We’re thirsty in Dublin. This morning we toured the Guinness Storehouse. If that doesn’t make a lad thirsty, nothing will. Now we’re on our own, wandering the streets. And fine streets for wandering, they are. There’s something interesting on every block.
We ate lunch at a place called “The Dakota.” I had fish and chips. My Better Half had Yellow Curry Chicken. I know. Thai food in Dublin? It was excellent. As far as we can tell so far, Dublin is an undiscovered foodie paradise. – And I thought it was just a drinking paradise!
But enough happy talk. Let’s get back to Ireland’s history, just for a wee bit. In the previous post, we’d made it through the 16th century. The English had invaded hundreds of years earlier, and had taken much of the country, but by the 16th century, the Irish had pushed them back to an area surrounding Dublin.
Then the Protestant reformation took hold in England. Henry VIII got fired up to take back Ireland, eradicate Catholicism there, and make Ireland part of the British Empire. In 1541, even though the English held only a small area around Dublin, he pronounced himself King of Ireland.
Plantation
Henry adopted a policy called “plantation.” This wasn’t a plantation like Tara in Gone with the Wind. This “plantation” refers to the “planting” of English Protestant colonists onto land confiscated from the Irish.
An (English) king would decree that a certain area, maybe a tract of land or a whole county, no longer belonged to the current owners. It now belonged to the English, who brought in colonists by the thousands. The most intense plantation by far was done in the province of Ulster, in the north.
Ousted clans didn’t go easily, as one might imagine. After being forced off their land by English troops, they’d stay nearby and counter-attack, guerrilla-style, until they were rooted out and finished off.
The English confiscated Irish estates by creating arbitrary laws, passed as needed to legalize confiscation of this or that estate. English law was the law of the land, so they’d pass any law that furthered their interests. Wealthy or poor, one way or another, if you owned property, it was at risk of being taken away.
The Irish Rebellion of 1641
Guerrilla fighting went on all over the country for years. It peaked with a series of organized attacks now known as the Irish Rebellion of 1641. Thousands were killed on both sides. Irish Catholics got organized and formed their own government, called “Confederate Ireland.”
England’s eventual answer was to send over Oliver Cromwell and a specially-formed army to crush the resistance. They ultimately did just that, earning Cromwell a reputation for cold cruelty – house, church, and crop–burning, torture, priest-murdering, etc., along the way.
By 1653, large tracts of land, particularly in the North, were populated by English Protestants. Cromwell’s army killed hundreds of thousands of Irish Catholics. They forced thousands of prisoners of war into slavery and sent them to work in British colonies in the Caribbean.
The 17th century was indeed a bad one for the Irish. But you know what? The Irish never gave up the fight. The situation would improve. But let’s take a break from history and get ourselves back to today.
Thirsty Time!
We had a free afternoon, and after visiting the Guinness Storehouse this morning, I’ve developed an insatiable thirst.
Dublin is a great walking town, so we walked off our lunch and eventually found ourselves in a pub. Actually, in the spirit of full disclosure, we found ourselves in several pubs. Hey – if you don’t check a few out, how are you going to know which one’s your favorite?
Our favorite pub turned out to be The Temple Bar, where we started out yesterday. We found an empty seat and listened to a band play traditional Irish music. One of the songs they played was “Molly Malone.”
Sweet Molly Malone
I remember the “Molly Malone” song from somewhere way back in my childhood. You know the one…
“In Dublin’s fair city
where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying, “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh”
I thought it was just a kid’s song. But when these guys in The Temple Bar sang it, I got a whole new perspective. It’s a sad song. A really sad song!
Molly was a penniless lass, pushing her “barrow” through the Dublin streets, hoping to sell the day’s catch. The singer in the band made her plight sound so pitiful. There’s something about that Irish accent. It can move you. He sang…
“Alive, alive, oh
Alive, alive, oh”
Crying “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh”
Then the music stopped, mid-song. The crowd fell silent. He sang the next verse…
“She died of a fever
And no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone.”
(What!?)
“Now her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying, “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh.”
Oh, man. That guy had me. Who knew the story was sad? There’s something about an Irish accent. When used to maximum effect, as that singer did, it can tear you up. Especially if you started your day at Guinness Storehouse and spent your afternoon in a few pubs!
To be continued…
