As I Roved Out: A Book of The North

by Cathal O'Byrne

'When Cathal O'Byrne roves out he displays all the adaptability of the Wellsian time-machine, going backwards and forwards along the road the centuries have traveled, finding by-ways and nooks and angles and old houses and forgotten hillsides where stories are remembered, where the passing of some person is still spoken of.

'...he has a particular gift for taking some detail out of the past, wrapping it around with his own attractive whimsicality, and passing it on, preserved in that way, for the delight of other men. He does not write history in the usual way. He walks backwards into the past, and the reader walks with him.

'...I can imagine no more pleasant way of remembering or returning to or learning for the first time a thousand interesting things about Ireland.

'...This is a book to buy and keep convenient, to return to again and again, savouring the flavour of a story or character delicately presented, looking through a small window into the past that made us what we are.'
-- Irish Bookman

Genres: Travelogue

450 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1982

About the author

Cathal O'Byrne (1867 – 1 August 1957) was an Irish singer, poet and writer. He joined the Gaelic League in Belfast and became a popular singer and storyteller. He was a stage manager of the Ulster Theater and would even become involved with the IRA, likely a member of military council. In 1921 O'Byrne traveled to America as a freelance journalist and opened a bookstore. He would return to Ireland after raising $100,000 for victims of the Belfast riots through White Cross. He was a devout Catholic, and even interviewed the Pope. Known for his dandified dress style, Cathal remained a bachelor his entire life. O'Byrne suffered from a stroke one month before his death on 1 August 1957. He is remembered as an important figure in the Celtic revival in the North of Ireland.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathal_...

Reviews

[AJ · Rating 5 out of 5]

As I Roved Out isn't a book to sit down and read in one go, but an invaluable series of short excursions into the history of Northern Ireland's Ulster and Old Belfast: its people, its places, its changing topography and architecture, its political and religious rivalries, its repression and progression. It's a book I will return to for an odd bit of trivia, a humorous reference, or for the feeling of an imagined nostalgia.

Published in 1946 this book pulls together a collection of articles printed in the Irish News and other outlets authored by the Eccentric "from the Northern Margin of the Celtic Twilight" Gaelic Activist, Folk and Comic Performing Artist, Poet, Journalist, Unabashed Irish-Nationalist: Cathal O'Byrne, an overall colorful character who deserves a book of his own, though you'll get a bit more on him in the forward by John Hewitt.

When you walk down memory lane with Cathal you'll not only learn about the who's who at Door No._ on High Street or North Street what have you, or learn of the tradesmen and women who were at the heartbeat of commerce, or artists and authors, priests and politicians, but you'll behold the flora, the feel of the breeze, breathe the air, take in the sights and smells while in witness to the nooks and crannies of forgotten locales, from the ordinary to the extra ordinary.

Disjointed, but recurrent in references particularly to "'98" (the Irish Rebellion of 1798 that is) and the star players of the United Irishmen involved in it, the repetition is welcome to understanding the overall evolution of events (if one is interested) otherwise you'd do just as well flipping to a page at random to read from there.

Not every story is interesting, humorous or insightful, some are downright menial, however they're brief and so not much of a chore before you're onto the next one. I typically read at least one story a day (3-5 pages each). I'll share with you an excerpt that I enjoyed early on from the following story:


"THE STREET OF THE BUTCHERS IN OLD BELFAST"
After the rough and tumble turmoil of the day, the busy, noisy place is quiet. Street cries are heard as from afar off, and the sound of belfry bells ringing in the distance is borne on the still evening air. It is a quiet hour and one of restful silence, and in it the people sit thoughtful and still through the evening's hush, when presently, at No. 86, Jimmy Cowan, the cotton spinner's son, who has "taken to the fiddle," begins to play.

In a room high up above his father's shop he plays, but the window is open to the warm air, and as the fiddle's music thrills through the silence, there where the crowed roofs of town lie closest, all the place is still as death to listen. The old people forget they are old when they hear Jimmy's music, and the children come under the cotton spinner's window and dance like so many flowers in the wind, and lifting up their fresh young voices, the old street rings again with their singing and with the lightest-hearted laughter that ever came from happy hearts, until Johnny McNicholl, the blacksmith at No. 18, who for some reason at this late hour has begun anew his eternal clangour, ceases it suddenly at the music's sound, and coming out, with his hand on the cheek of the door, stays to listen, while his iron grows cold and his forge-fire dwindles and dies down.

Women, with the rosy light of their kitchen fires behind them, their gossip stilled for the moment, linger in the old shadowy doorways, and under the magic influence of the music of the cotton spinner's son little knots of people stand hushed and mute about the doors of the old taverns.

High over the city to the north the Cave Hill, above the dark woods of Deer Park, is dreamily blue against the evening sky. As the dusk deepens the streets around are deserted, and not far away the river ripples through the town, under its grey, stone bridges, and down among the old wooden quays, and, as the fiddler's music at length ceases, above the roofs---yellow with the flowering house-leek that is allowed to grow for luck---a young moon rises and silvers all the place.



I've learned quite a bit from this book, part of the fun was looking up names and cross referencing the events. Some details recalled are very obscure and hard to cross reference, but that's been part of the fun for me. Highly recommended to anyone with an interest in Irish history, whether you live in the North, have roots there or just curious about it.


By Detroit Publishing Co. (Library of Congress[1]) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

[John · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book has pride of place on our bookshelf. It evokes a time before I was born but which would have been more familiar to my grandparents. It's one to dip into from time to time. I was born around the corner from where Cathal O'Byrne lived in Cavendish Street, Belfast.