An Irishman's Diary

I MAY have been a bit previous last week in suggesting that the tradition of throwing pennies into the river Boyne from the Dublin-Belfast train - as immortalised in Van Morrison's Madame George- had unionist origins.

It was just that I don't know of any other river crossing where this happens. So I added two and two together and came up with sixpence: assuming the coins were thrown in gratitude for the outcome of the Battle of the Boyne and for Protestant delivery from "popery, brass money, and wooden shoes".

Now that I think of it, though, down all the years I have never noticed anyone throwing coins off the bridge in Slane: even though that too crosses the Boyne northwards, en route to Derry/Londonderry. And it's just as well, because picturesque as that old stone structure (some of it thought to date from the 1300s) may be, it's enough of a traffic retardant already.

In any case, several readers whose ancestors would, loosely speaking, have been on the losing side in 1690 inform me that they too have thrown coins off the Belfast train at Drogheda; and that it had nothing to do with King William.

Given that the broader theme of last week's column was whether Ulster people are tight with money, the most impressive testimony comes from a Dubliner called Jack Lynch. A professional story-teller, in the tradition of the late Eamon Kelly, Jack was one of the performers at the Patrick Kavanagh Weekend in Inniskeen on Sunday, and very entertaining he was too.

But he tells me that his father, who was from Cavan, threw pennies off the train at Drogheda, teaching his son to do likewise. So here we have an instance not just of a Free State Catholic honouring the Boyne, but also of a Cavan man spending money for no reason. This is a much more complex country than we think.

Jack suggests the coin-throwing habit may have been first inspired by the mere height of the railway viaduct, "a unique engineering feat in its day".

This last bit is certainly true. In her fine book, Ingenious Ireland, Mary Mulvihill says the bridge was the world's longest lattice-iron construction when it opened in 1855. Such had been the challenges involved - the foundations had to be dug 13 metres down into the soft riverbed - that one company went bankrupt in the process. Maybe it is that event rail passengers commemorate by sinking money into the river.

Jack also cites the general public habit of throwing coins for luck - into fountains, wells, and other water-filled places - as a vestige of older traditions: "Many of the golden Celtic swords, shields, and torcs on display in the National Museum were recovered from lakes and rivers, originally dumped there as votive offerings to the gods and goddesses." In Drogheda, the atavistic instinct may be expressed with coins. But, as he explains, there are variations elsewhere. Many Dubliners, for example, appease the Liffey gods by offering "prams, bicycle frames, and shopping trolleys".

On a separate question from last week, as to what exactly Van Morrison meant when he sang of throwing pennies "at the bridges down below", the jury is still out.

A colleague suggests he was throwing them at the bridge's reflection in the water, which is a poetic thought. Unfortunately, Victorian engineering was no respecter of poetry. In the bridge's original lattice-iron version (later replaced by steel girders), even if you could see the river's reflection, your coin was as likely to bounce back at you from the surrounding metalwork as to hit the water.

The later version presented this problem too. Jack Lynch again: "More often than not, the money clattered against the metals stanchions of the bridge's superstructure. So maybe there was a bockety logic to the song-line, in that you were throwing your penny at the bridge more than into the river."

The question is largely academic now, since on the modern Enterprise service between Dublin and Belfast, the windows don't open. All you can throw money at these days is the restaurant staff. You could probably fling coins off Drogheda's latter-day engineering wonder, the M1 motorway bridge. But I never see it done there either, which seems like a wasted opportunity.

Yes, the National Roads Authority now deputises for the river gods by collecting €1.80 per passing car. This is not quite the same thing, however. Whether your motivation is superstition, love of engineering, or gratitude to King Billy, you need to throw your coins at the river itself.

So now that hard times are here again, I have a suggestion. Maybe the Minister for Finance should consider placing collection buckets full of Boyne water at the toll plaza, and inviting voluntary contributions. It might at least claw back a little of the retail revenue heading north.