Tomorrow morning we say goodbye to Killarney and head north again for a whirlwind six days in Dublin, Belfast and Derry. We see two plays in Dublin, one in Belfast, drop by a megalithic burial ground constructed prior to the Pyramids and do a bunch of other stuff before heading to Rosslare and catching the ferry to Bilbao, site of our next adventure.
But first, a look back at a 3-day trip we took to Cobh (pron. “Cove”) on the south coast of County Cork. We try to visit interesting smaller towns that we can really get to know, and Cobh fit the bill. Over the last two hundred or so years it’s had three names: initially it was Cove of Cork, named by the British. Then, following a visit by Queen Victoria who pulled into the harbor and stepped foot in town, the name was changed to Queenstown. Any guesses about whose idea that was? Finally, on achieving statehood the residents opted to return to the town’s original name, Cobh.
Last Port of the Titanic
Cobh has the dubious distinction of being the last stop for the Titanic before it commenced its fateful westward passage to New York. A handful of folks actually got off the ship at Cobh, or rather at the mouth of Cork harbor (Titanic was too big to enter port), while about a hundred or so waiting at the dock piled on to the same tender. Between the town and the liner lay Spike Island, a notorious British prison that obstructed the view. When the tender cleared Spike Island the passengers first set eyes on the giant liner waiting out in the ocean, the biggest ever built. Among those on the tender craning their heads to see were fourteen immigrants from the same tiny town of Adderpoole.
It started when Katherine McGowan returned to Adderpoole from Chicago with tales of her life in Chicago. She was the successful proprietor of a boarding house for Irish immigrants, and she had come to escort her niece Annie, 17, to America. She paid passage for Annie, an enormous sum in those days. If you have no prospects for advancement, and especially if you are female and ambitious in rural Ireland, you have to follow the diaspora to America. Others listened and joined Annie and Katherine, those who could scrape together the money. In the end 14 people, 13 of them under 30 and 40 year-old Katherine all booked passage in steerage on the Titanic. This constituted about 20% of the village at the time, and a much larger percentage of the younger villagers. The night before leaving all were given an “American Wake,” a peculiarly Irish custom, acknowledging the fact that those departing would likely never return home again.
Steerage on the Titanic would have been a marvel for these rural folk. It would be the first time they saw electric lights, running water and porcelain bathroom facilities, silver table service, tablecloths, and more than enough to eat. For most it would be the first time they had a bed to themselves and only two beds to a room. The Titanic provided a level of service for its “Third Class” (no more “Steerage”) passengers equal to second-class service on other liners. The 14 were happy and partied after hours in their own section of the ship. Some never heard the ship striking the iceberg.
The rest, as they say, is history. Third class passengers were told to remain calm and in their section of the ship until further notice. When the waiting became unbearable, the 14 passengers from Adderpoole climbed the outside of the ship up four flights to where the lifeboats were. In a day when honor meant so much to men, the two males stayed behind. Only two of the 12 women found places on lifeboats. One chose to remain with her husband; the others found they had no choice but to go down with the ship. On the Titanic, all classes were not created equal. First class had the first choice of lifeboats. Ultimately, 62% of first-class passengers survived the sinking. For third class, the survival rate was 25%. Of first class women passengers, 97% were saved; 46% of third-class women passengers were saved.
The town of Addlepoole was devastated. The bodies of those lost were never recovered which resulted in “empty bed wakes” where a photo or other artifact would be propped on a pillow and the family would kneel around the bed to say the rosary. Rumors arose of bad blood between town members as money borrowed to make passage was never repaid. Folks stopped talking about the tragedy. It took the town’s next generation to build a memorial to those lost that night.
St. Colman’s Cathedral
Cobh was once a rich town, flourishing from all the trade going into and out of the harbor. As a consequence, an imposing cathedral looms over both city and harbor. The nineteenth century (started 1868, finished 1919) Gothic Revival edifice is absolutely beautiful. For me, the most unusual feature (other than Ireland’s only carillon) was the spectacular mosaic tile floor, in green Celtic weave.
Spike Island
What was the single most important reason England invaded and colonized Ireland? Certainly, the island had plentiful natural resources, but it also had cranky kings about every 10 miles down the road who loved to fight. The reason England believed it had to dominate its neighbor to the northwest was vulnerability. Their worst fears were realized when Catholic France began to cozy up to Ireland, landing a few warships in Irish ports and drumming up resentment toward the Brits. The country just couldn’t allow the enemy to get entrenched that close, a lot like Soviet nuclear missiles stationed in Cuba.
Cobh was the second largest natural harbor in Europe (it still is) and just a hop, skip and a jump from the coast of France. The harbor needed defending. The British built an impressive fortification on the island that guards the harbor along with coastal fortifications on either side of the harbor entrance. The fact that the harbor was never attacked may have more to do with the impressiveness of the defense than anything else. Over time the danger lessened but the Brits still worried. In fact, in the treaty of 1922 granting independence to Ireland, England wrote in that it would control the fort until 1938.
To the Irish, the fort represented a hated prison where the worst of the nationalist rebels (the ones not immediately executed) were housed along with thousands awaiting transportation to Australia or the Caribbean. During the famine years the prison was especially crowded. It’s true that a man might starve in peace, but he’ll break the law to feed his starving children. The great Scottish jurist William Carlyle dryly observed at the time that the law in its blind justice punishes both kings and paupers found sleeping under bridges.
The prison is now open as a grim tourist attraction and reminder of the bad old days.
I think my favorite photo so far is the descending line of houses identical but for their vivid array of colors.
The story about the Tittanic in the context of being there in a town that had such an immediate relationship with it ... really puts it all in the here and now. Real people. Real places. Real tragedy.
This entry made me think of yet another amazing Celtic-Irish folk singer and harpist - Loreena McKennit. On one of her albums there's a very poignant song about families parting ways forever, as so many felt the need to leave Ireland just to survive, but knowing there would be little chance of seeing their loved ones ever again.
Also, the Titanic has very special significance for the Bahá'ís all over the world, as the son of the prophet Bahá'u'lláh was almost on the Titanic, but opted for a more modest, less expensive ship in order to arrive in the USA. Pretty amazing stuff!