6–12 August 1849

Here we are in this very pretty spot, with a lovely view of the Wicklow Hills from the window. But now to return to yesterday’s proceedings. We got under weigh at half-past eight o’clock; for three hours it was dreadfully rough, and I and the poor children were very sea-sick. When we had passed the Tuscan Rock in Wexford the sea became smoother, and shortly after, quite smooth, and the evening beautiful. After we passed Arklow Head, the Wicklow Hills came in sight—they are beautiful. The Sugarloaf and Carrick Mountain have finely pointed outlines, with low hills in front and much wood. At half-past six we came in sight of Dublin Bay, and were met by the “Sphynx” and “Stromboli” (which had been sent on to wait and to come in with us), the “Trident,” and, quite close to the harbour, by the “Dragon,” another war-steamer. With this large squadron we steamed slowly and majestically into the harbour of Kingstown, which was covered with thousands and thousands of spectators, cheering most enthusiastically. It is a splendid harbour, and was full of ships of every kind. The wharf, where the landing-place was prepared, was densely crowded, and altogether it was a noble and stirring scene. It was just seven when we entered, and the setting sun lit up the country, the fine buildings, and the whole scene with a glowing light, which was truly beautiful. We were soon surrounded by boats, and the enthusiasm and excitement of the people were extreme. While we were at breakfast the yacht was brought close up to the wharf, which was lined with troops. Lord and Lady Clarendon and George came on board; also Lords Lansdowne and Clanricarde, the Primate, the Archbishop of Dublin, and many others. The address was presented by the Sheriff and gentlemen of the county. As the clock struck ten we disembarked, stepping on shore from the yacht, Albert leading me and the children, and all the others following us. An immense multitude had assembled, who cheered most enthusiastically, the ships saluting and the bands playing, and it was really very striking. The space we had to walk along to the railroad was covered in; and lined with ladies and gentlemen strewing flowers. We entered the railway-carriages with the children, the Clarendons, and the three ladies; and in a quarter of an hour reached the Dublin station. Here we found our carriages with the postilions in their Ascot liveries. The two eldest children went with us, and the two younger ones with the three ladies. Sir Edward Blakeney, Commander-in-Chief in Ireland, rode on one side of the carriage and George on the other, followed by a brilliant staff, and escorted by the 17th Lancers and the Carabiniers. It was a wonderful and striking scene, such masses of human beings, so enthusiastic, so excited, yet such perfect order maintained; then the numbers of troops, the different bands stationed at certain distances, the waving of hats and handkerchiefs, the bursts of welcome which rent the air,—all made it a never-to-be-forgotten scene; when one reflected how lately the country had been in open revolt and under martial law. Dublin is a very fine city; and Sackville Street and Merrion Square are remarkably large and handsome; and the Bank, Trinity College, &c. are noble buildings. There are no gates to the town, but temporary ones were erected under an arch; and here we stopped, and the Mayor presented me the keys with some appropriate words. At the last triumphal arch a poor little dove was let down into my lap, with an olive branch round its neck, alive and very tame. The heat and dust were tremendous. We reached Phœnix Park, which is very extensive, at twelve. Lord and Lady Clarendon and all the household received us at the door. It is a nice comfortable house, reminding us of Claremont, with a pretty terrace garden in front (laid out by Lady Normanby), and has a very extensive view of the Park and the fine range of the Wicklow Mountains. We are most comfortably lodged, and have very nice rooms.

We drove into Dublin—with our two ladies—in Lord Clarendon’s carriage, the gentlemen following; and without any escort. The people were very enthusiastic, and cheered a great deal. We went, first, to the Bank, where the Directors received us, and then to the printing-room, and from thence viewed the old Houses of Lords and Commons, for what is now the Bank was the old Parliament House. From here we drove to the Model-School, where we were received by the Archbishop of Dublin, the Roman Catholic Archbishop Murray (a fine venerable-looking old man of eighty), and the other gentlemen connected with the school. We saw the Infant, the Girls’, and the Boys’ Schools; in the latter, one class of boys was examined in mental arithmetic and in many very difficult things, and they all answered wonderfully. Children of all creeds are admitted, and their different doctrines are taught separately, if the parents wish it; but the only teaching enforced is that of the Gospel truths, and love and charity. This is truly Christian and ought to be the case everywhere. About 1,000 children are educated here annually, of which 300 are trained as schoolmasters and mistresses. From here we visited Trinity College, the Irish University, which is not conducted upon so liberal a system, but into which Roman Catholics are admitted. Dr. Todd, the secretary, and a very learned man, well versed in the Irish language, showed us some most interesting ancient manuscripts and relics, including St. Columba’s Book (in which we wrote our names), and the original harp of King O’Brian, supposed to be the one from which the Irish arms are taken. The library is a very large handsome room, like that in Trinity College, Cambridge. We then proceeded towards home, the crowd in the streets immense, and so loyal. It rained a little at intervals. Home by a little past one. Albert went into Dublin again after luncheon, and I wrote and read, and heard our children say some lessons. At five we proceeded to Kilmainham Hospital, very near here; Lord Clarendon going in the carriage with the ladies and myself—Albert and the other gentlemen riding. Sir Edward Blakeney and his staff, and George, received us. We saw the old pensioners, the chapel, and the hall, a fine large room (where all the pensioners dine, as at Chelsea), and then Sir Edward’s private apartments. We afterwards took a drive through all the principal parts of Dublin,—College Green, where the celebrated statue of William the III. is to be seen; Stephens’ Green, by The Four Courts, a very handsome building; and, though we were not expected, the crowds were in many places very great. We returned a little before seven. A large dinner. After dinner above two or three hundred people arrived, including most of the Irish nobility and many of the gentry; and afterwards there was a ball.

At twenty minutes to one o’clock we left for Dublin, I and all the ladies in evening dresses, all the gentlemen in uniform. We drove straight to the Castle. Everything here as at St. James’s Levée. The staircase and throne-room quite like a palace. I received (on the throne) the addresses of the Lord Mayor and Corporation, the University, the Archbishop and Bishops, both Roman Catholic and Anglican, the Presbyterians, the non-subscribing Presbyterians, and the Quakers. They also presented Albert with addresses. Then followed a very long Levée, which lasted without intermission till twenty minutes to six o’clock! Two thousand people were presented!

There was a great and brilliant review in the Phœnix Park—six thousand one hundred and sixty men, including the constabulary. In the evening we two dined alone, and at half-past eight o’clock drove into Dublin for the Drawing-room. It is always held here of an evening. I should think between two and three thousand people passed before us, and one thousand six hundred ladies were presented. After it was over we walked through St. Patrick’s Hall and the other rooms, and the crowd was very great. We came back to the Phœnix Park at half-past twelve—the streets still densely crowded. The city was illuminated.

At a quarter to twelve o’clock we set out, with all our suite, for Carton, the Duke of Leinster’s; Lord and Lady Clarendon in the carriage with us. We went through Woodlands, a place belonging to Mr. White, in which there are beautiful lime-trees; and we passed by the “Preparatory College” for Maynooth; and not far from Carton we saw a number of the Maynooth students. The park of Carton is very fine. We arrived there at a little past one, and were received by the Duke and Duchess of Leinster, the Kildares, Mr. and Lady C. Repton, and their two sons. We walked out into the garden, where all the company were assembled, and the two bands playing; it is very pretty: a sort of formal French garden with rows of Irish yews. We walked round the garden twice, the Duke leading me, and Albert the Duchess. The Duke is one of the kindest and best of men. After luncheon we walked out and saw some of the country people dance jigs, which was very amusing. The Irish is quite different from the Scotch reel; not so animated, and the steps different, but very droll. The people were very poorly dressed in thick coats, and the women in shawls. There was one man who was a regular specimen of an Irishman, with his hat on one ear. Others in blue coats, with short breeches and blue stockings. There were three old and tattered pipers playing. The Irish pipe is very different from the Scotch; it is very weak, and they don’t blow into it, but merely have small bellows which they move with the arm. We walked round the pleasure-grounds, and after this got into a carriage with the Duke and Duchess—our ladies and gentlemen following in a large jaunting-car, and the people riding, running, and driving with us, but extremely well-behaved; and the Duke is so kind to them, that a word from him will make them do anything. It was very hot, and yet the people kept running the whole way, and in the thick woollen coats, which it seems they always wear here. We drove along the park to a spot which commands an extensive view of the Wicklow Hills. We then went down an entirely new road, cut out of the solid rock, through a beautiful valley, full of the finest trees, growing among rocks close to a piece of water. We got out and walked across a little wooden bridge to a very pretty little cottage, entirely ornamented with shells, &c. by the Duchess. We drove back in the jaunting-car, which is a double one, with four wheels, and held a number of us—I sitting on one side between Albert and the Duke; the Duchess, Lady Jocelyn, Lord Clarendon, and Lady Waterford on the opposite side; George at the back, and the equerries on either side of the coachman. As soon as we returned to the house we took leave of our hosts, and went back to the Phœnix Park a different way from the one we came, along the banks of the Liffey, through Mr. Colson’s park, in which there were the most splendid beeches I have ever seen—feathering down quite to the ground; and farther along the road and river were some lovely sycamore-trees. We drove through the village of Lucan, where there were fine decorations and arches of bays and laurel. We passed below The Strawberry-beds, which are really curious to see—quite high banks of them—and numbers of people come from Dublin to eat these strawberries; and there are rooms at the bottom of these banks on purpose. We were home a little after five.

We reached Belfast Harbour at four o’clock. The wind had got up amazingly, and the morning was a very bad and stormy one. We had not had a very quiet night for sleeping, though very smooth. The weather got worse and worse, and blew a real gale; and it was quite doubtful whether we could start as we had intended, on our return from Belfast, for Scotland. We saw the Mayor and General (Bainbrigg), who had come on board after breakfast. At a quarter-past one we started with the ladies and gentlemen for the “Fairy.” Though we had only two minutes’ row in the barge, there was such a swell that the getting in and out, and the rolling and tossing in the boat, were very disagreeable. We had to keep in the little pavilion, as the squalls were so violent as to cover the “Fairy” with spray. We passed between Holywood and Carrickfergus, celebrated for the first landing of William III. We reached Belfast in half an hour, and fortunately the sun came out. We lay close alongside the wharf, where a very fine landing-place was arranged, and where thousands were assembled. Lord Londonderry came on board, and numerous deputations with addresses, including the Mayor (whom I knighted), the Protestant Bishop of Down and clergy, the Catholic Bishop Denvir (an excellent and modest man), the Sheriff and Members for the county, with Lord Donegal (to whom the greater part of Belfast belongs), Dr. Henry, from the new College, and the Presbyterians (of whom there are a great many here). Lady Londonderry and her daughter also came on board. There was some delay in getting the gang-board down, as they had made much too large a one. Some planks on board were arranged, and we landed easily in this way. The landing-place was covered in, and very tastefully decorated. We got into Lord Londonderry’s carriage with the two ladies, and Lord Londonderry himself got on the rumble behind with the two sergeant-footmen, Renwick and Birbage, both very tall, large men; and the three must have been far from comfortable. The town was beautifully decorated with flowers, hangings, and very fine triumphal arches, the galleries full of people; and the reception very hearty. The people are a mixture of nations, and the female beauty had almost disappeared. I have all along forgotten to say that the favourite motto written up on most of the arches, &c., and in every place, was: “Cead mile failte,” which means “A hundred thousand welcomes” in Irish, which is very like Gaelic; it is in fact the language, and has existed in books from the earliest period, whereas Gaelic has only been written since half a century, though it was always spoken. They often called out, “Cead mile failte!” and it appears in every sort of shape. Lord Donegal rode on one side of the carriage and the General on the other. We stopped at the Linen Hall to see the exhibition of the flax and linen manufacture. Lord Downshire and several other gentlemen received us there, and conducted us through the different rooms, where we saw the whole process in its different stages. First the plant, then the flax after being steeped; then the spun flax; lastly, the linen, cambric, and cloth of every sort and kind. It is really very interesting to see, and it is wonderful to what a state of perfection it has been brought. We got into our carriages again. This time Lord Londonderry did not attempt to resume his uncomfortable position. We went along through the Botanic Garden, and stopped and got out to look at the new College which is to be opened in October. It is a handsome building. We passed through several of the streets and returned to the place of embarkation. Belfast is a fine town, with some good buildings—for instance, the Bank and Exchange,—and is considered the Liverpool and Manchester of Ireland. I have forgotten to mention the Constabulary, who are a remarkably fine body of men, 13,000 in number (altogether in Ireland), all Irish, and chiefly Roman Catholics; and not one of whom, during the trying times last year, fraternised with the rebels. We left amid immense cheering, and reached the “Victoria and Albert” at half-past six. It was blowing as hard as ever, and the getting in and out was as disagreeable as before. We decided on spending the night where we were, unless the wind should drop by three or four o’clock in the morning. Many bonfires were lighted on the surrounding hills and coasts.

We arrived after a dreadfully rough though very short passage, and have taken refuge here. To return to Friday. We left the Phœnix Park, where we had spent so pleasant a time, at six o’clock, Lord Clarendon and the two elder children going in the carriage with us, and drove with an escort to the Dublin Railway Station. The town was immensely crowded, and the people most enthusiastic. George met us there, and we took him, the Clarendons, and Lord Lansdowne and our ladies in the carriage with us. We arrived speedily at Kingstown, where there were just as many people and as much enthusiasm as on the occasion of our disembarkation. We stood on the paddle-box as we slowly steamed out of Kingstown, amidst the cheers of thousands and thousands, and salutes from all the ships; and I waved my handkerchief as a parting acknowledgment of their loyalty. We soon passed Howth and Ireland’s Eye. The ship was very steady, though the sea was not smooth, and the night thick and rainy, and we feared a storm was coming on.

The weather no better, and as there seemed no hope of its improvement, we decided on starting at two o’clock, and proceeding either to Loch Ryan or Lamlash. Lord Adolphus read the service at half-past ten, at which the two eldest children were also present. I intend to create Bertie “Earl of Dublin,” as a compliment to the town and country; he has no Irish title, though he is born with several Scotch ones (belonging to the heirs to the Scotch throne, and which we have inherited from James VI. of Scotland and I. of England); and this was one of my father’s titles. The preparations on deck for the voyage were not encouraging; the boats hoisted up, the accommodation ladders drawn quite close up, every piece of carpet removed, and everything covered; and, indeed, my worst fears were realized. We started at two, and I went below and lay down shortly after, and directly we got out of the harbour the yacht began rolling for the first three-quarters of an hour, in a way which was dreadful, and there were two rolls, when the waves broke over the ship, which I never shall forget. It got gradually better, and at five we entered Loch Ryan, truly thankful to be at the end of our voyage. Albert came down to me and then I went up on deck, and he told me how awful it had been. The first great wave which came over the ship threw everybody down in every direction. Poor little Affie was thrown down and sent rolling over the deck, and was drenched, for the deck was swimming with water. Albert told me it was quite frightful to see the enormous waves rising like a wall above the sides of the ship. We did not anchor so high up in Loch Ryan as we had done two years ago; but it was a very safe quiet anchorage, and we were very glad to be there. Albert went on shore.