The Frosty Winters of Ireland: Poems of Climate Crisis 1739-41

Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland:  Poems  of  Climate  Crisis   1739-­‐41       Lucy  Collins  (University  College  Dublin)1   Abstract   The  period  between  1450  and  1850  in  Europe  is  often  referred  to  as  the  ‘Little  Ice  Age’  but  it   was   in   the   years   1739-­‐1741   that   Ireland   experienced   some   of   the   most   severe   weather   conditions  ever  recorded  in  the  country.  The  Great  Frost,  as  it  later  became  known,  caused   unprecedented  disturbance  in  Ireland’s  ecology:  lakes  and  rivers  were  frozen,  potato  crops   and   grain   harvests   were   ruined,   and   livestock   and   humans   perished   from   hunger   and   disease.   This   devastation   of   the   natural   world   was   accompanied   by   upheaval   in   civic   life,   including   the   break-­‐up   of   rural   communities   and   an   increase   in   crime   and   social   unrest.   Though  the  extraordinary  weather  witnessed  at  this  time  has  largely  been  forgotten,  it  calls   attention   to   the   impact   of   climatic   conditions   on   both   human   and   non-­‐human   environments,  as  well  as  exploring  the  challenge  these  circumstances  presented  to  existing   human   perceptions   of   the   relationship   between   man   and   nature.   Many   of   the   poems   written   and  published  at  the  time  explore   this   unprecedented   experience,   some   drawing   on   the   conventions   of   poetic   representations   of   the   natural   world,   others   offering   innovative   expressions   of   diverse   conditions.   Using   the   work   of   well   known   figures   such   as   William   Dunkin   and   Laurence   Whyte,   as   well   as   hitherto   uncollected   texts   by   lesser-­‐known   and   anonymous   writers,   this   essay   will   explore   the   poetic   mediation   of   this   important   environmental  event  and  consider  its  impact  on  our  understanding  of  the  natural  world  in   Ireland  in  this  period.     Climate   change   is   the   most   far-­‐reaching   of   ecological   anxieties   and   the   most   significant   problem   for   the   twenty-­‐first   century   and   beyond,   yet   its   literary   representation   presents   considerable   critical   challenges.   Though   the   weather   is   represented   frequently   throughout   the   history   of   written   literature,   it   is   rarely   a   particular  theme  or  central  concern  of  the  work.  Long  deemed  an  innocuous  conversational  topic,  talk  of   the   weather   often   specifically   expresses   avoidance   of   more   provocative   political   or   social   matters;   it   is   a   subject   of   universal   interest   that   yet   deserves   only   fleeting   attention.   Samuel   Johnson’s   wry   comment   captures   the   pointless   nature   of   this   talk   exactly:   “It   is   commonly   observed,   that   when   two   Englishmen   meet,  their  first  talk  is  of  the  weather;  they  are  in  haste  to  tell  each  other,  what  each  must  already  know,   that  it  is  hot  or  cold,  bright  or  cloudy,  windy  or  calm”  (n.p.).  In  keeping  with  its  persistent  yet  disparaged   conversational  presence,  the  weather’s  representation  in  literature  has  been  associated  with  human  action                                                                                                                           1  Lucy  Collins,  (lucy.collins@ucd.ie)  Lucy  Collins  is  a  Lecturer  in  English  Literature  in  the  School  of  English,  Drama  and   Film  at  University  College  Dublin.                                                       The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland       1   Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     and   mood;   the   sensory   possibilities   it   offers   emphasize   localized   particularity,   rather   than   larger   philosophical  or  ethical  concerns.  It  may  be  the  experiential  dimension  of  weather  that  leads  to  its  rather   privatized   representation:   it   appears   in   the   more   immediate   forms   of   discourse—of   letters,   diaries   and   daily   reports—but   seldom   is   at   the   centre   of   significant   and   lasting   representation.1   Yet   weather   has   shaped   human   history   and   perception   in   significant   ways,   and   has   the   potential   to   draw   the   experiential   and  the  conceptual,  the  private  and  the  public,  into  complex  alignment.     The   Romantic   era   presents   a   dramatic   change   to   the   literary   representation   of   weather.   The   heightened   attention  to  interior  states  during  this  period  was  matched  by  an  increased  awareness  of  the  relationship   between   human   individuals   and   their   wider   environment.   The   representation   of   weather   was   capable   of   drawing  shared  experiences  and  private  moods  together,  and  later  novelists  would  use  its  potential  to  the   full:   the   Brontës,   Joseph   Conrad,   Charles   Dickens   and   George   Eliot   all   invoked   weather   conditions   to   intensify   the   reader’s   understanding   of   emotional   states   and   social   conditions   in   their   novels.2   In   poetry   too,  Romanticism  proved  an  important  turning  point  in  climate  representation;  from  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley’s   “Ode   to   the   West   Wind”   to   John   Keats’s   “The   Eve   of   St   Agnes,”   natural   forces   could   be   made   expressive   of   the   political   dynamics   of   the   day.   Yet   Jonathan   Bate   has   argued   convincingly   for   the   documentary   significance   of   weather   events   in   this   work,   as   well   as   its   metaphorical   power.3   This   highlights   the   importance   of   weather   as   a   subject   for   sustained   representation   in   the   poetry,   not   merely   as   a   literary   trope  or  an  expression  of  human  emotions  and  concerns.  It  marked  a  new  understanding  of  the   important   reciprocal  relationship  between  man  and  nature.   The   desire   to   free   natural   images   from   the   weight   of   classical   allusions   and   to   represent   them   directly   would  be  among  the  most  revolutionary  aspects  of  Romantic  poetry,  but  earlier  poets  also  grappled  with   these   aesthetic   possibilities.   Fluctuating   weather   was   a   feature   of   almost   all   eighteenth-­‐century   topographical  poetry,4  but  for  many  of  the  most  prominent  poets,  such  as  John  Denham  (1615-­‐1669)  and   James   Thomson   (1700-­‐1748),   the   weather   was   not   felt   but   instead   observed.   This   would   change   as   the   eighteenth  century  wore  on,  however,  and  labouring-­‐class  writers  brought  the  experiential  aspects  of  the   natural  world  to  poetic  representation.5  While  all  three  poets  under  consideration  in  this  essay  are  formally   educated,  they  register  the  emotional  power  of  extreme  weather  and  the  new  aesthetic  possibilities  that   changing  literary  tastes  can  bring.6  The  experience  of  extreme  weather  conditions,  and  their  tragic  human   consequences,   confronts   these   poets   with   the   challenge   to   represent   the   facts   directly,   while   tradition   compels   them   not   to   abandon   the   status   of   familiar   poetic   modes.   This   creative   tension,   which   can   be   traced   throughout   the   texts   explored   here,   mirrors   the  larger   ethical   challenge   of   representing   traumatic   events  in  verse.   The  process  of  dwelling  on  the  earth  means  that  humans  must  attempt  to  understand  their  environment  in   the   fullest   sense—not   just   the   ground   under   their   feet   but   the   air   above   them.   This   is   a   relational   understanding   that   exists   not   on   one   plane   only,   but   in   three-­‐dimensional   space,   and   as   such,   offers   challenges  to  the  reach  and  attentiveness  of  the  human  mind.  Though  we  draw  sustenance  from  the  earth,   the   air   above   shapes   our   relationship   with   it;   it   is   through   this   element   that   we   move,   and   by   it   that   we   live—drawing  from  it  the  oxygen  we  need  to  survive.  Tim  Ingold  pursues  this  idea  further:  he  argues  that  “a   living,  breathing  body  is  at  once  a  body-­‐on-­‐the-­‐ground  and  a  body-­‐in-­‐the-­‐air.  Earth  and  sky,  then,  are  not   components  of  an  external  environment...  [t]hey  are  rather  regions  of  the  body’s  very  existence,  without   which  no  knowing  or  remembering  would  be  possible  at  all”  (Ingold:  122).  This  internalization  of  weather,   and   its   impact   on   our   intellectual   and   emotional   functions,   specifically   calls   into   question   assumptions   concerning  weather’s  peripheral  importance  in  our  lives  and  in  our  cultural  representations.  Climate  has  a   crucial  impact  on  our  temperament;  yet  weather’s  natural  volatility  expresses  the  idea  of  change  and  may   be  the  cause  of  its  marginalization  within  the  discourses  of  cultural  exploration: Everything  that  exists  and  that  might  form  the  object  of  our  perception  is  placed  upon  this   surface   [of   the   earth],   rather   as   properties   and   scenery   might   be   set   upon   the   stage   of   a   theatre.  Beneath  the  surface  lies  the  domain  of  formless  matter,  the  physical  stuff  of  the                                                                                                                                           The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland     2                                           Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     world.  And  above  it  lies  the  domain  of  immaterial  form,  of  pure  ideas  or  concepts  (Ingold   3).   Ingold  himself  calls  air  “an  unthinkable  medium”  and  it  is  this  challenge  to  thought  and  representation  that   I  want  to  explore  in  this  essay.  Air  is  partly  unthinkable,  I  will  argue,  because  of  the  challenges  it  presents  to   human   perception   and   representation:   the   figure   in   the   landscape   is   constrained   by   the   limits   of   human   sight  and,  though  the  creative  artist  fuses  observation  and  imagination,  his  work   will  be  expressive  of  both   these  experiential  constraints  and  the  intellectual  limitations  of  the  day.  The  weather  exceeds  the  power  of   the   human   to   control   and   order   his   existence,   and   remains   among   the   phenomena   least   subject   to   developments   in   scientific   thinking.   Climate   conditions   can   destroy   individual   human   lives   and   histories,   indeed  all  the  marks  we  leave  upon  the  earth.  This  situation  makes  artistic  traces  tentative  and  provisional,   and   all   attempts   to   represent   climate   conditions   fraught   with   difficulty—as   Richard   Mabey   writes:   “the   weather,   in   our   culture   and   our   psychology,   is   intricately   linked   with   time,   and   especially   with   time’s   familiars,  memory  and  expectation”  (Mabey  15).  Weather  reveals  the  world  to  be  always  in  formation,  so  in   returning  to  a  period  on  the  cusp  of  scientific  discovery,  I  will  explore  the  fault-­‐lines  between  superstitious   belief   and   rational   observation,   between   intellectual   and   emotional   response,   acknowledging   the   complexity  of  thinking  and  writing  on  the  relationship  between  weather  and  the  human  community.   The  climate  of  the  British  Isles  during  the  eighteenth  century  was  not  dissimilar  to  today’s  climate,  though   colder  winters  meant  average  temperatures  were  perhaps  a  degree  lower  than  they  are  now  (McWilliams   116).   In   spite   of   an   acknowledged   obsession   with   the   vagaries   of   the   weather,   Ireland   had   a   climate   conducive  to  strong   agricultural  production  with  relatively  high  rainfall  and  comparatively  little  variation  in   temperature.  Though  possessing  these  elements  of  stability,  the  weather  ultimately  failed  to  yield  to  any   reliable  investigation  of  its  processes,  a  feature  that  provoked  considerable  scrutiny  and  debate.  During  this   period,  responses  to  the  weather  can  be  loosely  divided  into  two  kinds:  the  first  a  superstitious  belief  in  the   wonders  and  horrors  of  nature;  the  second  an  understanding  of  the  weather  as  a  manifestation  of  divine   pleasure   or   retribution,   as   in   the   comment   by   this   anonymous   author:   “when   Natural   Agents   act   in   a   strange,   unusual   manner…   this   is   from   the   Lord”   (Golinski   20).   Some   natural   philosophers   who   recommended   careful   observation   as   a   prelude   to   better   understanding   of   the   weather   felt   that   such   observations  did  not  preclude  the  reiteration  of  long-­‐held  folk  beliefs;  others,  such  as  Robert  Boyle,  were  in   favour  of  the  separation  of  scientific  and  popular  meteorologies,  “[i]t  being  much  more  commendable  for  a   man  to  preserve  the  history  of  his  own  time.  .  .  than  to  say  ‘this  is  the  hottest,  or  this  is  the  coldest’”  (Boyle   642).  Accordingly,  the  weather  was  no  longer  regarded  as  being  made  up  of  discrete  and  incomprehensible   events,  but  was  instead  seen  as  a  continuous  process,  a  web  of  meanings;  it  was  this  understanding  that   would  shape  the  earliest  developments  of  meteorological  science.  Naturalists  such  as  Gilbert  White  were   hopeful  that  their  activities  would  relegate  superstitious  thought  in  favour  of  reason:  these  records  were   judged  to  have  an  intellectual  respectability  very  different  from  their  folk  counterpart,  but  were  not  aloof   from   providential   effects.   The   process   of   gathering   observations   was   designed   to   uncover   the   laws   of   nature,   which   were   not   distinct   from   God’s   agency   but   rather   evidence   of   both   his   forethought   and   miraculous  actions.  Irishman  John  Rutty  was  particularly  critical  of  those  who  saw  the  weather  as  random   or  without  discernable  pattern.  According  to  him  “divine  Wisdom  and  Goodness”  could  be  detected  even  in   seemingly   irregular   events   (II:   280-­‐1).7   In   theological   terms   it   marked   a   shift   in   emphasis   away   from   interpretation   of   the   sacred   text   and   towards   reason   as   a   pivotal   determinant   in   matters   of   theodicy   (Jankovic  57).  Yet  the  ways  in  which  the  weather  was  understood  were  closely  entwined  with  the  politics  of   the   day.   Between   the   late   seventeenth   and   early   eighteenth   century   religion   lay   at   the   heart   of   British   politics   and   the   representation   of   the   Great   Storm   of   1703   demonstrated   just   how   significantly   the   interpretation  of  natural  events  was  shaped  by  these  larger  preoccupations.  The  storm—which  caused  the   death  of  up  to  9000  people  and  enormous  destruction  of  property—was  judged  by  Queen  Anne  to  be  “a   token  of  divine  displeasure”  (Jankovic  61).  Yet  even  those  who  acknowledged  a  providential  basis  for  the   crisis,  showed  interest  in  the  more  rational  approaches  of  the  early  natural  philosophers:  most  famously,   author   Daniel   Defoe   advertised   for   accounts   of   the   storm,   a   decision   that   reflected   the   ideological   tensions   of   the   time   (Jankovic   62-­‐3).   This   impulse   towards   gathering   individual   descriptions   of   natural   events   was                                                                                                                                           The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland     3                                           Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     significant   in   its   emphasis   on   the   experiential   aspect   of   the   weather   and   its   endorsement   of   the   value   of   personal  testimony  in  the  form  of  precise  observation.   The  process  of  record  keeping  shaped  how  the  weather  was  perceived  in  a  number  of  ways.  As  well   as   emphasizing   cyclical   patterns,   it   stressed   the   importance   of   instruments   for   reading   the   weather   accurately,   and   of   long-­‐term   strategies   for   recording   and   framing   these   findings.   In   this   way   it   suggested   that   instead   of   seeing   weather   as   an   unpredictable   phenomenon,   its   potential   for   continuity   and   regularity   should   be   acknowledged   (Reed   8).   Weather   narratives   thus   became  part   of   a   larger   scholarly   endeavour,   many   of   them   being   generated   by   provincial   gentry   and   clergymen   who   already   had   strong   antiquarian   interests  (Golinski  78).  Affinity  with  place  offered  legitimacy  to  these   investigations;  they  proceeded  on  a   firm   regional   basis,   seeking   to   differentiate   between   places   rather   than   to   affirm   similarities.   The   aim   of   Robert   Plot’s   Natural   Histories,   for   example,   was   to   compile   a   register   of   each   county’s   curiosities,   thus   positioning  the  local  as  a  crucial  part  of  any  larger  analysis  (Jankovic  86).  This  kind  of  focus  saw  a  widening   gap  between  material  generated  in  the  countryside  and  the  more  remote  speculations  of  a  metropolitan   sensibility.   The   immediacy   of   local   observation   also   emphasized   the   seasonal   dimension   of   many   of   the   findings—a   feature   to   which   the   Irish   meteorologist,   Richard   Kirwan,   was   especially   attentive   (Jankovic   131).   Even   when   this   was   the   case,   the   vagaries   of   climate   might   be   seen   as   incomprehensible   to   the   observer,   as   a   manifestation   not   only   of   the   whimsical   powers   of   fate,   but   of   perceptible   change   that   marked  the  smallness  of  human  understanding.  As  Jonathan  Bate  argues,  “[t]he  weather  is  the  primary  sign   of   the   inextricability   of   culture   and   nature”   (437)   and   all   its   representations   speak   of   social   and   intellectual   contexts  as  well  as  natural  ones.  For  those  poets  bearing  witness  to  the  extraordinary  spectacle  of  Ireland’s   Great  Frost,  feelings  of  wonder  and  awe  competed  with  the  need  to  bear  witness  to  the  trauma  of  ensuring   events  and  to  give  them  shape  and  meaning  for  readers.   In   poems   written   throughout   the   sixteenth   and   seventeenth   centuries   in   Ireland,   the   impact   of   weather   on   human  experience  can  easily  be  traced.  The  temperate  character  of  the  climate  in  this  archipelago  made   both   islands   less   susceptible   to   crises   brought   on   by   climatic   events   yet,   in   spite   of   this   fact,   there   were   moments  in  Ireland’s  history  when  extreme  weather  conditions  prevailed,  and  with  them  came  significant   acts  of  witness  and  records  of  human  trauma.  The  approaches  to  representing  this  natural  disaster  are  in   themselves   interesting:   letters   and   political   pamphlets   appeared   addressing   the   ensuing   hardship,   but   other   forms   of   representation   were   notably   scarce,   especially   visual   representations   both   of   the   freezing   conditions  and  their  social  repercussions.  Artists  resisted  depicting  distress  and  shame,  in  favour  of  forms   of  engagement  that  aimed  to  prompt  reflection  and  positive  action:  the  extremities  of  experience,  it  seems,   were  most  often  turned  to  practical  account.  There  are  poems,  both  in  Irish  and  English,  that  explore  this   unprecedented   experience   in   memorable   ways,   however,   some   drawing   on   the   conventions   of   poetic   representations   of   the   natural   world,   others   offering   innovative   expressions   of   diverse   conditions.   Primarily,   these   are   poems   of   witness,   concerned   with   the   important   responsibility   of   engaging   with   the   extremity  of  nature  and  contemplating  man’s  complex  relationship  with  his  environment.     Human  hardship  is  inextricably  linked  to  challenging  weather  conditions  and  it  was  in  the  years  1739-­‐1741   that   Ireland   experienced   some   of   the   most   severe   weather   conditions   ever   recorded   in   the   country.   The   Great   Frost,   as   it   later   became   known,   caused   unprecedented   disturbance   in   Ireland’s   ecology:   lakes   and   rivers  were  frozen,  potato  crops  and  grain  harvests  ruined,  and  livestock  and  humans  perished  from  hunger   and  disease.  This  devastation  of  the  natural  world  was  accompanied  by  upheaval  in  civic  life,  including  the   break-­‐up   of   rural   communities   and   an   increase   in   crime   and   social   unrest.   It   was   a   combination   of   circumstances   that   would,   to   a   large   extent,   be   repeated   in   the   Great   Famine   of   1845-­‐9,   though   the   longer   duration   of   this   disaster—and   its   particular   demographic   implications—would   have   more   enduring   social   and   political   effects.   The   disease   that   caused   the   widespread   destruction   of   the   potato   crop   was   born   of   certain   climate   conditions,   but   its   effects   were   more   closely   linked   to   the   political   circumstances   governing   a  great  many  of  those  in  Ireland  who  were  dependent  on  the  smallholding  for  their  livelihoods.  The  Great   Famine   remains   Ireland’s   most   enduring   cultural   trauma.   By   contrast,   the   extraordinary   climatic   conditions   that  prevailed  in  Ireland  for  eighteenth  months  from  the  end  of  1739,  and  documented  in  David  Dickson’s   book   Arctic   Ireland   (1997),   have   largely   been   forgotten,   yet   these   events   call   apt   attention   to   the  impact   of                                                                                                                                           The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland     4                                           Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     extreme   weather   on   both   human   and   non-­‐human   environments,   as   well   to   the   challenge   these   circumstances  presented  to  existing  human  perceptions  of  the  relationship  between  man  and  nature.8     As  in  so  many  periods  of  complex  political  structures,  the  devastating  effect  of  the  Great  Frost  in  Ireland   was  shaped  in  no  small  measure  by  the  social  factors  exerting  influence  on  Irish  society  of  the  time.  Poverty   was   endemic   in   Ireland   with   the   control   of   its   resources   in   the   hands   of   a   small   minority;   few   of   the   country’s  major  exports—including  wool  products,  butter  and  salted  beef—were  ones  that  benefitted  the   smallholder   directly   (Dickson,   ‘Famine’   22-­‐3).   Ireland’s   uneven   development   economically   would   also   accentuate  the  hardship  experienced  in  some  areas  of  the  country,  especially  in  Munster  and  large  parts  of   Connaught,  to  the  extent  that  John  Post  argues  that  a  deficient  social  infrastructure,  and  the  resulting  over-­‐ reliance   on   public   intervention   in   terms   of   crisis,   would   greatly   affect   the   mortality   rates   for   this   disaster   (300).   Philanthropy   relied   on   the   parish   as   the   unit   for   monitoring   and   alleviating   hardship;   in   the   cities   urban  councils  also  had  a  role  to  play  in  this  process.  Early  in  the  crisis,  though,  support  of  those  in  need   lacked   organizational   rigour   and   it   was   this   factor,   as   much   as   the   recurring   natural   disasters,   that   prolonged   the   hardship   of   so   many   communities.9   The   initial   response   of   many   to   the   freezing   temperatures   was   one   of   wonder   and   euphoria,   but   this   was   quickly   dispelled   as   the   true   human   cost   began   to   be   revealed.   The   loss   of   the   potato   crop   was   the   first   indicator   of   a   forthcoming   crisis   in   food   supply,  which  peaked  in  the  summer  of  1740  after  a  long  period  of  drought  (Dickson,  “Famine”  24).  It  was   in   late   Spring   of   this   year   that   the   first   food   riots   occurred,   reflecting   anger   at   continuing   exportation   of   grain   from   areas   of   serious   hardship   (Dickson,   Atlas   27).   With   the   onset,   as   early   as   October   1740,   of   another   winter   of   startlingly   low   temperatures,   it   became   clear   that   the   crisis   would   be   prolonged.   The   medical  effects  of  malnutrition  and  homelessness  began  to  be  felt  in  earnest  at  this  time  and  members  of   the  middle  and  upper  classes  fell  victim  to  diseases  carried  by  the  wandering  poor  (Dickson,  “Famine”  27).     Both  the  scale  and  the  longevity  of  the  crisis  were  extraordinary,  and  just  as  they  confounded  attempts  to   bring   both   social   and   medical   problems   under   control,   so   they   created   representational   challenges   for   those   who   wished   to   address   these   experiences   in   verse.   The   most   significant   texts   to   engage   with   the   events  explicitly  invoke  aesthetic  dilemmas,  as  well  as  revealing  the  artistic  reach  needed  to  confront  such   a  complex  set  of  circumstances.    In   his   own   career  William   Dunkin   (c.1709-­‐1765)   exemplifies   this   complexity,   writing   “The   Frosty   Winters   of   Ireland”  (1742)  first  in  Latin  and  then  in  English.  Dunkin,  described  by  Jonathan  Swift  as  “a  Gentleman  of   much  Wit,  and  the  best  English  as  well  as  Latin  poet  in  this  Kingdom”  (Swift  V,  86)  was  educated  at  Trinity   College   Dublin,   and   the   author   of   a   range   of   original   and   witty   verse.   Though   as   a   younger   man   he   had   collaborated   in   the   production   of   scurrilous   verse   satires,   this   poem,   of   close   to   130   lines,   is   a   sombre   production.   It   represents   the   bitter   extremity   of   this   natural   disaster,   couching   it   initially   in   supernatural   terms:  instead  of  the  “Heaven”  of  fair  weather  and  “fields/A-­‐float  with  golden  grain”  comes  from  Hell  the   vengeful  cold,  severe  enough  to  destroy  all  forms  of  life.  The  reason  for  this  devastation  is  debated  in  an   elegantly   wrought   but   syntactically   complex   set   of   digressions—“(whether   through   the   stroke/Of   chance,   or   fate   or   vengeful   Heaven,   (how   due/To   crimes   repeated…))”—that   unsurprisingly   lead   to   no   clear   resolution.   The   extent   to   which   these   events   exceed   human   understanding,   even   human   imagining,   is   an   important   shaping   force   on   this   lengthy   meditation,   as   though   attentive   description   itself   could   help   to   make   sense   of   these   events   for   poet   and   reader.   In   this   respect   we   may   situate   the   poem   on   the   cusp   between  wonder  and  reason,  where  the  extraordinary  spectacle  of  the  frozen  landscape  is  given  free  rein,   even  as  the  poet  speculates  as  to  its  cause.  If  much  of  the  wonder  was  removed  from  the  observation  of   the  natural  world  by  the  new  science,  there  remained  discrepancies  between  the  waning  appreciation  of   the   marvelous,   and   the   evidential   outcomes   of   scientific   investigation   (Daston   and   Park   329-­‐330).   This   temporal  gap  is  even  more  pronounced  in  the  Irish  context,  where  scientific  thinking  took  longer  to  become   firmly  established.  It  is  fitting,  then,  that  this  poem  oscillates  between  a  desire  to  document  with  exactness,   and  a  willingness  to  indulge  in  speculation  as  to  the  cause  of  this  astonishing  event—a  speculation  in  which   religious  belief  maintains  a  strong  presence.  As  though  in  support  of  this  tension,  the  poem  interweaves  a   range  of  different  metaphorical  patterns  throughout  its  dense  texture.  Imagery  of  disease  gives  way  to  that   of   war:   precipitation   is   akin   to   enemy   fire,   but   with   greater   range   and   consequence.   Next   the   shock                                                                                                                                           The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland     5                                           Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     experienced  by  the  “frighted  globe”  is  linked  to  the  terrible  fact  of  original  sin  itself.  The  fate  of  the  entire   earth,  it  seems,  is  decided  by  these  inexplicable  events.     The   female   figure   as   bearer   of   tragedy   includes   the   “baneful   fury”   of   the   opening   stanza   and   now   Eve,   through  whom  sin  entered  the  world.  Some  of  the  most  memorable  description  in  this  poem  is  of  a  purely   sensory  kind,  as  the  poet  bears  witness  to  the  stilling  of  natural  energy,  the  power  sufficient  to  arrest  rivers   mid-­‐flow:  “Beneath  the  glassy  gulph/Fishes  benumb’d,  and  lazy  sea-­‐calves  freeze/In  crystal  coalition  with   the  deep”  (ll.  30-­‐32).  The  beauty  of  this  description  does  not  lessen  the  horror  for  the  human  observer,  but   it  does  reinforce  the  interdependence  of  all  living  things.  Without  explicitly  naming  it,  Dunkin  explores  here   the  notion  of  the  ecosystem,  within  which  a  sudden  imbalance  can  have  stark  consequences.  Yet  he  also   recounts   with   accuracy   the   sequence   of   disasters   with   which   communities   were   confronted,   even   in   the   first  six  months  of  the  crisis:  first  the  frozen  rivers,  then  the  food  shortages,  later  the  death  of  horses  and   cattle  due  to  depleted  stocks  of  fodder  (Dickson,  Arctic  11-­‐22).  “The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland”  enacts  the   importance   of   both   spatial   and   temporal   interconnection   as   it   describes   the   different   life   forms   affected   by   the   freezing   conditions,   beginning   with   water—the   first   element   to   suffer   radically   from   the   change   in   temperature—then  moving  to  the  earth.  Winter’s  “frigid  womb”  brings  forth  not  life,  but  the  deathliness  of   unproductive  seed;  even  brambles  and  briars  decay.  Vertumnus,  the  Roman  god  of  the  seasons,  of  change   and   of   plant   growth   is   confounded   by   the   destruction   of   trees,   flowering   shrubs   and   fruit.   The   age-­‐old   understanding   of   natural   process   is   changed   irrevocably,   and   with   it   the   larger   philosophical   approaches   to   the  passage  of  time.  The   deathliness  of  this  extreme  cold  expresses   a  universe  resistant  to  man’s  attempts   at   order,   and   runs   counter   to   the   implementation   of   early   scientific   thinking.   This   is   a   poem   of   awe   and   horror,   rather   than   understanding   and   mastery,   and   its   lengthy   sentences   with   their   complex   clauses   show   language  at  full  stretch  to  accommodate  the  act  of  appalling  witness.   After  the  death  of  growing  things,  comes  that  of  birds,  a  feature  recorded  by  others  at  the  time,  including   this  anonymous  poet  in  Faulkner’s  Dublin  Journal—“No  lark  is  left  to  wake  the  morn,/Or  rouse  the  youth   with  early  horn;/The  blackbird’s  melody  is  o’er”  (Dickson,  Arctic  22).  Dunkin’s  treatment  of  this  makes  use   of  the  poetic  potential  of  the  bird  to  suggest  transcendence:       Those,  upward-­‐soaring,  leave   Their  frozen  lives  beneath  the  stars:  but  these   With  eager  eyes  devour  the  luring  bait,   That  shines  beneath  the  icy  mirror  barr’d,   And  mocks  with  pure  deceit  their  empty  beaks    (ll.  65-­‐9)     The  loss  of  their  beautiful  song  from  the  woodland  reinforces  the  aesthetic  response  to  these  conditions.   This   music   is   replaced   with   “loud-­‐rending   storms”   that   bring   down   trees   and   wreck   ships   at   sea.   The   waves   become   “fluid   mountains”   and   the   stiffening   brine   and   continuous  snow   turns   land   and   sea   into   “one   vast,   hoar,  interminable  waste”.  Both  in  terms  of  space  and  time,  this  freezing  state  is  never-­‐ending,  since  the   differentiation   possible   during   clement   weather   is   at   an   end.   It   is   a   condition   that   confounds   scientific   attentiveness   to   seasonal   change   and   rejects   with   it   the   easy   sense   of   hope   that   cyclical   duration   can   suggest.  The   poem   comes  full   circle;  the  swain  who  appeared  at  its  opening   dies,   as   his   wife   and   child   sit  in   freezing   silence:   the   woman   “[s]ooths   with   her   hand,   close   pressing   to   her   breast/The   tender   pledge   of   love,  her  infant  babe;/When  stupid,  motionless,  as  figur’d  stone,/She  stares:  the  faultring  accents,  on  her   tongue/Stiff,   into   silence   everlasting   freeze”   (ll.   125-­‐129).   This   final   tableau   evokes   the   powerlessness   of   man  against  these  elements,  and  the  silencing  of  human  reason  and  explanation  in  the  face  of  such  terrible                                                                                                                                           The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland     6                                           Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     power.   It   combines   the   emotional   impact   of   the   crafted   line—the   sibilance   of   “sooths…pressing…   breast…”   fading  into  “…silence”  —with  the  resonance  of  eyewitness  statement.10  That  the  poem  itself  should  move   towards  silence  after  its  attentive  act  of  witness  represents  a  significant  act  of  creative  yielding  in  the  face   of  the  unknown.     The  crisis  of  representation  that  William  Dunkin  faces  here  is  addressed  in  a  very  different  way  by  Thomas   Hallie  Delamayne  (1718-­‐1773)  in  his  poem  “To  Francis  Bindon  Esq”.  Like  Dunkin,  Delamayne  was  educated   at   Trinity   College;   he   worked   for   some   years   as   a   barrister   in   Dublin,   before   moving   to   London.  This   text   was   inspired   by   the   portrait   Bindon   had   painted   of   Hugh   Boulter,   archbishop   of   Armagh,   a   work   that   depicted   him   dispensing   charity   to   the   needy.11   In   addressing   an   artist,   and   instructing   him   on   what   to   include   in   his   painting   (“O’er   the   froz’d   North,   I’d   stretch   a   sheet   of   snow”),   Delamayne   draws   attention   both  to  the  power  and  responsibility  of  representation,  and  claims  the  space  of  the  poem  as  one  in  which   detailed  events,  and  comments  on  their  political  and  social  circumstances,  can  find  expression.  His  solution   emphasizes   the   extremity   of   the   conditions   through   sound   and   visual   image—full   rhyme   in   couplets   together   with   assonance   and   alliteration   highlight   through   opposition   the   existential   emptiness   of   the   following   lines:   “No   native   green   should   chear,   no   berry   blow;/Depending   clouds   and   fogs   condens’d   should   lie/O’er   the   white   surface,   and   obscure   the   sky.”   The   starkness   of   the   scene   is   suggestive   too   of   the   impossibility   of   interpretation,   of   the   blank   canvas   and   whiteness   of   the   unprinted   page.   This   crisis   of   experience,  which  is  also  one  of  representation,  obliquely  addresses  the  trauma  of  these  years,  not  only  for   the  subjects  who  bore  the  greatest  suffering,  but  also  for  those  struggling  to  represent  these  events.  The   sensory  attentiveness  of  Delamayne’s  description  confirms  the  power  of  language  to  probe  the  crisis,  as  he   goes   on   to   depict   the   frozen   loughs   as   capable   of   bearing   the   weight   of   wagons   that   signal   attempts   to   continue  the  practices  of  trade  in  this  impossible  situation.   The   contained   couplet   offers   a   resonant   means   to   evoke   the   hopeless   immobility   of   the   populace   and   its   future   impact   on   economic   and   social   conditions:   “The  fountain-­‐springs  now  stop’d,  which  us’d  to  fill/The  current  veins,  the  wheel  of  life  stands  still.”           Amidst  the  precision  of  this  verbal  depiction,  there  is  room  too  for  feeling;  metaphors  of  deathly  stillness   are  more  than  poetic  devices—they  become  direct  representations  of  the  finality  of  death  itself:     Lost  in  a  sleeting  mist,  the  Trav’ler’s  sense,   Mock’d  of  his  way,  should  stand  in  dead  suspence;   Bent  to  the  whirlwind’s  drift,  the  Hors’d-­‐man  fast   So-­‐journey  on,  life’s  stage  already  past.   The  woolly  Flock  plunge  in  the  treach’rous  snow;   The  bellowing  Ox  for  food  his  pastures  blow;   And  Man,  athirst,  scarce  lift  the  ax  to  cleave   A  moist  subsistence  from  the  hardened  wave.   Or  force  with  prongs  of  steel  the  marbled  ground,   In  search  of  roots,  and  ev’n  those  roots  unsound.  (ll.  31-­‐40)                                                                                                                                             The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland     7                                           Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     Seamlessly,   the   poem   moves   towards   famine—the   inevitable   outcome   of   this   crisis   of   hardship.   Both   Dunkin   and   Delamayne   personify   Famine   and   Disease   to   dramatize   their   gradual   and   shocking   effects   on   the   populace,   culminating   in   the   image   of   the   starving   infant,   for   whom   the   milk   of   the   sick   mother   becomes  a  kind  of  poison.  The  greater  social  implications  of  the  epidemic  begin  to  be  felt  in  the  poems  as   crowds   of   beggars   die   and   must   remain   unburied   because   the   ground   is   frozen   too   hard   to   admit   their   coffins.   These   images   are   suggestive   of   fundamental   social   breakdown   as   those   who   previously   took   responsibility   for   the   poor   are   now   themselves   reduced   by   circumstance.   It   is   a   situation   lamented   in   an   Irish  poem  from  the  time  by  Seán  Ó  Conaire:  “My  great  sorrow  is  that  the  nobles  of  the  Gael/Are  now  in   great  distress,/Because  all  their  means  of  livelihood/Have  been  destroyed  by  the  frost”  (McKay  43).12  The   trauma  in  Delamayne’s  poem  is  shaped  not  only  by  the  severity  of  experience  but  of  the  failure  of  social   structures  to  compensate  for  such  experience.  Depicting  the  burning  down  of  Richard  Wellesley’s  Dangan   Castle,   due   to   the   fact   there   was   no   water   to   quench   the   flames,   the   poet   again   uses   verifiable   facts   with   a   strong  metaphorical  power  for  the  reader:  where  even  the  greatest  citizens  are  defeated  by  nature  there   can  be  little  hope  of  order  and  prosperity.     In  ironic  juxtaposition,  Delamayne  follows  a  depiction  of  boats  marooned  in  a  frozen  sea  with  an  account  of   the   floods   that   overwhelmed   parts   of   Ireland   in   December   1740.   Water   inundates   the   poem—the   word   ‘flood’   itself   appearing   in   three   consecutive   lines—while   animals   are   drowned   and   property   further   damaged  by  these  conditions.  Though  the  relationship  between  lengthy  frost  and  the  waters  caused  by  a   sudden   thaw   are   explicable,   the   impression   of   unending   crisis   is   hard   to   dispel   either   from   the   poem   or   from  commentators  at  the  time.  Laurence  Whyte  (c.1683-­‐c.1753),  a  prolific  poet  of  the  early  18th  century,   was  concerned  with  the  effects  that  the  drastic  economic  changes  of  the  time  had  on  ordinary  people.  Two   of   his   poems   mark   an   important   intervention   in   the   debates   during   the   early   1740s   about   the   effects   of   Ireland’s   Great   Frost—     “Famine”   and   “Plenty”   —     “a   poem   on   the   sudden   fall   of   Corn   in   Dublin,   July   1741;   by  the  vast  importation  of  all  kinds  of  Foreign  Grain,  and  the  great  Prospect  of  a  plentiful  Harvest”.     “Famine:   A   Poem”   is   “inscrib’d   to   the   Right   Hon.   Samuel   Cook”   who   was   Lord   Mayor   of   Dublin   between   1740  and  1741.  Like  a  number  of  pamphlets  and  poems  of  the  time  it  addresses  the  scarcity  of  bread,  and   the  political  implications  of  this,  during  the  years  immediately  following  the  Great  Frost.  The  poem  begins   daringly,   by   addressing   the   question   of   poetic   intervention   itself:   in   contrast   to   the   visual   emphasis   of   Delamayne’s  poem,  here  it  is  the  rhetorical  accomplishment  that  first  strikes  the  reader:     How  many  bards  of  old  have  wrote  for  Bread?   When  pinch’d  with  Hunger,  what  fine  Things  they  said?   Whether  they  wrote  in  Parlour,  or  in  Garret,   Or  quench’d  their  Thirst  with  Water,  Ale  or  Claret,   Or  by  their  Stars  left  for  themselves  to  shift,   They  were  sometimes  caress’d  like  POPE,  or  SWIFT.       How  comes  it  now,  that  in  this  Year  of  Want,   When  Famine  reigns,  and  Bread  so  very  scant,   That  Wit,  and  Humour  rather  sink  than  rise,   And  seem  to  tally  with  the  Baker’s  Size.  (ll.  1-­‐10)                                                                                                                                           The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland     8                                           Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013         This   reduction   in   the   size   of   the   loaf   was   a   common   preoccupation   at   the   time,   but   it   is   a   trope   pursued   by   Whyte   throughout   the   poem:   the   smaller   loaf,   the   watered-­‐down   beer,   all   indicate   how   commerce   attempts   to   revive   itself   by   punishing   for   a   second   time   the   very   sector   of   society   most   depleted   by   famine   and  disease.  Yet  is  also  suggestive  of  a  mode  of  discourse  limited  in  its  powers  of  affect—one  that  cannot   ‘rise’  to  the  occasion.  Adulterated  alcohol  lacks  the  capacity  to  lift  the  mood  of  the  drinker;  here  it  becomes   not  only  a  feature  of  difficult  economic  circumstances,  but  evidence  of  a  demoralised   people:  “No  Joke,  or   Fun,   no   Song   or   merry   Tale,/Goes   down   as   usual,   over   Irish   Ale;/While   Shoals   of   Beggars   crou’d   at   ev’ry   Door,/Who  cou’d  some  Months  before  relieve  the  Poor”.  Again  the  role  of  writing  in  social  commentary  is   contemplated,  and  those  poets  who  have  engaged  in  such  debates  directly  named:  Jonathan  Swift,  William   Dunkin  and  James  Sterling.     For  Whyte,  it  is  the  social  and  economic  effects  of  the  Great  Frost  that  are  the  chief  focus  of  the  poem;  only   later  does  he  turn  to  a  description  of  the  weather  itself.  In  this  he  reiterates  some  of  the  main  observations   of   other   poets—the   rarity   of   this   extreme   weather,   the   frozen   rivers   and   lakes   –   but   he   couches   this   frigidity  in  classical  terms:     The  Earth  lock’d  up  her  Treasures  under  Ground,   And  Dearth  began  to  spread  itself  around:   The  Horn  of  Plenty  flew  up  from  the  Earth,   And  left  behind  it  Poverty  and  Dearth,   With  Evils  equal  to  Pandora’s  Box,   Contagion,  Famine,  Death,  and  deadly  Shocks.  (ll.  49-­‐54)     Yet  Whyte’s  concern—both  here  and  in  his  poem  ‘Plenty’  from  the  same  year—remains  with  the  politics  of   surfeit   and   need.   In   ironic   mode   ‘Plenty’   uses  similar  imagery  to  its  companion  poem:  “The  Earth  drives  up   her   Crops   of   Grass   and   Grain,/Bles’d   with   alternate   Sun-­‐Shine,   and   with   Rain”,   going   on   to   use   Biblical,   rather  than  Classical,  references  to  ground  his  argument  more  securely  in  a  framework  of  moral  judgment.       These  poems  of  pronounced  political  engagement  affirm  the  importance  of  the  weather  to  the  present  and   future  of  all  human  beings,  regardless  of  nationality  or  station.  In  the  Irish  context,  where  agriculture  has   played   such   a   role   in   both   the   economy   and   social   development   of   the   country,   climate   is   an   especially   pivotal  dimension.  As  an  island  nation  Ireland’s  weather  is  subject  to  continuous  fluctuation,  though  rarely   to   climate   crisis,   yet   it   has   also   played   a   role   in   the   country’s   experience   of   war,   of   conquest   and   of   civil   unrest.   Constantly   changing   weather   is   a   marker   of   vulnerability   that   the   passage   to   modernity   cannot   quite   overcome.   Centuries   after   these   powerful   poems   were   written,   the   close   connections   between   the   weather  and  human  behaviour  continue  to  challenge  and  engage  us.     Endnotes   1.  The  most  famous  of  such  records  is  Gilbert  White’s  Natural  History  and  Antiquities  of  Selbourne,  first  published  in   1789.  For  discussion  of  an  earlier  weather  diary,  from  the  year  1703,  see  Jan  Golinski,  “‘Exquisite  Atmography:   Theories  of  the  World  and  Experiences  of  the  Weather  in  a  Diary  of  1703”,  The  British  Journal  for  the  History  of                                                                                                                                           The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland     9                                           Journal  of  Ecocriticism  5(2)  July  2013     Science,  34.2  (June  2001):  149-­‐171.  John  Rutty’s  summary  of  the  weather  from  1716  to  1766  is  the  most  significant   Irish  record.       2.  The  differing  contexts  of  these  works  are  significant  in  shaping  the  representation  of  weather:  the  opening  pages  of   Bleak  House  exemplify  Dickens’s  use  of  weather  as  a  means  to  connect  particular  experiences  with  larger  human   states,  while  Conrad’s  maritime  fiction  highlights  the  variability  of  the  weather  as  a  key  determinant  of  narrative   development.  See  also  Anny  Sadrin,  “Time,  Tense,  Weather  in  Three  ‘Flood  Novels’:  Bleak  House,  The  Mill  on  the  Floss,   To  the  Lighthouse”  The  Yearbook  of  English  Studies,  30  (2000):  96-­‐105.   3.  See  Jonathan  Bate,  “Living  with  the  Weather.”  Studies  in  Romanticism.  Vol.  35  (Fall  1996):  431-­‐447.  Visual  artists  in   the  Romantic  Period  also  engaged  in  the  representation  of  the  real—what  Constable  called  “the  natural  history...of   the  skies”.  See  Gillen  D’Arcy  Wood,  “Constable,  Clouds,  Climate  Change”  The  Wordsworth  Circle  38.1-­‐2  (2007):  25-­‐34.   4.  The  Gentleman’s  Magazine  was  founded  in  London  in  1731  and  ran  uninterrupted  for  almost  200  years.  The   introduction  to  its  database  of  poems  notes  the  following:  “One  has  only  to  notice  the  frequency  and  predictable   recurrence  of  poignant  seasonal  verses  to  realize  how  powerful  and  intimate  was  the  influence  of  weather  on  the   GM’s  contributors,  especially  those  who  lived  in  country  villages,  where  they  were  at  the  mercy  of  snow  and  sleet,   rain  and  cold.”  See  www.gmpoetrydatabase.org.   5.  Bridget  Keegan,  in  her  essay  “Snowstorms,  Shipwrecks,  and  Scorching  Heat:  The  Climates  of  Eighteenth-­‐Century   Laboring-­‐Class  Locodescriptive  Poetry”  argues  that  for  English  poets  such  as  John  Clare,  Mary  Collier,  Stephen  Duck   and  Mary  Leapor  the  weather  was  felt,  rather  than  observed,  highlighting  human  vulnerability  in  nature.   6.  The  poems  included  here,  together  with  the  biographical  details  of  their  authors,  are  printed  in  full  in  Andrew   Carpenter  and  Lucy  Collins  eds,  The  Irish  Poet  and  the  Natural  World:  An  Anthology  of  Verse  in  English  from  the  Tudors   to  the  Romantics,  due  for  publication  by  Cork  University  Press  in  2014.   7.  John  Rutty  (1697–1775)  was  a  physician  and  naturalist  who  spent  most  of  his  adult  life  serving  the  poor.  A  Dublin   Quaker,  he  was  the  author  of  numerous  texts  including  A  Methodical  Synopsis  of  the  Mineral  Waters  of  Ireland  (1757)   and  An  Essay  towards  the  Natural  History  of  the  County  of  Dublin  (1772).   8.  I  am  indebted  to  the  work  of  David  Dickson  both  for  its  delineation  of  the  various  stages  of  this  crisis,  and  for  its   exemplary  engagement  with  a  range  of  literary  resources.     9.  James  Kelly’s  recent  article,  “Coping  with  Crisis:  The  Response  to  the  Famine  of  1740-­‐41”  explores  the   organizational  basis  for  dealing  with  this  disaster.   10.  The  observations  made  here  are  similar  to  those  published  in  pamphlet  form  in  1741:  “I  have  seen  the  aged  father   eating  grass  like  a  beast…  the  hungry  infant  sucking  at  the  breast  of  the  already  expired  parent”.  “Publicola.”  A  letter   from  a  country  gentleman  in  the  province  of  Munster  to  His  Grace  the  Lord  Primate  of  All  Ireland,  quoted  in  Drake   (103-­‐4).     11.  Hugh  Boulter  (1672-­‐1742)  was  the  most  prominent  churchman  to  become  involved  in  famine  relief  during  this   period.  Born  in  London,  he  was  controversially  offered  the  primacy  of  the  Church  of  Ireland  in  1724.   12.  Cormac  Ó  Gráda  and  Diarmaid  Ó  Muirithe  have  noted  the  scarcity  of  texts  in  Irish  relating  to  this  event,  even   though  this  was  the  language  of  most  of  the  victims.  They  published  five  Irish  language  poems  on  the  famine  of  1740-­‐ 41,  together  with  translations  and  commentary,  in  Eire-­‐Ireland  45.3/4  (Fall/Winter  2010):  1-­‐22.   Works  Cited   Bate,  Jonathan.  “Living  with  the  Weather.”  Studies  in  Romanticism.  Vol.  35  (Fall  1996):  431-­‐447.  Print.   Boyle,  Robert.  “A  General  History  of  the  Air.”  The  Works  of  Robert  Boyle.  Vol.  12.  642.  Print.   D’Arcy  Wood,  Gillen.  “Constable,  Clouds,  Climate  Change”  The  Wordsworth  Circle  38.1-­‐2  (2007):  25-­‐34.   Daston,  Lorraine  and  Katharine  Park.  Wonders  and  the  Order  of  Nature  1150-­‐1750.  New  York:  Zone  Books,  2001.  Print.   Delamayne,   Thomas   Hallie.   To   Francis   Bindon   Esq.,   on   a   picture   of   His   Grace   Dr   Hugh   Boulter,   Lord   Arch-­‐Bishop   of   Armagh,  set  up  in  the  Work-­‐house,  near  Dublin,  in  Commemoration  of  his  Charities  in  the  Years  1739-­‐40  and  1740-­‐ 41.  London,  1747.  Print.       Dickson,  David.  Arctic  Ireland.  Belfast:  White  Row  Press,  1997.  Print.   -­‐-­‐-­‐  .  “1740-­‐41  Famine.”  The  Atlas  of  the  Great  Irish  Famine.  Cork:  Cork  University  Press,  2012.  23-­‐27.  Print.   Drake,  Michael.  “The  Irish  Demographic  Crisis  of  1740-­‐41.”  Historical  Studies  6  (1968).  Print.   Dunkin,  William.  “The  Frosty  Winters  of  Ireland  in  the  years  1739/40.”  Select  Poetical  Works.  2  vols.  Dublin,  1769-­‐70.   Print.     Golinski,  Jan.  “‘Exquisite  Atmography:  Theories  of  the  World  and  Experiences  of  the  Weather  in  a  Diary  of   1703”,  The   British  Journal  for  the  History  of  Science,  34.2  (June  2001):  149-­‐171.       -­‐-­‐-­‐.   “Time,   Talk,   and   the   Weather   in   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