scene, holding it up to act as a screen, and kept on 
 screaming until the act drop was lowered. 
 
 The garden scene was not a success that night ! 
 
 But the worst was to come. At the end of the opera, when 
 Mephistofeles would take Faust away to the infernal regions, 
 Mephistofeles, having by this time engendered a rooted 
 objection to traps, elected to depart thence by the wings. 
 His old friend^ the boy with the red fire, however, thinking 
 that as the opera was all but over he might indulge in one 
 more pyrotechnic display — emptied about two pounds of 
 red fire powder on his pan and held it aloft to receive Mephis- 
 tofeles and his prey. 
 
 The effect was startling, for there was so much fire, smoke 
 and intense heat, that both had to retire from the awful 
 blaze, whereupon a gallery boy called out : — 
 
 " Faith 'tis too hot for the Divil himself." 
 
 ^Teedless to say the positioii wag ruine<i. The curtain 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 85 
 
 fell amidst roars of laughter upon the most remarkably stage- 
 managed performance of " Faust " that I have ever been 
 privileged to see. 
 
 When we arrived in Carlow it was a miserably wet 
 evening. Despite the weather a large audience and 
 a pleasant one assembled. 
 
 Carlow is remarkable as being the residence of 
 Dr. Malone. I have never met a man with such an 
 endless flow of anecdotes. He is quite an original 
 personality and is as good as gold. 
 
 Dr. Malone very kindly came to the railway station to bid 
 me welcome to Carlow, and whilst our luggage was being 
 deposited in the hotel 'bus, he told me that that afternoon a 
 farmer had called upon him and asked him if he would give 
 his daughter some singing lessons. " With the greatest 
 pleasure," said Dr. Malone. " Very well," said the farmer, 
 ** She'll be with you to-morrow at three o'clock. I want you 
 as a particular favour to teach her to sing in Italics ! " 
 
 " Come here till I tell you what happened to me the other 
 night down near Cork," said the genial doctor as my secretary 
 and I were endeavouring to get into our 'bus. 
 
 " I had arranged to give a concert in a certain town which 
 I had never before visited. Seeing me in distress about some- 
 thing, a man came up and enquired good-naturedly, " Is there 
 anything the matter ? " I replied that we had intended having 
 a trio for violin, pianoforte and harmonium, but that we should 
 be obliged to omit it, as the last-named instrument was lower 
 than the piano. " Oh ! never mind that," said he cheerfully, 
 at the same time giving me such a very encouraging slap on 
 the back that he left me breathless. " Come and put a couple 
 of bricks under it ! " 
 
86 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Friday, December yth. Tullow. 
 
 When I looked at the audience I thought my per- 
 formance would be a dreadful failure. It was nothing 
 of the kind. A large number of people came and 
 they were as keen as any audience before whom I 
 have ever appeared. I cannot help relating, however, 
 that when I was walking back to my hotel, after 
 the Recital, a lady came up to me and said, " Me and 
 my husband enjoyed your entertainment very much 
 indeed, but I think if you'd bring a Circus the next 
 time you come, you'd have more people there ! " 
 
 JS JR * ^ * * 
 
 ^ X jfe ^ * 
 
 JB * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 87 
 
 Saturday, Sunday and Monday, 
 
 December Sth, gth and 10th. Kildare. 
 
 After all my weeks of really hard work, Kildare 
 was once more what it has often been to me before, a 
 veritable haven of rest. Once more was I received 
 under the friendly roof of my devoted old friend, 
 Richard Chaplin. 
 
 The dear, delightful Dean of Kildare, called upon me 
 and invited me to preach the next day in the Cathedral. 
 
 I know of no more interesting spot than Kildare 
 with all its wonderful memories of the past, hallowed 
 by its connection with Saint Brigid. As I entered the 
 Cathedral that morning and saw the fine congregation, 
 which included some hundreds of soldiers, I could 
 not help contrasting the existing state of affairs with 
 what existed there only thirty-five years ago. 
 
 Then, the grand old Cathedral, which is now once 
 more one of the glories of the land, was a ruin. Grass 
 grew in the nave. The winds of Heaven blew through 
 the windows of the roofless choir and transept. A 
 barn-like structure did duty for the Cathedral of the 
 diocese, its only interesting reminiscence being that 
 the good Bishop Wilson of Sodor and Man had received 
 Deacons Orders therein. The Chalice which he pre- 
 sented to the Cathedral is still in use. 
 
 One day, in the early " seventies," Doctor Chaplin 
 and some of the parishioners of Kildare approached 
 the Archbishop of Dublin, the great Dr. Trench, to 
 ask him to consider how their Cathedral might be 
 restored. Dr. Chaplin came home and told Mrs. 
 
88 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Chaplin the story of the failure of the deputation. 
 Little Dick, then five years of age, who was in the room 
 at the time, overheard that the Cathedral could 
 not be restored as there was no money forthcoming 
 for the purpose. 
 
 " Why should you want money when I have my 
 bullock ? Sell it and restore the Cathedral," said 
 the little fellow. 
 
 :|;His father was struck with an idea there and then 
 to start a fund with his little boy's offer. The bullock 
 was sold and realized five pounds and from that 
 beginning, in a very few years a large sum of money 
 was collected. 
 
 The " little bullock boy " laid the foundation stone 
 of the restoration, which was entrusted to Street, 
 and in 1896 the Cathedral was re-opened with a 
 magnificent Service, in which three Primates, the Arch- 
 bishops of Armagh (Alexander, whom God preserve !), 
 Canterbury and Dublin took part. There were Bishops 
 present from all parts of the world. There were 
 clergy in hundreds. The music was superb, being in the 
 hands of the united Choirs of St. Patrick's and Christ 
 Church Cathedrals. A vast crowd assembled inside, 
 whilst there were almost as many more outside the 
 Cathedral, whose enthusiasm was not in the least 
 damped by a deluge of rain.* 
 
 * The next morning when I was returning to Dublin I found the 
 three Primates on the platform at Sallins. A great crowd had 
 assembled to gaze upon their Graces. An old apple-woman came 
 upon the scene and looked contemptuously on the crowd, shouting 
 out at the same time " Faith ! yiz have little to do, wastin' yer 
 time lookin' at three ould Pratestant Bishops " 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 89 
 
 As I went into the Cathedral all these memories 
 filled my mind, and I could not help thinking what a 
 very different place Kildare of to-day is from Kildare 
 of even ten years ago. 
 
 Then it was a poor country town with little or no 
 prospect of a future before it. To-day it has a popu- 
 lation of about double what it had ten years ago. 
 There is a fine Bank, and every day new houses are 
 being built, amidst every sign of increasing prosperity. 
 
 Thanks to the energetic working of my old friend, 
 Richard Chaplin, my Recital at Kildare was a great 
 success, and I left Kildare once more with much regret. 
 
 * * * ^ io ife 
 
 * * * JSo jR 
 
 * ^ JK 3o 
 
 * * is 
 
90 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Tuesday, December nth. Maryborough. 
 
 A truly horrible, wet day, made a miserable place 
 ten times more miserable. None of the townspeople 
 came to my Recital. The people of the surrounding 
 country drove in, some of them for many miles. I 
 shall never forget the enthusiasm of one party of ten 
 ladies, who drove all the way from Mountrath in an 
 open wagonette on that awful wet night. 
 
 I noticed an old friend in the audience, Mrs. Fitz- 
 gerald — nee Amy Craig — one of the best musicians I 
 have ever met, a born genius in fact. 
 
 On Wednesday, December 12th, my secretary and 
 I returned to Kildare to pay a few days visit to the 
 Dean and Mrs. Cowell. 
 
 Mrs. Cowell is celebrated as being one of the best 
 hostesses in Ireland and that reputation is more than 
 true, as all those who have enjoyed the warm 
 hospitality of Kildare Deanery know. The Dean of 
 Kildare is a cultured and learned man, a fine preacher, 
 and a brilliant conversationalist as well. 
 
 His knowledge of Irish Ecclesiastical History is 
 extraordinary and it is an education to hear him 
 preach on St. Patrick or St. Brigid. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 91 
 
 Monday, December lyth. Naas. 
 
 I had a dreadful evening, with a pianoforte, every 
 note of which squeaked. 
 
 ****** 
 
 i^ * * * * 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * jfe 
 
 * * 
 
92 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Tuesday, December i8th. Dunlavin. 
 
 One of the best audiences I have ever entertained. 
 The management was perfect. 
 
 io io * * * * 
 
 io io jfe * * 
 
 io io * * 
 
 3o * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 93 
 
 Wednesday, December igth. Grange Con. 
 
 At eight o'clock there was not a living being in 
 the hall, but by 8.30 a most charming audience 
 assembled. 
 
 Much kind hospitahty from Mr. and Mrs. Fenton 
 of Knock-a-reagh. 
 
 * jfe jfe * * 3o 
 
 jfe * * JR Jo 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
94 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Tuesday, December 20th. Blessington. 
 
 One of the best audiences of my tour. The Recital 
 was well managed by Mr. Davis. 
 
 In the early " nineties " I organised an amateur nigger 
 minstrel show at a Httle village near Blessington. One of my 
 " troupe " went home and went to bed just as he was — with 
 a blackened face. 
 
 His people did not know that he had been in a " burnt- 
 cork show " but thought he had been taking part in an 
 ordinary concert. 
 
 The next morning one of his sisters brought his breakfast 
 to him to his bedroom. 
 
 When she opened the door and found a black man sitting 
 up in bed, she screamed, flung the tray with tea, hot water, 
 milk, eggs, etc., on the floor and ran away, refusing to come 
 back until she heard her brother s voice. As he had forgotten 
 that his face was black he was more frightened at his sister s 
 behaviour than she was at his appearance. 
 
 io * * * Jfe * 
 JK ,-K /^ ^^ >^ 
 
 3o * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 95 
 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 I had arranged to spend Christmas at the far- 
 famed Hydro at St. Ann's Hill, Co. Cork, and accor- 
 dingly my secretary and I wended our way thither on 
 Friday, December 21st. 
 
 I cannot speak too highly of this charming resort. 
 It is an ideal place for health, and it is situated in 
 the midst of much beautiful scenery. 
 
 Mr. Martin is a wonderful secretary, always planning 
 everybody's comfort, always patient, always charming. 
 
 The management of St. Ann's is splendid. Punctu- 
 ality and scrupulous cleanliness are combined with 
 absolute freedom. 
 
 There is no place that I know of which is so delightful 
 for a rest, and yet one is never bored there, as there 
 is always something going on for the entertainment 
 of the guests — theatricals, concerts, dances, etc. — and 
 now the Hydro is connected with one of the best Golf 
 Links in the kingdom. It is within easy reach of Cork, 
 and several interesting and beautiful places, yet one 
 never wants to go to them, for the Hydro itself is so 
 attractive. 
 
 Our Christmas there was " a merry Christmas." 
 All the time honoured customs were kept up in 
 traditional style, and when Christmas Day came, we 
 added our voices to the little choir at Blarney Church, 
 where the Rector — Canon Powell — did me the honour 
 of asking me to preach at the 11 o'clock service. 
 
 I heartily recommend anyone who wants to get 
 
96 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 well of anything to go to St. Ann's, where there are 
 baths of all kinds and " treatments " of every de- 
 scription. Dr. Ainslie Hudson, one of the most 
 delightful of men and cleverest of doctors, was the 
 medical man at St. Ann's during our visit there. 
 
 * * * * 3o JSo 
 
 * JB JK is 35 
 
 S) !R io S> 
 
 * 3o io 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 97 
 
 After a few weeks' rest at St. Ann's, I resumed my 
 Recitals on 
 Friday, January nth. Mountmellick. 
 
 At great inconvenience I had postponed my Recital 
 at Mountmellick no less than three times to oblige 
 local people, but they did not seem to think they 
 were indebted to me in any way, and rewarded me 
 with a very scant attendance, but, as it always is 
 in Ireland, it was a joy to entertain those who did 
 come. 
 
 * * * ^ io io 
 
 * * * * ^ 
 
 * * * * 
 
 is> s> S) 
 
98 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Monday, January 14th. Ballinasloe. 
 
 Father Thomas O'Connor, one of the Roman 
 Catholic Clergy of Ballinasloe, showed me every possible 
 kindness and attention, lending me a pianoforte and 
 seats, and doing all in his power to make my Recital 
 a success. 
 
 Indeed I cannot speak sufficiently gratefully of 
 all the courtesy that was shown to me all through 
 my tour by the Roman Catholic Clergy (with one 
 exception, which I have already mentioned) and by 
 the Church of Ireland Clergy (with five or six ex- 
 ceptions). 
 
 * * * ^ ^ ^ 
 
 -K ^R J^ -^ J^ 
 
 * JB JR io 
 
 * * JR 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 99 
 
 Tuesday, January i^th, Galway. 
 
 Dear Father Lally, your kindly face and welcome 
 presence were my only pleasant recollections of *' The 
 City of the Tribes." 
 
 * * * * * io 
 
 * jfe * ^ ^ 
 
 * * * jfe 
 
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100 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Wednesday, January i6th. Castlebar. 
 
 Had Canon Lendrum not been so good as to lend 
 me a pianoforte I should not have been able to give 
 a Recital. 
 
 Time seems of little importance to the inhabitants 
 of Castlebar. Although my Recital was announced 
 for eight o'clock, there were not six people in the 
 hall at that hour, but by half-past eight o'clock I 
 had a good audience, which woiild have been double 
 the size but for a Masonic dinner which was being 
 held the same evening. 
 
 ****** 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND loi 
 
 Thursday, January lyth. Ballina. 
 
 I gave my Recital in a fine new Parochial Hall and 
 the Rector came to my rescue once more by lending 
 his pianoforte. 
 
 I could not do anything well at Ballina, for the 
 occupants of the front seats talked incessantly from 
 the start to the finish of my Recital. 
 
 Why is it that " the stalls " so very often set such a 
 bad example to " the pit ? " Often and often in Ireland 
 I have had to stop in the middle of a pianoforte solo 
 and ask well-dressed men and women, occupants of 
 the reserved seats, who, I suppose, would like to be 
 known as " the gentry," to behave themselves. I 
 thought it was quite mid- Victorian to talk during 
 instrumental music. Perhaps the Irish " county 
 people " like to be considered mid- Victorian ? I 
 almost think they do. I was getting quite accustomed 
 to " play " amidst a storm of conversation during 
 my Irish tour, but it was reserved for Ballina to afford 
 me the unique experience of trying to " shout " a 
 humorous recital over and above a buzz of conver- 
 sation which lasted for the better part of two hours. 
 I wondered all through that " the pit " did not rise 
 en masse and demand silence. 
 
102 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Friday, January iSth, Claremorris. 
 
 I had a packed house and a jolly audience. Every- 
 one kind and obliging, especially the Rector, who gave 
 me the use of his school, and Mr. Draper, who did 
 yeoman service for me in the management. 
 
 io io * * * * 
 io ^ ^ * * 
 
 io jfe * * 
 * i^ ife 
 
 if, 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 103 
 
 Monday, January 21st . Collooney. 
 
 A nice audience. Unbounded kindness from Canon 
 and Mrs. McCormick. 
 
 Mr. Robert Pettigrew, a kind-hearted Scotchman, 
 lent me his pianoforte. 
 
 An awful rain-storm. 
 
 ^ S> S> S) So S> 
 
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 * * io 3o 
 
 * * io 
 
104 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Tuesday, January 22nd, Athlone. 
 
 More rain. Very small audience. Why ? 
 
 ^ Jl * ife * * 
 
 3d jfe ^ * * 
 
 3o * 3o ife 
 
 * * * 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 105 
 
 Wednesday, January 2^rd. Mullingar. 
 
 Fine hall. Nice audience. Drunken man in the 
 gallery. Good pianoforte. Great kindness from the 
 Rector. 
 
 I remember well in 1888, visiting Mullingar with Madame 
 Sinico and a large concert party. For weeks before the concert 
 I kept writing to the then proprietess of the best hotel there, 
 " The Greville Arms," and getting no reply. 
 
 When we arrived — eight of us — nothing would induce the 
 good proprietress to admit us, as she said she had made it a 
 rule " to have nothing to do with Circus people ! " 
 
 * io * * * * 
 
 * ^ X * ^ 
 
 is, 
 
lo6 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Thursday, January 24th. Abbeyleix. 
 
 I gave my Recital in a beautiful new hall and had 
 a splendid audience. Abbeyleix seems a model town. 
 During the first part of the programme, up to nine 
 o'clock, the holders of reserved seat tickets kept 
 streaming in in a never-ending procession. At nine 
 o'clock a lamp exploded, and this proved a signal to 
 begin going out, so that the audience was in a state 
 of perpetual motion during the entire performance. 
 
 5o * * * * * 
 
 ft io 3S * * 
 
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 A^ A^ JR 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 107 
 
 Friday, January 2'Sth. Templemore. 
 
 My impressions of Templemore are — lavish kindness 
 on the part of Rev. R. C. Madden, an old University 
 friend, and his wife — a splendid house — one of the 
 best I have ever entertained — an awful bang on the 
 top of my head on the stage, which made me see con- 
 stellations — ^getting suddenly ill in the middle of the 
 night to the consternation of the whole Madden 
 family — ^getting up next morning as well as ever, 
 giving an impromptu Organ Recital in the Roman 
 Catholic Church on the Saturday, and another in the 
 Parish Church on Sunday. 
 
 ****** 
 
 /^ ^^ --^ -^ /^ 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
io8 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I rested in Dublin. 
 
 On Wednesday night I went to see " the Play Boy of 
 the Western World," at the Abbey Theatre. As I 
 was a guest of the management, I won't say what I 
 thought of the play. Before I went to the theatre 
 I was full of the idea that the pubHc were wrong to 
 give it such an unfair reception. Before the second 
 act had terminated I found myself joining loudly 
 in the hisses and groans and shouts of disapproval. 
 
 Mr. Synge is a genius, but he should remember that 
 the elementary rule of good play- writing is to " hold 
 the mirror up to nature," and when a mirror is held 
 up it should not be a distorted one. 
 
 ****** 
 
 * ^ * * * 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
 is, 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 109 
 
 Thursday, January ^ist. Armagh. 
 
 I gave my entertainment to benefit the funds of 
 the Philharmonic Society. The hall was crammed, 
 the programme went magnificently, and I believe 
 my Recital was the means of getting the Society 
 completely out of debt. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Nelson were more than kind. 
 
 Mr. Nelson is a remarkable man. He once had 
 the cool — courage, shall I call it ? to write and ask 
 Madame Albani to come and give her services 
 gratuitously for a Philharmonic Society's concert. 
 She was so amazed at the request that she consented. 
 It was a wonderful night for Armagh. The Tontine 
 Rooms were crowded with a distinguished audience. 
 Madame Albani was the guest of the Primate, and the 
 whole event was a historic one in the annals of the 
 ecclesiastical capital of Ireland. The Dean, on this 
 occasion said he could not allow Madame Albani to 
 sing in the Cathedral. Was it because our dearly 
 loved and justly honoured cantatrice is a devout 
 Roman Catholic ? 
 
 Some years ago I attended the Three Choirs Festival at 
 Worcester. At I was entering the Cathedral there was an 
 altercation going on between an old gentleman and a policeman. 
 The old gentleman had no ticket, and the policeman — yes, a 
 policeman — resolutely refused him admittance into God's House. 
 
 " I wonder," said the old gentleman, " shall we require 
 tickets to get into Heaven ? " 
 
 " Possibly not, sir," said the policeman, " but you won't 
 hear Madame Albani there ! " 
 
 The utterances of Cathedral authorities are oft times 
 crvptic. 
 
no IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Friday, February isL Downpatrick. 
 
 I gave my Recital in aid of — I know not what — 
 something local that was good, I am sure, and was 
 the recipient of an ovation from the audience and warm 
 hospitality from Canon and Mrs. Pooler. 
 
 ****** 
 
 ***** 
 
 * * * * 
 
 /^ JR ^^ 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND iii 
 
 Saturday and Sunday , February 2nd and ^rd. 
 
 Paid a visit to Rev. J. Kidd, an old University 
 friend, and Mrs. Kidd, at Castlewellan. Mrs. Kidd, 
 an accomplished violinist, is a daughter of one of 
 Dublin's most accomplished professors of music, Mr. 
 Charles Grandison. 
 
 The Rector invited me to preach twice and to give 
 an Organ Recital. 
 
 * * S * 3o io 
 
 * ^ * * * 
 
 * * * io 
 
112 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Monday, February ^ih. Newcastle. 
 
 I gave my Recital for Rev. J. Woodward, an old 
 University friend, and as I was in one of the most 
 golfy neighbourhoods in the kingdom, *' No more 
 of yer Golfin' for me " * was a great success. 
 
 * ^ io io io io 
 S) i^ s> io So 
 
 * ^ * So 
 
 S> So s> 
 
 * Published by Messrs. Joseph Williams, Ltd., 32 Gt. Portland 
 Street. W. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 113 
 
 Tuesday and Wednesday, February ^th and 6th. 
 
 Kingstown. 
 
 Here I gave two Recitals for my old friend, Bertie 
 Barrett, " beautiful and bountiful," a most popular 
 man, and best of all bazaar organizers. 
 
 * io * * * * 
 
 M^ /^ /^ /^ --^ 
 
 * * * * 
 
 * * * 
 
114 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Thursday, February yth. Dundalk. 
 
 The last night of my tour. 
 
 As the Rector had a theatrical performance on, 
 and as there was a boxing match at the Military- 
 Barracks, how could I hope for a house ? — yet I got 
 one — small but nice. 
 
 Doctor and Mrs. Hercules MacDonnell, what delight- 
 ful people you both are ! 
 
 I left Kingstown the next morning for London, 
 having had a charming tour in Ireland, much benefited 
 in health, and happy in the consciousness that I had 
 raised a sum of about three hundred pounds for the 
 charitable and philanthropic objects for which I was 
 working. 
 
 END OF MY DIARY. 
 
 ife * A A * ife 
 
 * * ft * * 
 
 * ft * A 
 
 ft ft ft 
 
 ft ft 
 
 ft 
 
^ SONGS ^ 
 
 BY 
 
 PERCY FRENCH 
 
 AND 
 
 HOUSTON COLLISSON. 
 
 "WAIT FOR A WHILE NOW, MARY!" 
 
 "DONNEGAN'S DAUGHTER." 
 
 "MAGUIRE'S MOTOR BIKE" ("THE BIKE'S 
 ALL RIGHT!") 
 
 "NO MORE O' YER GOLFIN' FOR ME." 
 
 "RAFFERTY'S RACIN' MARE." 
 
 AND 
 
 "MRS. BRADY." 
 
 Published by 
 
 JOSEPH WILLIAMS, LTD., 
 
 32 GREAT PORTLAND STREET, W. 
 
^ SONGS ^ 
 
 BY 
 
 PERCY FRENCH 
 
 AND 
 
 HOUSTON COLLISSON. 
 
 "THE MOUNTAINS O' MOURNE." 
 "THE PRIDE OF PETRAVORE." 
 "WHEELAHAN'S AUTOMOBILE." 
 "ARE YE RIGHT THERE, MICHAEL? 
 
 AND 
 
 "THE LUCK OF PETER FINNEGAN." 
 
 Published by 
 
 PIGOTT & CO., 
 
 112, GRAFTON STREET, DUBLIN. 
 
ON IRELAND 
 
DR. COLLISSON ON IRELAND. 
 
 IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Religion of Ireland. 
 
 There is a Society which is known as " The Irish 
 Church Missions." The mere fact of its existence is 
 a blot on the fair face of the Emerald Isle. Its very 
 name — a misnomer, I believe — is a standing insult to 
 the majority of the Irish people. Possibly the reason 
 that its mistaken, though, no doubt, well-meant 
 labours are not more vigorously resented than they 
 are, is, that the very people for whose benefit the 
 work of the Society is intended, in their heart of 
 hearts, pity its members for their ignorance. I use 
 the word "ignorance" in no contemptuous manner, 
 for, after all, we cannot all know everything, and 
 some of the best educated people in the land are very 
 often absolutely ignorant with regard to some one 
 question or other. 
 
 At the same time it is a strange fact that people as 
 a rule do not like to be thought ignorant of any ques- 
 tion. I have met men and women who could hardly 
 read or write, who would eagerly plunge into theological 
 discussions with a University professor of Divinity 
 
 »^9 
 
120 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 if they could only get the chance. I know people 
 who are not sure whether Botticelli means cheese or 
 wine who go every year to the Royal Academy and 
 criticise mercilessly the artistic work of the year. I 
 have met University professors, who knew everything, 
 — or thought they did — whose ignorance outside their 
 own particular branch of study was crass. 
 
 I am sure that the members of the so-called " Irish 
 Church Missions " are really well-meaning people. I 
 do not know who they are, for I have studiously 
 avoided finding out their names so that I could write 
 this chapter of my book without the danger of being 
 biassed in any way. However well intentioned their 
 efforts may be, I am confident that they are ill-advised 
 and sadly mistaken, and I fear that ignorance — yes, 
 I must use that ugly word ignorance — is at the bottom 
 of it all. 
 
 Ignorance of what ? Ignorance of the fact that 
 the vast majority of the Roman Catholics of Ireland 
 are infinitely better taught and far more intimate 
 with the fundamentals of " The Faith," than the very 
 people who are trying to " convert " them. 
 
 Faith is a mighty power. One has only to read 
 the eleventh chapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews 
 to remind oneself what the men of old did through 
 faith. 
 
 The Faith of the Irish nation is beautiful, some- 
 thing for the world to admire, something, yes, for the 
 very angels of Heaven to marvel at. 
 
 Seven centuries of English mis-government have 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 121 
 
 rolled away and left the Faith of the Irish Nation 
 stronger than ever. 
 
 The Reformed Church of Ireland has had oppor- 
 tunities for working amongst the Irish for three 
 centuries and a half, and her influence upon those 
 whom I may truly call the " real Irish," during all 
 these three hundred and fifty years has been, practi- 
 cally speaking, infinitesimal, so loyal are the Irish 
 to the Chair of St. Peter. 
 
 It is not my intention to drag to light again those 
 tales of the injustice and misery which Irish Roman 
 Catholics, high and low, rich and poor, suffered during 
 the " penal " times but I cannot help alluding, en 
 passant, to the magnificent manner in which they 
 passed through those days of trial — days of trial which 
 seem to have acted upon them like cleansing fires, 
 and from which they came out with their Faith as 
 pure as, but stronger than ever. Persecution was 
 futile to destroy that grand spirit of allegiance. 
 Bribery, whether in the shape of money or earthly 
 advancement, proved vain. 
 
 My dear friends of the " Irish Church Missions," 
 I wonder what you would say if you heard that the 
 poor Roman Catholics of Ireland were starting a 
 Mission to convert the heathen in England to 
 Christianity ? What a mighty protest you would 
 make against what you would call their audacity ! 
 Yet for their Mission, they would have just as much 
 right as, and far more reason than, you have for 
 yours — you, who seek to undermine the Faith of a 
 
122 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 people who have that simple child-like belief in their 
 religion which no less a person than the Saviour of 
 Sinners, the Son of God Himself, held before us as 
 an ideal. 
 
 I do not write as one who is ignorant of Ireland, 
 but as one who was born in Ireland, and whose parents, 
 grandparents and great-grandparents, etc., were bom in 
 Ireland too ; as one who lived there for thirty-three 
 years; one whose mother's name was O'Callaghan; 
 one whose grandfather, because he was a Roman 
 Catholic, could not keep in his possession a horse, the 
 value of which was more than thirty pounds ; and, this 
 too, under a Government that was professedly Protes- 
 tant and tolerant. I can hardly be called a West 
 Briton by the most sturdy Gaelic Leaguer, can I ? 
 
 Upon returning to Ireland after an absence of 
 eight years, I saw the old love of the Religion burning 
 as bright if not brighter than ever. Wherever I 
 chanced to be on Sunday or Holy-day, whenever the 
 bells rang out for early Mass, the street of the village 
 or country town resounded with the footsteps of an 
 earnest and devout throng pressing eagerly forward 
 to worship their Lord and Saviour, present in his Holy 
 Sacrament. 
 
 Protestants may say " This is all a religion of fear." 
 Fear of what ? Fear will not make hundreds of 
 " old men and maidens, young men and children " 
 turn out of their beds at six or seven o'clock every 
 Sunday morning in bitter frost or driving sleet. Fear 
 will not lead multitudes of poor, ill-fed, half-clothec| 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 123 
 
 men and women to tramp four and five miles — often- 
 times in torrents of rain — ^to Mass. Fear will not do 
 these things. Devotion to Christ and to His Blessed 
 Mother will. 
 
 How can any man seek to take away from the Irish 
 people that which in all their poverty makes them 
 rich ? Yet there are such people. There are people 
 who abuse their Clergy. Do these people ever calmly 
 consider what a power for good in the land the 
 Roman Catholic Clergy of Ireland have been and are 
 still ? 
 
 I The purity of Ireland — to whom may we turn in 
 deepest gratitude for this, the brightest jewel in 
 Ireland's crown ? To the Clergy, who, by the gentle 
 sway of Sacramental Confession — a power for good 
 in every community, though sometimes, but very 
 seldom, abused — have influenced Ireland's sons and 
 daughters to such an extent, that they stand con- 
 spicuous amongst the nations of the world, as the 
 very purest of all in thought, word and deed. 
 
 Irish Priests have their faults. Who is there that 
 has not ? Irish Priests are, after all, but human 
 beings. Take them, however, as a body. What 
 body of men is there that has done so much for 
 Ireland ? 
 
 " They have meddled in politics." Why shouldn't 
 they ? Where cruelty, injustice and wrong are rampant 
 who, I ask, should be foremost in the fray against 
 them ? Who of all men but the Clergy ? 
 
 Did not the Clergy of King John's time meddle in 
 
124 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 politics when they helped to wrest Magna Charta 
 from that contemptible tyrant ? Did not the Clergy 
 of the Church of England meddle in politics when 
 they helped to kill the Education Bill of 1906 ? 
 
 Were the landlords of Ireland conspicuous for their 
 kindness and justice to their tenants ? No living man 
 could truthfully say that they were. 
 
 When a large number of the landlords of days 
 not so long since gone by, sought by every means in 
 their power to grind the unfortunate, long-suffering 
 peasantry of Ireland underfoot, to squeeze every avail- 
 able farthing out of them and then to spend their 
 ill-gotten gains in England and on the Continent, 
 taking little or no interest in the magnificent men 
 and women who were living and dying for their 
 support, who, I ask, were foremost in the battle for 
 liberty and right ? Who were the best friends of the 
 Irish tenant ? Who but the Priests ? Can anyone 
 deny this ? I think not. 
 
 Had they anything to gain by their endeavours ? 
 Nothing whatever, but trouble, abuse, misrepre- 
 sentation and in many cases incarceration and other 
 kinds of punishment. In the face of all this, there 
 are people to-day who would ask the people of Ireland 
 to throw off what they call " the yoke of the Priests." 
 To go no further, I would call this inciting a nation 
 to be guilty of the basest ingratitude, but I will add 
 something more, and say, that as not only have the 
 Priests been the people's leaders against the tyrannies 
 of landlordism, but also against every form of injustice 
 
tN AND ON IRELAND 125 
 
 and oppression which England has heaped upon 
 Ireland during more than seven long centuries, it 
 would be a folly of which I cannot believe the Irish 
 people to be the possessors, to throw off that sweet 
 and gentle " yoke " which has been so instrumental 
 in bringing to them whatever they possess of liberty, 
 honour, prosperity and independence. 
 
 A little while ago Mr. Bernard Shaw suggested that 
 a day might come when the Irish of the South would 
 chalk upon the dead walls " To Hell with the Pope," 
 in imitation of the blaspheming Orangemen of Belfast. 
 Mr. Shaw must have a very superficial acquaintance 
 with the real Irish and their most holy religion. 
 Their Faith, which has survived centuries of perse- 
 cution from England, and centuries of the bitterness 
 of ignorant intolerance from their Protestant brethren 
 in Ireland, is a thing not to be lightly thrown aside. 
 It is a great mysterious power, a deep reality, a 
 spiritual force, something that has sunk down into 
 the very heart and soul of the nation. 
 
 A number of books have been written during 
 late years by a certain writer of anti-clerical 
 tendencies. In these books he seems to lay 
 all the poverty and misery of Ireland at the door 
 of the Roman Catholic Priesthood. Needless to say, 
 his books have been eagerly devoured by Protestants 
 of that extreme and bitter type which abound in 
 Ireland. This, of course, does not surprise me, for 
 bigoted people will swallow anything, however mis- 
 leading it may be, so long as it pats their own 
 
126 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 particular, pet hobby on the back, but it has 
 surprised and pained me to find that these books 
 have found favour even amongst Roman CathoHcs 
 — Roman Catholics of the weaker type. The writer, 
 in one of his books, says that he is a Catholic. How 
 any man professing to be a Catholic can speak of a 
 Celebration of Holy Mass in the manner in which 
 this gentleman does, puzzles me. Although not being 
 under the Roman obedience, I confess that were any 
 member of my flock to speak of a Celebration of 
 Mass in my Church in the way that this author 
 has done regarding one in his, I would hardly 
 concede the title Christian much less Catholic to 
 him. I fear my readers may begin to think that 
 the odium theologicum is getting the better of me, 
 so I hasten to explain how utterly misleading 
 I think this book is, as a real and valuable description 
 of the present or any other state of affairs in Ireland. 
 A man who could claim to be a Catholic and then 
 deliberately set about heaping ridicule upon a Cele- 
 bration of Jesus Christ's own appointed Service, is 
 hardly a man that can be taken seriously, is he ? 
 
 I have been in many countries, Catholic and 
 Protestant, on Sundays — England, Ireland, Wales, 
 Scotland, France, Belgium, Holland, Italy, Switzerland, 
 Norway, Germany, etc., and I have never seen Sunday 
 kept so well as it is in Ireland. In no other country, 
 I make bold to state, is there such a vast proportion 
 of the people at worship on the Lord's Day as in 
 Ireland. True, the Irish have not taken to them- 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 127 
 
 selves the sanctimoniousness of Glasgow nor the 
 awful gloominess of London on a Sunday, but they 
 keep Sunday in a way in which no other nation that 
 I know, do. They do not stay in bed all day as 
 their way of keeping the " day of rest." They go to 
 Church and enjoy themselves — to me an ideal way of 
 spending Sunday. But the Irish do more than this. 
 They do not fold up their religion with their Sunday 
 clothes. Religion is not merely for Sunday with them. 
 The Irish Roman Catholic Churches are always open, 
 and always have a goodly company of the faithful 
 praying and adoring their God therein. Their Holy- 
 days and Saints' Days are not merely matters of 
 archeological interest to them. They are not mere 
 chronological sign-posts. They are all realities which 
 enter into the very life of the people. They fast 
 on their Fast-days, they prepare for their Com- 
 munion with Confession and Absolution. Religion 
 enters much into their conversation, much into their 
 business, their social arrangements and so forth. Yes 1 
 Religion saturates and influences everything they think 
 of, or say, or do. Religion is part of their lives. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Church of Ireland. 
 
 To me there is no more objectionable expression 
 in existence than an " attractive service." I always 
 associate it with a " P.S.A."* A " P.S.A." may be, 
 and, I have no doubt is, an excellent thing in its way, 
 but a " P.S.A." should stay where it is and not mix 
 itself up with our regular devotions. I say this to 
 show that I have no fault to find with the Services 
 of the Church of Ireland because they are what the 
 World would call " unattractive," and they are that 
 without a doubt — a few, a very few churches excepted. 
 But always, after having been to a Service in the 
 Church of Ireland, I get a kind of cramped, stifled 
 feeling, a consciousness of having been tyrannised 
 over by something of the nature of an intolerant 
 committee, which must have thought itself at once 
 infallible and impeccable. The congregation seems to 
 be asleep or dead. Speaking generally, no one joins 
 in the Responses, and no one sings but the choir. 
 The preachers are, as a rule, very good, but at the 
 same time they give the impression that they would 
 be much better if they dared. It is rare indeed in 
 the Irish Church of to-day to hear more than " one 
 
 ♦ P.S.A. — A pleasant Sunday afternoon. One of the many 
 attempts to entice non-Churchgoing English people into places of 
 worship. 
 
 X88 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 129 
 
 side of the question," and that side is always the 
 same. I always leave an Irish church with a vague 
 sense of " What is it all about ? " " Where have we 
 got to ? " This as a member of the congregation, 
 but when I have officiated my unpleasant feelings 
 have been a hundred times more unpleasant. Then 
 my devotions have been hindered by vigorous en- 
 deavours " not to do something " all through the 
 Service. Almost everything in the way of outward 
 acts of devotion is prohibited. It takes constant and 
 watchful care for an English Priest to avoid breaking 
 all the rubrics in the Irish Prayer Book when he 
 oihciates. 
 
 Then again, I always feel when I preach in Ireland 
 that the whole congregation are on the qui vive lest 
 I should say something " High Church." They do not 
 mind a man being " Broad Church." Sermons full 
 of the " Higher Criticism " are deHghtful to many 
 Irish Churchmen. I believe if Professor Harnack 
 himself came to Ireland he would get a reception 
 equal to that given to Torrey and Alexander or Moody 
 and Sankey. 
 
 But to be " High Church " is a " sin " in Ireland. 
 What are known as Puseyism, Tractarianism, Ritualism 
 and High Churchism, are not reckoned as things con- 
 cerning which a man may have his opinion. They 
 are as " deadly sins," detestable, pernicious. Indeed, 
 I have heard them spoken of by a " tolerant " Irish 
 Protestant, a Churchwarden too, as — damnable. Can- 
 not the average Irish Churchman see that this is a most 
 
130 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 unhealthy atmosphere for the Clergy of his Church 
 to breathe ? Is it good that young men fresh from 
 a University where the Divinity School is a credit 
 to the country, a model for the world to copy, so far 
 as its teaching is concerned, is it good, I ask, that 
 young, newly ordained men, who have been breathing 
 the pure atmosphere engendered by a breadth of 
 thought and learning which is truly magnificent, is it 
 good that young deacons should leave a school where 
 they have been privileged to sit at the feet of men 
 like Bernard, Jackson Lawlor etc., to be launched 
 upon a sea of narrow-minded controversy about things 
 that are trifles when compared with the verities of 
 the Faith ? Why is it that men who are so sensible 
 about other things as Irish Churchmen are — ^why is 
 it that they cannot see what their Church loses, by 
 muzzling men when they get into the pulpit to preach, 
 and by laying upon them the dead hand of a collection 
 of canons, some of which are a positive disgrace to 
 Christendom ? A sea-gull with its wings clipped may 
 make an interesting and even amusing pet, but it 
 cannot fly high. 
 
 It is not altogether the bogey of " Popery " so-called. 
 It is a quixotic fear of English "High Churchism." Let 
 me give one instance by way of proof. The ancient, 
 beautiful, significant, and yet withal simple, practice 
 of turning to the East at the Creed, which is almost 
 universal in the Churches of the Anglican Communion, 
 is almost non-existent in the Parish Churches of Ireland. 
 The practice, as most of my readers will know, is a 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 131 
 
 link with a very ancient past, a time when there was 
 much communion between the English and Celtic 
 Churches and the Oriental Church. 
 
 True, there is no direct prohibition in the canons 
 of the Irish Church as to turning to the East at the 
 Creed, but in the vast majority of the Irish Churches, 
 were the Clergy to do so, they would be at once sus- 
 pected of being " High Church," the Ultima Thule of 
 all wickedness in Ireland. The members of the 
 congregation cannot possibly see an5^hing " Popish '^ 
 in this practice, for I think I am safe in saying that, 
 more Anglicano, it is unknown in all parts of the 
 Roman Church. 
 
 My readers may think I am talking about trifles — 
 laying stress on matters of form ; but do not the people 
 who raise bitter strife about these things look as if 
 they were far more desirous of laying stress on matters 
 of form than those who ask for their peaceful obser- 
 vance ? 
 
 I have known a state of affairs something akin to 
 a civil war to arise in an important Dublin parish, 
 because the Psalms for the day were chanted in the 
 Church. 
 
 I have known a vestry meeting to end in disorder 
 because the Responses to the Commandments were 
 sung at a Festival. 
 
 The sacred monogram I. H.S. is regarded with extra- 
 ordinary abhorrence, many acts of sacrilege having 
 been committed in connection therewith — Altar-cloths 
 mutilated and so forth. 
 
132 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 A Cross is, to many Irish Churchmen, " the abomina- 
 tion of desolation " — even on the back of a Prayer- 
 book. I do not talk at random. 
 
 To the disgrace and shame of the Irish Church, 
 it is absolutely illegal to place a Cross on, behind, 
 or even on the covering of the Altar. 
 
 Anything approaching to the very smallest amount 
 of ceremonial is impossible — vestments, incense, etc., 
 being rigidly forbidden. 
 
 It is not because of the want of these things that I 
 venture to complain, but because of the spirit which 
 forbids them. 
 
 The people who object to these things do not object 
 to them per se, but because they fear that their 
 observance may foster Catholicity or even lead to 
 a state of affairs resembhng English " High Churchism." 
 Is this spirit, I ask, right or Christian ? ^Esthetic 
 Ritualism, as such and such alone, is, to me, a con- 
 temptible thing. The mere bringing of people to 
 Church to hear beautiful Anthems or to see priests 
 performing the solemn rites of the Church in 
 gorgeously embroidered vestments, if these things 
 symboHse nothing underneath, is silly and futile. It 
 is only when the vestments and the ritual are the 
 outward expression of true devotion that they should 
 be esteemed. 
 
 The Irish Churchman dislikes these things because 
 they are Catholic. Is not this the very reason that 
 he should like them ? Why should Christians in one 
 part of the world abstain from this practice or that 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 133 
 
 because Christians in another part of the world 
 observe it ? 
 
 A Catholic under the Roman obedience believes 
 in God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost — Three Persons 
 in One God. So do I. Should I dislike this doctrine 
 because my Roman brother believes it ? A Catholic 
 under the Roman obedience believes in the Real 
 Presence in the Holy Eucharist. So do I. Should I 
 fly from this doctrine merely because my Roman 
 brother holds it dear, or defines it more explicitly 
 than we do ? A Catholic under the Roman obedience 
 believes in the Communion of Saints and in the 
 Forgiveness of Sins. Are these profoimd mysteries 
 to be abhorred merely because they are held by 
 Roman Catholics ? No ! Until this bigoted oppo- 
 sition to everything distinctly Catholic dies down, 
 the Irish Church must suffer from the result of warped, 
 cramped and narrow teaching, but the harm that is 
 being done meanwhile to the Clergy, as a body, by 
 the laity, is being reflected upon the laity all the time 
 by the Clergy. 
 
 If the Irish Church claimed to be nothing more 
 than a mere Protestant sect, there would be nothing 
 to say, but she claims to be much more. She claims 
 to be the representative of the Holy Catholic Church 
 in Ireland. She holds the ancient Cathedrals of the 
 country, and her Bishops sit on their thrones in those 
 Cathedrals because they claim Apostolic succession. 
 It may please individual members of the Irish Church 
 to talk big about being Reformed and Protestant as 
 
134 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 well as Catholic and Apostolic, but is the Irish Church 
 doing her duty to the rest of the Catholic Church ? 
 Is she working hard to bring about the re-union of 
 Christendom ? Is she trying to do everything that 
 may bring about unity and peace in the Church 
 Universal, or is she wrapping herself up in the mantle 
 of her own insular respectability ? On the contrary, 
 she seems to live congratulating herself upon being 
 the purest Church in Christendom, pitying the Roman, 
 Greek, Armenian and — ^perhaps, English Churches, for 
 their darkness and error, and thanking God that she 
 is not as other Churches are ? 
 
 I know there are many men in the Irish Church 
 who are true Churchmen. The work done for and in 
 the Mission field by Irish Churchmen commands our 
 admiration. The tone and atmosphere of a large 
 number of Churches has improved vastly during 
 the past ten years or so. The services are con- 
 ducted more reverently. The old bitter controversial 
 spirit is djdng out in the pulpit. A large body of 
 the clergy lament and deplore the narrow confines 
 within which they have to work. It is highly credit- 
 able — it is more — it is wonderful what is done in a 
 score or two of Churches as regards decency in worship, 
 but the vast majority of Irish Churchmen do not 
 understand the bare elementary principles of public 
 worship. 
 
 Reverence for God's House is one of the elementary 
 principles of worship. Some years ago I played at a 
 concert in the Parish Hall of a well-known Dublin 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 135 
 
 Church. The Vestry in the Church was used as a 
 dressing-room for the artists who took part in the 
 concert. Will my readers believe me when I say that 
 the Altar-rails were used as the cloak-room, and, that 
 during the concert, the Church was used as a prome- 
 nade and " sitting-out " place for the performers, who 
 were clad in evening-dress, the ladies' dresses being 
 decolletes ; etc., etc. ! 
 
 Irish Churchmen value their Protestantism at a 
 higher estimate than their Catholicity, and until the 
 present Irish Prayer Book is once more revised, her 
 Canons repealed and that painful Preface expunged, no 
 really great progress can be made. When these things 
 are done, the magnificent loyalty and devotion of 
 Irish Churchmen can be turned to good account in a 
 broader atmosphere, so that the Church may 
 blossom and bear fruit a thousandfold. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Music of Ireland. 
 
 A GREAT wave of enthusiasm with regard to the 
 cultivation of Music, Literature and the Drama has 
 passed over Ireland during the past few years. A 
 good deal has been produced, much of which has been 
 of the very first order. 
 
 The Abbey Theatre has been the means of bringing 
 out many notable works from the pens of such able 
 writers as Yeats, S5mge and Lady Gregory. 
 
 The " Feis Ceoil," the revival of which was the idea 
 of Dr. Annie Patterson, who put her whole life and 
 soul into the movement, has become an established 
 institution. And not only is the '' Feis Ceoil " in a 
 fiourishmg condition, but now every small town has 
 its own Feis. Again and again there are well fought 
 contests in musical composition, in the playing of all 
 kinds of instruments, in singing, and in Irish National 
 dancing. This is all having an excellent effect upon 
 the people. The Irish, naturally musical, naturally 
 artistic, only wanted their latent talent to be developed 
 to do great things, and the day of great things is, 
 seemingly, at hand. 
 
 In Dublin, for instance, where, twenty years ago, 
 an Orchestral Concert was next to an impossibility, 
 thanks largely to the indefatigable working of Signor 
 
 136 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 137 
 
 Esposito, a great Italian musician, who has made 
 Ireland the place of his adoption, there is now a large 
 Orchestral Society which gives first-rate performances 
 of the best, and most modern music too. 
 
 In all directions choirs and quartette societies have 
 sprung up, and the Ballad Concert, which used to be 
 the delight of Dublin, is now all but consigned to 
 a well-deserved oblivion. 
 
 But what about Church music ? To begin with, 
 the present Pope, himself a musician — the patron, if 
 I may call him so, of Perosi — the Pope, when he 
 ascended the throne, resolutely set his face against 
 all that was trivial, all that was bad in Church music. 
 Like Gregory of old he pointed men to " the pure." 
 Music of the strictly ecclesiastical type is the only 
 kind that is to be tolerated in the Roman Catholic 
 Church now. Is not this right ? What a delight it 
 is to hear Plain-song well rendered. Again, what music 
 can lift sinful man from earth to heaven like the 
 strains of Palestrina, AUegri, and the more modern 
 men who have based their life work on the same 
 high art principles as the Church composers of the 
 fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. 
 
 In all directions boy choirs are springing up. Choir 
 schools are being gradually established and every- 
 thing points to the greater and greater improvement 
 of all things musical in the Roman Catholic Church 
 all over Ireland. The " cock and hen " choir is of 
 course still in evidence in many places, but it will 
 soon be a thing of the past, and with it is dymg the 
 
138 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 taste for the sensuous, the trivial and the irreverent 
 in Church music. 
 
 I am sorry to say that I cannot speak so hopefully 
 about the condition of music in the Church of Ireland. 
 To begin with "the Boy" as an institution is not 
 so highly esteemed in Ireland as he is in England. 
 " The Boy " in England is made much of. In Ireland 
 the tendency is to put " the Boy " into his box. This 
 is an unwritten but all-prevailing law. And as it is 
 in matters outside the Church, so it is also respecting 
 matters inside the Church. As a rule " the Boy " 
 in an Irish Parish Church is ignored. Outside 
 Sunday School he is non-existent. He is rarely 
 allowed to sing in the choir, even in an unsurpliced 
 condition, for the anti-High Church people are so 
 imaginative that they fancy they can see the spirit 
 of a surplice hovering around an Eton suit, or 
 even knickerbockers, and a surpliced choir in the 
 average Irish Church would be regarded as Romanism 
 pure and simple. Here let me say that, through the 
 non-employment of " the Boy " in the services of the 
 Church of Ireland, many young men are to all intents 
 and purposes lost to a Church which so foolishly loses 
 hold upon them at an age when their interest could 
 be kindled in a manner which my English experience 
 has taught me is deep and lasting. 
 
 I must not ignore the real good that has been done 
 for the choirs of the Church of Ireland by Diocesan 
 Choral] Festivals during the last twenty years or so. 
 I^canjiSpeak^from personal experience as regards 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 139 
 
 one diocese, at least, as I was the first conductor 
 of the Kildare Choral Festival. With two or three 
 exceptions, out of all the Churches in the diocese I 
 had practically nothing but " raw material " to work 
 upon. This was in the year 1889. We were content 
 with a Festival which included nothing more ambitious 
 than a very simple anthem, hymns, chants and a 
 monotoned service. We did not dare to attempt 
 the simpHcity of Tallis's Ferial much less Festal 
 responses. We did all well, but it was by dint of 
 nothing less than downright hard labour on the part 
 of all concerned, the choirs, the secretaries and 
 myself. 
 
 Now, every year a great Festival is held at which 
 a difficult anthem, an elaborate *' Magnificat " and 
 " Nunc Dimittis," and a fully choral Service is rendered, 
 all without a tenth part of the labour that the first 
 Festival entailed. In addition to this, the choir 
 singing in every parish church in the diocese has 
 greatly improved. The same may be said about the 
 singing of the choirs all over Ireland. I was amazed 
 after an absence of about ten years, to find such 
 tremendous progress in every direction as regards 
 choir music, the choirs being worthy of much praise. 
 I wish I could speak as favourably as regards con- 
 gregational music as I can about the choir music. 
 I grieve to say that congregational music is all but non- 
 existent in Ireland. It certainly was my experience 
 to find it so wherever I went. To begin with, the 
 Prayers and Responses are almost always read, not 
 
140 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 even monotoned, the inevitable result being that the 
 responding is little better than a faint whisper in 
 most of the Churches. I have been in a Church near 
 Dublin when the congregation numbered five hundred, 
 whilst the Litany was being read, and I doubt if 
 three people answered some of the Responses aloud. 
 I can produce witnesses to testify to the truth of 
 this assertion should anyone doubt me. It is im- 
 possible to have satisfactory and hearty responding 
 in a Church where the prayers are read in what is 
 called " the natural voice." At least, I have never yet 
 met with it, and I have had some experience. 
 
 With regard to congregational singing, so long as 
 the people of the Church of Ireland are burdened with 
 the existing " Church Hymnal," it will be impossible 
 to have good congregational singing. The German 
 Chorales with which the collection abounds — at best 
 quite unsuited to the quick temperament of Irish 
 people — are rendered perfectly hideous by the bald, 
 bare chords with which they have been harmonised, 
 which to a lover of the Chorale must be agonising. 
 This was first pointed out to me by Bishop Reichel, 
 and I know full well what exquisite torture that great 
 man suffered Sunday after Sunday for many years. 
 Then, too, the pace at which the Chorales are set (and 
 sung) renders them perfectly ludicrous. The pauses 
 are ignored. In fact everything seems to have been 
 done to make the execution of them an impossibility. 
 Can this have been intentional ? The hymns of the 
 " Old English " type which are, after all, the best 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 141 
 
 suited to our Services, are rendered as difficult and 
 unsingable as possible by an unnatural prolongation 
 of the first note of every line, which necessitates an 
 equally unnatural curtailment of the last note. 
 Excepting to trained singers, this is but a trap, and 
 even when well sung the practice sounds stiff, stilted 
 and affected. 
 
 The horrors that a musician suffers when he gets 
 sandwiched between a choir which, often enough, 
 spends much time in acquiring this abominable 
 practice, and a congregation which never will and 
 never can do so, are beyond the telling. 
 
 Beside the Chorale and tunes of the " Windsor " 
 or " London new " type, both of which types are 
 rendered as ugly and unsingable as possible, (a few 
 really beautiful modern tunes excepted), the rest of 
 the Jiymnsl is made up of effusions of the sickly, 
 sentimental, chromatic order, which belong more to 
 the part-song school than that of Church music. 
 There is a really good collection of Anglican Chants 
 in use, but Plain-song is, alas, practically neglected 
 altogether. It is a pity that music is not more 
 encouraged in the Irish Church, for the people would 
 be enthusiastic and hearty about it, did they once 
 take it up, and their natural gifts as to voice and ear 
 for music are so remarkable, that the results would 
 repay the energy expended a hundredfold. 
 
 I have always felt that the work done by the Royal 
 Irish Academy of Music in Dublin was far too lightly 
 esteemed by Irishmen. For years an able body of 
 
142 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 professors have laboured at Westland Row for the 
 cause of Art. The Academy ought to be valued if 
 it had never done anything more than to introduce 
 two such consummate artists as Papini and Esposito, 
 to Dublin. Since the day, twenty years ago, when 
 they commenced operations there, instrumental music 
 has gone on improving by leaps and bounds. I raise 
 my hat to the R.I.A.M., if for nothing else — for 
 Papini and Esposito. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 Home Rule. 
 
 Seven hundred years ago England conquered Ireland. 
 
 If the history of Ireland were one of confusion 
 and strife before 1172, it has been one long story of 
 constant mismanagement, tyranny and oppression ever 
 since that year. 
 
 Mighty England, with all her power, wealth and 
 greatness never understood Ireland. 
 
 For six hundred years after her conquest no English 
 Sovereign ever thought it worth his or her while to 
 visit Ireland on a peaceful mission. 
 
 The Irish were oppressed abominably by England 
 under Elizabeth, whilst under the tyranny of the 
 Commonwealth — so-called — Cromwell treated the Irish 
 with such barbarous cruelty that to this day " the 
 curse of Cromwell on you ! " is as bad a curse as any 
 Irishman can hurl at one. It was under Cromwell 
 that the grand old Abbeys and Churches of Ireland 
 were turned into ruins by an ignorant soldiery, the 
 remains of whose acts of vandalism are visible all 
 over the country to-day. It was under Cromwell 
 that the pious Puritans outraged the erstwhile spot- 
 less virginity of Erin's fair daughters. 
 
 It is only a hundred years ago since Ireland's 
 Parliament was cheated from her. 
 
 143 
 
144 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 It was only yesterday that the country groaned 
 under the horrors of the Penal Laws. 
 
 England does not understand the Irish, forsooth. 
 Does Ireland understand England ? How can she ? 
 
 Does Ireland love England ? Why should she ? 
 
 Will she recover Home Rule ? That is a question 
 which must soon be answered. There is one great 
 difficulty to be confronted. It is this. 
 
 There is a large and important section ot the present 
 inhabitants of Ireland who do not wish to have Home 
 Rule. They have to be reckoned with. If they 
 were only once safely out of the way, the re-establish- 
 ment of Home Rule would be but a simple matter. 
 Compared in numbers with the rest of the population 
 they are small. I do not suppose they represent more 
 than one-fourth of the population. They mean but a 
 million, but after all a million is a million, and when 
 that milUon represents, practically speaking, the 
 wealth and the business of Ireland, that million cannot 
 be lightly regarded. 
 
 They represent Property of some kind or other. 
 The extreme Socialist might say they have no right 
 to that Property merely because it is Property, but 
 I am not writing a book on Socialism, I am merely 
 stating facts, and a stern fact stares the statesman in 
 the face who would give Home Rule to Ireland, the 
 fact that an all-alive part of the population object 
 strongly to be ignored. 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 145 
 
 The weak point in this strong part of the population 
 of Ireland is, that they are not Irish. 
 
 The IvOyalist of the North of Ireland is Scotch by 
 descent — Scotch in his manner of speech — Scotch in 
 his canniness where all things financial are concerned 
 — Scotch in his religion and Scotch in all his ideals, 
 sentiments and aspirations. He is no more Irish than 
 is a Rathmines Unionist or a Kingstown Primrose 
 Leaguer. 
 
 The Unionist of the East, West and South of Ireland 
 is English — English by descent, and, although his 
 family may have been in the country for one, two 
 or even three centuries, he has never become Irish 
 in ideas, sentiment, Religion, or National feeling, and 
 what is more, he never will. He may say he is Irish. 
 I am sure he believes he is, but he is nothing of the 
 kind. 
 
 It is a pity that the West Britons, for that is what 
 they really are, cannot see that they are not only 
 not Irish but even anti-Irish. It is a pity, for it 
 would simplify by one degree at least the present 
 tangled condition of affairs in poor dear Ireland. 
 
 When Home Rule comes — as come it surely will — 
 the big business men of the North, with the 
 fanatical Orange mob at their command, will, no 
 doubt, join issue with the West Britons in every 
 part of Ireland to fight against it, and there is no 
 doubt that this may prove a force to be reckoned 
 with. I do not say that it is a force that will prevail 
 in the long run, though Might, for a time at least. 
 
146 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 oft times anaesthetizes Right, but Right in the end 
 is sure to prevail, and Ireland will be once more for 
 the Irish. 
 
 Ireland was taken from the Irish. England did all 
 in her power to trample underfoot the pride of the 
 Irish. The pedigrees of the old Irish families were 
 destroyed to break the spirit of the conquered race. 
 Religious persecution was allowed to run riot for 
 centuries, yet with all these indignities the Irish are 
 as proud, nay, prouder and more independent than 
 ever. The Rehgion of Ireland — though everything 
 was done by England to make it impossible — is more 
 alive now than ever, and more productive of fruit, 
 perhaps, than the Religion of any other country in 
 Christendom. 
 
 It will be hard upon the LoyaUsts and Unionists 
 who have done England's tyrannical work in Ireland 
 for three centuries ; it will be hard, I say, upon 
 the men, who have been in very reality England's 
 " faithful garrison " in the country, to play under dog 
 to the Irish, who will, ere long, be restored to their 
 rightful place, and harder still when these Loyalists 
 find that they may either have to leave the land in 
 which they happened to have been born, or to submit. 
 
 Hard things happen again and again in the world 
 and much unpleasantness is suffered in the happening. 
 The Reformation — that great upheaval of four hun- 
 dred years ago — whatever earthly advantages it may 
 have brought about, was fraught with disaster to 
 the Religion of Europe, but it had to come. Perhaps 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 147 
 
 it was God's Punishment for the unfaithfulness and 
 lukewarmness of many professing Christians. The 
 Commonwealth, or as I prefer to call it, the Interreg- 
 num, was a horrible time in England, but it was 
 inevitable. The French Revolution was a ghastly 
 experience for France, but it was, after all, merely 
 a violent reaction from a state of affairs that was 
 insufferable. 
 
 The faithful Loyalist and Unionist of Ireland will 
 soon learn that he must grin and bear all that he gets. 
 It is hard, but it is certain to come. He has lived 
 in a " fool's paradise " for some centuries. For 
 centuries he has fondly imagined that he was Irish 
 or at any rate absorbed into the Irish nation. As 
 well might you expect oil and water to mix. They 
 have never mixed and they never will. The pity 
 of it is that such a fine member of Society as the 
 Irish Unionist is, must come to a knowledge of the 
 truth ere long by what will probably be a very rude 
 if not a very painful awakening. 
 
 When Ireland is an independent Nation the men 
 of a future age, when reading history, will sigh and 
 say " All this was cruel, but it had to be." 
 
THE LAST CHAPTER. 
 
 The Gaelic League. 
 
 Twenty-five years ago when a man assassinated a 
 Czar, a Grand Duke or an Irish landlord, the whole 
 world raised its voice in outcry. There were no 
 extenuating circumstances. It was only the extremist, 
 whether in Russia or in Ireland, who spoke of the 
 deed as a " removal." Rightly or wrongly a change 
 has come over Society with regard to the question 
 since then. The number of people who look upon 
 these deeds of anarchy as excusable, if not exactly 
 justifiable, has increased. The murderer or " remover " 
 is not looked upon by the world with such horror as 
 he used to be ; he is rather pitied than otherwise ; 
 he is spoken of as a martyr to his cause. I am not 
 stating my opinions. I am merely stating an un- 
 deniable fact. 
 
 " Removals," however, at best are coarse. Ireland 
 rebels against " the coarse." Ireland has awakened 
 to the fact that the songs of a nation are more powerful 
 than the laws. The pen is mightier than the sword, 
 and all the more so when the sword is unattainable. 
 
 The Irish people have discovered a force more 
 potent than that of arms. A great movement is 
 spreading over the land, a movement which has for 
 its object the revival of the Irish language, the study 
 
 148 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 149 
 
 of the ancient literature of Ireland, and consequently 
 the fostering of the National sentiment. The Gaelic 
 revival is one of the most important movements 
 that has ever sprung up in Ireland. All over the 
 country classes have been formed for the teaching 
 of the Irish language. The children are learning 
 it in school, and when they leave school they have 
 special night classes after work hours to which they 
 flock in hundreds with eagerness and delight. 
 
 In all directions people are speaking or trying to 
 speak Gaelic. The names of the streets are in Gaelic. 
 Many of the newspapers publish a Gaelic column 
 every day. The shop-keepers put their names over 
 their windows in Gaelic. A medical man who can 
 speak Gaelic will get an appointment before one who 
 cannot do so. 
 
 Astute indeed were the minds of the men who 
 first conceived the formation of the Gaelic move- 
 ment — *' the Irish Renaissance " — as it has been 
 called. Nothing has ever done so much towards 
 crystallising the Irish National idea. I believe the 
 promoters disclaim all political tendencies, and I am 
 sure that many members of the Gaelic League fondly 
 believe that they are enrolled in an association which 
 is purely artistic and literary. 
 
 Never, so far as Ireland is concerned, has there 
 been a stronger political force called into existence 
 than the Gaelic League, I rejoice to say, is proving 
 itself to be. 
 
 Home Rule is coming and nothing is calculated to 
 
150 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 assure and accelerate its arrival so undoubtedly as 
 this wonderful organization which is at once firm, 
 determined, attractively romantic, but subtle beyond 
 description. 
 
 Nothing divides nations more than differences of 
 language. It is idle to disguise the fact that the 
 majority of true Irishmen dislike, yes ! detest England 
 and everything English. Are they to be blamed ? 
 Whether they are or not, the fact remains that they do. 
 
 Ireland is an island, the most westerly island in 
 Europe. Nature has isolated her more or less. There 
 are those to-day who desire her complete isolation, 
 her total separation from the land of the Sassenach. 
 There is no wiser plan of accomplishing this than by 
 teaching her children to regard the language of the 
 Sassenach as an alien tongue. The plan is succeeding. 
 The seed sown a few years ago is bearing fruit in 
 abundance. 
 
 Ireland's independence is practically a certainty 
 now, a certainty of near fulfilment. 
 
 There are many who ask the following questions : — 
 " Will Independence be a boon ? " "Is insularity 
 an unmixed blessing ? " " Is patriotic sentiment 
 wisdom or folly ? " "Is Nationalism, in any country, 
 conducive to individual prosperity or the prosperity 
 of the community ? " 
 
 "Surely," say such^people, "federation is a more 
 ideal state of affairs." " What a wonderful example 
 
IN AND ON IRELAND 151 
 
 the United States of America shows to the world ! " 
 *' Is not absolute Inter-Nationalism the loftiest ideal 
 of the true Socialist ? " 
 
 " If the various warring nations of one Continent 
 were to join together to form the United States of 
 Europe, what an advance it would be towards the 
 establishment of universal peace, which would mean 
 universal prosperity ! " " Is it right then, in these 
 days of big alliances, of ententes cordiales, is it right, 
 they ask, that Ireland should seek to divide one 
 United Kingdom, to separate herself from the larger 
 country in language, institutions and laws, and thus, 
 putting back the clock, so to speak, to add one more 
 difficulty in the way of accomplishing the highest ideal 
 of all, an ideal so high that to many it may seem 
 Utopian, the ideal of a United Europe as the first 
 step towards a United World ? " 
 
 To all such people I would say in reply : — 
 
 Ireland was more or less independent of England 
 at one time. She was prosperous then, and her 
 population was double as large as it is now. 
 
 Insularity has enormous advantages. Who can 
 deny that it is the fact of the insularity of Britain 
 and the insularity of Japan that has made these two 
 nations respectively the greatest powers in Europe 
 and in Asia ? 
 
 What was it that carried the Japanese War to a 
 successful issue ? Can anyone doubt that it was the ab- 
 solutely magnificent patriotism of the Japanese people ? 
 
152 IN AND ON IRELAND 
 
 Nationalism is conducive to individual as well as 
 to common prosperity. To prove this I have only 
 to contrast the conditions of the English and the 
 Irish working-man. When the former is, as a rule, 
 well clothed and well fed, comfortably housed and 
 able to lead a happy and easy existence, the latter 
 is often obliged to dress in ragged clothes, to live in 
 a miserable hovel, in a discontented and half-starved 
 condition, a state of affairs which would soon pass 
 away if onlj^ the Irish people had the management of 
 their own affairs. 
 
 Finally, so far as Federation and Inter-Nationalism 
 are concerned, beautiful as such grand theories may 
 be, and, no doubt, are, their accomplishment is such 
 a far-off ideal that I cannot think it reasonably fair 
 to expect a suffering people, as the Irish are at this 
 very moment, to wait until all the warring nations 
 of the earth have settled their differences of opinion, 
 a settlement which may not be looked for until many 
 many Hague Conferences have come and gone. 
 
 So long as there is a possibility of a coalition of 
 powers such as England, Japan, France and Russia 
 saying to Germany :• — "If you do not disarm we will 
 blow you to pieces" — So long the possibility of a 
 United World is far, far off indeed. We may have to 
 wait many years for the reign of universal peace. 
 Meantime, must poor, delightful Ireland stay out in 
 the cold, a Cinderella amongst the nations, waiting 
 for some fairy god-mother to transform her poverty 
 and misery to wealth and happiness ? 
 
ST. ANN'S HILL HYDRO, CO. CORK. 
 
 Situated on rising ground, and well sheltered by trecclad hills, St. Ann's is in the midst 
 of one of the most beautiful districts in Ireland. A SPECIAL FFATUFE OF THE HYDPO 
 IS ITS HOME-LIKE CHARACTER, COUPLED WITH FIRST-CLASS ACCOMMODATION 
 AND ALL THE COMFORTS OF A PRIVATE COUNTRY HOUSE. FOR INVALIDS, 
 AND THOSE IN SEARCH OF ABSOLUTE REST AND QUIET, IT IS IDEAL. THE 
 WINTERSJARE VERY MILD. The grounds and woods are extensive, and the public 
 apartments embrace Drawing, Reading, Smoking, and Ladies' and Gentlemen's Billiard 
 Rooms, Library, &c. THE BATHS comprise t Turkish, Pine, Brine, Nauheim,' Vichy 
 Douche, &c., &c., under the direction of the Resident Medical Superintendent. 
 Golf Course (9 holes) close by. Fishing, Tennis, Croquet, etc. 
 
 Prospectus on application to , . . 
 
 THE SECRETARY, 
 
 ST. ANN'S HILL, CO. CORK. 
 
 Telegrams: "ST. ANN'S HILL, CORK." 
 
 THE BEST SAUCE IN IRELAND IS 
 
 ALWAYS KEEP A BOTTLE OF THIS DELICIOUS CONDIMENT IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 For Cold Meats, Chops, Steaks, Kidneys, Cut- 
 lets, Fish, Soups, Gravies, Hashes, &c. 
 Sold in 2d. and 4ld. sizes. 
 
 INSIST ON GETTING IT. Annual Sale, 1,200,000 Bottles. 
 
 Awarded the Gold Medal and Diploma of Merit at the Belfast and North of Ireland Grocers, 
 Bakers and Confectioners' Exhibition, February 12th to 20th, 1908. 
 
Humourous Irish Songs 
 
 '- BY - 
 
 PERCY FRENCH & HOUSTON COLLISSON, 
 
 Sung wit6 great success ht/ 3)r. QolUsson during dis 
 
 recent tours. 
 
 MAGUIRE'S MOTOR BIKE. 
 DONNEGAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 NO MORE O' YER GOLFIN' FOR ME. 
 
 [Maguire's Golfing Song.) 
 
 WAIT FOR A WHILE NOW, MARY. 
 RAFFERTY'S RAGIN' MARE! 
 MRS. BRADY. 
 
 Price 21' net each (post free), 
 
 from your local Music Seller, or 
 
 JOSEPH WILLIAMS, Ltd., 
 
 fMuslc J^iiblisherSy Wfiolesafe Music Sellers, 
 
 exporters and Jmporfers, 
 
 32 Great Portland Street, London, W. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 «rr 14 '•*»«'* 
 
 
 
 
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 General Library 
 
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