_Kenmare, Sept. 28th, 1828._
BELOVED FRIEND.--Was it the devil or not then? you ask. 'Ma foi, je n'en
sais rien.' At any rate he had assumed a very 'recommendable,' though
rather dangerous form,--that of a pretty girl, who, wrapped in her long
dark blue cloak, made darker by the rain, and with the red cap of Kerry
on her head, barefoot and shivering with cold, was going to pass by me,
when I asked her what made her limp? and why she was wandering alone in
such weather? "Ah!" said she, in half-intelligible patois, and pointing
to her foot bound up, "I was only going to the next village, and I am
belated, and I fell into the terrible weather, and I have hurt myself
very much;" and then she looked down with an arch bashfulness, and
showed the pretty wounded ancle. We walked on together and shared the
difficulties of the way,--helped one another where we could, and at
length found in the valley, first, better weather; then a place of
shelter; and at last, a refreshing draught of new milk.
Thus invigorated I wandered on by night; and when I reached Kenmare, I
had walked four German miles in something more than six hours: I was,
however, heartily tired, and as soon as I reached my bed-room I
exclaimed with Wallenstein,
"Ich denke einen langen Schlaf zu thun!"[134]
_Derrinane Abbey, Sept. 29th._
This accordingly happened; and I had plenty of time, for the weather was
so horribly bad that I waited in vain, alas! till three in the afternoon
for better. I had sent a messenger to O'Connell the evening before, and
had very inconsiderately paid him beforehand. I found him at the inn,
without an answer and with broken shins. As soon as he had felt the
money in his pocket he had been unable to resist the whiskey, and in
consequence he and his horse had fallen down a rock in the night. He
had, however, had the extraordinary sense and thought to send on a
friend of his to fulfil his mission; and at my waking I found a very
polite invitation from the Great Agitator.
I have already said that I did not set out till three o'clock; and
although I had to ride seven hours with a most violent rain beating in
my face, and in this desert where not even the shelter of a single tree
is to be found, I had not a dry thread upon me after the first half
hour. I would on no account have missed this extraordinary part of my
adventures.
The beginning was certainly difficult. At first I could not get a horse,
for that which I had ridden at Glengariff had hurt his foot. At length
appeared an old black cart-horse, which was destined for my use, and a
sort of cat-like little animal intended for my guide. I was also in
_imbroglio_ with regard to my toilet. The lost galoche had not been
found, and the umbrella was already unreeled on the haunted mountain. I
replaced the first by a large slipper of my host's; the second I tied
together as well as I could, and then holding it before me like a
shield, with a pocket-hankerchief covered with a piece of oil-cloth over
my head, I galloped off in search of fresh adventures,--a perfect Don
Quixote, and attended by a no less faithful representative of Sancho
Panza.
Before I got a quarter of a mile from the town a destructive gust of
wind made a deplorable end of my umbrella, once the ornament of New Bond
Street, and since the companion of so many a disaster. All its cords
broke, and left only a torn piece of silk and a bundle of whalebone in
my grasp: I gave the remains to my guide, and surrendered myself without
further solicitude or defence to the elements, determined to bear
good-humouredly what could not be altered.
As long as we coasted the bay of Kenmare, we rode on as quickly as
possible, the road being tolerable. Soon, however, it assumed a worse
aspect. The entrance to the wilder mountain country is marked by a
picturesque bridge, thrown across a chasm an hundred feet high, called
"The Bridge of the Black Water." The sides of the chasm were clothed
with oaks,--the last trees which I beheld. I remarked that my valise,
which my guide had fastened on his horse, must inevitably be soaked
through, and ordered the man to endeavour, if possible, to get a mat or
sack at the nearest cabin, to lay over it. This incautious act I had
abundant cause to rue: he too was, apparently, detained by the
fascinations of whiskey; at any rate, though I frequently stopped in the
hope that he would overtake me, I did not see him again till just at the
end of my journey, which afterwards caused me the greatest perplexity.
The road, which gradually grew worse and worse, lay for the most part
close to the sea, which the storm threw into magnificent
agitation;--sometimes across a dreary flat of bog, sometimes by the side
of chasms and steep precipices, or through wide chaotic plains, in which
masses of rock were thrown together in such wild confusion, that it
seemed the spot from which the giants had stormed heaven.
At rare intervals I met a solitary ragged wanderer; and the thought
often recurred to me, how easy it were in this desert region to rob or
murder me without the slightest risk of discovery. My whole travelling
properly resides in my breast pocket; for in the Grecian fashion I carry
'omnia mea' with me. But far removed from all predatory thoughts, these
poor good-hearted people invariably greeted me with respectful kindness,
although my exterior was anything but imposing, and to an English eye by
no means bespoke a 'gentleman.' I was frequently in utter uncertainty
which of the half-imperceptible roads I ought to take, but unfortunately
determined to keep as near to the sea as possible, which, though not the
nearer, was the surest. Meanwhile time passed on; and when, at long
intervals, I met a human being, and asked "How far is it to Mr.
O'Connell's?" the object of my visit always drew down a blessing upon
me. I was answered with a "God bless your honour!" but the miles seemed
rather to increase than to diminish.
At length it began to grow dark just as I reached a part of the coast,
which assuredly it would be difficult to parallel. Foreign travellers
have probably never been thrown into this desolate corner of the earth,
which belongs rather to owls and sea-mews than to men, and of whose
awful wildness it is difficult to give an idea.--Torn, jagged,
coal-black rocks, with deep caverns, into which the sea breaks with
ceaseless thunder, and then again dashes over the top of the tower-like
crags its white foam; which, drying, is borne by the wind in compact
masses, like locks of wool, over the highest points of the
mountains;--the wailing cry of the restless fluttering sea-fowl,
piercing through the storm with its shrill monotonous sound;--the
incessant howl and roar of the under-mining waves, which sometimes
suddenly dashed over my horse's hoofs, and then ran hissing back
again;--the comfortless removal from all human help;--the ceaseless
pattering rain, and the coming-on of night on an uncertain and entirely
unknown road.
I began really to feel uneasy, in earnest,--not half in jest as the day
before. Your eager search for the romantic will turn out as ill for you,
as for the Sorrowful Knight, thought I, and urged on my tired horse to
his utmost speed. He stumbled every moment over the loose stones, and
with great difficulty I at length brought him into a heavy trot. My
anxiety was increased by O'Connell's letter. He had written to me that
the proper approach to his house was from Killarney,--that carriages
must cross thence by water; but that the road from Kenmare was the most
difficult, and that I must therefore be sure to provide myself with a
safe guide. And, as is generally the case when we pursue one train of
thoughts with great pertinacity, a popular tale of Croker's, which I had
lately read came into my mind. "No land," says he, "is better than the
coast of Inveragh to be drowned in the sea; or if you like that better,
to break your neck onshore." Yet thought I--and here my horse suddenly
stumbled, shyed, and turned with such a leap as I had hardly given the
old mare credit for. I now found myself in a narrow pass. It was still
light enough to see several steps before me clearly, and I could not
understand what had struck this panic into my horse. Making all the
resistance he could, and only in obedience to the admonitions of my
shillelah, he at length went on again; but in a few steps I perceived
with astonishment that the path, which had appeared pretty well tracked,
terminated directly in the sea. The bridle nearly dropped out of my
hand, as a foaming wave chased by the storm sprang upon me like a huge
monster, and scattered the narrow cleft far behind me with its spray.
Here was really a difficult situation. Bare inaccessible rocks
surrounded me on every side,--before me rolled the ocean,--there was
nothing for me but to retreat. But if I had lost my way, as I could not
but suspect, how could I reckon on meeting my guide, even by returning;
and if I did not meet him, where was I to pass the night? With the
exception of O'Connell's old castle, there was no hope of meeting with
the least trace of a shelter for twenty miles round. I was already
shivering with cold and wet, and my constitution would certainly not
carry me through a bivouac in such a night. I had doubtless cause for
some alarm. It was useless, however, to consider: I must ride back, that
was clear; and as quickly as possible. My horse seemed to have come to
the same conclusion; for, as if inspired with new force, he bore me away
from the spot at a gallop. But would you believe it: a black figure was
again destined to help me in my difficulty. You will say this is too
much. `Ce n'est pas ma faute; le vrai souvent n'est pas le
vrai-semblable.' In short, I saw a black figure glide like a dim phantom
across my path, and disappear behind the rocks. Invocations, prayers,
promises, were in vain:--Was it a smuggler allured to this coast by the
ample facilities it offers? or a superstitious peasant who took my
unhappy person for a ghost? At all events it appeared that he did not
choose to venture from his hiding-place, and I began to despair of the
help I had thought at hand; when suddenly his head peeped out close to
me from the cleft of a rock. I soon succeeded in tranquillizing his
fears, and he explained to me the puzzle of the road terminating in the
sea. "This road was made for low water; the tide is now," he said,
"about half in; a quarter of an hour later it is impossible to pass; but
now, if you'll pay me well, I will try and bring you through,--but we
must not loose a moment." With these words he seated himself at one
bound on the horse behind me, and we made what speed we could back to
the sea, which was rolling with great rapidity.
I felt a strange sensation as we now appeared deliberately to plunge
down into the stormy sea, and had to make our difficult way amid the
white waves and the rocks, which looked like ghosts in the dim twilight.
We had the greatest trouble too with the horse: however, the black man
knew the ground so perfectly that we reached the opposite coast in
safety, though bathed up to the arms in salt-water.
Unluckily, the terrified beast shyed again here at a projecting rock,
and broke both the rotten girths directly in the middle, a mischance for
which there was no remedy here. After all my disasters, I had the
agreeable prospect of riding the last six miles balancing on the loose
saddle. My black guide had indeed given me the clearest directions for
the prosecution of my journey; but it was now so dark that the landmarks
were no longer visible.
The road lay, as it appeared to me, across a wide moor, and was at first
quite level. After half an hour of rough and stumbling trotting, during
which I pressed my knees as hard as possible together, that I might not
lose my saddle, I remarked that the road turned again to the right into
the higher range of mountains; for the climbing grew steeper and more
continual. Here I found a woman, who was passing the night with her pigs
or goats. The road branched off into two divisions, and I asked her
which I must take to reach Derrinane Abbey? "Oh! both lead there," said
she; "but that on the left is two miles nearer." Of course I took this,
but soon found to my cost that it was practicable only for goats. I
execrated the old witch, and her traitorous intelligence:--my poor horse
exhausted himself in vain efforts to climb through the blocks of stone,
and at length, half stumbling half falling, he threw both saddle and me.
It was impossible to keep the saddle on him alone; it fell down
incessantly, and I was obliged to load my own shoulders with it, and to
lead my horse besides. Till now I had kept in pretty good temper;--the
spirit was still willing, but the flesh began to be weak:--the man on
the cliff had said, only six miles further, and you are there; and now,
after half an hour's hard riding, the woman insisted upon it that it was
still six miles, the shortest way, to Derrinane. I began to fear that
this mountain fortress was not to be found, and that I was the sport of
Kobolds, who bandied me from one to another. I seated myself on a stone
quite out of heart, fevered with alternate heat and cold; when, like the
voice of an angel in the wilderness, the shouts of my guide resounded in
my ear, and I soon heard the trampling of his horse's hoofs. He had
taken quite a different way though the interior of the mountains, to
avoid the sea, and had luckily met the woman whose direction I had
followed.
In the delicious feeling of present security, I forgot all my disasters,
loaded my deliverer with the saddle and my wet cloak, gave up my horse
to his guidance, and seated myself upon his, thus making what speed I
might. We had, in fact, five miles yet to ride, and that through a
mountain-pass surrounded by precipices,--but I can give you no further
description of the road. The darkness was so complete, that I was
obliged to strain my eyes to the utmost to follow the man, who appeared
only like a dim shadow flitting indistinctly before me. I perceived by
the stumbling of my horse that we were on uneven ground; I felt that it
was a continual alternation of steep ascents and descents; that we waded
through two deep and rapid mountain torrents,--but that was all:--now
and then, indeed, I suspected, rather than saw, that a bare wall of rock
rose by my side, or the deeper black beneath me betrayed the precipice
which yawned below.
At length,--at length a bright light broke through the darkness; the
road grew more even; here and there a bit of hedge was visible; and in a
few minutes we stopped at the gate of an ancient building standing on
the rocky shore, from the windows of which a friendly golden radiance
streamed through the night.
The tower clock was striking eleven, and I was, I confess, somewhat
anxious as to my dinner, especially as I saw no living being, except a
man in a dressing-gown at an upper window. Soon, however, I heard sounds
in the house; a handsomely-dressed servant appeared, bearing silver
candlesticks, and opened the door of a room, in which I saw with
astonishment a company of from fifteen to twenty persons sitting at a
long table, on which were placed wine and desserts. A tall handsome man,
of cheerful and agreeable aspect, rose to receive me, apologized for
having given me up in consequence of the lateness of the hour, regretted
that I had made such a journey in such terrible weather, presented me in
a cursory manner to his family, who formed the majority of the company,
and then conducted me to my bedroom.--This was the great O'Connell.
On my return to the dining-room I found the greater part of the company
there assembled. I was most hospitably entertained; and it would be
ungrateful not to make honourable mention of Mr. O'Connell's old and
capital wine. As soon as the ladies had quitted us, he drew his seat
near me, and Ireland was of course the subject of our conversation. He
asked me if I had yet seen many of the curiosities of Ireland? whether I
had been at the Giant's Causeway?--"No," replied I, laughing, "before I
visit the Giant's Causeway, I wished to see Ireland's Giants;"--and
therewith drank a glass of claret to his high undertakings.
Daniel O'Connell is indeed no common man,--though the man of the
commonalty. His power is so great, that at this moment it only depends
on him to raise the standard of rebellion from one end of the island to
the other. He is, however, too sharp-sighted, and much too sure of
attaining his end by safer means, to wish to bring on any such violent
crisis. He has certainly shown great dexterity in availing himself of
the temper of the country at this moment, legally, openly, and in the
face of the government, to acquire a power scarcely inferior to that of
the sovereign; indeed, though without arms or armies, in some instances
far surpassing it:--for how would it have been possible for His Majesty
George IV. to withhold 40,000 of his faithful Irishmen for three days
from whiskey-drinking; which O'Connell actually accomplished in the
memorable Clare election. The enthusiasm of the people rose to such a
height, that they themselves decreed and inflicted a punishment for
drunkenness. The delinquent was thrown into a certain part of the river,
and held there for two hours, during which time he was made to undergo
frequent submersions.
The next day I had fuller opportunity of observing O'Connell. On the
whole, he exceeded my expectations. His exterior is attractive; and the
expression of intelligent good-nature, united with determination and
prudence, which marks his countenance, is extremely winning. He has,
perhaps, more of persuasiveness than of genuine large and lofty
eloquence; and one frequently perceives too much design and manner in
his words. Nevertheless, it is impossible not to follow his powerful
arguments with interest, to view the martial dignity of his carriage
without pleasure, or to refrain from laughing at his wit. It is very
certain that he looks much more like a general of Napoleon's than a
Dublin advocate. This resemblance is rendered much more striking by the
perfection with which he speaks French,--having been educated at the
Jesuits' Colleges at Douai and St. Omer. His family is old, and was
probably one of the great families of the land. His friends, indeed,
maintain that he springs from the ancient kings of Kerry,--an opinion
which no doubt adds to the reverence with which he is regarded by the
people. He himself told me,--and not without a certain
_pretension_,--that one of his cousins was Comte O'Connell, and 'cordon
rouge' in France, and another a baron, general and chamberlain to the
Emperor of Austria, but that he was the head of the family. It appeared
to me that he was regarded by the other members of it with almost
religious enthusiasm. He is about fifty years old, and in excellent
preservation, though his youth was rather wild and riotous.
Among other things he became notorious, about ten years ago, for a duel
he fought. The Protestants, to whom his talents early made him
formidable, set on a certain Desterre,--a bully and fighter by
profession,--to ride through all the streets of Dublin with a
hunting-whip, which, as he declared, he intended to lay on the shoulders
of the king of Kerry. The natural consequence was a meeting the next
morning, in which O'Connell lodged a bullet in Desterre's heart;
Desterre's shot went through his hat. This was his first victory over
the Orangemen, which has been followed by so many more important, and,
it is to be hoped, will be followed by others more important still.
His desire for celebrity seemed to be boundless; and if he should
succeed in obtaining emancipation, of which I have no doubt, his career,
so far from being closed, will I think only then properly begin. But the
evils of Ireland, and of the constitution of Great Britain generally,
lie too deep to be removed by emancipation.--To return to O'Connell; I
must mention, that he has received from nature an invaluable gift for a
party-leader; a magnificent voice, united to good lungs and a strong
constitution. His understanding is sharp and quick, and his acquirements
out of his profession not inconsiderable. With all this, his manners
are, as I have said, winning and popular; although somewhat of the actor
is perceivable in them, they do not conceal his very high opinion of
himself, and are occasionally tinged by what an Englishman would call
"_vulgarity_." Where is there a picture entirely without shade!
Another interesting man, the real though not ostensible head of the
Catholics, was present, Father L'Estrange, a friar, and O'Connell's
confessor. He may be regarded as the real founder of that Catholic
Association so often derided in England, but which by merely _negative_
powers, by dexterous activity in secret, and by universally organizing
and training the people to one determinate end,[135] attained a power
over them as boundless as that of the hierarchy in the middle ages; with
this difference, that the former strove for light and liberty, the
latter for darkness and slavery. This is another outbreak of that
_second_ great revolution, which solely by intellectual means, without
any admixture of physical force, is advancing to its accomplishment; and
whose simple but resistless weapons are public discussion and the press.
L'Estrange is a man of philosophical mind and unalterable calmness. His
manners are those of an accomplished gentleman, who has traversed Europe
in various capacities, has a thorough knowledge of mankind, and with all
his mildness cannot always conceal the sharp traces of great astuteness.
I should call him the ideal of a well-intentioned Jesuit. As O'Connell
was busy, I took an early walk with the friar to a desert island, to
which we crossed dry-footed over the smooth sand now left by the ebb.
Here stand the genuine ruins of Derrinane Abbey, to which O'Connell's
house is only an appendix. It is to be repaired by the family, probably
when some of their hopes are fulfilled.
On our return we found O'Connell on the terrace of his castle, like a
chieftain surrounded by his vassals, and by groups of the neighbouring
peasantry, who came to receive his instructions, or to whom he laid down
the law. This he can the more easily do being a lawyer; but nobody would
dare to appeal from his decisions: O'Connell and the Pope are here
equally infallible. Lawsuits therefore do not exist within his empire;
and this extends not only over his own tenantry, but I believe over the
whole neighbourhood.
I wondered, when I afterwards found both O'Connell and L'Estrange
entirely free from religious bigotry, and even remarked in them very
tolerant and philosophical views, though they persisted in choosing to
continue true Catholics. I wished I had been able to conjure hither some
of those furious imbeciles among the English Protestants,--as for
instance Mr. L----, who cry out at the Catholics as irrational and
bigoted; while they themselves alone, in the true sense of the word,
cling to the fanatical faith of their politico-religious party, and are
firmly predetermined to keep their long ears for ever closed to reason
and humanity.
In the course of the day we were to have a hare-hunt, (for O'Connell has
a small pack of hounds,) which would certainly have presented a most
picturesque spectacle on these mountains and broad naked steeps: the bad
weather, however, prevented it. I found much greater enjoyment in
repose, and in the very interesting company, to which I am indebted for
much instructive information.
_Kenmare, Sept. 30th._
Although my kind hosts with true Irish hospitality pressed me to stay a
week longer for a great festival which is in preparation, and to which a
large company is expected, I did not think it right to take this
entirely 'à la lettre;' besides which I had such a longing after
Glengariff, that I did not wish to absent myself from it longer than was
necessary for the end I had in view. I therefore took leave of the
family this morning, with the sincerest thanks for the friendly welcome
they had given me. O'Connell himself escorted me to the boundaries of
his demesne, mounted on a large and handsome gray horse, on which he
looked more military than ever. The rugged way is bare of all
vegetation, but affords many sublime views, sometimes inland, sometimes
to the sea, studded with rocks and islands, some of which rise
completely isolated out of the water like high-peaked mountains.
O'Connell pointed out one to me, on which he told me he had ordered an
ox to be landed that he might fatten on the rich and undisturbed
herbage. After some days the animal took such decided possession of the
island that he was furious if any body attempted to land on it, and
attacked and drove away even the fishermen who used to dry their nets on
the shore. He was often seen, like Jupiter under his transformation,
with uplifted tail and glaring eyes, bounding furiously along to
reconnoitre the bounds of his domain, and to see if any intruder dared
to approach. The emancipated ox at last became so troublesome and
dangerous, that they were obliged to shoot him. This appeared to me a
good satire on the love of liberty, which as soon as it has gained the
power it seeks, degenerates into violence and tyranny; and the
association of ideas brought many comical images involuntarily before my
mind.
We afterwards came to a remarkable ruin, one of those so-called Danish
forts, which were built, not _by_ the Danes but _against_ them. They are
more than a thousand years old, and the lower walls, although put
together without mortar, remain in excellent preservation. At the ruins
of a bridge carried away by the swelling of a mountain-stream, O'Connell
stopped to take a final leave of me. I could not help expressing to the
champion of the rights of his countrymen, my wish that when we next met,
the dungeons and fortresses of English intolerance might be overthrown
by him and his allies, as completely as these ruined walls had been by
the swollen and overflowing torrent.[136] So we parted.
As I returned by nearly the same way as I had come, I have little new to
say about it, except that, though the day was fine, it tired me twice as
much as before; probably because my mind was less excited. Not far from
Kenmare I met several loads of stones, planks, beer, and butter. Every
thing is conveyed on the backs of horses. The Irish are very ingenious
in means of transport. I have already described their admirable cars,
with which one horse can so commodiously draw five or six persons. They
have also a sort of car, equally well contrived, for the carriage of
hay, wood, &c.; by means of which one horse does as much work as three
with us. This is accomplished entirely by the skill with which the
weight is balanced. A car is loaded with long timber, for instance, in
such a manner that the horse is hardly visible under the complete
covering of wood, the ends of which project many yards before the
horse's head and behind the car. The division of the weight at each end
is thus so perfect that the timbers press only on one point, and the
horse has thus comparatively little to draw. The driver helps a little,
going up or down hill, by heaving up or bearing down the ends, which the
slightest force is sufficient to move.
In the same manner five or six heavy oak planks are laid flat across the
saddle of a horse, who carries them thus, like a balancing pole, without
much labour, though the same weight in a different volume, a chest for
instance, would suffice to crush him. They have another ingenious
contrivance for transporting stone; a sort of wooden baskets or cradles
which they hang over the saddle, binding them on the horse's back over a
thick bundle of straw.
The merry humour and good-natured politeness of the people I met were
very engaging. I know no nation of which the lower classes appear so
little selfish; so thankful for the least friendly word vouchsafed to
them by a gentleman, without the least idea of gain. I really know no
country in which I would rather be a large landed proprietor than here.
What I did elsewhere, and earned only ingratitude and opposition of
every kind, would here attach ten or twelve thousand people to me body
and soul;--the only difference is, that here with much less time and
cost I should have attained infinitely greater results, since here
nature and man make almost every thing attainable. The people taken in a
body, with all their wildness, unite the frank honesty and poetical
temper of the Germans, with the vivacity and quickness of conception of
the French, and the pliability, naturalness, and submissiveness of the
Italians. It may with the fullest justice be said of them, that their
faults are to be ascribed to others, their virtues only to themselves.
Now I am upon this subject, I must relate to you an incident of no great
importance which befell me some days ago: it deserves mention, as
illustrative of the national character.
As I was going from Killarney to Kenmare, I met a continual succession
of people driving cattle from some neighbouring fair. Most of them were
riding colts they had just bought, without bridles; and as man and beast
were strangers to each other, the latter were not in a very perfect
state of subordination: we were therefore often forced to stop. At last
I grew tired of this; and at the third or fourth rencontre of the kind,
I called out to the people that I had not time to spend half the day on
the road on account of their clumsiness; and somewhat hastily ordered
the coachman to drive on. In an instant two colts set off with their
riders, galloping before the carriage as hard as ever they could, while
the whole drove of cattle took to the mountains. I was now sorry for my
impatience, and desired the driver to stop again. There were in all four
or five drovers whom I had thus routed, all sturdy young fellows; and
the trick I had played them was certainly one of the most disagreeable
that could be imagined, as it would take them at least half an hour to
collect their dispersed cattle. If a traveller in a miserable one-horse
vehicle had given such a job to Germans, Englishmen, or Frenchmen, they
would certainly have attacked him with appropriate abuse, and very
likely have tried to catch him and do him some injury. The behaviour of
these good-natured fellows was far different: at once respectful and
witty. "Oh! murther, murther!" cried one, while his 'crantancarous' colt
made another attempt to dart up the hill, and nearly threw him; "God
bless your honour! but every _gentleman_ in England and Ireland gets out
of the way of cattle! Oh, for God's sake stop now, your honour, stop!" I
immediately stopped: and after the poor devils had had the greatest
trouble in fetching back the part of the cattle that had run the
furthest, they came back to my car, with a "long life to your honour!"
to thank me for my goodness, and went merrily off with their recaptured
prize. I must confess that their behaviour was far more commendable than
mine, which I repaired as well as I could by means of a handsome
present.
_October 1st: Morning._
Although dreadfully tired I could not sleep last night, and asked the
host if he had a book. He brought me an old English translation of the
Sorrows of Werther. You know highly, how intensely I honour our prince
of poets, and will therefore hardly believe me when I say that I had
never read this celebrated book. The cause would appear to many very
childish. The first time it came into my hands, the passage at the
beginning in which Charlotte wipes the little boy's dirty nose excited
in me such disgust that I could read no further; and this disagreeable
image remained, always present to my mind. I now, however, set earnestly
to work to read it, struck with the strangeness of the accident which
led me to read Werther for the first time in a foreign tongue, and in
the midst of the wild mountains of Ireland. But even here, I must
honestly confess I could not feel any hearty relish for the antiquated
"Sufferings;"[137] the quantity of bread and butter, the provincial and
obsolete manners, and even the ideas, which were then new, but are now
become common-place,--like Mozart's beautiful melodies degraded into
street ditties; lastly, the involuntary recollection of Potier's
admirable parody,--it was absolutely impossible for me to work myself up
to the right "communion frame of mind," as Madame von Frömmel calls it.
But thus much I could perceive, jesting apart, that the book was
calculated to 'far furore' at one period: for the morbid state of mind
under which Werther sinks is truly German, and German feeling was just
then beginning to make its way through the materialism which had taken
possession of the rest of Europe. Wilhelm Meister indeed followed it
with far different steps; and Faust has since traversed it with giant
strides. We have, I think, outgrown the Werther period, but have not yet
reached that of Faust; nor will any age, so long as men exist, out-grow
that.
In the tragedy of Faust, as in those of Shakspeare, the whole inward man
is mirrored forth; the principal figure is a personification of the
eternal mysterious longings of the human heart, the restless striving
after the Unknown and the Unattainable. Hence this drama can obviously
never have a fully definitive end, even were it extended through many
more acts than it is. But as the lofty spirit here treads a path dizzy
as the bridge of Al Sirat, he is every moment nearer to the bottomless
fall than the human animal who remains quietly on the secure plain, and
feeds.
A cousin of O'Connell's, who gives hunting parties on the lake of
Killarney, had promised me one for to-morrow. I have, however, a
positive antipathy to going to see what I have seen before, as long as
there is any thing new to see; and I cannot imagine that dogs and horses
can make any great alteration in the features of a scene I know so well.
On the other hand, in Glengariff, amiable people and a great deal of
novelty awaited me: I therefore preferred it, rode once more across the
Devil's Mountain, this time by daylight, and arrived here about an hour
ago. I am established in a pretty little room, and all the glories of
the Bay are spread before my window.
Before I quitted Kenmare my vanity was put to a severe trial. The Irish
naïveté of the innkeeper's daughter made such an agreeable impression on
me, that on my return to her father's inn I scarcely talked to any body
else, and thus won her good graces. She had never quitted her native
mountains, and was as ignorant of the world as it is possible to
conceive. I asked her, in jest, if she would go with me to Cork. "Oh
no," said she, "I should be afraid to go so far with you.--Do tell me
now who you really are: You are a Jew;--that I know already." "Why, are
you mad?" said I; "what makes you think I must be a Jew?" "Ah, you can't
deny it; hav'n't you a black beard all round your chin, and five or six
gold rings on your fingers? And are you not an hour washing yourself in
a morning, and don't you go through ceremonies such as no Christian ever
saw? Confess it now,--you are a Jew, ar'n't you?" My disclaimer was of
no use. At last, however, she said good-humouredly, that if I positively
would not allow that I was one, she wished at least that I might 'become
as rich as a Jew,' (an English phrase.) I confirmed this with a
Christian 'Amen.'
_October 2d._
I am just returned from an excursion of sixteen miles with Colonel W----
to Hungry Hill, a lofty mountain at the end of Bantry Bay, remarkable
for its waterfall, and for Thomas O'Rourke's flight to the moon on an
eagle's back, which began here, and has so often been related in prose
and verse. Even in Germany this amusing tale has been repeatedly
translated, and has probably fallen into your hands. The hero of the
story is a game-keeper of Lord B----'s, who is still alive, and almost
always drunk. On our return Colonel W---- introduced him to me at the
inn. He is now extremely proud of his celebrity, and seemed to me when I
saw him to be projecting another visit to the moon.
The quantity of rain which has fallen these few days has added much to
the beauty of the waterfalls. The fall at Hungry Hill entirely
disappears in dry weather, but after violent rains exceeds the Staubbach
and Terni. Hungry Hill is a huge mass of naked rock about two thousand
feet high. On the land side it forms two steep terraces, on the
'plateau' between which there is a lake, which of course is not visible
from below, whence you see only the continuous lines of these colossal
terraces. The upper one consists of bare rock, and is divided in the
middle by a deep vertical groove, which looks as if cut by art; the
lower, although also free from any visible inequality, has its side
clothed with heather and coarse grass, on which hundreds of goats are
seen grazing.
Through the groove or channel mentioned above the mass of water shoots
from the highest point of the mountain, falls into the lake on the
lower terrace, and filling that, rushes down afresh in four distinct
cascades on the valley below. These form such vast arches, that the
goats feed peacefully under them, while the streams convert the meadows
below into a temporary lake.
As the spectator who stands below cannot see the division between the
upper and the lower falls, nor the lake which lies between them, the
whole appears one enormous cataract, the effect of which exceeds all
description. Colonel W---- assured me that when the waters are at the
highest he has seen the arch so enormous, that, to use his expression, a
regiment of soldiers might have marched under it without a man being
wetted; and, as he added, the noise would serve admirably for the
thunder of the cannon.
One of the neighbouring glens was, according to the somewhat fabulous
history of Ireland, the scene of a memorable battle between the great
O'Sullivan and O'Donovan. The people show the remains of a very old
arbutus, on which, as they relate, O'Donovan was hanged. It is very
certain that money and jewels have recently been found buried deep in
the earth in this enclosure.
The eagles of these mountains, who build on inaccessible rocks, play a
very principal part in the popular stories. They are extremely large and
strong, and it is certain that they sometimes carry off even children.
Some time ago an eagle carried off a boy of three years old, and
deposited him, probably because he was too heavy, nearly uninjured on a
shelf of rock, to which the people below climbed and saved him. The new
Ganymede, the 'corpus delicti,' is now living, and in full vigour.
Another more tragical circumstance of the same kind occurred a few
months ago. An eagle bore off a little girl before her father's eyes,
and disappeared with her among the rocks; nor could the least trace of
the poor child ever be discovered.
_October 3d._
Col. W---- is as great a 'parkomane' as I, but not quite such a
'gourmet.' Field-sports by land and water furnish his table with many
delicacies. The grouse or moor-fowl are particularly good; and the
oyster-bed on the edge of the park supplies oysters of a peculiar fine
flavour, and as large as a plate. The bay swarms with fish and
sea-dogs:--I saw one of the latter sitting on a projecting cliff just
opposite my window, and listening with a delighted and almost dancing
motion to the music of a bagpipe which resounded from a neighbouring
public-house. These creatures are so passionately fond of music, that
they follow the pleasure-boats, with bands of music on board, in herds
of twenty or thirty. They are decoyed in this way by sportsmen. It is
really barbarous thus to abuse their love of the arts!
Unfortunately it rained all day, so that I was obliged to remain in the
house. In the morning I attended the daily worship of the family, the
female members of which are somewhat bigoted as to form, though, as it
seemed to me, sincerely pious. We all sat round in a circle, and the
mother read one verse out of the Church of England Prayer-book, the
eldest daughter the next, and so on, alternately, imitating the parson
and clerk at a church. After this, the daughter, who has something
reserved and enthusiastic about her, began a strange and very long
prayer, which lasted a full quarter of an hour; during which all, (and
of course I among the number,) turned decorously towards the wall, fell
on their knees before their chair, and hid their faces in their hands.
The mother sighed and groaned; the father seemed somewhat 'ennuyé;' the
youngest daughter,--a charming girl, who is a good deal more mundane
than her sister,--had now and then fits of absence; and the son had
thought it expedient to absent himself altogether. I, who think every
sincere feeling or virtuous aspiration, at whatever time of the day, a
prayer to God, believed myself not impiously employed in observing a
little what was going on.
After the company had all stood up, brushed their knees, and smoothed
down their petticoats, (for English enthusiasm does not easily forget
_itself_,) a chapter from the Gospel was read by the mother. The one
chosen was that in which six thousand men were fed on three loaves and
two fishes, if I remember right, and much was still left remaining.
Happily for us, our dinner was not measured out to us upon this scale,
and the gifts of God were consumed with great cheerfulness and
satisfaction. To this, however, I soon gave an involuntary shock: I
happened to speak in jest of the comet of the year 1832, which, it is
predicted, is to approach nearer the earth's orbit than any hitherto
known. I remarked that, according to Lalande's reckoning, a comet which
should approach within fifty thousand miles of the earth must inevitably
exercise such a power of attraction as to raise the waters of the sea
above the top of Chimborazo. If the one of 1832 comes so near us, said
I, we shall infallibly all be drowned. "I beg your pardon, that is
impossible," replied Mrs. W---- very earnestly, "for that would be a
second deluge, and you appear to have entirely forgotten that we are
promised in the Bible that there should never be another deluge, but
that the earth should at last be destroyed by fire." ('Il faut avouer
que la faveur n'est pas grande.') "That this destruction is at hand,"
continued she, sighing, "I certainly believe; for the most learned of
our pious men are agreed that we are now, probably, in the seventh
kingdom of the Revelation of St. John, in which the end of the world is
predicted, and in which our Saviour will come to judge us." What
singular people these 'saints' are! On this, mother and daughter fell
into such a violent, and at last such a bitter dispute, that I, unworthy
layman, was obliged to interpose, and endeavour to re-establish peace.
The question was, whether, at the time of this final catastrophe, men
were to be immediately judged and then burnt, or first burnt and then
judged. The daughter indignantly asked ('je vous jure que je ne brode
pas') if our Saviour, on his coming, was to wait to pronounce judgment
till the world was burnt? She said it was plainly written in the
Scriptures that he would come to judge the quick and the dead; and how
would this be possible if all were first burnt? It was clear that the
world would not be burnt till all were judged. This the mother declared
was perfect 'nonsense!'--that men must necessarily first die, before
they could receive either eternal blessedness or damnation,--that the
passage which speaks of the quick and the dead, regarded only on the one
hand those who would be still living at the time of the conflagration,
or on the other, those who had long lain in the grave. She insisted
therefore, "_first_ burnt, and _then_ judged." Both now appealed to me,
in the hope of strengthening themselves by the accession of a partisan.
I ventured to reply that I really was not much skilled in these details,
and that their dispute appeared to me very like that in which Madame du
Deffant was called upon to decide, viz., whether St. Denis had walked
one mile or six without his head: to which she replied, "que dans ces
sortes de choses ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute!" That I must
confess that in the doctrines of Christ I had always chiefly sought to
imbibe rules of duty, confidence in God, meekness, and love to man,
though I had unhappily rarely succeeded to the extent of my wishes. I
hoped, however, that I might dismiss all anxiety as to whether we were
to be first judged and then burnt, or first burnt and then judged; that
I believed whatever God did was perfectly well done. I must confess that
I considered myself just as much in the hand of God, and just as near to
his power, in the present life as after the close of my earthly career,
or even after the destruction of the little globe which we call 'the
world.' That judgment was in my opinion for ever going on, and was as
eternally active as the spirit which creates and vivifies the universe.
This confession of faith had the effect of entirely reconciling the
combatants, by uniting them against me. I retreated from the field,
however, in so dexterous a manner as not entirely to lose their favour.
In the evening, between torrents of rain, twilight, and sunset, we had
another magnificent effect of light. _Our_ waterfall in the park was so
swollen that it took up itself to thunder a little too, and grass and
bush were prettily illuminated with gay sunbeams. We walked about till
it was quite dark, saw the Great Sugar-loaf gradually change its hue
from dark blue into rose-colour, and feasted our eyes on the clear
mirror of the lake, the leaping of the fish on its surface, and the
peaceful sporting of the otters.
Every thing here is beautiful,--even the air, which is famed for its
salubrity. There are no tormenting insects; for the bay is so deep, that
the ebb leaves no muddy shore, and the constant gentle breeze of the
valley is probably not agreeable to them. The climate is extremely
equable, neither too hot nor too cold; and the vegetation so luxuriant,
that only one thing more and one less are wanting to clothe the greater
part of the bare mountains, and even the interstices between the rocks,
with the richest and most beautiful woods: these two things are,
planters, and goats. The former have no money, or none that they choose
to spend in planting _here_; the latter suffer nothing to grow that is
not enclosed within double walls. It appears that these mountains were
formerly covered with forests; but the English, who have never had any
other thought with regard to Ireland but how to draw as much money from
her as possible, felled them all. Their remains are still visible in
many places.
Another advantage of this spot is, to my taste at least, its perfect
seclusion. It can hardly be reached in a carriage; and with the
exception of a few curious travellers, like myself, no attempt is made
to overcome the difficulty of the approach. It is inhabited by a
good-natured people, not congregated in villages, but scattered in
solitary dwellings amid the mountains, and living a patriarchal life,
unspoiled by the tumult of cities. Nor are they so distressingly poor as
in other parts of the country: their wants are few; turf for fuel they
have for the fetching, grass for their cows in the bogs, and the sea
supplies them with an abundance of fish far beyond what they can
consume. For a landowner, inspired with a spirit of enterprize and a
love of improvement, an inexhaustible field here presents itself. Were I
a capitalist, this is the spot where I would settle.
My worthy host takes upon himself to forward this letter immediately.
Heaven grant that it may find you in the same happy state of mind which
has inspired it! Remember the favourite saying of my venerable
ancestress,--'Coeur content, grand talent.'
Your truly devoted,