We’re on the loose in Dublin. Our visit to the Chester Beatty Museum didn’t take long, so we have the rest of the afternoon free. Dublin is a great walking town, so we could just stroll around and take in the sights. On the other hand, with an enticing-looking pub on every corner, (or so it seems), maybe we should save our legs for tomorrow!
The pubs in the Temple Bar neighborhood are admittedly touristy, but they sure are fun. It turns out this is an Irish holiday week-end, so most of the tourists weren’t from afar like us. They were Irish folks who had come to the big city for some holiday fun.
We’ve only been in Dublin a couple of days, but we’re already starting to recognize some of the traditional songs the bands like to play and the customers clearly like to hear. Two come to mind: Dirty Old Town, and Whiskey in the Jar.
Dirty Old Town
“Dirty Old Town” was written in 1949. The town in question is Salford, England. In 1949, Salford was a poor, rough industrial town, and from what I’ve read, that’s putting it nicely.
The song takes place at a tender moment when the singer is kissing his gal, but they’re interrupted by a loud, stinky, smoke-belching train that goes by, (probably close by), spoiling the moment. It reminds him of how miserable the place is, and how he’d like to take an axe and lay it all to waste.
You can take a listen to “Dirty Old Town” here, as performed by the Pogues. But be forewarned – you WILL be thirsty after hearing it.
Whisky in the Jar
“Whisky in the Jar” goes way back to the miserable 17th century – some of the darkest days in Irish history. It’s said to be about a highwayman named Patrick Fleming, who, by all accounts, was a rotten thief. But in those days, most people figured that anyone who robbed from the hated upper (English) class couldn’t be all bad. And if his prey was an agent of the Crown, so much the better.
The authorities hunted Fleming down and eventually caught him. He managed to escape by climbing up a chimney, which only added to his notoriety. But in 1650, the law caught up with him again. This time they hanged him.
There’s something special about those old Irish tunes. You can have a listen to “Whiskey in the Jar,” here. And if there’s some whiskey in your jar when you do, good for you!
We Have Unfinished Business…
This has been fun, but we have unfinished Irish history to attend to. We stopped last time at the start of the nineteenth century, when the Acts of Union 1800 were enacted. They established the “Kingdom of Ireland” and the “United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland,” more commonly known as the “United Kingdom.”
As far as the Irish were concerned, nothing much changed. Ireland remained home to a dirt-poor catholic majority, (80%), governed by a wealthy, English, Protestant minority, (20%). The vast majority of Irish were tenant farmers. Theirs was a miserable existence.
Tenant farmers paid rent to live on and farm a small plot of land while working for the landowner. Landowners were English who lived in England, but owned huge tracts of Irish land. They left land management to “middlemen” whose job was to maximize profit by whatever means necessary.
The Great Famine
For seven years, starting in 1845, a disease called “potato blight” swept across Europe. Most European governments imported staples like corn and wheat to keep their people fed. In Ireland, the English did just the opposite. Irish exports of livestock, bacon, ham, peas, beans, onions, wheat, barley, oats, and fish continued to pour out of the country.
Unable to grow potatoes for consumption, tenant farmers had to buy food they couldn’t afford. When no longer able to pay the rent, landlords evicted them from their house and land. Thousands of families with no home, no food, and no income faced starvation.
One Irishman summed it up this way: “The Almighty indeed sent the potato blight, but the English created the Famine.”
The famine lasted seven years. A million people starved to death in Ireland. Another million emigrated, mostly to England, Canada, and the United States. By 1850, Toronto was 50% Irish. So was a quarter of the population of Boston, New York City, Philadelphia, and Baltimore.
Sorry to lay all this miserableness on you. But it’s better to know it than to not know it, eh? No wonder Ireland has a rich history of drinking and song.
To be continued…
