Rambles in the South of Ireland during the year 1838 ... Second edition

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a***--" VM******., •VIV" ' -***» — -v -> -» - - ..J"/-'3<-<_J-a_j«sfe SXTGAT( l,"Ai K0TJ1 lin! BAUTK-i I- ' V C» OI COST. _ RAMBLES IN THE SOUTH OF IRELAND DURING THE YEAR 1838. BY LADY CHATTERTON. — when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east, We may order our wings and be off to the west. Moore. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. SECOND EDITION. LONDON SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. LONDON : PRINTED BT BLATCH AND LAMPERT, GROVE PLACE, BROUPTON. TO THE LADY BARHAM THESE volumes, CONTAINING SOME SKETCHES OF IRELAND, ARE DEDICATED BY HER VERY SINCERE FRIEND. ADVERT ISE MEN! My principal object in publishing this book, is to endeavour to remove some of the prejudices which render so many people afraid either to travel or reside in Ireland — to shew how many and various are the attractions that misunderstood country contains — and to furnish the most decided proofs that a tour in some of its -wildest districts may be keenly enjoyed by an Englishwoman, rendered fastidious by ill-health, and frequent visits to the more refined and luxurious countries of the South of Europe.

These rough notes were written during my last residence in Ireland; but some ofthe observations they contain are the result of my experience in many previous visits to that country. For some historical and other matters, which I believe are but little known, I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. Crofton Croker. G. C . London, April 6tk, 1839-

ADVERTISEMENT.

Chapter I

Home Pictures — An Old Countryman — Peculiarities of Irish Scenery — Traits of Cottage life. Black-rock, near Cork, February 28, 1838. — Here I am on a lovely bank of the Lee, -where the sun always seems to me to shine brighter than elsewhere, and the air feels sweeter and more balmy. The rough and chilly breath of winter is now softening into the gentleness of spring. The beautiful scenery of this favoured spot is particularly striking to one who had so lately left the gloomy fogs of London. In this mild climate tlie myrtles are now covered with blossom in the VOL. I. B open ah; and the hydrangias are unfolding theh dehcate green leaves. The window in which I am sitting, looks on a lawn of that bright yet dehcate green so pecuhar to this country, that lovely tint, of which those who have not visited the divisa dal mondo ultima Irlanda can form but a faint idea.

Dhectly in front is a garden, where spring flowers of every hue meet the eye, and violets are breathing their delicious perfume, w*here the verdure of ar butus trees and brdhant gold leaf plants give a cheerful summer ah to the scene. Beyond, flows the broad river, upon the glassy surface of which ships are gliding; some with dark red sails, others whose graceftdly sloping masts and large white sads show that they come from the shores of Portugal. Near the beach are boats, in each of which a solitary figure lazdy reclines, as if to enjoy the refreshing breeze and the bright sunshine. But no; these men are fishing. I see one man has just raised a smaU net attached to two long poles, the end of which droops grace ftdly into the water. This mode of fishing, I am told, is here termed "Tush-a-pike."

Nearer is a group who are catching salmon; and I can hear the merry laugh of these joyous fishermen as the jest is bandied to and fro. On the other side of the river, rise sloping lawns interspersed with vidas ; and beneath them, close to the water, is a road, on winch coaches are passing, and some Cork belles, attended by officers in theh gay uniforms, are cantering along. The brown stems and leafless branches of the elms and horse chestnuts, show indeed that the season is what we caU winter ; but the whole scene is so smiling, vivid, and warm, that it feels like June. Another window of this pleasant room com mands a view over the river where it spreads into a magnificent lake. In the distance, and where the eye loses sight of the taU ships, is a range of dark blue liiUs, on which the ever-changing hghts produce an endless variety of pictures.

Now towers, groves, and sunny fields appear in crowd ed and vivid distinctness ; and theh, aU is grey and mysterious and shadowy again. Some cows are quietly grazing on my favourite green lawn. A young ghl, with milk-pad and stool, approaches one of them. No, not a young girl ; I forget that I am in Ireland, and that I have been told that youthful creature, apparently not seventeen, is married. How picturesque she looks, tripping along, her scarlet b2 kerchief folded over her well-turned shoulders, — her bright green dress gathered up in graceful drapery, leaving her smaU feet visible beneath the short stuff petticoat. Her boyish-looking husband bounds across the lawn to meet her, from under the trees on the right. He holds the cow by the horns, whde she seats herself and begins milking — gazing up into his face aU the whde with looks of fond and grateful affection.

How interesting is her countenance ! happiness and love strug gling with bashful coyness in those modest, yet laughing eyes. Her task is done. The young man takes the stool from the hands of his pretty wife, with a look of intense admiration, which teUs, at a glance, that the same exalted and holy feehng breathes its refining influence over this rustic pair, that we are apt to Umit to the cultivated and weU-born. On one of the window-frames grows a Pyrus japonica; its briUiant red flowers are in fuU bloom ; and, mingled with the dark green leaves of the myrtles, forms gorgeous and graceful festoons, through which the clear blue sky and changeful clouds are visible. It is delightful to watch the dady opening of the buds and dehcate spring leaves. I have experienced few moments of greater enjoyment, than when in early morning I throw open my bed-room window and inhale the fragrance of the flowers : whde, from a grove hard by, a thousand bhds are minghng theh harmonious notes with the melody which breathes in aU the awakening world around.

It is impossible to gaze on such a scene as I have endeavoured to depict, without feeling a wish to be in unison with aU nature, and with it to pay our morning tribute of joy and gratitude to the Creator of so much lovehness. These indeed are moments when the soul is impeded to prayer; when aU those strivings, and cares, and longings, which trouble our enjoyments of this life, are converted hito earnest and haUowed as pirations after that world which is to come. At these precious moments our energies are directed into the right channel, the sphits become young and innocent as in early youth, before ambition or foUy have kindled in the heart that burning torch which too often scorches up the sweet sources of inward joy, and produces a withering atmosphere around us, destroying the fresh glow of nature's loveliness.

At such a sweet morning hour as this, we become children in faith and hope; our affections are purified; and, though the heart forgets not, yet we cease to bewail the friends who are gone from this beautiful world : we long and pray that we may again meet them in a world stdl more beautiful. Just as I had written the above, an old tenant came from a wild, and, what is usually termed, uncivdized part of the country, near Bottle-lull — a name now familiar to the Enghsh reader as the locality of one of Crofton Croker's Fairy Legends. The old man has certainly not often seen people in a higher rank of Use than his own, and yet in our short interview he uttered some sentiments which would do honor to the most refined and cultivated person; I wish I could remember all he said. The few foUowing sentences are not so poetical as some others which he used ; indeed, to understand their full effect the speaker should have been seen : his old, but not care-worn countenance, his long flowing locks, and the mind-iUumined eye, added much to the meaning and interest of his words : — " Welcome, young lady; welcome to Ireland ; I hope you'd hve and die there !

I'm eightysix — that's my years. In the morning we walk on aU-fours; at twelve o'clock we stand upright ! evening comes on — 'twdl soon be night. Our grave is ready dug for us, and when 'tis the wiU of Providence we go down into it. So it is ! Good bye, young lady — I'll never see you again in this world, maybe." He was going, but I called him back to tell him I should like to go and see his home ; he was overjoyed at the prospect, and said — " I hope I'U see you at my place ; I do, we'U make an acclamation for you. We'll have a bonfire to Ught up the country you'd hke to look at. Oh, welcome a thousand times! You'U find a thousand welcomes ready for you." Encouraged by this prospect, he lingered, and broke forth into lamentations upon our re cent loss : — " My poor old lady ! I mourn for her within my heart : — it isn't my clothes that mourn — 'tisn't my wearables will shew my grief.

My heart is black. I'm eighty-six, and long ago my grave was dug. I thought I'd go into it before her ; — she's taken the lead o' me. She was a good old age — past seventy-seven — but I never thought I'd ever hve to hear that she was dead. I'U be the next. I went to see the place where I'm to Ue, that I might look whether 'twas long enough for me." Saturday. — We had a dehghtful drive to-day round by Cork to the Douglas river, and along its lovely bank, on the road which leads to Pas sage and Monkstown. Every time I come to Ireland, the scenery appears to me more beautiful. Probably the reason of this is, that the taste for the beauties of nature always goes on in creasing. With me it has become a passion, and I hope it is one of the very few that may be indulged in without danger ; as I trust that it draws us nearer and nearer to the great Creator of aU the beauty we admire so intensely.

No, there can be nothing to fear from a passion like this, which purifies our taste, and exalts our being. The only thing I miss in Ireland is my favorite rural scenery — I mean, by rural, the neat honeysuckled cottages, with theh trim little gardens and beehives; indeed this kind of scenery can, I believe, be found nowhere but in England. The word " rural" is untranslateable into any other language, and seems formed ex pressly to describe Enghsh country hfe. Though a sister land, I fear it wdl be long before we find anything rural in Ireland, for the higher orders have very httle taste for comfortable country life. But then the Green Isle has much without this ; and indeed, in traveUing through it, there are so many amusing scenes and interesting places that there is scarcely time to observe the deficiency I have spoken of.

There are continual signs of convulsion and change, both in nature and the works of man, which excite many interesting recoUections, and afford constant food for thought. There are the strange superstitions of the inhabitants, which have probably survived longer than in other European land. Every ruined tower, and the mighty and mysterious works which are attributed to the Druids, have each its wild tale of wonder and interest. Then there are those puzzling Ogham inscriptions, the meaning of which has hitherto baffled enquiry. I often wonder why there should be so few celebrated characters in a country teeming with talent and genius, where every peasant accosts one in the language of poetry, and with gestures of grace. The very dress, or rather semi-chess of the country people is picturesque ; the large bhie b5 cloak worn by the women is sure to be held round theh well-made figures in folds so easy and grace ful as to furnish exceUent models for the artist and sculptor.

Their long beautiful hah is generally braided round their small heads, with a taste and simplicity truly classic ; and there is an ease and grace in all theh movements, which seem, I think, to denote a feeling of good taste and re finement far above the common level of their class, in other countries. In an intercourse with the common people, a day, an hour cannot pass without being struck by some mark of talent, some display of an imagination at once glowing and enthusiastic, or some touch of tender and delicate feeling. How strange it is, that such a people should be content to dweU in smoky ho vels, when, if they chose to exert themselves arid employ the energies which I think they possess, theh condition might be improved ! But they are generally happy; therefore why wish to alter theh state?

They find additional clothing an encumbrance. How often have I heard them say, theh Sunday dress gave them cold ! and the first illness our old gate-woman ever had, was occasioned by her wearing a pair of shoes and stockings ! A poor family were in what we considered a most miserable condition; at Christmas, by way of making them comfortable, we had given to each individual a nice suit of clothes ; the conse quence was, they were all laid up with bad feverish colds ! Since this, I have come to the wise de termination of aUowing people to be happy in theh own way ; and the more we see of the world, the more convinced must we be, how to taUy independent of every outward cause and circumstance is happiness ; — that it springs en tirely from the mind within, the Irish are living and laughable proofs.

As I said before, what surprises me is, that a country where all are clever, shrewd, and inteUigent, should not have produced more characters of celebrity. The only reason I can discover for this is, that per haps when talent is so common, it is but httle valued ; and a man who in another country would be considered quite a prodigy, is here raised so httle above the common standard, that he knows not his own worth, and therefore does not take any pains to improve his natural abdi ties. It appears also in this country that riches, — even the mere conveniences and comforts of Use, tend to weaken or destroy that talent which seems only inherent in the poorer classes ; for we do not so often meet with anything that de notes a very superior inteUect among the higher orders. It is for this reason that the peasantry, those true children of nature and grace, interest me in such a high degree ; theh minds seem to be as unshackled and unehsfigured by prejudices, as theh bodies are free from those distorting ha biliments which though in some countries pictu resque, yet destroy, by tight stays, tight sleeves, or other Ugatures, the beauty of the human form.

In other lands, the peasantry are often extremely pretty objects ; but the admiration theh appearance excites is such as we should feel for a grotesque picture of the Dutch school, or a highly decorated Gothic budding ; it is not that elevated and sublime sentiment of pleasure which is produced by an angel form from Gui do's or Raphael's pencd, or the magnificent re mains of a Grecian temple. To my mind, Ireland is a country which, in spite of its miserable and uncultivated state, in spires more solemn and poetical ideas than any of those through which I have travelled. Here the ever-changing clouds assume forms, where ahy castles, oceans, mountains, and grotesque shapes of animals and men may be seen with a startling distinctness which I never observed elsewhere. The skies of Ireland, like the faces of its people, are ever beaming with smiles, or melt ing with tears.

Moore seems to have observed this peculiarity of the Irish chmate, when he says — "Erin, the smile and the tear in thine eyes Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies." Often the sun shines with dazzhng brightness on one mountain, giving a vivid and rainbow hue to its heath and rock, while the adjoining heights frown in gloomy sternness, as if in an ger at those dark clouds which deprive them of what the poet I have just aUuded to terms " a sunburst." In many wild regions, very few trees are to be seen; but the shrubs which grow in profusion amid the purple rocks, and which sometimes feather down to the shores of a mountain lake, are with theh ever-green and glistening leaves so beautiful, that one can scarcely regret the absence of a more majestic growth. In some places, however, trees may be found, and then they generally surround some romantic ruins, melancholy memorial of former days, which are frequently seen, often overhanging the rushing river side, or at the entrance of some mountain pass.

The appearance of trees thus combined is so beautiful, that we cannot help regretting that they but seldom occur, for, like the Irish clouds, the forms of the trees are certainly more picturesque than in other lands. I cannot de scribe why, or how this is occasioned, but the branches are more gnarled, the trunk more gro tesque, as if the trees grew in the same unre strained and easy manner, as the figures of the people. I know not if such be really the case ; but I often fancy, I trace in different countries a certain tinge or colour and shape, which stamp with a pecuhar character both the inhabitants, and everything which surrounds them. In England, how exactly in keeping -with the character of its sons, are the firm and stately forests of elm, beech, and oak ! They are grand, fine, and majestic; but they possess more uni formity than subhmity: though their appearance is noble, all around them looks calm, neat, and comfortable.

The sohd country houses, straight streets, smaU windows, avenues and hedge-rows, rounded hdls and peaceful vaUeys, respectively impart but one and tlie same im pression — everything looks more useful and sensible than beautiful ; as if nature had con spired to give bhth to that expressive word "snug." When in Ireland I gaze on the ever-changhig colours and aspects of nature, I no longer am surprised that the inhabitants should teem with poetic ideas. Riches and artificial refinement tend certainly to destroy the impression which the sight of nature produces on the mind. The Irish peasants only sleep within wads ; they spend aU theh waiting hours beneath the broad vault of heaven — theh view bounded alone by the ocean or distant mountains — no employment save the cultivation of theh potatoe field — no object in hfe to divert their thoughts from the observation of sights, and sounds, and the me ditative indolent enjoyment of wild and mag nificent scenes.

I am particularly struck with the rich and vivid colouring of the scenery in Ireland ; when the sun shines after one of the frequent showers, the whole landscape resembles a highly finished and freshly varnished picture, not by any weU known master, for the composition, to speak tech nicaUy, is totaUy different, though I think quite as fine, as any ideal imagery of Claude, Hob bina, or Poussin. The varieties of green are particularly lovely, yet there is never too much; the eye is always relieved by masses of rock of a dark purple or reddish brown, which harmon ize perfectly with the hght green tender moss or darker coloured grass. There is in the Irish people a sort of luxurious far niente enjoyment, which they must certainly derive from ancestors of a Southern or Eastern chme. This spirit of innate happiness breaks out through aU theh external misery, and by a strange feehng of contentment they create luxuries for themselves.

I have often seen a girl rechne against a heap of filth at a hovel door, in an attitude as graceful, and a countenance beaming with as much inteUectual happiness, as if she had been reposing on a Roman triclinium. I wonder that those who hke to see and study something very original and strange, do not visit Ireland. I should think few countries would afford so much scope for enquiry, and none so much to please and surprise, if viewed with an unprejudiced eye. Hitherto I have spoken but of the perfections of the Irish : I must now turn to the less pleas ing side of the picture, and point out theh* faults. It is the fashion to attribute to England aU or most of Ireland's sufferings ; but I think that a dispassionate and accurate view of Ireland, if such can be obtained, would prove that fashion is wrong.

That some of its misery originated in its imperfect conquest by England, is most certain ; that this misery was increased by the Union, is a question I have frequently heard discussed ; but no woman ought to be a politi cian, for she is sure to judge by the heart, not by the head. Therefore, without entering upon often-debated ground, I wdl venture to assert that, in my opinion, it forms, volcano-like, the fire within itself, and thus, from the strange character of its people the principal miseries and misfortunes of Ireland arise. What must strike a stranger most in a visit to this country, if he happen to preserve his own senses, is the utter deficiency of that useful quahty, common sense, in the inhabitants. As in quarrels between man and wife there are generaUy faults on both sides — so it is in the dis sensions between different classes in poor Ire land.

There are faults everywhere. The Pro testants, Roman Cathodes, landowners, and peasants, high and low, rich and poor, are all more violent, more fuU of party sphit — in short, more angry, than in any other country. It seems as if there were something in the atmosphere of Ireland which is unfavourable to the growth of common sense, and moderation in its inhabitants ; and which is not without an in fluence even on those who go there with their brains fahly stocked with that most useful qua lity. Even strangers are sure to lose their sober-mindedness after a few months' residence, and to become most violent partizans. This sort of infatuation, which, to use the words of an old writer, often makes " an Englishman more Irish than the Irish themselves" — which comes over every resident among this strange people, creates that extreme difficulty of ascertaining truth which has always been so wonderful.

Every one who comes among the Irish is immediately hooked into some party ; and, unless he possess a most independent mind, and a sufficiency of self-confidence to enable him to see with his own eyes, he is sure to judge of everything according to the ideas of that party with which he happens to associate. This is the origin of those strange and contradictory reports which "are in circula tion as to the state of Ireland. Common sense, I repeat, is lamentably wanted ; and this occasions aU other wants. Want of sense peeps through the open door and stufled up window of every hovel. It is plainly stamped on everything that is done or left undone. You may trace it in the dungheap which obstructs the path to the cabin ; in the smoke which finds an outlet through every opening but a chimney. You may see it in the warm cloaks which are worn in the hottest day in summer — in the manner a peasant ghl carries her basket behind her back.

This is generaUy done by folding her cloak, her only cloak, round it, and thus throwing the whole weight of the basket on this garment, of course to its no smaU detriment. This same want of sense lurks, too, under the great heavy coat, which the men wear during violent exertion in hot weather. In short, it is obvious in a thousand ways. The cause of this remarkable want of sense wiU be more difficult to find out, than the effect it has on Ireland. Perhaps the Irish are sprung from some wandering tribe ; perhaps — but a truce to speculation : let me confine myself to facts . I cannot, perhaps, do better than quote some passages from a letter I have just received, which contains some interesting sketches of the pea santry in the neighbourhood of Limerick. "Do you remember our discussions about the character of the Irish peasantry, theh sphit of adventure, and natural cleverness ; and how we used to bemoan the sad misapplication of the latter, and moralize over aU the 'cuteness' wasted and thrown away ?

Apropos ! ehd I ever teU you the story of little Tom Ryan, our whd ome donkey guide? I think not — here it is, ancl a case in point, you wdl say. " One morning, Master Tom Ryan, as though he knew the high road to my heart, presented himself outside our haU door, in the very irre sistible guise of a ' poor scholar.' There were all the weU-known symptoms of that interesting race who feed theh minds with the crumbs of learning that faU from hedge schools, and theh bodies with the stray potatoes they pick up in the farmer's houses, in exchange for helping the heh apparent of the cabin over the longest words in the ' Dubhn Spelling Book.' These ' poor scholars' (generaUy pedagogues or priests in embryo) are, as perhaps you know, as distinct a body here, as the German students on the banks of the Rhine ; though I must say, for the honour of Bonn and Leipsig, the grade is rather different.

Well, there stood Tommy Ryan, with aU the marks and tokens of poor scholarship ' thick upon him' — the pale, meek, studious, half-starved look, cap doffed, eyes bent on the ground, ink-bottle tied to the ragged button-hole, cracked slate, and httle bundle of books under the arm, and garments, among whose ' many colours' the fah skin peeped out, forming by far the largest patches. " A lamentable story was Tom's, and told in a lamentable voice : ' a poor scholar, yer honour, wi'dout de father or mother, thrown upon de wide world.' He succeeded in whining himself into everybody's good graces. The schoolmaster gave him a place on one of the wooden forms, and declared that ' Tommy Ryan was the best conducted and most diligent boy in the school.' The neighbours gave him a night's lodging, turn about, and allowed lum to share the straw and supper of their dWn chddren, pronoun cing hun to be ' as quite, (quiet,) dacent, and civil-spoken a httle craythur as ever was, God bless him !' He became a constant and a favorite visiter at our hall door — soon the flesh colour patches disappeared, together with the flying and tattered remnants of what had once been a shirt ; and a pah of substantial shoes and stockings were added to the new suit of cordu roys.

The next step was to raise Mister Tom above the precarious potatoes dealt to him by the charity of the parents of his schoolfeUows. He commenced earning his own livehhood as a stone breaker, and his fortunes continued gradually on the rise, untd at last he wormed himseU into the responsible function of guide to a donkey, which he contrived to manage in some unac countable way. " ' I don't know how it is,' said one of the men to me ; 'but that donkey that is so stubborn, and wiU do nothing for other people sometimes, by fah means or foul, is as quiet as a lamb, with that bit of a gossoon that isn't as high as his tad. I can't teU what way he has with him, but the never a kick does he shew whde the child is guiding him. That's the crabbedest httle fel low in the world — he's as smart as two of his age, and wdl do almost as much work in the day as a man.' Tom's success with the donkey was certainly wonderful ; one might have thought he was possessed of the secret of O'Sullivan, the ' whisperer ;' but that I very much doubt whether the httle fellow could have reached up as high as the donkey's ear, to have whispered into it.

" Things went on in this way for some time, when one Sunday morning, as we were preparing for the Sunday-school, we were told, that a respectable-looking young man was ouside, and wished to speak to us. This well-dressed person proved, to our astonishment, to be Ryan's brother ; and great indeed was our amazement, when he went on to inform us, that the " poor scholar wi'dout father or mother" had both parents living in very comfortable circumstances at Bruff. From these he had absconded about a year since, merely, it would seem, from the love of adventure, for he was most kineUy treated at home, being the youngest, and the favorite of the whole famdy. We described to the young man, the miserable, half-starved, and ragged plight in which Ryan had appeared to us, and he said, that when the boy left home, he was weU clad from head to foot, and had decamped with his brother's ink-bottle and two or three books, by way of insignia to his new trade of 'poor scholar.' " ' ReaUy, my dear G — , it was impossible not to admire (if I may so apply such a word) the ingenuity and cleverness with which this mere chdd had woven his tale, and acted his part ; and it was equally impossible not grieve over such a lamentable perversion of faculties, that in a higher class of hfe might have ripened into a Walter Scott or a Lytton Bulwer.