Staff picks: An Irish Tour at the Portico

by Aoife Larkin

‘“My attempt is to sketch the modern Irish.” – Yes, sir, “and principally to describe what I saw.” Mark principally, for I shall occasionally describe what neither I nor anybody else saw.”’ - A Knight Errant, 1807

As an Irish person living in England, it is sometimes presumed that I am an expert in Irish history and culture. I suppose I have the same degree of authoritative knowledge as the average English person has on English history. However, I have read and explored Irish history with more vigour since living in Manchester. Distance from the source often creates the physical and metaphorical space we need to find a vantage point on topics that are so close to us. Libraries can also provide a new space and perspective from which to view things and with the invitation to contribute to the Portico’s Off The Shelf research series, I took the opportunity to see what I could learn through the particular lens of this collection.

A search in the Library’s online catalogue offers titles (often very long ones) containing words like, ‘collections of state tracts’ and ‘geographical delineations’. Other titles name Ireland in a list of places that constitute Britain. At the turn of the 19th century, when the Portico was established, The Act of Union integrated Ireland into the United Kingdom for the first time. During the 18th century, Ireland had been a separate kingdom governed by the British-appointed Protestant ruling elite. The Act of Union removed Parliamentary representatives from Dublin to Westminster, in the hope of exerting greater control following a period of sectarian discord and rebellion in Ireland, in part fuelled by the Revolution in France in 1789.

Such facts are of course essential to Ireland’s story, but casting around for some other themes, I came across the following: MY POCKET BOOK; OR HINTS FOR Ryghte Merrie and Conceitede” Tour, IN QUARTO; To be called “THE STRANGER IN IRELAND,” In 1805. BY A KNIGHT ERRANT. With a surface reading this small and beautiful book, bound with leather and marbled paper, quickly announced its tone and unusual style:

‘“Every low Irishman is called Pat. – Tell the reader that Pat is “an abbreviation of Paddy,” though Paddy is “derived from Saint Patrick.” “Saint Patrick was a tangible being.” No one but an infidel can doubt it. The Irish ladies approach the altars of “the immaculate Brigid, the virgin Saint of Ireland” (Query, the only virgin ever known there?) “with chastity instead of celibacy: but more of this hereafter.”’

MY POCKET BOOK; OR HINTS FOR Ryghte Merrie and Conceitede” Tour, IN QUARTO; To be called “THE STRANGER IN IRELAND,” In 1805. BY A KNIGHT ERRANT. The Portico Library collection.

My attention was grabbed by such impossibly rude comments, but as well as that, I noticed the lightness of touch in the writing and the way the author addressed himself instead of the reader; it was more like a diary or notebook. With a little investigation I discovered this was not an account of travels in Ireland, but a satire on one. Named as ‘A Knight Errant’, the author is in fact Edward Dubois, a British ‘wit and man of letters’, who wrote this book in 1807 as a satire of John Carr’s The Stranger in Ireland, or a Tour in the Southern and Western parts of that country in 1805.

John Carr had attained great success and popularity with his travel writing on journeys through France, Scandinavia and Germany, and following publication of The Stranger in Ireland, was knighted by the sixth Duke of Bedford, who was also the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Carr was so perturbed by Dubois’ satire that his publishers took the case to court but lost. Now, over 200 years later, it is hard to find information on Carr’s Stranger in Ireland without a reference to Dubois’ literary retort and the ensuing legal case alongside it.

Sir John Carr (1772 - 1832) by Emma Smith, 1800 - 1810. Stipple engraving. © The Trustees of the British Museum.

Edward Dubois (1774 - 1850) by William Ridley, 1839. Stipple engraving. © National Portrait Gallery, London.

To come across Dubois’ book, which is published for the sole purpose of making fun of another writer, was a thrill and I enjoyed many of his cutting, satirical jibes made in Carr’s voice:

‘“By the “lustre of a new moon,” (my favourite star) I walked to Ross Castle. The scene must be described, by saying it was “too impressive for the pen to convey” – that is, it made such an impression that it left none.”’ (p. 170)

‘“Give a list of their authors, artists, &c. – I dare say you can make out 140 or 150; print them in two columns, and they will fill nearly four quarto pages.”’ (p. 104)

There is a sense of conflict over my choice to focus on the most humorous but rude and ridiculous book on Ireland I came across, but I am also intrigued that in my search for knowledge about Ireland in the Portico, I find myself irresistibly drawn to a real-life publishing melodrama between two English men.

Old Nick’s Pastime, anonymous, 1808. Etching. © The Trustees of the British Museum. This image is a satire on Edward Dubois, who sometimes wrote under the name of 'Old Nick' (a ridicule of Dubois titled Old Nick's Pocket-book, was published in 1808 by a friend of Carr). The Devil with Dubois’ portrait is depicted ‘cutting up the pages of a book headed “Stranger [in] Ireland”. On the table are an open book: “Quoting made Easy / Hamlet Hamlet”, and a paper: “Complete Cutter”. Torn papers lie on the ground: “Stranger, ... rations, Ireland, Dublin, Currans' Speeches.”’ Read more here. Click to enlarge.

Triumphal procession of the hog in armour by Samuel de Wilde, 1808. Etching and aquatint. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Published in The Satirist, this image is one of a series of attacks on Sir Richard Phillips, publisher of Carr’s The Stranger in Ireland, who was ridiculed as the employer of ‘hack writers’. Carr’s book is depicted as the large platform on which Phillips, with the body of a hog, is carried in procession on the shoulders of his authors, one of whom is likely to be Carr himself. Read more here. Click the image to enlarge.

Information on Dubois’ motives to write his book is disappointingly sparse. Perhaps he was taking a savvy ride on the coattails of Carr’s publicity and excellent sales, or perhaps it was payment enough to dress down a peer enjoying so much literary success; perhaps it was to cast a spotlight on Carr’s attempt to make what Dubois saw as a simplistic or lazy characterisation of a country and culture, or perhaps it was a good opportunity to make the most of prevalent gags about the Irish. It is fair to say that, almost as often as Carr himself, the “low” Irish were the butt of Dubois’ jokes:

‘“The Irish have a bountiful quota of children. Dogs associate with them “by sympathy” … One man, one wife, and four children, “eat thirty-seven pounds of potatoes, a day.” – “It is the potatoe,” the Irish think, that impregnates their wives. – It is a wonder they have not more children, since, if that’s the case, they have husbands by “the barrel, twenty stone to the barrel.”’ (p. 74)

It is curious and troubling to contemplate the mindset of a writer who can toy so light-heartedly with the situation of impoverished people. Those who subsisted on the potato were typically the impoverished small farmers and landless labourers who had to shift away from other more lucrative forms of farming when they were physically displaced to upland areas. 38 years after My Pocket Book was published, a potato blight would destroy crops and cause the death and migration of approximately one million Irish people.

But a satire like Dubois’ is no more disturbing than some of the segments in Carr’s book, which at times consist of a shocking compendium of commentary on the Irish, positioning them as sub-human or animals. It is hard to imagine how material like this, perpetuated without critique or commentary, would not contribute to a sense that the Irish were not worthy of equal rights or respect.

Limerick by Thomas Medland ‘after John Carr’, 1806. Aquatint with some etching, hand-coloured. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Click to enlarge.

In the Portico’s collection there are further travel books on Ireland, as well as antiquarian histories and numerous volumes containing opinions and tracts on the persistent question of the nature of Britain’s relationship with Ireland, a question that remains deeply significant to both nations today. Carr and Dubois’ books, and others in The Portico’s collection, offer fascinating and valuable records about Ireland and attitudes towards it. Further exploration is irresistible, so I intend to continue reading their publications in greater depth, in my own attempt to understand the story of an Englishman, who wrote a book about an Englishman, who wrote a book about Ireland.

Aoife Larkin is The Portico Library’s Learning and Conservation Manager

You do not need to be a member, a student or an academic to register as a researcher for free with The Portico Library. If you would like to explore your own interests through the Library please contact us. If you are interested in helping us to preserve our first edition of The Stranger in Ireland by John Carr, please enquire about our Adopt a Book scheme.