reverenced for his inflexible rectitude, and loved for his condescension
and mildness. But yet more beloved,--the idol of the citizens and their
fair wives,--was his son, according to the Chronicle, one of the most
distinguished young men of his time. To perfect manly beauty and the
most noble air, he united that cheerful temper, that considerate
familiarity, which subdues while it seems to flatter,--that attaching
grace of manner, which conquers all hearts without an effort, by its
mere natural charm. On the other hand, his oft-proved patriotism, his
high-hearted generosity, his romantic courage, and complete mastery in
all warlike exercises, forming part of an education singular in his age
and country, secured to him the permanency of an esteem which his first
aspect involuntarily bespoke.

So much light was not without shadow. Deep and burning passions, a
haughty temper, jealousy of all rival merit, rendered all his fine
qualities only so many sources of danger to himself and others. Often
had his stern father, although proud of such a son, cause for bitter
reproof, and for yet more anxious solicitude about the future. But even
he could not resist the sweetness of the youth,--as quick to repent as
to err, and who never for a moment failed in love and reverence to
himself. After his first displeasure was past, the defects of his son
appeared to him as they did to all others, only spots on the sun. He was
soon still further tranquillized by the vehement and tender attachment
which the young man appeared to have conceived for Anna Blake, the
daughter of his best friend, and a girl possessing every lovely and
attaching quality. He looked forward to their union as the fulfilment of
all his wishes. But fate had willed it otherwise.

While young Lynch found more difficulty in conquering the heart of the
present object of his love than he had ever experienced before, his
father was called by business to Cadiz;--for the great men of Galway,
like the other inhabitants of considerable sea-ports in the middle ages,
held trade on a large scale to be an employment nowise unworthy even men
of noble birth. Galway was at that time so powerful and so widely known,
that, as the Chronicle relates, an Arab merchant, who had long traded to
these coasts from the East, once inquired "in what part of Galway
Ireland lay?"

After James Lynch had delegated his authority to trusty hands, and
prepared every thing for a distant journey, with an overflowing heart he
blessed his son, wished him the best issue to his suit, and sailed for
his destination. Wherever he went, success crowned his undertakings. For
this he was much indebted to the friendly services of a Spanish merchant
named Gomez, towards whom his noble heart conceived the liveliest
gratitude.

It happened that Gomez also had an only son, who, like Edward Lynch, was
the idol of his family, and the darling of his native city, though in
character, as well as in external appearance, entirely different from
him. Both were handsome; but Edward's was the beauty of the haughty and
breathing Apollo; Gonsalvo's of the serene and mild St. John. The one
appeared like a rock crowned with flowers; the other like a fragrant
rose-covered knoll, threatened by the storm. The Pagan virtues adorned
the one; Christian gentleness and humility the other. Gonsalvo's
graceful person exhibited more softness than energy; his languid dark
blue eyes, more tenderness and love than boldness and pride; a soft
melancholy overshadowed his countenance, and an air of voluptuous
suffering quivered about his smiling lips, around which a timid smile
rarely played, like a gentle wave gliding over pearls and coral. His
mind corresponded to such a person: loving and endearing, of a grave and
melancholy serenity, of more internal than external activity, he
preferred solitude to the bustle and tumult of society, but attached
himself with the strongest affection to those who treated him with
kindness and friendship. His inmost heart was thus warmed by a fire,
which, like that of a volcano buried too deep to break out at the
surface, is only seen in the increased fertility of the soil above,
which it clothes in the softest green, and decks with the brightest
flowers. Thus captivating, and easily captivated, was it a wonder if he
stole the palm even out of the hand of Edward Lynch? But Edward's father
had no such anticipations. Full of gratitude to his friend, and of
affection for his engaging son, he determined to propose to the old
Gomez a marriage between Gonsalvo and his daughter. The offer was too
flattering to be refused. The fathers were soon agreed; and it was
decided that Gonsalvo should accompany his future father-in-law to the
coast of Ireland, and if the inclinations of the young people favoured
the project, their union should take place at the same time with
Edward's, after which they should immediately return to Spain. Gonsalvo,
who was just nineteen, accompanied the revered friend of his father with
joy. His young romantic spirit enjoyed in silent and delighted
anticipation the varying scenes of strange lands which he was about to
see; the wonders of the deep which he would contemplate; the new sort of
existence of unknown people with whom he was to be connected; and his
warm heart already attached itself to the girl, of whose charms her
father gave him, perhaps, a too partial description.

Every moment of the long voyage, which at that time abounded with
dangers and required a much longer period than now, increased the
intimacy and mutual attachment of the travellers: and when at length
they descried the port of Galway, the old Lynch congratulated himself
not only on the second son which God had sent him, but on the beneficial
influence which the unvarying gentleness of the youth would have on
Edward's darker and more vehement character.

This hope appeared likely to be completely fulfilled. Edward, who found
all in Gomez that was wanting in himself, felt his own nature as it were
completed by his society; and as he had already learned from his father
that he was to regard him as a brother, their friendship soon ripened
into the warmest and most sincere affection.

But not many months had passed before some uneasy feelings arose in
Edward's mind to trouble this harmony. Gonsalvo had become the husband
of his sister, but had deferred his return to Spain for an indefinite
time. He was become the object of general admiration, attention, and
love. Edward felt that he was less happy than formerly. For the first
time in his life neglected, he could not conceal from himself that he
had found a successful rival of his former universal and uncontested
popularity. But what shook him most fearfully, what wounded his heart no
less than his pride, what prepared for him intolerable and restless
torments, was the perception, which every day confirmed, that Anna, whom
he looked upon as _his_,--though she still refused to confess her
love,--that _his_ Anna had ever since the arrival of the handsome
stranger grown colder and colder towards himself. Nay, he even imagined
that in unguarded moments he had seen her speaking eyes rest, as if
weighed down with heavy thoughts, on the soft and beautiful features of
Gomez, and a faint blush then pass over her pale cheek; but if his eye
met hers, this soft bloom suddenly become the burning glow of fever.
Yes, he could not doubt it; her whole deportment was altered:
capricious, humoursome, restless, sometimes sunk in deep melancholy,
then suddenly breaking into fits of violent mirth, she seemed to retain
only the outward form of the sensible, clear-minded, serene, and equal
tempered girl she had always appeared. Everything betrayed to the quick
eye of jealousy that she was the prey of some deep-seated passion,--and
for whom?--for whom could it be but for Gomez! for him, at whose every
action it was evident the inmost cords of her heart gave out their
altered tone. It has been wisely said, that love is more nearly akin to
hate than to liking. What passed in Edward's bosom was a proof of this.
Henceforth it seemed his sole enjoyment to give pain to the woman he
passionately loved: and now, in the bitterness of his heart, held guilty
of all his sufferings. Wherever occasion presented itself, he sought to
humble and to embarrass her, to sting her by disdainful pride, or to
overwhelm her with cutting reproaches; till, conscious of her secret
crime, shame and anguish overpowered the wretched girl, and she burst
into torrents of tears, which alone had power to allay the scorching
fever of his heart. But no kindly reconciliation followed these scenes,
and, as with lovers, resolved the dissonance into blessed harmony. The
exasperation of each was only heightened to desperation: and when he at
length saw enkindled in Gomez,--so little capable of concealment,--the
same fire which burnt in the eyes of Anna; when he thought he saw his
sister neglected and himself betrayed by a serpent whom he had cherished
in his bosom,--he stood at that point of human infirmity, of which the
All-seeing alone can decide whether it be madness, or the condition of a
still accountable creature.

On the same night in which suspicion had driven Edward from his couch, a
restless wanderer, it appears that the guilty lovers had for the first
time met in secret. According to the subsequent confession of Edward, he
had concealed himself behind a pillar, and had seen Gomez, wrapped in
his mantle, glide with hurried steps out of a well-known side-door in
the house of Anna's father, which led immediately to her apartments.--At
the horrible certainty which now glared upon him, the fury of hell took
possession of his soul: his eyes started from their sockets, the blood
rushed and throbbed as if it would burst his veins, and as a man dying
of thirst pants for a draught of cooling water, so did his whole being
pant for the blood of his rival. Like an infuriate tiger he darted upon
the unhappy youth, who recognized him, and vainly fled. Edward
instantly overtook him, seized him, and burying his dagger a hundred
times, with strokes like lightning-flashes, in the quivering body,
gashed with satanic rage the beautiful features which had robbed him of
his beloved, and of peace. It was not till the moon broke forth from
behind a dark cloud, and suddenly lighted the ghastly spectacle before
him,--the disfigured mass, which retained scarcely a feature of his once
beloved friend, the streams of blood which bathed the body and all the
earth around it,--that he waked with horror as from some infernal dream.
But the deed was done, and judgment was at hand.

Led by the instinct of self-preservation, he fled, like Cain, into the
nearest wood. How long he wandered there he could not recollect. Fear,
love, repentance, despair, and at last madness, pursued him like
frightful companions, and at length robbed him of consciousness,--for a
time annihilating the terrors of the past in forgetfulness; for kind
nature puts an end to intolerable sufferings of mind, as of body, by
insensibility or death.

Meanwhile the murder was soon known in the city; and the fearful end of
the gentle youth, who had confided himself, a foreigner, to their
hospitality, was learned by all with sorrow and indignation. A dagger,
steeped in blood, had been found lying by the velvet cap of the
Spaniard, and not far from it a hat, ornamented with plumes and a clasp
of gems, showed the recent traces of a man who seemed to have sought
safety in the direction of the wood. The hat was immediately recognized
as Edward's; and as he was nowhere to be found, fears were soon
entertained that he had been murdered with his friend. The terrified
father mounted his horse, and, accompanied by a crowd of people calling
for vengeance, swore solemnly that nothing should save the murderer,
were he even compelled to execute him with his own hands.

We may imagine the shouts of joy, and the feelings of the father, when
at break of day Edward Lynch was found sunk under a tree, living, and
although covered with blood, yet apparently without any dangerous wound.
We may imagine the shudder that ran through the crowd,--but the feelings
of the father we _cannot_ imagine,--when, restored to sense, he embraced
his father's knees, declared himself the murderer of Gonsalvo, and
earnestly implored instant punishment.

He was brought home bound, tried before a full assembly of the
magistrates, and condemned to death by his own father. But the people
would not lose their darling. Like the waves of the tempest-troubled
sea, they filled the market-place and the streets, and forgetting the
crime of the son in the relentless justice of the father, demanded with
threatening cries the opening of the prison and the pardon of the
criminal. During the night, though the guards were doubled, it was with
great difficulty that the incensed mob were withheld from breaking in.
Towards morning, it was announced to the mayor that all resistance would
soon be vain, for that a part of the soldiers had gone over to the
people;--only the foreign guard held out, and all demanded with furious
cries the instant liberation of the criminal.

At this, the inflexible magistrate took a resolution, which many will
call inhuman, but whose awful self-conquest certainly belongs to the
rarest examples of stoical firmness.--Accompanied by a priest, he
proceeded through a secret passage to the dungeon of his son; and when,
with newly-awakened desire of life, excited by the sympathy of his
fellow-citizens, Edward sunk at his feet, and asked eagerly if he
brought him mercy and pardon? The old man replied with unfaultering
voice, "No, my son, in this world there is no mercy for you: your life
is irrevocably forfeited to the law, and at sunrise you must die.
One-and-twenty years have I prayed for your earthly happiness,--but that
is past,--turn your thoughts now to eternity; and if there be yet hope
there, let us now kneel down together and implore the Almighty to grant
you mercy hereafter;--but then I hope my son, though he could not live
worthy of his father, will at least know how to die worthy of him." With
these words he rekindled the noble pride of the once dauntless youth,
and after a short prayer, he surrendered himself with heroic resignation
to his father's pitiless will.

As the people, and the greater part of the armed men mingled in their
ranks, now prepared, amidst more wild and furious menaces, to storm the
prison, James Lynch appeared at a lofty window; his son stood at his
side with the halter round his neck. "I have sworn," exclaimed the
inflexible magistrate, "that Gonsalvo's murderer should die, even though
I must perform the office of the executioner myself. Providence has
taken me at my word; and you, madmen, learn from the most wretched of
fathers that nothing must stop the course of justice, and that even the
ties of nature must break before it."

While he spoke these words he had made fast the rope to an iron beam
projecting from the wall, and now suddenly pushing his son out of the
window, he completed his dreadful work. Nor did he leave the spot till
the last convulsive struggles gave certainty of the death of his unhappy
victim.

As if struck by a thunder-clap, the tumultuous mob had beheld the
horrible spectacle in death-like silence, and every man glided as if
stunned to his own house. From that moment the mayor of Galway resigned
all his occupations and dignities, and was never beheld by any eye but
those of his own family. He never left his house till he was carried
from it to his grave. Anna Blake died in a convent. Both families in
course of time disappeared from the earth; but the skull and cross-bones
still mark the scene of this fearful tragedy.

_Limerick, Sept. 21st._

At ten o'clock my carriage arrived, and I immediately quitted Galway. As
long as the country remained monotonous, I beguiled the time by reading.
At Gort it becomes more interesting. Not far from it flows a river,
which, like that at Cong, looses itself several times in the earth. One
of the deepest basins which it forms is called "The Punch-bowl." To fill
such a bowl would require a larger tun than that at Heidelberg.

You now begin to approach the Clare mountains: and Nature decks herself
in more picturesque attire. A park belonging to Lord Gort broke upon me
like a magnificent picture: it is bounded by a broad lake, in which are
thirteen beautiful wooded islands; these, with the mountains in the
back-ground, and the expanse of water, which the eye never completely
embraces, in front, produced a grand and striking effect. One of the
most miserable post-horses seemed to participate so intensely in my
delight, that it was impossible to make him stir. After many vain
attempts to induce him to change his position, during which the
postilion repeatedly protested that it was only this one spot to which
he was so attached, but that if we could once get him away from it, he
would go like the devil himself, we were obliged to unharness him;--he
had begun to kick and to break our crazy equipage. In comparison with
the Irish post establishment, that of Saxony, erst so celebrated, might
fairly be called excellent. Bleeding skeletons, galled all over, starved
and superannuated, are fastened by rotten harness to your carriage, and
if you ask your postilion (whose dress consists of a few rags,) if he
thinks that such cattle can go a mile, much more a stage of twelve or
fifteen, he answers very seriously, "Sure there's no better equipage in
England; I shall take your honour there in less than nothing." Scarcely,
however, have you gone twenty steps, when something breaks, one horse is
restive, and the other falls down exhausted: this does not put him the
least out of countenance, he has always some admirable excuse ready, and
at last, if nothing else will do, he declares himself bewitched.

This was the course of things to-day. We must probably have passed the
night in the park of Gort, had not assistance and horses been most
hospitably despatched to us from the house. Notwithstanding this, our
stay was so long that it was ten before I reached Limerick. My letter is
so thick that I must send it away before its corpulence becomes
'impayable.' You will not hear of me again in less than a fortnight, as
I am determined to plunge into those wild regions, which foreign foot
has seldom trod. Pray for a prosperous journey for me; and above all,
love me with the same tenderness as ever.

Your faithful L----.

LETTER XXXIII.

_Limerick, Sept. 22d, 1828._

DEAREST FRIEND,

Limerick is the third city in Ireland, and of the kind of cities I like,
old and venerable, adorned with Gothic churches and moss-covered ruins;
with dark narrow streets, and curious houses of various dates; a broad
river flowing through its whole length, and crossed by several antique
bridges; lastly, a busy market-place, and cheerful environs. Such a city
has for me a charm like that of a wood, whose dark branches, now low,
now high, afford sylvan streets of various forms, and frequently
over-arch the way like a Gothic roof. Modern regular cities are like a
trimly cut French garden: they do not suit my romantic taste.

I was not quite well, and returned after a little walk in the town to my
inn. I found a sexton of one of the Catholic churches waiting for me; he
told me that they had rung the bells as soon as they knew of my arrival,
and hoped I would give them ten shillings as a gratuity. 'Je l'envoyai
promener.' In a few minutes a Protestant functionary of the same sort
was announced. I asked him what he wanted. "Only to warn your royal
highness against the impositions of the Catholics, who annoy strangers
in the most shameless manner, and to beg that your royal highness will
not give them anything:--at the same time I take the liberty to ask a
small contribution to the Protestant poor-house." (You must observe that
the people of this country are extremely lavish of titles to anybody who
travels with four horses.) "Go to the d----l, Protestants and
Catholics," said I in a rage, and flung the door in his face.

But this was not all; I was soon waited upon by a deputation of the
catholics, consisting of the French Consul (an Irishman,) a relation and
namesake of O'Connell, and some others, who harangued me, and begged to
present me with the Order of the Liberator. I had the greatest possible
difficulty in excusing myself from this honour, and in declining an
invitation to dine with their club. We compromised the matter by my
accepting the offer of two of them to accompany me all over the town as
ciceroni.

I resigned myself very patiently, and was first conducted to the
cathedral, a building of great antiquity, more in the style of a
fortress than of a church; the architecture solid and rude, but imposing
by its massiveness. In the interior I admired a carved chair of the most
exquisite workmanship; it is five hundred years old, and made of
bog-oak, which time has rendered black as ebony. Its rich ornaments
consisted of beautiful arabesques and most curious masks, which were
different on every side. The grave of Thomond, King of Ulster and
Limerick, though mutilated and defaced by modern additions, is a very
interesting monument. Descendants of this royal line are still in
existence. The head of the family bears the title of Marquis of Thomond,
a name which you will remember to have seen in my letters from London,
where its possessor was distinguished for the excellence of his dinners.
Ireland has many families of great antiquity, who pique themselves on
never having contracted a 'mésalliance,' a practice so common among the
English and French nobility, that pure unmixed blood (_stiftsfähiges
Blut_,[131] as we call it in Germany) is no longer to be found in either
of those kingdoms. The French nobles called these marriages for money
'mettre du fumier sur ses terres,' a joke not very flattering to the
bride.--And many an English lord owes all the present splendour of his
family to such 'fumier.'

We quitted the church, and were proceeding to visit the rock near the
Shannon, upon which the English signed the treaty after the battle of
the Boyne; a treaty which they have not been remarkably scrupulous in
observing. I remarked that we were followed by an immense crowd of
people, which increased like an avalanche, and testified equal respect
and enthusiasm. All on a sudden they shouted "Long life to Napoleon and
Marshal ----." "Good God," said I, "for whom do the people take me? As a
perfectly unpretending stranger I cannot in the least degree understand
why they seem disposed to do me so much honour." "Was not your father
the Prince of ----?" said O'Connell. "Oh no," replied I; "my father was
indeed a nobleman of rather an older date, but very far from being so
celebrated." "You must forgive us then," said O'Connell incredulously;
"for to tell you the truth, you are believed to be a natural son of
Napoleon, whose partiality to your supposed mother was well known." "You
joke," said I laughing: "I am at least ten years too old to be the son
of the great emperor and the beautiful princess." He shook his head,
however, and I reached my inn amid reiterated shouts. Here I shut myself
up, and shall not quit my retreat to-day. The people, however, patiently
posted themselves under my windows, and did not disperse till it was
nearly dark.

_Tralee, Sept. 23rd._

This morning I was again received with cries of "Long life to Napoleon
and your honour!" And while my servant, who was seated in my carriage,
and passed for Napoleon's son, drove off in the midst of cheers and
acclamations, I slipped out at a back-door, with a lad who carried my
travelling bag, and took my place in the stage, which was to convey me
to the lake of Killarney. My people had orders to wait for me in Cashel,
where I shall probably rejoin them in a fortnight.

With my present simple exterior no human being thought of assailing me
with homage; and I could not help philosophizing on this public farce,
and thinking how often the desire of glory and renown leads only to
disguise and false assumption. Certainly of all the dreams of life this
is the most shadowy! Love sometimes satisfies, knowledge tranquilizes,
art gladdens and amuses; but ambition, ambition gives only the
tormenting passion of a hunger which nothing can allay,--a chase after a
phantom which is ever unattainable.

In a quarter of an hour I was comfortably established in the
stage-coach. The passengers inside consisted of three women; one fat and
jovial, another extremely lean, and a third pretty and well
proportioned. There was also a man who had the air of a pedagogue, with
a long face, and still longer nose. I sat entrenched between the two
slender ladies, and conversed with the corpulent one, who was very
talkative. On my letting down a window she told us that she had lately
been nearly _sea-sick_ in this very coach, because an ailing lady who
sat opposite to her would not allow a window to be opened on any
account. That _she_, however, did not give it up; and after a quarter of
an hour's persuasion had succeeded in prevailing on the lady to admit of
one inch of air; a quarter of an hour after another inch, and so on,
till she manoeuvered the whole window open. "Excellent," said I; "that
is exactly the way in which women manage to get all they wish; first
_one_ inch, and then--as much as they want. How differently do men act
under similar circumstances," continued I. "An English writer, in his
directions to travellers, says, that if anybody in the mail should
insist on keeping all the windows closed, you should not enter into any
'pour parler' with him, but immediately thrust your elbow through the
window as if by accident, beg his pardon, and quietly enjoy the cool
air." The ruins of Adair now attracted our attention, and interrupted
the conversation. Further on the Shannon appeared in all its grandeur.
In some parts it is like an American river, nine miles broad, and its
shores finely wooded. At Lisdowel, a little place where we dined,
hundreds of beggars assembled as usual about the coach. One novelty
struck me; they had little wooden cups fixed at the end of long sticks,
which they reached in at the window, and thus more conveniently secured
the desired 'pence.' One beggar had built himself a sort of sentry-box
of loose stones in the road, in which he seemed to remain in a state of
perpetual bivouac. I must conclude; for the mail drives off again in a
few hours, and I want rest. More to-morrow.

_Killarney, Sept. 24th._

In the course of to-day I saw twelve rainbows, a bad omen for the
steadiness of the weather; but I receive it as a good one for me. It
promises me a many-coloured journey. The company had dropped off, one by
one, like ripe fruit, and I found myself alone with an Irish gentleman,
a manafacturer from the north, when I entered the pretty cheerful town
of Killarney, where the incessant resort of English tourists has almost
introduced into the inns English elegance and English prices. We
immediately inquired for boats, and for the best way of seeing the lake,
but were told that it was imposible to go on in such a storm: no boat
could 'live on the lake,' as the fisherman expressed it. An English
dandy, who had joined us during breakfast, ridiculed these assurances;
and as I, you know, am also rather incredulous about _impossibilities_,
we outvoted the manufacturer, who showed very little ardour for the
undertaking, and embarked, 'malgré vent et marée,' near Ross Castle, an
old ruin not far from Killarney.

We had a capital boat, an old characteristic-looking grey-headed
steersman, and four sturdy rowers. The heaven was as if torn open; in
some places blue, in others various shades of gray; but for the most
part raven-black. Clouds of all forms rolled in wild disorder, now and
then tinged by a rainbow, or lighted by a pale sunbeam. The high
mountains scarcely appeared through their gloomy veil, and on the lake
all was like night. The Black waves heaved in busy and ceaseless tumult;
here and there one bore a crest of snow-white foam. As the motion was
nearly as great as at sea, I was slightly sea-sick. The manufacturer was
pale from fear; the young Englishman, proud of his amphibious nature,
laughed at us both. Meanwhile the storm piped so loud that we could
hardly hear each other speak; and when I asked the old steersman where
we should land first, he said, "At the Abbey, if we can land anywhere."
This did not sound encouraging. Our boat, which was the only one on the
lake, for even the fishermen would not venture out, danced so fearfully
up and down without making the smallest way, in spite of all the efforts
of the rowers, that the manufacturer began to think of wife, children
and manufactory, and peremptorily insisted on returning, as he had no
intention of sacrificing his life to a party of pleasure. The dandy on
the other hand was ready to burst with laughter: he protested that he
was a member of the Yacht Club, and had seen very different sort of
danger from this; and promised the rowers, who would rather have been at
home, money without end if they would but hold out. For my own part, I
followed General Yermoloff's maxim, "neither too rash nor too timid,"
took no part in the contest, wrapped myself in my cloak, and awaited the
issue in peace. It seems I had all the beauty of the scene to myself;
one of my companions being prevented from seeing it by fear, the other
by self-complacency. For some time we struggled with the waves, on which
we floated like sea-birds in storm and darkness; till at last such a
violent wind came upon us from a gorge in the mountains opposite to
which we lay, that it grew rather too serious even for the 'member of
the Yacht Club,' and he acceded to the request of the steersman, to row
back with the wind, and land on an island till the storm abated a
little, which was generally the case about noon.

This happened as he predicted: and after encamping for some hours in
Innisfallen, a lovely little islet with beautiful groups of trees and
ruins, we were able to continue our voyage. All the islands of this
little lake, even to the smallest, called the Mouse, which is only a few
yards long, are thickly clothed with arbutus, and other evergreens. They
grow wild; and both in summer and in winter enliven the scene with the
bright colours of their flowers and fruit. The forms of many of these
islets are as curious as their names. They are generally called after
O'Donaghue. Here is O'Donaghue's 'White Horse,' on whose rocky hoofs the
surf breaks; there, his 'Library;' further on, his 'Pigeon-house,' or
his 'Flower-garden;' and so on. But you do not know how the lake of
Killarney arose. Listen then.

O'Donaghue was the powerful chieftain of a clan inhabiting a great and
opulent city, which stood where the lake now rolls its waters. It had
everything in abundance except water; and the legend says, that the only
little spring which it possessed was the gift of a mighty sorcerer, who
called it up at the prayer of a beautiful virgin; adding a solemn
warning, that they should never forget to close it every evening with a
large silver cover which he left for that purpose. The strange forms and
ornaments seemed to confirm this wonderful command; and never was the
old custom neglected.

But O'Donaghue, a mighty and dauntless warrior (perhaps too, like
Talbot, an incredulous one,) only made merry at this story, as he called
it; and one day, being heated with more wine than usual, he commanded,
to the terror of all present, the silver cover to be carried into his
house, where, as he jestingly said, it would make him an excellent bath.
All remonstrances were vain: O'Donaghue was accustomed to make himself
obeyed: and as his terrified vassals at length dragged in their
ponderous burthen, amid groans and lamentations, he exclaimed laughing
"Never fear, the cool night air will do the water good, and in the
morning you will all find it fresher than ever." But those who stood
nearest to the silver cover turned away shuddering, for it seemed to
them as if the strange intricate characters upon it moved, and wreathed
like a knot of twisted snakes, and an awful sound appeared to come forth
mournfully from it. Fearful and anxious, they retired to rest: one alone
fled to the adjoining mountains. And now when morning broke, and this
man looked down into the valley, he thought he was in a dream;--city and
land had disappeared; the rich meadows were no more to be seen, and the
little spring bursting forth from the clefts of the earth has swelled
into a measureless lake. What O'Donaghue prophesied was true; the water
had become cooler for them all, and the new vessel had prepared for him
his last bath.

In very clear bright weather, as the fishermen assured us, some have
seen at the lowest bottom of the lake, palaces and towers glimmering as
through glass: but many have beheld, at the approach of a storm,
O'Donaghue's giant figure riding over the waves on a snorting white
horse, or gliding along the waters with the quickness of lightning in
his unearthly bark.

One of our boat's crew,--a man of about fifty, with long black hair,
which the wind blew wildly about his temples, of an earnest and quiet
but imaginative look,--was stealthily pointed out to me by one of his
companions, while they whispered in my ear that "he had met him."

You will believe that I quickly entered into conversation with this
boatman, and sought to gain his confidence, knowing that these people,
whenever they anticipate unbelief and jesting, observe an obstinate
silence. At first he was reserved; but at length he became warmed, and
swore by St. Patrick and the Virgin that what he was going to tell me
was the naked truth. He said he had met O'Donaghue at twilight, just
before the raging of one of the most terrific storms he had ever
witnessed. He had staid out late fishing; it had rained torrents the
whole day; it was piercingly cold, and without his whiskey-bottle he
could not have held out any longer. Not a living soul had been visible
on the lake for a long time,--when all at once a boat, as if fallen from
the clouds, sailed towards him; the oars plied like lightning, and yet
no rowers were visible: but at the stern sat a man of gigantic stature:
his dress was scarlet and gold, and on his head he wore a three-cocked
hat with broad gold lace. The spirit-boat passed him: Paddy fixed his
eyes intently upon it: but when the tall figure was over against him,
and two large black eyes glared forth out of the mantle, and scorched
him like living coals, the whiskey fell out of his hand, and he did not
come to himself till the rough caresses of his other half waked him.
She was in a great rage, and called him a drunken fellow:--She might
think the whiskey had brought him to that, but he knew better.

Is it not curious that the costume here described exactly corresponds
with that of our German Devil of the last century, who is now come into
such great favour again? And yet Paddy had most certainly never heard of
the Freischütz. It seems almost as if Hell had its 'Journal des Modes.'
I was extremely amused at the old man's penitence and distress after he
had finished his story. He loudly reproached himself for it, crossed
himself, and incessantly repeated, "O'Donaghue, though terrible, looked
like a 'real gentleman; 'for," said he, looking round fearfully, "'a
perfect gentleman' he was, is now, and always will remain." The younger
boatmen were not such firm believers, and seemed to have a good mind to
joke the ghost-seer a little, but his seriousness and indignation soon
overawed them all. One of these young men was a perfect model of a
youthful Hercules. With all the overflowing spirits of a body sound to
the core, he played incessant tricks, and did the work of three at the
same time.

We landed at Mucruss Abbey, which stands in Mr. Herbert's park,
notwithstanding which it is plentifully furnished with skulls and bones.
The ruins are of considerable extent, and full of interesting
peculiarities. In the court yard is a yew-tree, perhaps the largest in
the world; it not only overtops all the building, but its branches
darken the whole court, like a tent. In the first story I observed a
fire-place, on which two ivy branches, one on each side, formed a most
beautiful and regular decoration, while their leaves covered the
mantel-piece with a mass of foliage.

Our guide here gave us a curious example of the unbounded power of the
Catholic priests over the common people. Two clans, the Moynihans and
the O'Donaghues had been in a state of perpetual feud for half a
century. Wherever they met in any considerable numbers, a shillelah
battle was sure to take place, and many lives were usually lost. Since
the formation of the Catholic Association, it has become the interest of
the priests to establish peace and concord in their flocks. Accordingly,
after the fight which took place last year, they enjoined as penance
that the Moynihans should march twelve miles to the north, and the
O'Donaghues an equal distance to the south, and both pronounce certain
prayers at their journey's end; that all the lookers on should make a
pilgrimage of six miles in some other direction; and in case of a
repetition of the offence, the penance to be doubled. All this was
executed with religious exactness; and ever since the war is at an end.

Continuing our progress for about three miles on this side the lake, we
landed on a thickly wooded shore, and visited O'Sullivan's waterfall,
which, swollen by the rain, was doubly magnificent. The luxuriance of
the trees and trailing of the plants which overhang it, and the cave
opposite, in which you stand protected from the wet to view this foaming
cataract, increase the picturesque and wild beauty of the scene. Here
are sweet lonely walks, which lead over the mountains to a village
imbedded in a wood, and cut off from all the world.

But as the sun was struggling with the clouds, and we were soaked
through and through (by the heavens and the lake whose waters had more
than once washed over us,) and very weary, we resolved to close our
labours for to-day, and to return by Lady Kenmare's pretty villa.

As we had still about four miles to go by water, the handsome young
fellow, who by-the-bye, in spite of his athletic frame, had a most
remarkable resemblance to Mademoiselle Sontag, offered to bet three
shillings that he would row us home in half an hour. The old ghost-seer
would not undertake such an exertion, but young Sontag declared he would
row for him. We accepted the wager, and now flew like an arrow across
the lake. Never did I see a finer exhibition of power and persistency,
amid constant singing, jokes, and sportive tricks. The rowers won their
wager only by half a minute, but received from us more than double their
bet, which all promised with great glee to drink in the course of the
night. To conclude the whole, they held a conversation, already got up
for the purpose, with the echo of the walls of Ross Castle. The answers
had always some double meaning; for instance, 'Shall we have a good
bed?'--answer, 'Bad,' and so on.

_Sept. 25th._

Unfortunately two Englishmen of my acquaintance arrived to-day, and
joined us, which destroyed my beloved incognito; for though I am no
'exalted personage,' I find as much pleasure in it as if I were. When
one is unknown, one always escapes some _gene_, and gains some freedom
the more, however inconsiderable one may be. As I could not help myself
in this case, I contrived at least to perform half this day's tour by
land with my worthy friend the manufacturer, and let the three
Englishmen go together by boat. It was the same which we had yesterday,
and had then engaged for to-day. My poney had the high sounding name of
'the Knight of the Gap.' He was but a recreant knight, however, and
would not move without whip and spur. Before we came to the great ravine
or gap, from which he takes his name, we had a very beautiful view of
the mountains from a hill which rises in the midst of the plain.
Mountain, water, and trees, were so happily distributed as to produce
the more refreshing harmony:--the long ravine appears all the wilder and
more, monotonous; in the style of Wales, but not so vast. In one part of
it a large mass of rock loosened itself some years ago, and lies, split
in two, across the road. A man had the project of excavating these
pieces of rock as a hermitage, but remained faithful to his strange
dwelling only three months. The people, with their usual energy of
expression, call it "the madman's rock." Some way further on we saw an
old woman cowering on the road, whose appearance exceeded all that has
ever been invented in fairy tales. Never did I see anything more
frightful and disgusting: I was told that she was a hundred-and-ten
years old; and had survived all her children and grandchildren. Although
in an intellectual point of view reduced to a mere animal, all her
senses were in tolerable preservation. Her form was neither human nor
even animal, but resembled rather an exhumed corpse reanimated. As we
rode by, she uttered a piteous whine, and seemed satisfied when we threw
her money. She did not reach however to pick it up, but sank back into
her former torpor and apathy. All the furrows of her livid face were
filled with black dirt, her eyes looked diseased, her lips were of a
leaden blue; in short, imagination could conceive nothing so shocking.

We met our boat at Brandon Castle, a ruin rendered habitable, with a
high tower and neglected pleasure-grounds. There are some pieces of
water through which our guides carried us on their backs. The boat
appeared 'à point nommé;' it sailed round a projecting point just as we
reached the shore, and had on board the best bugleman in Killarney. He
blew a sort of Alpine horn with great skill, and called forth many a
delightful echo. We passed the arch of a bridge, on which, when the
waters are swollen, boats are often wrecked. Our bugleman told us that
he had been twice upset here, and the last time nearly drowned. He
wished, therefore, to be put on shore, and climb along the rocks past
this formidable place; but the old steersman would not consent,
declaring that if the strange gentlemen remained in the boat it became
him to stay, and be drowned with them. We all passed quite safely
however.

The rock called "The Eagle's Nest," which is the almost constant abode
of those kingly birds, is of a fine and imposing form. Not far from it
is Coleman's Leap,--two rocks standing upright in the water at some
distance; on which are the marks of feet, three or four feet deep in the
rock. Such leaps and footmarks are to be found in almost all mountains.

Our boat was fully victualled for a brilliant dinner (a thing which
Englishmen seldom forget,) and as we espied a most romantic cottage
under high chesnut trees, we determined to land here, and eat our
repast. It would have been extremely agreeable, had not the dandy
spoiled it by his affectation, his want of all feeling for the
beautiful, and his ill-natured 'persiflage' of the less polished but far
more estimable Irishman. He gave him the nickname of Liston (a
celebrated actor, who is particularly distinguished in silly absurd
characters,) and made the poor devil unconsciously act so burlesque a
part, that I was reluctantly constrained to laugh, though the whole
thing was quite 'hors de saison,' and in the most execrable taste. It is
possible, too, that the Irishman only affected stupidity, and was, in
fact, the most cunning of the two,--at least he addressed himself to
eating and drinking with such unwearied perseverance while the others
were occupied with laughing, that very little remained for them. I
cannot deny that he received powerful support in this department from
me.--A fresh-caught salmon broiled on arbutus-sticks over the fire was
an admirable specimen of Irish fare.

We rowed slowly back by moonlight, while the bugleman's horn started
echo after echo from her repose. It was an enchanting night; and
wandering from thought to thought, I reached a state of mind in which I
too could have seen ghosts. The men near me seemed to me only like
puppets; Nature alone, and the sweetness and the majesty that surrounded
me, seemed real.

Whence comes it, thought I, that a heart so loving is not social? that
men are generally of so little worth to you?--Is your soul too small for
intercourse with the intellectual world, too nearly allied to plants and
animals?--or have you outgrown the forms of this state of existence in
some prior one, and feel pent up in your too narrow garments? And when
the melancholy tones of the bugle-horn again trembled in soft notes
across the waves, and gave to my fancies the sounds of a strange
language, like the voice of invisible spirits, I felt like Göthe's
fisherman,--as if some irresistible force dragged me softly down into
the calm element, to seek O'Donaghue in his coral rocks.

Before we landed, a curious ceremony took place. The boat's crew, with
young Sontag at their head,--who always called me 'his gentleman,' in
virtue of a somewhat larger fee he had received from me,--asked
permission to lie-to at a little island, and to christen this after me,
which could only be done by moonlight. I was therefore told to stand on
a projecting rock: the six boatmen leaning on their oars formed a circle
around me, while the old man solemnly pronounced a sort of incantation
in a wild measure, which sounded awfully in this romantic scenery and
the night. Young Sontag then broke off a large arbutus branch, and
giving a twig of it first to me, and then to the gentlemen in the boat,
we fixed them in our hats; the rest he divided among his comrades, and
then asked me--with respectful earnestness what name the island--with
O'Donaghue's permission--was in future to bear? "Julia!" said I with a
loud voice:--on which this name was repeated, not very accurately, three
times with thundering hurrahs. A third man now took a bottle filled with
water, delivered a long address in verse to O'Donaghue, and threw the
bottle with all his might against a piece of rock, so that it broke into
a thousand pieces. A second bottle filled with whiskey was then drunk to
my health, and a threefold cheer again given to Julia Island. The
boatmen, to whom the name was strange, took it for mine, and henceforth
called me nothing but Mr. Julia, which I heard with a melancholy
satisfaction.

Your domains are thus increased by an island on the romantic lake of
Killarney: it is only a pity that the next company that lands on the
same spot will probably rob you of it; for doubtless such christenings
take place as often as godfathers are to be found. The real child, the
whiskey-bottle, is always at hand. Nevertheless, I enclose an arbutus
leaf from the identical sprig which flourished on my hat, that you may
at least retain undisputed possession of something from your island.

_Glengariff, Sept. 26th._

To write to you to-day is really an effort which deserves reward; for I
am excessively tired, and have, like my father Napoleon, been obliged to
drink coffee incessantly to keep me awake.[132]

I left Killarney at nine o'clock in the morning in a car of the most
wretched construction, and followed the new road which leads along the
upper and lower lake to the Bay of Kenmare. This road discloses more
beauties than are seen from the lakes themselves, which have the great
disadvantage of affording a picturesque view on one side only,--the
other shore is quite flat. On the road which lies along the side of the
mountain and through a wood, every turn presents you with pictures,
which are the more beautiful from being framed. I remark, generally,
that views seen from the water lose: they want the principal thing--the
foreground.

Near a beautiful cascade, and in the most charming wilderness, though
not far from the road, a merchant has built himself a villa, and
surrounded it with a garden and park. He must have expended at least
five or six thousand pounds,--perhaps much more,--and yet the land is
the property of his family only for ninety-nine years; at the expiration
of that time it falls, together with all that is upon it, to the lord of
the soil, Lord Kenmare, and must be delivered up to him in perfect
repair. No German would feel disposed to spend his money in decorative
improvements on such terms: but in England,--where almost the whole soil
belongs either to the government, the church, or the powerful
aristocracy, and therefore can seldom be purchased in fee; where, on the
other hand, industry, fostered by a wise government, in alliance with
agriculture, has enriched the middling and trading classes,--such
contracts are extremely common, and obviate many of the inconveniences
of the distribution of landed property, without diminishing its great
utility to the state.

The ascent now became steeper and steeper, and we soon found ourselves
in the midst of bare heights; for vegetation here seldom extends above
midway up the mountains. It is not as in Switzerland, where luxuriant
verdure reaches almost to the snowy region. To take Switzerland as a
standard by which to try Ireland, would however be absurd. Both
countries afford romantic beauties of a totally different character;
both excite admiration and astonishment at the sublime works of Nature,
though in Switzerland they are on a more colossal scale. The road was so
winding, that after half an hour's climbing we found ourselves precisely
over the cottage I mentioned, which with its shining gray thatch looked,
at that depth, like a little mouse sunning itself in the green
grass;--for the sun, after a long struggle, had at length become
undisputed lord of the heavens.

Eight miles from Killarney we reached the highest point of the road,
where stands a solitary inn. You look down upon the broad valley, in
whose lap lies the greater part of the three lakes, so that you behold
them all with one glance.

From this point the road descends, leading between naked mountains of
bold forms to the sea. It was fair-time when I arrived in Kenmare, and I
could hardly penetrate through the bustling crowd with my one-horse
vehicle, especially from the number of drunken men who would
not--perhaps could not--get out of the way. One of them fell in
consequence of an attempt to do so, and knocked his head so violently on
the pavement that he was carried away senseless,--a thing of such common
occurrence that it attracted no attention. The skulls of Irishmen appear
to be universally of a more firm and massive construction than those of
other people, probably because they are trained to receive shillelah
blows. While I dined, I had another opportunity of observing several
affrays. First a knot of people collect, shouting and screaming; this
rapidly thickens; and all at once, in the twinkling of an eye, a hundred
shillelahs whirl in the air, and the thumps,--which are generally
applied to the head,--bang and snap like the distant report of
fire-arms, till one party has gained the victory. As I was now at the
fountain-head, through the mediation of mine host I bought one of the
finest specimens of this weapon, yet warm from the fight. It is as hard
as iron, and that it may be sure to do execution, it is also weighted at
the end with lead.

The celebrated O'Connell is now residing at about thirty miles from
hence, in his solitary fortress in the most desert region of Ireland. As
I have long wished to know him, I sent a messenger from this place, and
determined, while waiting for his answer, to make an excursion to
Glengariff Bay, whither I accordingly set out as soon as I had dined.

Driving is now completely at an end: I can proceed only on a poney or on
foot. I set out, a poney carrying my baggage, and I and my guide walking
by his side. If either of us were tired, the good little horse was to
carry us too. The sun soon set, but the moon shone bright. The road was
not uninteresting, though horribly bad, often leading through bog and
brook without bridge or stepping-stone. It became indescribably
difficult after six or eight miles, where we had to climb a high and
nearly perpendicular hill, treading only on loose and pointed stones,
from which we slipped back at every step nearly as far as we went
forward. The descent on the other side was still worse, especially when
a mountain intercepted the moon's light. I was so weary that I could
walk no further, and seated myself on the poney. This little creature
showed almost human intelligence. Going up-hill he helped himself with
his nose, and I think even with his teeth, as a fifth leg; and
down-hill, he wriggled with incessant twisting of his body like a
spider. When he came to a boggy place, in which there was only here and
there a stone, thrown by way of step, he crept as slowly as a sloth,
always trying first with his foot whether the stone would bear him and
his burthen. The whole scene was most singular. The night was so clear,
that I could see around me to a great distance; but nothing met my eye
save rocks ranged above rocks, of every shape and kind, standing out
gigantic, wild and sharp, against the sky. No living creature, not a
tree or bush, was to be seen, only our own shadows trailed after us; not
a sound was heard but our own voices, and sometimes the distant rush of
a mountain-stream, or more rarely the melancholy horn of a herdsman
collecting his cattle wandering amid these pathless wilds. Once only we
saw one of these cows, which, like the mountain-sheep of Wales, have
caught the shyness of wild animals. She was lying in the road, but on
our approach sprang bellowing over the rocks, and vanished in the
darkness like a black spirit.

About an hour before you reach Glengariff Bay the landscape becomes as
luxuriant and park-like as it has heretofore been dreary and barren.
Here the rocks arise in the strangest forms, out of Hesperian thickets
of arbutus, Portugal laurel, and other lovely and fragrant shrubs. Many
of these rocks stand like palaces, smooth as marble, without excrescence
or inequality; others form pointed pyramids, or long continuous walls.
In the valley sparkled solitary lights, and a gentle breeze waved the
tops of the high oaks, ashes, and birches, intermingled with beautiful
holly, whose scarlet berries were visible even by moonlight. The
magnificent bay now glittered under the web of moonbeams which lay upon
it; and I really thought myself in Paradise when I reached its shore,
and alighted at the door of a pretty cheerful inn. Cheerful as was its
exterior, mourning was within its gates. The host and hostess, very
respectable people, came out to receive me, dressed in deep mourning. On
my inquiring the cause, they told me that her sister, the most beautiful
girl in Kerry, eighteen years of age and the picture of health, died the
day before of a brain-fever, or rather, of the ignorance of the village
doctor:--the poor woman added, weeping, that a week's illness had
changed her to forty, so that nobody could recognize the corpse of the
once blooming girl, or those sweet features which were so lately the
pride of her parents and the admiration of all the young men in the
neighbourhood.

She lies close by my bed-room, dear Julia! parted from me only by a few
boards.--Four feet from her stands the table at which I am writing to
you. Such is the world;--life and death, joy and grief, are never far
apart.

_Kenmare, Sept. 27th._

At six o'clock I was stirring, and at seven in the magnificent park of
Colonel W----, brother of Lord B----, whose family possesses all the
country around the bays of Bantry and Glengariff, perhaps the most
beautiful part of Ireland. The extent of this estate is princely,
although in a pecuniary point of view not so considerable, the greater
part of the land, consisting of uncultivated rocks and mountains, which
pay only the rent of romantic beauties and magnificent views. Mr. W----
's park is certainly one of the most perfect creations of that kind, and
owes its existence entirely to his perseverance and good taste. It is
true, that he could nowhere have found a spot of earth more grateful for
his labours; but it seldom happens that art and nature so cordially
unite. It is enough to say that the former is perceptible only in the
most perfect harmony; otherwise, it appears to vanish into pure
nature:--not a tree or a bush seems planted by design. The vast
resources of distant prospect are wisely husbanded; they come upon the
eye by degrees, and as if unavoidably: every path is cut in a direction
which seems the only one it could take without constraint and artifice:
the most enchanting effects of woods and plantations are produced by
skilful management, by contrast of masses, by felling some, thinning
others, clearing off or keeping down branches; so that the eye is
attracted now into the depths of the wood, now above, now below the
boughs; and every possible variety within the region of the beautiful is
produced. This beauty is never displayed naked, but always sufficiently
veiled to leave the requisite play for the imagination: for a perfect
park,--in other words, a tract of country idealized _by art_,--should be
like a good book, which suggests _at least_ as many new thoughts and
feelings as it expresses.

The dwelling-house is not visible till you reach an opposite height; it
then suddenly emerges from the mass of wood, its outline broken by
scattered trees in groups, and its walls garlanded with ivy and roses
and creeping plants. It was built after the plan of the possessor; in a
style not so much Gothic as antiquely picturesque, such as a delicate
feeling of the suitable and harmonious conceived to be in keeping with
the surrounding scenery. The execution is excellent; for the imitation
of the antique is quite deceptive. The ornaments are so sparingly and so
suitably interspersed, the whole so well constructed for habitation and
comfort, and the part which appears the oldest has such a neglected and
uninhabited air, that the impression it made, on me at least, completely
answered the intention of the architect; for I took it to be an old
abbey, lately rendered habitable, and modernized just so far as our
habits rendered necessary. At the back of the house are hot-houses and a
walled garden in beautiful order, both connected with the
sitting-rooms,--so that you live in the midst of flowers, tropical
plants and fruits, without leaving the house. The climate is the most
favourable possible for vegetation,--moist, and so warm that not only
azaleas, rhododendrons, and all sorts of evergreens stand abroad through
the winter, but even, in a favourable aspect, camellias. Dates,
pomegranates, magnolias, lyriodendrons, &c. attain their fullest beauty;
and the three last are not even covered. The situation affords extensive
views, remarkable variety, and yet a complete whole, enclosed within
high mountains. Bantry and Glengariff bays are seas in miniature, and
supply to the eye the want of the ocean. On the land side the wavy lines
of mountain seem nearly endless.

The lesser bay of Glengariff, which stretches in front of the house, is
nine miles, the other fifty miles in circumference. Among the mountains
immediately opposite to the park rises another sugar-loaf, and at its
foot a narrow line of hills stretches into the midst of the bay, where
its termination is picturesquely marked by a deserted fort. The park
itself lies along one entire side of the bay, and at its lesser end
borders on that of Bantry, where Lord B----'s house forms the principal
object from this side. This whole beautiful domain was called out of
nothing only forty years ago, and is yet only half finished. Such a work
deserves a crown: and the excellent man who with slender means, but with
singular talent and perseverance, has accomplished it, ought to be held
up as a model to those Irish proprietors who spend their money abroad. I
heard with real satisfaction, that on his and Lord B----'s estates
party hate is unknown. Both are Protestants,--all their 'tenants' are
Catholics; nevertheless they render an obedience as boundless as it is
voluntary and cordial. Colonel W----, indeed, lives like a patriarch
among them, as I learnt from the common people themselves, and settles
all their differences, so that not a penny is spent in the wire-drawings
of the law.

You may be sure that I was eager to make the acquaintance of so
admirable a man: I esteemed myself, therefore, highly favoured by
fortune in meeting him in the park inspecting the operations of his
workmen. Our conversation took a very interesting and, to me, very
instructive turn. I readily accepted his invitation to breakfast with
him and his family; and found in his wife a lady with whom I had made a
transient acquaintance in the whirl of London. She received so
unexpected a guest most cordially, and introduced me to her two
daughters of seventeen and eighteen. They are not yet out; for as I have
told you, in England, where they bring out horses 'sans comparaison' too
early, the poor girls are let to grow almost old before their
leading-strings are taken off and they are launched into the wicked
world.

The family show me all possible civility and kindness; and as the ladies
saw me so passionate a lover of nature, they urged me to stay some days,
that I might visit the various wonders of their neighbourhood,
especially the celebrated waterfall, and view from Hungry Hill, in their
company. It was impossible for me to stay, as I had already announced
myself at O'Connell's; but shall certainly avail myself of their
invitation on my way to Cork, for such society is not of the kind that I
shun.

I therefore contented myself for the present with taking a long walk
with the whole family, first along the bay, to obtain a general view of
the park and garden; then into a wood, in which Lord B---- has a
'shooting lodge.' This spot is as if invented for a romance. All that
the most secluded solitude, the richest vegetation, the freshest and
greenest meadows, surrounded by rocks and mountains; valleys on whose
sides precipitous walls of rock, sometimes a thousand feet high,
thickly-wooded glens, a rapid torrent dashing over masses of rock and
over-arched by picturesque bridges of trunks and arms of trees; groves
amid which the sunbeams play, and the cool waters refresh a thousand
wild flowers; animals sporting about in joyous security, majestic eagles
and gay-plumed singing birds, all rendered doubly dear to the poetic
heart by the sweetest repose and retirement;--all that such elements can
produce is here found combined in the richest profusion. With melancholy
regret I quitted these enchanting fancies of our dear mother earth, and
tore myself away, when we reached the rustic gate, at which my guide and
poney were already waiting for me.

As I took leave of my new friends, and turned my back on the lovely
valley, the heavens were overclouded anew, and on my entrance into the
dreary rocky region which I described to you yesterday, assumed the hue
most suited to my disposition and to the surrounding objects. Tired of
my long ride of yesterday, I wished to walk; but on my inquiring for my
over-shoes, which the wetness of the road rendered needful, I found that
the guide had lost one of them; and as fine scenery is better enjoyed
dry-footed, I sent him back, hoping to restore to my sorrowful galoche
its faithful mate, at least for the morrow: for to-day I resolved to
continue my way through thick and thin on foot.

A soft rain began to fall,--one mountain after another was veiled from
sight; and I wandered on, to the region where only the vast bones of the
earth are visible, casting back many a melancholy lingering thought to
the lost paradise. Meanwhile the rain became more and more heavy, and
sudden gusts of wind soon announced a serious storm. I had to climb the
high mountain which lies in the middle of the first half of the way, and
already I was met by torrents of water which gushed like little cascades
through every cleft. As I am seldom in the way of enjoying such a bath
in the open air, I waded with a great feeling of satisfaction and
pleasure through the streams, throwing myself in some degree into the
pleasurable state of mind of a duck. Nothing of that kind is, as you
know, impossible to my mobile fancy. But as the weather became every
minute more dark and stormy, my thoughts also became more gloomy, and
indeed fell almost into the fashionable scornful satanic vein. The
superstition of the mountains surrounded me; I could not withstand it,
and Rübezahl, the Bohemian Huntsman, elfs, fairies, and the Evil One
himself, all passed before my mind; and I asked myself, "why should not
the Devil appear to me, as well as to other respectable gentlemen?" At
this instant I reached the highest point of the steep mountain.

The storm howled furiously, water fell in sheets from the heavens, and
the deep basin below me appeared now and then for a minute from behind
its black curtain, and then vanished again in the rolling mist and the
gathering twilight.

A sudden gust of wind now completely inverted my umbrella, and nearly
threw me down. I felt as if some giant fist had struck me. I turned and
saw--nothing:--But how? does not something move there in the corner?--by
heaven it does! My amazement was not slight when I now discerned, as
clearly as darkness and rain would permit, a figure clad in black from
head to foot, with a scarlet cap on its head advancing at a slow and
limping pace towards me.

Now, dear Julia, 'est-ce moi ou le diable qui écrira le reste?' or do
you think I am inventing a fable to amuse you. 'Point du
tout'--_Ditchung und Wahrheit_[133] is my motto. At all events I must
close my letter here: I venture to hope my next will be expected with
some impatience. Wholly yours,

L----

LETTER XXXIV.

_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,

L----.

LETTER XXXV.

_Glengariff, October 4th, 1828._

DEAR JULIA,

To-morrow I set out, 'et bien à regret.' I carry with me a precious
memorial,--one of the few perfectly delightful pictures which I have met
with in my wanderings.

In my walk this morning, I found heath-plants of such luxuriance hanging
from the rocks, that one stalk measured ten feet in length. The
gardener, who accompanied me, drew my attention to another curiosity. In
a secluded spot, not far from the pretty rustic dairy, a swarm of bees
had made a large honeycomb in the open air; it was suspended to the
branch of a blackberry-bush in the thicket. The weight of the honey
bowed the branch to the earth; and they were still busily adding to the
store. The dairy is roofed with earth, out of which the purple heather
is growing. A clear spring flows through it, on whose banks the Egyptian
lotus thrives admirably, and stands through the winter.

In the afternoon I rode out with Colonel W---- to visit an eagle's nest.
We first passed the belt of wood in which Lord B----'s pretty
shooting-lodge stands, then forded the swollen river three times, and
after some hours riding, reached a wild desert, where at the foot of a
perpendicular rock stand two solitary huts. About five hundred feet over
head is the eagle's eirie, in a cleft overhung with ivy. At their
hatching season they are frequently seen flying home with fowls, hares,
lambs, &c. for the family table; by some curious instinct, however, they
are warned never to carry off any thing from the two families below
them, but to respect the same laws of hospitality which are observed
towards themselves. I was greatly disappointed that these monarchs of
the rocks did not make their appearance; they were both gone on some
distant expedition.

We returned across the Sugar-loaf. This is the haunt of a wild huntsman,
and no mortal tally-ho may sound as far as his right of sporting
extends. If any attempt it, he quickly rushes by with all his wild
troop, and hurries the rash offender along in his train. He is of a
totally different nature from his German comrade. He is an elfin king,
as small as Tom Thumb, splendidly dressed in emerald green, and
accompanied by a train mounted on horses as big as rats, who gallop over
rock and sea with the swiftness of lightning. The Sugar-loaf itself is
the great resort of all the Irish fairies: its caverns are full of
fossil-shells and stones of fantastic shapes, which excite the curiosity
of the visitor; but no native would pass a night in one of them for all
the treasures the earth contains. From the summit of this mountain, or
rather rock, down to the cavern, a strange sport of nature is visible in
clear weather;--two channels or grooves, winding, but always parallel,
which in the distance look exactly like ruts: what could they be but the
track of the fairy queen's carriage, in which indeed many an old
mountaineer has seen her at rise or set of sun, riding in unearthly pomp
to grace the annual feast with her presence. The old man would doubtless
be ready to confirm his statement with the most solemn oaths,--for he
believes it. This it is which gives to the legends of the Irish such a
wonderful charm that it is almost impossible to withstand it.

Colonel W----, who was formerly a passionate lover of the chase, knows
every mountain in the district from the summit to the foot, and 'chemin
faisant,' told me so many interesting particulars about them, that my
letter would never come to an end if I attempted to make it the faithful
echo of all his stories.

Hunting is here attended with dangers of no trifling kind. They are of
three sorts: first, the being suddenly surprised in the midst of the
rocks with one of those cold fogs which here frequently come on, and
enwrap the wanderer with almost instant darkness and icy chill; he has
then only the alternative either of perishing from cold (for the fogs
sometimes hang in the gorges for whole days and nights,) or of falling
headlong down some invisible precipice. If he is in favour with the
fairies, he emerges happily into light; but wo to him who has incurred
their displeasure!--his friends find him the next morning frozen or
dashed to pieces. The second peril is of quite a different kind. On the
wide interminable tablelands, which blend with the horizon like the sea,
not a bush or hillock breaking the sublime monotony, are extensive bogs,
which the game (the grouse, a bird somewhat like a partridge, peculiar
to the British islands,) chooses as its favourite haunt. These bogs are
full of little clumps like mole-hills, formed by the heather, scattered
about at intervals. The bogs can only be traversed by jumping from one
of these clumps to another: if in the ardour of the chase the sportsman
misses his leap, and does not find another clump close by to jump to
instantly, he is certain to sink in the morass. The only means of
deliverance is instantly to stretch out his arms, or to hold his gun
horizontally, till help arrives, or till he can struggle on to the next
clump.

But worse and more tremendous than all this, is an attack from one of
the wild oxen which inhabit these mountains. Colonel W---- has been
several times in this predicament, and always had the good fortune to
escape, though in different ways. Once he or his servant shot the bull
before he came up with them: another time he took refuge in one of the
bogs I have just described, where the furious beast dare not follow him,
but laid regular siege to him for more than an hour. The history of his
latest adventure seemed to me particularly curious, and proves that man,
with strength, courage and address, may single-handed resist any other
living creature. Colonel W---- was accompanied by a friend, and by a
native of these mountains, who led the dogs, and was furnished with a
long white staff, such as is in use here. Just as the Colonel's friend
shot a grouse, he saw at the distance of about eighty feet a bull
advancing furiously towards them. Colonel W---- called out to his friend
to load instantly, while he fired; and was taking aim, when the man
called out, "Promise me a glass of whiskey extra, and I will manage the
beast by myself." W---- fired, but his gun missed fire; his friend had
not loaded; and he had hardly time to call out, "You shall have a dozen
bottles," when this hero of the mountains ran towards the ox at the same
speed with which it was rushing upon them. In the twinkling of an eye
they were together. The young man, with singular dexterity, caught the
horns of the bull, whose head grazed the earth, darted a step sideways,
and then during the spring of his antagonist, making a similar step
backwards, with the rapidity of lightning caught the bull's tail,
without letting go his stick. All this was done with the quickness of
thought; and now began the strangest race that ever was beheld. The bull
tried by every means to get rid of the burthen hanging at his tail, but
in vain. Up hill and down, over rock, and through river, he ran like
mad; while his companion, like a Kobold, swung himself over every
obstacle, often flying rather than running, at the end of the creature's
tail. In a short time the bull was wearied by fear and fatigue, and at
length sank down exhausted and powerless at the foot of a green
declivity, immediately in front of the spot where Colonel W---- and his
friend beheld with astonishment the issue of the contest. But his
punishment only now began, and probably his vicious temper was on that
day cured for ever. For now the mountaineer began to employ his stick,
weighted with lead and armed with an iron point, which he had
providentially kept as an instrument of correction, and belabouring the
beast with all his might, forced him to crawl down the mountain, where
he at length sank, with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and panting
for breath, at Colonel W----'s feet, who left him in this state of
total exhaustion. The young peasant, whom Colonel W---- described as a
wonder of youthful power and agility, seemed, on the contrary, not the
least fatigued by his chase, nor vain of his achievement; but coolly
looking about for his powder-horn and his dogs, did not expend a word on
the past, except just to wink to Colonel W----, and say, "Now, master,
don't forget the bottles."

The sight of a fox-chase among these rocks must be magnificent,--now
sweeping along their heights or sides,--now fox and hounds darting down
the steep declivities, all suddenly vanishing like a shadowy picture in
the gorges. Colonel W---- once saw such a one from Hungry Hill, in which
the whole pack ran under the arch of the waterfall, while their cry
mingled wildly with the roaring of the cataract, till at last Reynard
experienced the same lot which had befallen three or four of the dogs;
he slipped from the polished rock, and fell, amid shouts and halloos,
from a height of several hundred feet into the midst of the hunters, who
were looking on at their ease from the meadow below.

Shall I tell you any more stories?--Well, then, once more for witches
and fairies: saddle me the poney, and away to the land of tales and
legends; of the land-rocks, and the waves which for ages have fretted
them away with their snow-white teeth.

Jump up behind me, Julia, 'en croupe,' like an Irish girl, and follow me
quickly through the air, back to Iveragh, O'Connell's wild region. Truly
is it a land of the eagle and the vulture, of the stormy wave and the
rugged rock! But there is a spot in Ballinskellig bay, not far from
O'Connell's Castle-abbey, where in old times many a dance was danced,
and many a wedding celebrated. For peaceful and lovely was the lonely
spot, with its velvet turf; its high walls of rock sheltered it from the
storm, and sand smooth as satin edged the sea, which seemed to sleep,
like the entire creation, in the clear moonlight, its little billows
only lightly ruffled by the zephyr's breath, rolling and curling with a
dreamy soothing motion.

LETTER XXXVI.

_Macroom, October 5th, 1828._

DEAREST ONE,

The parting was hard; but you who wish me in a very different place,
will say that I have staid quite long enough. I tore myself away from
these excellent people and their romantic dwelling. It was Sunday; and
the worthy lady, in spite of her manifest regard for me, could not help
exclaiming reproachfully, "But how is it possible that a good man like
you can set out upon a journey on a Sunday?" You know that the English
have stamped this day with a sort of death-like character; dancing,
music and singing are forbidden; indeed, the severely pious hang their
canary-birds in some remote corners, that no voice of song may offend
their ears during these holy hours. This idolatry of the Sunday began in
the time of James the First, and was the cause of furious dissentions.
No bread must be baked, and no useful work performed; but drunkenness
and other vices thrive more luxuriantly than on the week-days. I have
observed that the streets are never so bestrewed with drunken people as
on Sunday evenings; nor, as is well known to the police, are the resorts
of vice ever so filled. Many English people think dancing on a Sunday
unquestionably a greater crime than a little theft or so; and I lately
read in print a history of Whitby, in which it was seriously affirmed,
that the rich abbey there was doubtless destroyed because the monks did
not only indulge in every possible crime, rape and murder not excepted,
but their sinful abbot had permitted the repairs of the abbey and other
labours to go on on a Sabbath-day.

The worthy Mrs. W---- was infected with this same strange conceit; and
it was somewhat difficult for me to excuse my half-committed sin on the
ground of urgent necessity. To appease her, I went first with the whole
family along the bay to B---- church, which was quite out of my way. In
going along, I related to her the strange vision of one of the sons of
my former excellent host, Captain B----, by which he had been induced to
go over to the Catholic church. He was, as he himself told me, a most
zealous Protestant and Orangeman, and went one day into a Catholic
chapel in Dublin, rather with the intention of making himself merry at
the ceremonies than from any better motive. But the beautiful music
touched him against his will; and as he raised his eyes to the high
altar, the Redeemer stood bodily before him, his eyes fixed intently on
him with an expression of angelic mildness. The divine vision smiled
upon him, beckoned with his hand, and then slowly ascended, still
looking fixedly at him, till at length it disappeared, borne by angels
through the dome. From this moment B---- was persuaded he was an
especial object of the divine favour; and in a few days he became a
member of _another_ church which has the exclusive privilege of ensuring
salvation, (for the orthodox English Protestants also believe that they
enjoy this monopoly.) How philosophically did my pious friends reason on
_this_ conversion! "Is it possible!" exclaimed they. "What superstition!
Without doubt this was either a feverish delirium, or the man is a
hypocrite, and has good reasons for what he does. Either he is mad, or
he invented the story for his own profit."

Oh, men, men! How justly does Christ say, "Ye behold the mote in the eye
of another; ye cannot see the beam in your own!" No doubt this is the
case with us all, more or less; and be assured I make no exception in
favour of your poor friend.

We parted at last, not without emotion; and I seated myself on a
mountain car, drawn by a horse whose appearance was by no means
brilliant. The young ladies were greatly delighted at my eccentric mode
of travelling. The journey I had to accomplish was thirty miles, and
began most tediously. After a little time the wretched horse was so
restive at going up hill, that I was obliged to alight, rather than run
the risk of being dashed down a precipice. The stubborn beast was now
forced to be constantly led, without which he would not advance a single
step. For a long while the driver trotted sturdily on by his side, but