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LEINSTER 31
in one of which Saint Patrick was captured and
brought a slave to Ireland. A good many people
think all this history legendary, a pack of fables.
And very probably, if you had told Crimhthann,
when he ruled in his dun (or even the builders of
the Bailey Lighthouse when they were at work on
his old rampart), that a gentleman would come flying
across from England and drop like a winged bird off
this promontory, they also would have been a trifle slow
of belief. Anyhow, Howth Head, with its memories
of ancient robber kings, Irish and Danish, and of all
the folk who landed there from Chester, or from
Anglesey, down to this last and most surprising
debarkation of all, is surely a place of associated
landmarks in history, as well as probably the most
beautiful spot in Ireland.
Often on a clear day of sun and driving cloud I
have been tempted to prefer the northward view, from
the haven or above it; for even from the sea's level
you can see far away past all that long, plain and
low coast to the Carlingford Hills, purple and solid
in their serrated ridge; and beyond, higher, fainter,
and more delicate, Slieve Donard, and all the goodly
company of Mourne Mountains show themselves
against the sky. Nor is the foreground less lovely:
the quaint old port, and, opposite it, the purple and
brown ruggedness of Ireland's Eye, which is divided by