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40.
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THE
SPORTSMAN IN IRELAND.
WITH HIS
SUMMER ROUTE
THHODOH THE
HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND,
BY A COSMOPOLITE.
; \ • • • I
IN TWO VOLUMES.
/^ - If'
V ■■■■
^^
^'<i:n.iX
VOL. I.
LONDON :
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
<;rkat marlborouoh street.
1840.
7
4^.
LONDON F. fiHOBERL, JUN , PRINTER, 51, RCPPRT 8TRBBT, HATMARKET.
TO
GEN. SIR JOHN GUISE, BART. K.C.B.,
IN TOKEN OF THE
HIGHEST ADMIRATION OF
HIS CHARACTER AS A
SOLDIER, A SCHOLAR, AND A GENTLEMAN*^
THESE PAGES ARE DEDICATED
BY THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
If in these pages political views have been taken, it is simply because none other can be taken of Ireland. So intimately bound up with the hap- piness or misery of its population is the political injustice under which it has suffered, that it is impossible that any unprejudiced tourist can avoid the unpardonable " sin" of allusion to party-feeling.
The testimony I bear is not that of a Catholic. There is no communicant of the Church of England who more proudly refers to the efficiency of its ministry, the mildness of its domination, or the usefulness of its labours. To the Church of Eng- land do we owe all the free exercise of conscientious belief; and, as I contend, the gratuitous reli^ous
VI PREFACE.
instruction with which this country is blessed — for I cannot deem that an impost on the people which has become a rent charge on the soil — and where the original landlord divides only a portion of his enormous possessions with the lecurned and benevo- lent pastor, who resides amongst the tenantry, from the labours of whom the whole value of the soil is derived. I view the division of such posses- sions as an inestimable advantage to the people ; and I believe the purpose to which that division is applied to be the advancement of religion, and the establishment of a source whence all its consolations may be safely derived.
But in Ireland it is otherwise : the Church of England is no longer the Church of England in its objects or practical benefits in Ireland — ^it becomes, indeed, the Church of Ireland, as by law established, and has no community with the charity and mild domination of its sister establishment.
Religion is the political spot which has sepa- rated one seventh from the rest of the inhabitants— a separation which has marred its equal progress with other lands — as that seventh portion consists
PREFACE.
VU
unhappily of the wealthy, the influential, and the absent. *
I have sought to represent the population of Ire- land as it is — not as it has been hitherto represented. If my observations, which were necessarily cursory, shall have excited only inquiry into the state of the Catholic peasantry, more useful purposes will have been achieved than the mere journal of the wanderings of the Sportsman in Ireland.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
|
VOLUME I. |
|
|
PAIiK. |
|
|
The Birthplace of Daniel 0*Connoll |
Frontispiece. |
|
Coltsman Castle, on the Flesk |
. 74 |
|
The Old Weir Bridge |
. 10.^ |
|
The Gap and Castle of Dunloe |
. 114 |
|
Beaufort Bridge . . . . . |
. 116 |
|
Blackwater Bridge |
. 129 |
|
The Flood ..... |
. 136 |
|
Cahirctveen ...... |
. 177 |
|
WaterviUc Lake |
. 199 |
|
Ancient BuriaUGroand on Waterville Lake |
. 20.3 |
|
Round Tower, White Strand |
. 211 |
|
Athlone Bridge . . . . . |
. 273 |
|
Galway ...... |
. 284 |
|
VOLUME IL |
|
|
Conneroara — Ballinahinch |
Frontispiece. |
|
Inverary ...... |
. 176 |
|
Inverary — Loch Fyne . . . . |
. 191 |
|
Dundarve Castle . . . . . |
. 216 |
|
Loch Awe ...... |
. 240 |
|
Tarbert ..... |
. 273 |
|
Cobbler Mountain, Loch Lomond . |
. 293 |
CONTENTS
OP
THE FIRST VOLUME.
CHAPTER I.
The Sportsman's Resolve ^The Slow Coach —The Iritfh Packet — Passengers — Irish Family — View of Ireland — The British Legtoner — His History — The Mutiny — ^The Spokesman — ^The Ponisbment — The Return — Arrival in London — The Sti- pendiary Magistrate — Arrival at Cork — Appearance of the Coast — Dreary Prospect to some ... 1
CHAPTER II.
Cork — The Harbour — Splendour and Misery — Imperial Hotel — High Charges — The Assizes — Irish Eloquence — Want of Dignity and Decorum — Irish Judges and Counsel — An Irish Case — Mike and the Cows— Theatre at Cork— The Castle Spectre — An Acting Manager — An Evening Party — Punch- drinking — Three-Card Loo and the Ladies — Female Talent and Accomplishments — Beauty of the Women — Advice to Sportsmen — Departure from Cork .18
X CONTENTS.
CHAPTER III.
Start from Cork — Wild Character of theCoantry — An Irish Coach- man—Sporting Prospects — Warning to Improvers — Pike vernu Salmon — Arrival at Macroom — Ominous Demonstrations — A False Alarm — Inn Accommodations — An Irish Waiter — Extravagant Charges — Poverty and Desolation — Taste for Mod — Commencement of Operations — A Native Sportsman
— Irish Blarney — Directions for Trolling — Incomparable Bait • ■ . . ■ 29
CHAPTER IV.
Advice to Sportsmen — Mode of Conveyance — An Irish Pony and his Food — Delight of the First Cast — Failure and Success — Irish Astonishment — An Irish Sign — Native Hospitality — A Sportsman's Dinner— Natural Magic — Lake Inchgeelah — Di- rections for Fishing in this Lake — Hints to Anglers and Sports- men in general — Character of the Kerry Peasantry — An Invi- tation to Dinner — Irish Servants ~~ An odd Establishment — An Irish Kitchen— Irish Hospitality — Wine and the Ladies — Whiskey and the Gentlemen — An Irish Dinner-Party — The Sporting Major — Longbow-ism — An Irish Angler's Exploit — Sporting Extraordinary — A Dance — Prospective Sport with the Major .... 43
CHAPTER V.
Characteristic Scenery— Encampment of the Whitefeet Rebels
— Romantic Escapes and Dangers of an Irish Gentleman — Irish Hospitality — The Lake of Inchgeelah — Delicious Treat
— Difficult Road — Inn of the Desert — Splendid View — Irish Ingenuity — History of an Irish Fisherman — His Devoted Affection — Heroic Self-devotion — Death of his Betrothed — His Filial Affection — Character of the Irish Peasantry — Sporting renewed — A Double Bite — Start for Killamey —
CONTXNTS. Zi
The River Flesk — Noble View — Coltamao Cattle — SporUng Notices — Rillamey— A Perfect Gentleman! — lU-effectt of English Generositj on the Poor of Kiliarney — Differenee between English and Irish Peasantry — The Problem Explained —Appeal to Legislators in laToor of Ireland 60
CHAPTER VI.
Arrival at Killamey — Strange Costume — Street Annoyances and Beggars — Character of the Inhabitants of Kiliarney — Lord Renmare and the Lakes — Inn Accommodation — Doherty, the Fly-maker — ^The Lions of the Lakes — The Major — Impudence and Imposition — Advantage of Private Lodgings — Price of Provisions — Impositions of Innkeepers — Hints to Anglers at Rillsmej — The Major's Narrative — Hoaxing — A Fighting Tailor — The Major's Revenge ... 82
CHAPTER VII.
First Day on the Lake — Ross Castle^Splendid View — Accidental Sport — A Disappointment — ^The evil of Sight- gazing — Scarcity of Salmon in the Lakes — Island of Innisfallen — An Impromptu Breakfast — Beauties of the Island — The Monastery — Coasting — Famous Sport — The Eagle's Nest— Extraordinary Echoes — The Pass — ^The Lower Lake — Residence of Mr. Hyde, Rector of Killamey — Trouting — Directions for Bait — How to astonish the Natives — Wonderful success of Salmon-roe — Lord Ken- mare's Cottage — ^An Angler's Dinner — Turk Lake — Its monster Trout— Angling Exploit of Lady Headley — The Msjor in his glory — Enormous Trout — More Hints to Sportsmen at Kil- lamey . . . . 96
CHAPTER VIII.
Tbe Rivers — Residences of James and John O'Connell — Lord Renmare — The Grap of Dunloe — Major Mahony — Beaufort
XII CONTENTS.
Bridge — Residence of Mr. Mailing, Member for Kerry — The River Lawne — Excellent Sport — Izaak Walton — The Major incredaloas — Sporting extraordinary — A Cure for every thing — Killarney Scandal — Lord Headley — The Irish Agents — A Stag-Hunt in the Lake — Extraordinary Scene of Irish Jollity — Timber-Hunting in the Bogs — Extinct Animals
— Unpopularity of Lord Kenmare — Reasons for it — Beauties and Merits of Killarney as a Watering Place . 114
CHAPTER IX.
Kenmare — Blackwater — Liberality of the Rev. D. M . —
Irish Cunning and Roguery — O'Rourke, the Salmon-Poacher — Story of O'Rourke and the Magistrate — Gaffing at the Falls —The Poacher in Exile— The Flood — Singular Habits of the Salmon — Ascent of the Hills — A Sudden Storm, and its con- sequences— Perils and Escapes — Fatal Catastrophe at Clydah
— The whole of the Cattle and Inhabitants destroyed by a Flood ...... 129
CHAPTER X.
A Mountaineer — Harvest-Hunters — Kerry Agents — Influence of the Catholic Clergy — Causes of that Influence — Safe Tra- velling in Ireland — Temper of the Irish Peasantry — Means for Improving their Condition — Abundance of Wild Fowl — The Secret . . . . 143
CHAPTER XI.
Return to Killarney — Kellorglin — Lake Carraght — Wales's Inn — Fishery on the Carraght River — Lob-Trout— Fishing in Lake Carraght — Disappointment — Seal-Shooting — Castle- maine Bay — Birthplace of Daniel 0*Connell — Arrival at Cahlrciveen . • • > 157
CONTENTS. XIU
CHAPTER XII.
CAhirdfcen — ComlorUble Inn —John 0*Cooiiell ~ Pbrtnit of the Libermtor — Moontmin Hanting — ^A Spoiti— n*» Bccakfiut —The Mass — State of Crime in Kerry — Puty Feodi— The Lawlors and Cooleeni — A Smasher — the River Inaj — ^Water- Tille Lake— Coartesj of Mr. Butler — Lito Lamb for Dinner — Produce of the Weirs— A lleathbed Seene 177
CHAPTER XUI.
Eoormuas Elagle — Fishing in Waterrille Lake^Moming-Break- ^t~ Island Borial-Groand — Funeral — A New Friend — The White Strand— Anecdote of the Doke of Wellington — Roaod Tower — Mallet*fishing . . 199
CHAPTER XIV.
Ad Citempore Fishing Tacht — The Knight of Kerry — Colooy of FishermeD — Fishing Arrangements — A Night's Fishing — Ao Unexpected Prize — Paddy Shea — The Perfection of Sport —A Great Haul — Cormorant Soap — Threatening Weather — Iri«h Superstition — A Storm — Courage of the Irish Fisher- men — Dangers and Escapes — A Dance — An Ereot — Dangers of the Irij^h Coast — Frightful Scene of Shipwreck — A suspi- cioos Visit — Irish Smugglers — ^Tax on the Poor ^Ian*s Comfort, Tobscco . . . .211
CHAPTER XV.
Visit to Waterville — New Mode of Angling — Mistake about the Pouto Diet of the Irish — Cobbelt right as to its Mischievous EfftKTta — Drive to Tmlee— Miserable SUte of the Peasantr>- — Prevalence of Scrofula and Consumption — Fine Moun- tain Scenery — Castlemaine — The River — The White Trout —The Lob Trout — Fine Shooting Sution for Sea-Fowl and
XIV CONTENTS.
GrooBO — Sporting EzciBeman— Folly and Rapacity of Irish Landlords — The Surgeon's Tale — The Marderers — A Mys- terious Character — Irish Coart of Justice — The Trial — The Defence — The Cross* Examination — The Verdict — The Mys- tery explained ..... 234
CHAPTER XVI.
Three pleasant Weeks — 0*Connell as a Landlord — His Occupation at Derrynane — His Devotion to the Peasantry — The Dancing- Master in Ireland — Advantages of Irelitnd over the Continent — Cheapness and Security of the Living — Farewell to Cahir- civeen — Departure for Dingle — Wild-Fowl Shooting — Fishing at Dingle — Hospitality of the resident Gentry — Trout- fishing and Grouse-shooting — Causes and Remedy of Irish Discontent — An Irish Wake— The Irish Howl— A Victim of the " Good People"— A Fairy Tale .... 261
CHAPTER XVII.
To the Shannon — Mountain Scenery — Profusion of Wild-Fowl and Hares — Listowel — Extempore Dinner — Cheap Travelling — Excellent Sport — Primitive Cooking — Mill Street — Extra- ordinary Cheapness of Living — Extreme Wretchedness of the Inhabitants — First View of the Queen of Irish Rivers, the Shannon ...... 266
CHAPTER XVIII.
Athlone — Ballinasloe Fair — Onions and Eels — ^Athlone Bridge — Lough Ree — The Shannon — Splendid Tract of Country — Suitable Harbour for Shipping — National Benefit of Railroads, if made a Government Speculation . . 273
CHAPTER XIX.
Galway — Mr. Keogh — Fishing in Lough Corrib — First Failure of the Infallible Bait — Its Causes — A New Acquaintance — The
CONTENTS.
Draw of the FemdM oftheCholerm — tintoand C«tboli the MaTor of Gal
—Its Antiqiiity— Fo — Reject paid to tbe
ofUieReT BMaryolJmmm
of Fay
CHAPTER XX.
FnluDg in Lofogfa Comb — EaonDoas Troat — The Wi Pereli and Pike— ProdoeUveiicai of the Wain— Arrival of the Major — DifBcnlty of getting a Fiahing-Boat — IndepeodeDoe of the Fishermeo — Herring Fishery— The Mayor of the Cbddagh —The Prior — ^Tbe Priesthood— Prepaiatkns for Sport . 303
THE SPORTSMAN IN IRELAND.
^^^^^^^^^^t^^s^t^^t^i^^^ti^^^^t^^t^^^i^^^^^^f^
CHAPTER I.
The Sport8Tnan*8 Resolve— The Slow Coach —The Irish Packet — Passengers — Irish Family — View of Ireland — The British Legioner — His History — The Mutiny — ^The Spokesman — The Punishment — The Return — Arrival in London — The Sti- pendiary Magistrate — Arrival at Cork — Appearance of the Coast — Dreary Prospect to some.
Who that has heard of the resources and beauties of the Emerald Isle — who that has listened to the torrents of abuse levelled against those who are at once termed her patriots and her destroyers^ her liberators and enslavers — who that has heard of the trackless mountains, the rushing torrents, the splendid rivers unsullied by a line, or of the wild birds that are undisturbed on her desolate coasts ; the honest generosity of character, the hospitable feelings, yet, albeit, the murderous villany, the bloodthirsty relentlessness of her children — who
VOL. I. B
2 THE sportsman's RESOLVE.
that has only heard of all these, but will determine at once to be convinced of the truth or falsehood of the accounts put forth — will at once seize his rod and his gun, and, delivering himself up to for- tune, make his journey unite the pleasure of wild sports with the philosophy of statistical observa- tion?
I, at all events, will for one ; and, ere I revisit the artificial shore of my birth, the Irish as they are, and not as political partisans would paint them, shall be known to me.
My preparations were simple 5 and let me en- treat all those who follow me to make their own so.
In the first place, let no London fly or rod maker impose on them by the delicate manufacture of their wares, but by all means let the gun-maker have his chance ; take a good double-barrel, pow- der, and casts for bullets, and leave the rest to fortune and my direction; also a good woollen suit, one change for dress, a mackintosh, a well- strapped wallet — ^for there is much in its being well strapped.
These are all that can be required by or desirable to those who would really make the tour of a sportsman through Ireland. Every desirable comfort will follow in its proper place; and it should not be forgotten that the greatest incon- venience of travelling is the travelling with too
THE SLOW COACH. 3
many conveniences. But, as I hate people who would have to make their arrangements all tend- ing inevitably to embarrass their progress and restrict their independence^ we will suppose the usual horn-blowing has taken place, the usual number of now despised coachmen have heen/eed^ and that we find ourselves half asleep and half awake at BristoL
We judge of the distance of places by the time consmned in reaching them ; in fiact, time if dis- tance, and Bristol is a heavy journey. Bristol it- self is a sort of a slow coach. It has, by its paltry efforts at inordinate gain in the harbour dues, wrapped itself up in a dignified independence, while all other ports have surpassed its accommo- datiims, and withdrawn its trade. Even the Great Western does not help it : we must still be bugled down, and cramped in four insides. But we are there.
And this is the Irish packet? you need not answer — I perceive it is. Those shoeless wretches, shivering under the March blasts, and crouching midst the packages for a momentary protection — the surly officers who have just presented them with their free passage to their native land ; the hopeless gaze of that suffering mother, who de- prives herself of her ragged shawl that she may shelter her still more suffering infant; all these
B2
4 THE IRISH PACKET.
proclaim the destination of the vessel. Midst the hoarse orders of the bluflF commander she moves in stately grandeur down the river, and carries with her the farewells, the hopes, the happiness of many !
It is needless to describe the Clifton Rocks. I perceive the pencils of the lady passengers are at work, while the obsequious gentlemen surrounding them gaze on the performances, and admire the wonders of nature, but more those of art.
The massive rocks of the extended scene give rise to general hilarity, and the ever- varying range on each side calls forth the admiration of the Creator's works.
But the sea-breeze now breaks on us. The hitherto stately vessel yields to the coming tide. Now shawls and cloaks are in requisition, and the sketches are left for future finishing and future encomiums. Less is heard of the beauty of sur- rounding objects, and more of personal comfort.
The cabin is sought by some, where fires, books, and all the comforts which the gaudy packet can afford, are at hand. The sea rises — the scudding squalls dash over the angry spray — there is more silence and more self among the previously gay and joyous crowd on the front deck; each looks to himself; while the storm increases, and the rains descend.
Let us survey the deck. Not one of the many.
THE PASSENGERS. 5
WW wrapped in all the comforts which art can supply, has condescended to do so. Each passenger has selected his bed, and made his inquiries for dinner ; but where is to be your bed — where your dinner, ye homeless, hapless wanderers — cursed in your birth-place — whose crime is that you are the offspring of a doomed land ! a land^ beauteous to the eye, fertile in its resources, yet whose shipless harbours yawn in hospitality without a guest — upon whose shores the wild sea howls, and the angry billows alone unite to break the silence of a gloomy solitude !
See that father and mother, with their helpless race of children ; behold them shivering in the bleak March blast, and now and then submitting to the spray which dashes over their half-covered limbs ! That cliild, squalid and bare, crouching beneath the mother's scanty rags ; behold her ! She is hiunan — those blue eyes seem to speak btelligence; she looks wistfully, beseechingly^ yet modestly. It is for food she asks. Inquire their little history : it is the history of aU. That father is strong, active, and not deficient in btelligence. You see he does not want feeling for those dependant on him ; he has covered the children with his grey frieze coat, and bears the falling rain with a manly defiance. Unable to discharge the heavy imposts of his landlord and
6 IRISH FAMILY.
the tithe, he has been expatriated ; he has sought what he imagined was the golden land ; he has sought the English coast. Prejudice and the poor- laws have been his unconquerable foes. Employ- ment was nowhere to be foimd : and. after a year's travelling from place to place. dJng which the hedge and the sheep hovel have been his only covering, and the covering of his wife and little ones, lie has at length been found guilty of being destitute, and condemned to — his native country. The surly officer, whom you saw speaking to him at Bristol, was employed to ship him and his family safely off by the packet. Their sea-store was sup- plied, their passage was paid. The bimdle, which the enduring woman has hanging from her arm, contains potatoes ; they have been already cooked, and you will see the father frequently distributing a portion among his trembling children— God help them 1 But their native land is now in sight. A joyous exclamation is heard among some — it is among the cabin passengers. Each runs to gain a glimpse of land— of Ireland — the place of our destination.
All are pleased, except only the miserable fieanily whose patient endurance of the long sea passage, whose hunger the lowest of human food has barely appeased; — from them, and those who surroimd them, no sound of delight is heard. The counte-
VIEW OP IRELAND. /
nance of the oppressed &ther^ as he shiveringly looks down upon his children, is marked by a stem misery ; — ^his native land is indifferent to his view; it almost excites horror. For him, alas! and his, no home is there prepared ; -— he has no spot whereon to lie I no store, from which the wants of his Uttle ones shall be supplied 1 To him, his native shores present only the barren rocks of desolation and despair. This is strange, and its cause is worth inquiry ; for a cause there must be, why the child of a free country, able and willing to labour — asking only the meanest reward for his toil and zealous exertions — stained by no crime — should look to that free coimtry, and demand but bread, yet be refused. There is a cause — a deep and damning one—" if philosophy could find it out."
The morning broke ; and who that has voyaged by steam or coach does not shrink at the remem* brance of the peeping mom of March ? The face of the ocean presents a cold cheerlessness, which even the sluggish simrise does not dispel ; its rays seem rather to render still more visible the ravages of watchfulness or inebriety. Every face is without a smile ; the features are paralysed ; even the mind is benimfibed and depressed, and misery looks still more miserable.
The lower deck of the steamer was the parade of those who had known no other couch during the
8 THE BRITISH LEGIONER.
night. The wretched family I had before observed were still crouching under the packages ; the father standing, in silent suffering, over them !
Among these involuntary watchers I observed a sprightly and good-looking yoimg man, whose nether person a pair of soldier's duck trowsers, and whose upper man a simple white flannel jacket protected from the searching cold of the breaking morning. A foraging cap was stuck a la miUtaire on one side of his head. He was determinedly energetic in his promenade, and bore the inconve- nience of his slight covering and the absence of all comfort with a cheerful philosophy. I could not but admire his independent and erect form ; and, on entering into conversation with him, I soon found that he had not from habit braved so well the cold of the past night. On the contrary, he assured me that he had felt it severely, as he had but lately arrived from a warmer climate, and did not re- member the necessity of thicker clothing. Perhaps if his attention had been directed to the probable severity of the night, and the prudence of provision against it, it might not have made much difference in his arrangements, as he happened just then to be without one farthing in the world, or a single additional garment. The good humour with which he made this reply encoinraged me to pursue my inquiries as to his history.
HIS HISTORY. 9
*' I was tolerably well born, your honour, though I could not live without work. I did work till I found rent too high and produce too small to get on with. I was * noticed;' that is, served with tythe process for my little ground; and, rather than submit to the extortionate villain who had hired the tythes of the clergyman, whom I had never seen, and who indeed lived somewhere in France, I sold what little I possessed and went to Dublin. Here I found instant employment offered me, which required me to assist the Queen of Spain, under General Evans. The terms were easily set- tled, as they were at first all on my own side. We were promised ten poimds on our arrival in Spain
— a. fortune in my own coimtry ; and, in addition to this liberal donation, there was the prospect of promotion and other advantages. Of course, I and the rest never doubted but that all these promises would be realized ; and with light hearts^ little clothes^ and no money, to the number of fifty, we were shipped from Kingston.
^' Our passage was rough, and rougher the fare^
— the captain of the transport declaring that he had no allowance for provisions on our accoimt; or, at least, that he doubted whether he should be ever paid for any. He exhorted us therefore to be content, and consider ourselves happy in the enjoy- ment of the meagre fare his liberality allowed. I
b5
10 THE BRITISH LEGIONER.
believe all this to have been fieilse — that the cap- tain had received for our provisions a considerable sum ; but thinking, as I foimd many have since, not even excepting your London magistrates, that our employment was altogether illegal, he would be justified in cheating us to any extent short of absolute starvation.
** On our arrival in Spain, we found ourselves just in time to be sent on picquet duty. Arms were thrown on our shoulders;— those who had jackets were well off; as the midnight air^ acting on empty and sea-sick stomachs, as well as on the uncovered skin, is by no means calculated to awaken the soul to deeds of heroism.
" However, at four in the morning we were re- lieved, and foimd good straw in an outhouse pre- pared for our reception. In the morning, the jacket I now wear, and these trowsers (they are rather thin) were presented to me, with fourpence for my day's rations. I now inquired for my ten pounds boimty. This, I was assured, had been expended for my benefit — that is, it had been ap- plied to the purchase of my clothing and arms ; — and as, without these, a soldier is nothing, nor likely to obtain promotion, no objection could be made to so wise, just, and judicious an outlay.
" Our piece of hardest service was the taking a fort, well fortified by Don Carlos; and, after a
THE MUTINY. 1 1
severe battle, we were successful. Several of my fellow recruits fell in this terrible engagement. The stonning lasted several hours, and, during its c(Hitinuance, we who were firesh found ourselves always in the front.
'^ At last, on returning to the town where our quarters were assigned, myself and my companions went (about thirty of us remaining) to the superior ofl^r ; and, without the least intention of giving oflfence or of breaking discipline, inquired for our rations and pay. We were stopped by a serjeant, who seemed to have been well enough fed. He told us that our conduct was disorderly — that our rations and pay were the same, and would continue the same, as the Spanish regiments engaged. Now this pay was fourpence per day, instead of eight- pence, which we had bargained for on enlistment at Dublin. We returned to our quarters, and one and all agreed to lay down our arms.
" I was unfortunate — for my comrades fixed upon me, being the most learned of the party, as spokesman on the occasion. Not that they lacked eloquence when they spoke of their indig- nation at the state of himger and destitution into which we had been so unjustly deluded ; — nor did they fiEiil to promise that in all I should say on these subjects they would with life stand by me. I don't know how it is — but I somehow think that being
12 THE SPOKESMAN.
spokesman^ though a post of honour at the Hme, does not always bring any very great advantage after the occasion has passed by and the object settled.
" Somehow, I think, one is likely to get into scrapes by being made head man. At all events, I think it is so in the army, and especially that imder the English General in Spain ; for I found that my comrades, being chiefly of the lowest order of poor fellows, soon began to perceive what they did not perceive when they elected me spokesman — that fourpence was better than nothing. Certain it is^ they at once yielded to the persuasions of some of the officers ; while I and ten others, being seized and manacled by a guard of our own corps, those who had been the loudest among us in their com- plaints and protestations of perseverance in their demands were conveyed to prison.
^^ Prison in England is not much ; — it affords comfortable lodging, good air, and something to eat. In fact, to us Irishmen an English prison is a tolerable asylum. But a prison in Spain is a different matter altogether. We were put into cellars^ one quart of meal and water was our food, no covering of any kind^ and nothing but the in- dulgence of the jailor afforded us a little straw.
" In this plight were we lefl for a whole week ; till, perhaps, from the representation of the jailor^
THE PUNISHMENT. 13
who must have perceived we could not last long in that condition, we were visited by a Spanish officer who spoke Ekiglish ; and who came, he said, from her most Christian Majesty the Queen. He was very well instructed in English. He assured us (a &ct we were before ignorant of) that we had been guilty of so enormous a crime that nothing but our lives could atone for it ; but that, in case we were disposed to make a fiiU confession of our sins, and humbly sue to her Majesty for pardon, she might be induced to extend mercy to us*
** Hereupon I told him, without difficulty or he* dtation, (at that moment getting a peep, through the door which was open, of the beautiful daylight, and also of some black bread which had been brought by the officer's attendant) that, on behalf of myself and fellow-sufferers, I would make any apology her Majesty pleased ; and that, if she would give us something to eat, and a chance of getting home to our native island, there was no kind of sorrow and repentance which should stop us from either.
^' We were liberated, and I was not long in find- ing that the extraordinary grace of her Majesty, and the kind non-interference of the English Com* mander, who never appeared in the business, were owing to the exertions of the British Consul, who had peremptorily demanded our discharge. This we learned from the English Consul himself, who.
14 THE LBOIONERS' ARRIVAL IN LONDON.
on our discharge, sent for us, expressed his com- miseration at the plight we were in, and regretted his inability farther to relieve us than in giving us fourpence each, and commending us to a merchant vessel^ the captain of which gladly took us to work our passage home.
" I need say nothing of our voyage. We landed on the southern coast of England, and were not long in making our way to Liondon^ where we had been informed our claims would be heard. We had too much pride to beg ; though, God knows, we needed all things ; but, in our walk (about fifty miles) we were upheld with the hope that, by application to the Spanish Minister, we should obtain our arrears of pay. Many a morning saw us at his door ; but every one of them saw us also sent off by his ser- vant, who at last threatened prison and the police. We were still soldiers, and had the pride of soldiers; so we would no longer run that risk, though we had been four days without either food or shelter. I suppose our appearance — you see I am not too corpulent now — attracted attention, and a benevo- lent gentleman advised us forthwith to prefer our demands on the Spanish Ambassador, before a magistrate ; and he was kind enough to direct us where to go. We now surely thought all was right — that we should be relieved and redressed. We marched in good order into a dark room, where
THE STIPENDIART MAGISTRATE. 16
two dderly gentlemen with bald heads were very comfortably seated. It was a police office. The magistrates were not such as we have in Ireland — GentlCToen appointed to do what they please with the ipootj and who send any man to jail because he is a Catholic ;— they were regularly paid magis- trates who heard our story. After I had finished, (finr I was still spokesman) I was accosted in a very angry manner by the most elderly of the two gen- tlemen. — * What right had you in Spain ? — you had no business to enlist — it was wholly illegal, and we will do nothing for such fellows but this : send you to the treadmill as rogues and vagabonds. Officer, if you find any of these fellows in the open air, after night, take them into custody, and I will commit them all — turn them out !' "
I could not believe that such language to a band of injured, starving, and unoflFending men could have been used by a London magistrate. The very helpless condition of these poor men would and ought, as I imagined, to have forbidden the gross perversion of the law against them, if humanity had no share in the decision. My supposition was ill-founded ; for, on citerwards consulting the newspapers, I found that this language had been used — had been passed over without comment — and that the paid perverter of law was still an officer of the executive !
16 ARRIVAL AT CORK.
He continued : *^ I, last night, reached Bristol, much reduced in pride^ as I made no scruple of begging my way. I slept in an outhouse, not being desirous of the treadmill, which would have been my destination if found in the streets. I, yesterday, got a pass from the mayor to my own country, having given a solemn promise never again to return to the free and hospitable shores of England. I have done with being spokesman, and return to Ireland still poorer than I left it. Those are the shores of a land I love, but in which I have no home ! What I can have to do with that land, or that land with me, I know not ; — thither the English law sends me, and there I suppose I must dwell, if a life of beggary be dwelling. No land- lord will receive me on his estate — no farmer em- ploy me — for they are both overburthened already ; and to whatsoever district I shall direct my steps, the answer will still be — * We cannot support our own people — ^go to your native town' — Sir, we are too many, or have too little to da"
With the advance of day came the splendid views of coast scenery which everywhere distinguish Ire- land, and especially the entrance to the Cove of Cork. Iron-bound as this coast is, yet the avenues which here and there are observable between the abrupt and occasionally terrific rocks of varied hues, heightened by the glare of the sim, present
CORK. 17
patches of that deeply verdant surface, the cha- racteristic of the beauteoua isle ; and as the rapid movement of the well-appointed vessel continues to vary the position, new beauties are as continually opening.
The dashing and roaring of the sea^ against the dark and hollow masses that form the entrance to the Cove, are distinctly heard ; and now, the sud- denly smooth water informs us that we have entered the haven ; while the banks on each side, and the rock itself which opposes its noble front to the angry ocean, becomes speckled with habitations as it were of a fairy land, each spot tipped with the brilliancy of the sim.
Hundreds of boats are seen pressing aU canvas towards the vessel. The coast is lined with inha- bitants, all anxious to know what the majestic mass now slowly forcing her way up the shallow river contains. Fathers for their children — children for their homes — are panting with expectation and long-anticipated happiness ; and I must add, there are the multiplied sighs of wretches who have nought but the dreary prospect of ending their few remaining days in the land which gave birth to them and their uninterrupted sorrows.
18 CORK.
CHAPTER II.
Cork — The Harboar — Splendoar and Misery — Imperial Hotel- High Charges — The Assizes — Irish Eloquence — Want of Dignity and Decorum — Irish Judges and Coansel — An Irish Case — Mike and the Cows — Theatre at Cork — The Castle Spectre — An Acting Manager — An Evening Party — Punch- drinking — Three-Card Loo and the Ladies — Female Talent and Accomplishments — Beauty of the Women — Advice to Sportsmen — Departure from Cork.
" Cab, your honour, car ? here ! here is a car, your honour. Oh, don't be after listening to Mur- dock, there ! Out of the way, ye spalpeen — sure, didn't the gentleman spake to me first? that's my fare, any how."
Fifty voices at once, from as many ragged good* tempered fellows who surround the passage leading from the steamer's side, sufficiently prove that we have changed the country.
The cars thus numerously offered bear all the marks of a people who are not impeded in their progress by any imnecessary attention to outward
CORK. 19
fihow. The accumulated dust and filth of years cover the vehicle ; and lest there should be any ^discrepancy of appearaace^ the harness, horse, and maD, are all of a colour, and that the natural one — I mean the colour of the earth, in its most im- palpable form. A sportsman, however, suffers no annoyance from these accidental changes ; and I was not long in reaching the hotel at Cork*
It would be unjust not to say any thing of this splendid city — for splendid it is ; though I cannot spare much space for the topography of those places which afford nothing more than the amusements to be derived from other well^populated and extensive towns.
The harbour is excellent, and is formed by the embouchure of the river Liee. At first view of the magnificent range of buildings, one is tempted to ask if this be the misery of Ireland ? Shops fitted up in the most attractive style; abundant popu* lation, and all bearing the appearance of the utmost prosperity — the appearance, I say, and that is the drawback ; tor, though affectedly fine, the eye cannot fsdl to rest on the crowds of desolate creatures, worn by disease or age, who, at every comer, assail the passer-by for charity.
The Imperial is a good hotel, but partakes of the characteristics to which I have elsewhere re- ferred. Indeed, generally, the traveller will find
20 CORK.
that, amidst other things which have been adc^ted from England, inn-charges have not been forgotten; and, if we doubted the extent of any acquaintance, a '*maitre d'h6tel," in Ireland, may have with English civility and attention, it would be at once conceded, when the bill is presented, that he was on intimate terms with the book department of the Clarendon. To be well treated, and charged unreasonably, may be forgiven, but it is execrable to be starved and fleeced ; and, although ^^ marble chimney.pieces, not expressly mentioned in the bill, inflame it most confoundedly" — it is mortifying to find the swelling exist, where the marble chim- ney-piece does not.
Cork, on my arrival, was in an excited state; the assizes had just commenced, and I lost no time in making my way to the court-house, anxious to hear some of that extravagant eloquence, for which the Irish bar is so celebrated.
On my entrance, I was at once struck by the apparent want of decorum of the scene. Nothing can be more offensive to an English lawyer, than that absence of dignity emd order, which is every where observable in a court of justice in Ireland. The counsel, wigless, gownless — without any mark whereby they could be distinguished from at- torneys, visiters, witnesses, or thieves ; but all appeared huddled together roimd the judge, who.
CORK. 21
in a plain scratchy looks common-place enough. There is a fiamiliarity among all parties that would startle the pride of an English lawyer, and may have led to the Milesian joke, of a suitor 8top{dng the judge, on his way to the court-house, and imploring him '* to do justice in his favour."
Something has been said of Irish eloquence. 1 had an opportunity, here, of judging of the style which seems to have been universally adopted by the bar of this country. There is no difficulty in perceiving that it differs from that which the calmer feelings of the English, and the phlegmatic constitution of our juries, have fostered. The mercurial temperament, and naturally romantic tone, which are generally ascribed to the Irish character, pervade even the common-place matters rfmere legal considerations. It is not impossible that the ornamental flourishes, adopted in such disquisitions, may be designed to cover ignorance of the abstract question, or to hide errors in prac- tice. Nor are the Irish alone in that.
I believe no persons in the world are more con- stitutionally addicted to ideality than the Irish ; and^ when the superiority of their country is the subject, the warmth of conviction which they evince shows how littie they stop to examine, how little disposed they are, to let reason have her in- fluence. It has been said, that this devotion to the
22 CORK.
imaginative produces^ not unfrequently, gi^^t errors among gentlemen who have been induced to leave their native isle. So fieur, indeed, has the power of fancy not unfrequently carried them, that they at last have arrived at the conviction of their being possessed of estates, the fee simple of which existed nowhere but in their own productive minds.
However the imagination may be cultivated by the bar in Ireland, it is quite certain that among the laity nothing seems to excite more ingenuity than litigation ; nor is it uncommon to find, among the lower orders, although utterly ignorant of all other things, some who are adepts in the art of legal quibbling. It was my lot to hear one case tried at the assizes, at Cork. The corollary I after- wards learned. Patrick O'Sullivan sued Mike Moriarty for the value of three cows, sold to Mike during the lifetime of the plaintiff's (O'SuUivan's) father. To the declaration, stating that Mike had had the cows, Mike could offer no plea. True it was that Mike had had the cows — true he had killed them, or sold them, or eaten them — but by no means under contract of debt; and yet a defence, under the circumstances, would have been impossible.
Mike took advice, and let the action go by de- fault. But the facts were amusing, if not quite creditable to the plaintiff's morality. O'Sullivan,
CORK. 23
daring his &ther'8 life, had stolen the cows, and baiteed with Mike to kill and sell them, allowing him (the stealer) certain profits and certain por- tions. These were paid. Lamentations, deep and loud, were made by the elder O'Sullivan, for the I08B of his cows, which had been his chief fortune and support. He published hand-bills for their recovery, but no cows came back.
None joined m the pursuit of the culprit with more apparent ardour than the son of the loser. The old man died. He bore his loss hardly, and perhaps his death was hastened by the grief arising &om it. Whereupon the son, now heir, brought his action for the recovery of the value of the cows, well knowing that recrimination was impossible on the part of the defendant, who paid the money, and who declareth on the oath of an honest Irishman, that Patrick O'Sullivan is the greatest rogue 'tween Donaghadee and Tig na Vauria.
G>rk has a theatre, which, being open during the assizes, led lAe to contemplate the state of the histrionic art in the sister isle. The play was the Castle Spectre, and it was somewhat droll to hear the broad Irish accent with which the old English Baron expressed his loves and his dream. He was a man of about four feet, either way ; and if you had put him on his side, he would have acted with as much locomotion and agiUty.
24 CORK.
I inquired who the Roscius was, and by what accident he was pressed into the service of the first Tragedy. The answer was satisfactory — the same vanity exists here as in other places, — The old English Baron was enacted by the Manager 1
Let me do justice to the hospitality of my Cork friends, to whom I had letters of introduction. One whom I had not the pleasure to find at home, but for whom I left my letter, sent down to my inn a warm request that I would join the evening party, which he expected that day at his house.
The invitation was so warm and unaffected that I accepted it, and was introduced to about forty gentlemen, who were not, as would be said at Oxford, u/iningy but punching. It was true I had greatly the advantage of this party, in having tem- perately taken my quiet dinner alone. The sudden transition from the ennui and gloomy loneliness in which an Englishman ^^ abroad'^ is inclined to indulge, to a noisy, joyous party, who had advanced already to the fourth tumbler, will be supposed to have been productive of some impression ; and, when I entered, I found the glasses jingling from violent blows on the table : the party, one and all, having arrived at that method of expressing their approbation of a speech which had just been delivered.
*' Hurra! bravo! sir — glorious country where
CORK. 25
the wbiskey is the only drink ! — ^let me entreat you — ^not a headache in a hogshead — most happy to see English gentlemen in Irelemd — we want but free intercourse to set aside all prejudices."
"Who says we stand in need of intercourse? Sir, no o£Fence to you — you are an Englishman, proud of your country — we are Irishmen, cmd, till the English learn to drink whiskey instead of the miserably washy wine, there can be no intercourse, and the union must be dissolved/'
** Union dissolved ! " exclaimed another voice. *' By the powers, when I see that day 1*11 not be aUve ! "
" Alive or dead, you'll soon see the day ! O'Con- nell for ever ! who says no ? "
** 0'Ck)nnell for ever ! " was re-echoed through the room. The very name was suiGcient to set all in an uproar. Our host now proposed an adjourn- ment; but the subject was not to be so passed; a^tation had begun, and this was the signal. Every man had his opinion on the subject, and every man thought he had a right to express it, and exhibited the utmost impatience to do so.
The whiskey was now mixed, and disposed of
in greater haste ; it was evident the row would
begin ; five or six gentlemen were at once on their
legs, all speaking at the extent of their voices, and
each appearing impressed with the notion that he
VOL. I. C
26 CORK.
was the only party commanding attention. Glasses began to dance, chairs to slip from under their dis- putants, and, amid the complete uproar, I could only distinguish these facts — ^that O'Connell was the greatest villain alive, and the only prop and stay of his country !
Cards were handed across, — till our host opened the door, and in the loudest tone invited the gentle* men to the drawing-room. Many followed : and there we found the ladies, deeply engaged in the mysteries of three-card loo, and indeed with toler- able stakes. There were no introductions or cere- monies, nor did the gentle part of the audience feel at all disturbed by the riot which occasionally, as the door was opened, burst on our ears.
I was seriously alarmed, and expressed my feel- ings to my host, who assured me that twenty gentlemen would in all probability exchange cards, yet that was a ceremony which was too common to be alarming, and too harmless to be fraught with any considerable consequences. *' In fact," said he, ^' out of a hundl^ challenges we find few duels ; the gentlemen are only desirous of proving the truth of their positions, and nothing can tend so satisfactorily to do' so as the passing of a card. With the whiskey the ardour will evaporate, and the same parties will meet again to-morrow, in all probability with a like result."
CORK. 27
On our entrance into the drawing-room there was no appearance of alann among the ladies. Every accomplishment was there in requisition, which the riotousoess of the party from the dining- room did not interrupt or disturb. We are de- ceived by the representation of tliose who have attempted to depict the manners of the Irish fair. Although ray rambles did not afford me many opportunities of testing my opinion, yet those that did occur to me confirm me in the belief that Irish ladies are generally more accomplished, and ex- hibit more talent in acquirement than may generally be found among the English higher classes. Their manners are gentle and unaffected, with a dash of hilarity which renders them infinitely more fiudnating. They are beautiful to a proverb ; and it is not true that the moment your eye rests on a lady, she immediately responds — *^port, if you please*' — nor that the second look induces the de- claration that ^* she will ask papa."
Cork must be set down, upon the whole, as the most floxuishing town in Ireland. Its buildings, especiaUy those residences on the banks of the river towards the island called the Cove, are in English taste, and bespeak close connection with the sister coimtry. The continual intercourse, now established by means of steam-packets, has tended greatly to improve the taste and manners of the
C2
28 CORK.
inhabitants of all those towns situated on the English side ; and although much may be found to admire in this city, it must be observed that it still exhibits all the prosperity and wretchedness, all the elegance and the squalid poverty, which seem every where associated in Irish towns.
I here purchased my tackle. I recommend the angler to choose a good He rod^ and a large reel that will contain 150 yards of stout hemp line, well twisted. It should be soaked in oil and bees' wax, well melted; then stretched emd reeled. The cost of this, which is the only line fit for use among the rocky rivers he will have to traverse, will be one shilling. Select, also, in Cork, a few flies of various sizes and colours, which will be found well made and of the right kind. With these, a good gim, a pound of the best tobacco (the most ac- ceptable return that can be made for the civility of a mountaineer), I took coach to Macroom, a dis- tance of thirty miles.
MICROOM. 29
CHAPTER III.
Start from Cork — Wild Character of the Country — ^An Irish Coach* man— Sporting Prospects — Warning to Improvers — Pike oerna Salmon — Arrival at Macroom — Ominous Demonstrations — A False Alarm — Inn Accommodations — An Irish Waiter — Extravagant Charges — Poverty and Desolation — Taste for Mod — Commencement of Operations — A Native Sportsman — Irish Blarney — Directions for Trolling — Incomparable Bait.
From Cork, 27 miles; from Killamey, 28 miles; from Mill Street, 11 miles.
Fishing stations, Lake Inchgeelab, 5 miles; and the rivers Toom, Lee— the latter running close by the town.
Abmed with all the appliances of sport, I mounted the coach from Cork to Macroom. The ride presented a desolate comitry, composed alter- nately of bog and rocky mountain, with little wood, which becomes less and less as the journey is pur- sued into the interior of the country. Even one mile from Cork, no trace appears of the neighbour- ing refinement. Poverty of the extremest kind is exhibited in habitations scarcely one degree above
30 THE IRISH COACHMAN.
the damp cave of the wild beast ; furze being ui for doors, cmd turf for the roof. Here and theresp" a solitary and staring creature, half of whose body^ is covered with a mass of rags, which are blown, about by the wind — the other half perfectly un^ covered — leads the traveller to imagine that he has taken some sudden leap from all that is civilized into a new and hitherto imdiscoveied country. No inn on the road breaks the monotony of the scene, or relieves the gloominess of the way. The coachman, with a large glazed hat, a home- made whip, and blue sailor^s jacket, is the only person who interrupts the depressed tone which the mind is apt, under such circiunstances, to as- sume. He indeed keeps up a continual conversa- tion with his horses — ^reasons with them — ^threatens them. ** Ah, by the powers !— come up there now
— d'ye start at that ! — faith you've seen it before, many a-day. — Ah 1 ah 1 there I caught you— don't be too forgiving now — bear malice, agin me, and remember it. — Ah ! you're too forgiving, any way
— catch a glimpse o' that, ye spalpeens — come along here now — faith you'll have a stop at the rise."
The road follows the river Lee for some miles, and then crosses the river Bride, a tributary to the Lee. Although the latter river does not present any chance of good trout-fishing, the Bride, which
SPORTING PROSPECTS. 31
is of a more declivous character, will repay the angler, especially if he watches the opportunity of rainy weather.
Owen^s Inn will be found a tolerable station for the Bride ; though I should not advise any length- ened stay at any place short of Killamey, as all the streams are of an uncertain character, and require to be visited at the exact moment to ensure success — I mean the subsiding of a flood. The beauty of this river consists in its varied falls — some of ten or fifteen feet ; but the country through which it flows has the air of terrible desolation. Here and there may be observed patches of com ; but the general view presents little but bog and mountain.
But, to the sportsman, the wildness of the moun- tains— the unhedged expanse, on which nothing appears but the thinly scattered cots of the humble labourer — the sparkling and rapid river, now sullenly smooth, now dashing down precipices and dividing its streams into deep and gurgling eddies -—inspire feelings of delightful anticipation.
The river Lee, into which the Bride falls, was once highly celebrated for its fine trout and salmon. Now, alas ! it swarms with pike ; the salmon have greatly diminished, and trout have become almost extinct.
It is remarkable that, as yet, the whole county of Kerry, to which we are progressing, does not
32 PIKE.
contain a single pike ; and, till within these twenty years, there was not one known in the noble river Lee. Its source, the Lake Inchgeelah, is a noble expanse of water, and was once the resting-place of immense shoals of salmon, and white troat. Latterly they have disappeared, and from a cause which should, and I trust will, operate as a warn- ing to all who live in the neighbourhood of rivers not yet infested with the destructive pike. The injury done to the inhabitants of this part of the country, — through whose property flows the river Lee, once so prolific in excellent food, and from whose wild waters even the poorest could once make an easy addition to their humble meal, — ^is irreparable. It appears that a gentleman who had built a house on its banks, not far from Cork, among other ornaments sunk a pool, which discharged itself into the river. Not content with the abun- dant supply of salmon and trout which the stream afforded, he was desirous of surprising his neigh- bours by the possession of a fish until then unknown in this part of the country. With a view of obtain- ing this distinction, he sent for some pike, which with great difficulty were brought fifty miles, and placed in his despicable pond. The natural con- sequence ensued : the banks, during a flood, gave way, and the pike were at once precipitated into the river. Here food was so abundant amidst
FREEDOM TO THE ANGLER. 33
the trout and young salmon, that, smce this acci- dent, such has been the increase of pike, that they now occupy every hole in the Lee. The troUer, however, may find good sport, and it is not the least recommendation of this river that its banks are open to all comers ; so that, from Lake Inch- geelah, a distance by the river of fifty-six miles, there will be found no obstruction to the humblest sportsman.
In following this river down, the only difficulty would be the want of accommodation, which could only be procured in the wretched cabins of the peasantry near the road, which crosses and re-crosses the river many times between Cork and Macroom. It is not now unusual to find pike of from thirty to forty pounds weight in the least frequented parts, — ^in the long reaches, or wherever the fall of the stream is sluggish.
The rising smoke in that low comer of the open- ing valley now warns us of our approach to our station, Macroom. The cabins become more nume- rous along the side of the road, though not better in their construction. On approaching the town, we had attracted one or more of the inmates of every cabin ; and, by the time we had entered the town, we had an escort of at least two thousand persons, men, women, and children, who had col- lected by degrees as the coach passed. I was
C5
34 OMINOUS DEMONSTRATION.
somewhat alarmed at the assembly, which increased at every yard of our progress. The moment the sound of the coach was heard, out poured the inhar bitants of every cabin.
On our entering the broad, open space^ in the middle of the town, the crowd closed on us, and nothing could be seen but a sea of heads. English and Irish exclamations were heard m a confused yell. — '* Come out, ye spalpeen — oh, the devil's luck to ye, and we got ye any how." Himdreds of ragged, though strong and handsome fellows pressed forward, through the screaming crowd, to the coach doors, and threw them open, with an apparent determination of violence that could not but alarm em English traveller. Luckily, I was outside, or I should have imagined myself the object of the pursuit. When I crept from the roof, and forced my way into the inn, which I accom- plished with some difficulty, I was soon informed of the cause of the uproar. There had been a murder committed some time before, from that exhaustless source of blood and violence, in this unhappy country, the collection of tithes. A policeman had deliberately shot one of the mob, which had assembled to watch the proceedings of the proctor's constables. He had been arraigned at the assizes at Cork, the day before, and acquitted. It was expected by the populace that he would re-
FALSE ALARM. 35
turn this day to Macroom, by the coach ; and had he done so, it is not difBcult to imagine the fate that would have awaited him. Peaceable as the crowd was, had the object of their assembling appeared flushed with the victory of an acquittal^ the market-place of Macroom would have been strewed with his limbs. When, however, the crowd was satisfied that the delinquent was not on the coach, they gradually dispersed, without any disposition to riot. I was assured that there was no apprehension on the part of the inhabitants of the town, notwithstanding the extraordinary as- semblage of so many, and so apparently lawless a mob. In the madness of their revenge, the Irish seldom commit wanton mischief; and their most violent and lawless assemblages are always unaccompanied by the uncalled-for injuries which too often are the result of English crowds. They have a wild love of justice, which pervades even their acts of greatest intemperance.
I was not at first aware that in this town very tolerable private lodgings might have been pro- cured, and, unluckily, I established my quarters at the inn — I say, unluckily; for, though I foimd some accommodation, it was not of an order which kept pace with the magnificence of the charges. The traveller must not expect to find at any of the inns, out of the principal towns, such inordinate
36 INN-ATTENTION.
luxuries as carpets; he may, however, recko pretty confidently on finding a red-headed monstei shoeless, stockingless, and capless, acting the pa] of a waiter — one who will hold back her matte locks to give her eyes a chance with one banc while she hands you, between her thumb an finger, whatever edible you may demand, perfect! good-tempered, and wondering what can possibl ail the stranger who is surrounded, as she conceives by every earthly luxury.
In consequence of the frequent visits of regi ments, especially during the war, there happene to have been provided for the officers some decen apartments. These, the sportsman who determine to take a week on this station, should secure though he must take care to do here what h should do throughout Ireland — drive a good bar gain ; for so impressed are all the '* parvi mer catores" of this country with a belief in th exhaustless wealth of the English, that no scruple restrain the violence of their inordinate expectations
The appearance of poverty and desertion whici the town presents is much heightened by th( neglect of those whose means are not doubtful. I will be found the characteristic of almost every Irisl town, nay, of almost every mansion, that time anc mischief are suffered to do their worst ; nothing u ever repaired. Even in well and substantiall}
TASTE FOR MUD. 37
built houses, every second pane of glass h^ given way to a board nailed across the window^ or a still more ofiFensive paper patching. Bricks, or stones, or tiles, as they fall from the piles of buildings, which really would constitute a handsome range, if in repair, are suffered to remain where fortune may place them, till tlie wheels of the heavy carts crush them into the dust and mud which no muni- cipal law controls. This latter is not offensive to the inhabitants ; on the contrary, they seem to enjoy the softness of it, as all the female part of the poptdation and the children are shoeless ; and it is observable that they always choose the softest and deepest mass of mud, in which to crowd to- gether for their mutual salutations or disquisitions. The smoke, which many years of turf-fire has sup- plied, has contributed greatly to the dingy desola- tion of the general appearance. Whitewash would set all right ; but, though the lime- stone may be had for the fetching, the habits of the people appear inveterate, and the suggestion of the im- provement it would make is met by a stare of happy independence.
These particulars are stated more in the way of description than complaint. I would give nothing for the society of that sportsman who could view the wild freedom of this country, and complain of the coarseness of his fare.
38 A NATIVE SPORTSMAN.
While thus attended by the red-headed girl, wh understands not a word of English, and while th€^ bacon and potatoes, unaccompanied, smoke on tfac^ board, let the remembrance of the wild rivers andL mountains come to the sportsman, and furnish thflr rest. In traversing them, he will find no *' Takr Notice/* in a walk of three hundred miles !
Mine host informed me that there was but one man in the town who knew any thing of fishing ; and at my request he was sent for, as I had re- solved to begin operations forthwith.
By the time I had finished my humble repast, the native sportsman was announced. One glance was enough to show that Owen was a character — a mild, humble, and amiable one — of intelligence beyond his station, and in which much of native indepen- dence of spirit was blended. His form was singu- larly emaciated ; and I at once learned that he lived in a secluded manner, with a bed-ridden mother, whom nothing coidd induce him to desert. He had never been known to submit to any kind of employ- ment ; though, during the cold months, it had been frequently a matter of surprise that he continued to support himself by the rod. Sometimes, indeed, in the depth of winter, he has been known to take salmon from the river Lee ; and although his frame had little more of substanticdity than the coarse rod which was his companion, he often walks from
FLAN OF 0PBBATI0N8. 39
thirty to forty miles a day ; and a happy day for him is that which brings to his companionship a fellow- sportsman.
Of Owen I inquired the locale. His history of the river Lee was much that which I have given it. He shed tears^ after a glass or two of whiskey^ over the failing salmon^ in consequence of the increase of pike ; and we settled to commence operations the next morning at an early hour. Our plan was to be provided with pike tackle, as well as for trout and salmon, and to take with us a boy who should carry the gun, and accompany us to the Lake Inch- geelah. I kept him with me the whole evening, while he produced for my inspection what he called his colours, which were bundles of feathers. These were his treasures — the mine^ whence he drew all that he enjoyed — and nothing coidd exceed the dexterity with which he manufactured a singularly coarse, but, upon the whole, effective imitation of large flies.
After having listened to his instructions as to the colour, if the day was dark — the falls, in which we might expect to find fish — and the best way of meeting the river across the Toom Bridge (about three miles from the town) — I astonished him by my declaration that I held all his apparatus in the most supreme contempt : that if there were salmon and trout in the river, I would undertake to offer
40 TROLLING.
him any bei that I would exceed his skill, either measuring by number or weight, provided he ad- hered to his flies ; — nay, that he should choose his ground, and I would follow him up the river.
His astonishment soon gave way to an incredu- lous smile. Yet the mildness of his character, and the natural genius for flattery (which requires not the aid of the blarney-stone to develop) inherent in Milesian constitutions — and which especially pervades the lower classes — restrained him from any contradiction. " To be sure and it is not for the likes of me "to doubt your honour — ^your honour knows right well how to catch fish — and I'd be sorry and grieved to think I'd do more than your honour's honour — but, may be, I know the river where the fish lie ; and perhaps, by chance, I'd bate your honour any how without intinding it at all at all — but your honour knows best."
I now told him I relied not on flies, and at once produced my trolling apparatus.
As this book is to be read by sportsmen, and as much of the anmsement I derived in this tour is at- tributable to a kind of angling utterly unknown in Ireland, and I believe little understood in England, I shall once for all describe, as I did to my in- credulous friend Owen, the means I adopt. The fullest explanation may perhaps be excused; be- cause, without some patient trials, in which the
INGOMPABABLB BAIT. 41
angler may meet disappointment^ the real supe- riority of bait angling may not be achieved. But the art once acquired, the whole genus of the salmon, even down to the sparling, is at the com-* mand of the sportsman. He defies even the weather, and meets aU the difficulties of the longest drought by a more astute mode only of presenting the lure.
The rod should be about twenty feet, numing tackle ; and, at the end of the line, use eight or ten feet of fine gut — Hook No. 8 or 4. Load the gut with split shot, according to the power of the stream, always remembering that the bait must be carried down at the bottom of the stream — that bait is tfie roe of the salmon. It is prepared by Scotsmen, who take the salmon in November, for the purpose of securing the spawn. The receipt for preserving it is as follows : —
Take the full roe of a salmon, wash it carefully from all particles of blood, and then separate the grains : when this has been carefully done, pour over the whole a strong brine, made of common salt and salt petre, equal parts, and let it remain six hours ; then drain it thoroughly, and place the whole in a slow oven, till it assumes a toughness. Then pot the whole down, so as to exclude the air, and it is fit for use.
On the production of my store, Owen expressed his surprise at the clear scarlet of its colour ; but
42
APPOINTMENT.
he stiU doubted its efficacy in Irish rivers. Af pointing, therefore, our meeting for five in tk morning, my red-headed ancilla led the way i my half-glazed apartment.
ABTICB TO SPORTSMEN. 43
CHAPTER IV.
Advice to Sportsmeii — Mode of CooTeyance— An Irish PoDy and his Food — Delight of the First Cast — Failure and Snccess — Irish Astonishment — An Irish Sign — Native Hospitality — A Sportsman's Dinner — Natural Magic — Lake Inchgeelah — Di- rections for Fishing in this Lake— Hints to Anglers and Sports- men in general — Character of the Kerry Peasantry — An Invi- tation to Dinner — Irish Servants — An odd EstablLshment— An Irish Kitchen— Irish Hospitality — ^Wine and the Ladies — Whiskey and the Gentlemen — An Irish Dinner Party — The Sporting Major — Longbow-ism — An Irish Angler's Exploit — Sporting Extraordinary — A Dance — Prospective Sport with the Major.
At five o'clock my mercury was with me. The excitement of the new comitry, and the wildness and irregularity of all I had seen, had so hung on my imagination, that I had slept little; I was ready, therefore, at his call ; the pony and chaise^ which I had bought at Cork, and ordered to be sent on to me at Macroom, had arrived, and was led to tiie door.
Ere we start, let me advise every sportsman to adopt this mode of conveyance. A mountain pony.
44 CONVEYANCE,
With a light gig, will supply all the wants of post* horses, which, excepting in the beaten tracks, are hardly to be found. The mode, too, of feeding an Irish pony, namely, on potatoes, is convenient, as they may be had at all cottages ; and the animal thrives greatly on them.
I found Owen had neither scrip nor staff. EBs long rod over his shoulder, and his gaff strapped on his back, a short pipe and a tobacco-pouch, were all the store he had prepared to face tiie blast of a March morning. The wind blew and the torrents descended ; but what were wind and rain to us? they constitute the fisherman's fine weather, and amidst these mountains there was little other.
After a drive of three miles, we resigned the gig to a staring mountaineer, who was directed by my companion, in Irish, to take it to Inchgeelah Lake, and there await our arrival. I shall not soon forget the feeling of delight with which I ran across the bog that intervened between the road and the dark and dashing river, to take my first cast in so wild a stream.
Owen had already commenced for salmon^ while I elected to troll for pike. For this purpose I had procured a small samlet. Mile after mile did we trudge, sometimes stopped by bog, and compelled to journey roimd — no traces of former footsteps to
THE FIRST SEA- TROUT. 46
direct our course, yet uncheered by a rise or a run. We at length arrived at a waterfall, where once, in happier times, had stood a mill. Here I changed my tackle, and adopted the roe ; convinced that if there were trout in the stream, they assuredly would be found in a spot so congenial to their habits. Weary with my walk, and the fatigue of troUing, I threw down my rod with my line at length in the eddy, and was watching the success of Owen's casts with the fly. " Hurrah !" exclaimed he, *' your ho- nour's rod is clear gone entirely."
I had just time to catch the butt, which was slowly moving on the edge of the stream, and lifted it upwards. It was fast at the bottom — it cleared — and up sprang a fine sea-trout of four pounds weight, fresh run from the sea, by the silvery whiteness of his scales. With some difficulty we landed him ; but who shall describe the aghast ex- pression of my companion's countenance ? It was clear he had imagined my infaUible bait was some delusion of my own ; nothing that I had said of its virtue had made the slightest impression on his mind. Regarding me, while he held the fish in his right hand, with a stare of astonishment and won- der, he at last burst forth — " Your honour's a fisherman any way — ^your honour has got the power of bewitchment — the hkes was niver seen in Ire- land. Faith it's a fresh run ; the devil a fly they'll
46 COTTAOERS OF INCHOEBLAH.
touch to-day ; hurrah, but your honour's a fisher- man."
Recovered from his surprise, we pushed our way upwards towards the source of the river Lee and the lake Inchgeelah. The route was in the highest degree picturesque, though the morning was cloady, with occasional rain. Owen had succeeded in taking one salmon, and myself three sea-trout.
At length we arrived at what is called '^ the pub- lic/' a small cottage, with a piece of turf dangling tt the door, to indicate to the initiated that, if nothing else at least, good potheen might he had ther^. It was situated on the edge of the lake. The only neighbours were two policemen, whose station was also on the banks of this neglected and almost un- known expanse of waters.
The lake is about five miles in length, and vary- ing from one to three in breadth. A few straggling cabins may be seen under the surrounding rocks, whose inhabitants were of the most destitute order. Into whatever cottage or cabin we entered, how- ever, the proprietors were all civil, and anxious to oblige the stranger. The feeling of hospitality is indigenous. The turf fire was instantly made up; the kettle — the only article of cookery, and almost of furniture — was immediately suspended ; the potatoes washed; and the wooden platter pre- pared.
THE LAKES. 47
Our mountain walk had made these preparations acceptable. The trout were soon split and scored, and laid across the now clear turf; and they fur- nidied an excellent meal.
The conversation between Owen and the listeners was conducted in Irish, and, although I could de* tect that I was the chief subject of it, I was not quite aware that the superstitious feelings of my companion had literally induced him to represent that tiiere must have beto some magic in the mode of taking the sea- trout. The men examined my tackle, looked cautiously at me, and seemed to be impressed with some suspicions. The arrival, however, of the policeman, who, I had imderstood, was the only fisherman of the lake, and who spoke En^ish, reUeved me from all further embarrass- ment.
Inchgeelah Lake is romantic, and in the highest degree beautiful. It is the recipient of another range of lakes, situated about five miles from the spot I am now describing, but into which no pike can ascend. The upper lake, therefore, which is laid down as Lake AluOy is filled with trout, not large, but of singular beauty and flavour. The lower lakes present no other sport than may be had from trolling and night-Unes.
So simple and poor are the wretched inhabitants of the banks, that they have not the means of
48 PIKE.
adding to their deficient food by fishing. Not even a boat has yet graced the broad expanse of the lake.
I found that the policeman was furnished with a rod, which he now produced, and we sallied forth to adopt a mode of trolling that has been very little used in English water. As we were obliged to fish from the banks, it is no doubt the most effectual way ; though, if this water had be^ furnished with a boat, trailing would constitute excellent sport. The mode to which I allude is trolling with a fly. It is thus made : on the largest sized pike-hook bind round coarse worsted of light and gaudy colours, and with the two eyes of pea- cock's feathers for wings, the whole bound on to strong whipcord, cast with the wind, and jag the fly along the surface.
In this way we were all successful and had the pleasure of presenting our entertainers at the cottage with three or four very fine fish, resolving to carry the rest home. The sport, however, is not exciting. The pike is a dull fish, and, though he will sometimes run very freely, it may happen a dozen times that he will not stir, however tempt- ing the lure.
This spot presents varied fishing : the river, for salmon and trout; the Lake Inchgeelah, for pike ; and the upper lake, for fly-fishing, for trout of a
STATION FOR FISHING. 49
smaller kind. If accommodation could be had at the ^^ public '* — which, indeed, might be managed, by sending thither some little fnmitm'e — a short time might be very delightfully spent in these wilds. It should not be forgotten, also, that the wild fowl are numerous in the autumn and winter -»that the whole district is free as air to the sportsman — and that there is not the least appre- hension justly to be entertained of any violence from the inhabitants. Their manners here, as throughout Kerry, will be found obUging and amiable; and let me observe, in common justice, that whatsoever representations it may please cer- tain political bawlers to make, or cause to be made, against the general subordination of the peasantry, it should be remembered that the calumny is uttered against those who have no means of re- butting it. In fact, I believe a more peaceful and inoffensive race does not exist, than that inha- biting the county of Kerry.
On our arrival at Macroom, I found an invitation to dine with a gentleman in the neighbourhood, and immediately despatched Owen with the fish,
and a note, containing my acceptance of the
invitation. It would amuse an Englishman, who, for the first
time, dines at the table of a genuine Irish family,
to contemplate the immense profusion of the sub-
VOL. I. D
50 DINNER.
stantialsy and the droll appearance the se cut, fresh from the stable, in their maste clothes. As one passes through the passage drawing-room, it is not unusual to see four shoeless and stockingless women, with thei over their eyes and faces, flying before yo the dirt holes, called, in this country, kii These are helps for the occasion, and are reu ments, generally drawn from the neighb cottages. One turns a spit, the other sits fire to blow the turf; one smokes a pipe oi ragouts, while a fourth looks on — it being knowledged principle, that it will require fiv« as many women servants in Ireland as in E to do a given quantity of work.
In general, a dinner at the house, as any n able domicile is termed, is a day of rejoicii jubilee. Every cottager on the estate clain vilege to offer suit and service, and if he cai no one, or his services are not accepted, 1 ever avail himself of the old request, viz., t his pipe — which he not only lights, but 8m< the kitchen — into which, if by any wronj you should unhappily chance to put your n vile a compound of villanous smells would you as would effectually damage the ard your mastication.
It is fair to do justice to the Irish in their
THE COMPANY. 61
They mean to be hoepitable^ and deem excessive profusion of edible matter the greatest proof of that intention. Unwilling^ however, that you should lose that idea by any desultory succession, the whole is crammed on the table at once, without any regard to order or consistency; of wines, nothing is known. It is true, wine is placed on the table, as a matter of form, to amuse the ladies, who, indeed, are the only persons who do not treat it with negligence. But the instant the loads are removed from the table, a tumbler and wine-glass, together with a small jug of hot water, are placed before each gentleman. In the middle of the table are two glass flaggons, each containing about a gal- lon of whiskey, and every one proceeds to use, what are significantly termed (par excellence) " the ma- iariak." Then commences the true Irish ebullition of feeling. No sooner are " the matarials " pro- duced, than, as by a sudden inspiration, those who had previously been restrained and silent, at once cfmceire that they have patriotism and sense, and are determined to prove that position.
On my arrival at the house, I found the company to consist of the host, an hospitable and kind one — Major K— — , who, I beUeve, in compUment to myself, had been invited, as he was a thorough fisherman — the priest of the parish — an Irish barrister— cmd a couple of those young gentlemen
D 2
52 THE MAJOR'S EXPLOITS.
who may pass for any thing ; they were, howe I believe, in this instance, law students.
On our introduction, I learned soon from major, that he had been, since the battle Waterloo, resident as a fisherman at Killan It did not require much to discover, from hims that his funds were restricted to the allowance the government, which, with all his soul, he tested, or, that he had told stories of his expl< in the art of fishing, till he absolutely himi believed them. It was difficidt to reconcile perfect honesty of his character with the bn assertions he made ; nor was there even appar in his manner, while so making them, the le distrust of credence; he took it for granted t every man believed what he would indubita have upheld, at the risk of life, had it h doubted. The priest was the only man who da to ask if the major was sure of any thing ; and, him, the reply was, "Do you question it? my sowl, and the blood of the K's, it never \ doubted before ! There was that affair of salmon : Lord V told me, that, if any otl
man had told the story, he woiddn't believe I sent my friend to him. Father, and he acknc ledged that he believed every word of it." Th turning to me, " You may do as you like, sir ; j are an Englishman, and know little of Irish fishii
THE MAJOR'S EXPLOITS. 53
By the powers, you'll larn what it is to be a sports-
"Hear the major," says the priest; "he'll tell flie story."
" By the sowl of me, and 1*11 tell it any how."
" Tell it right, major."
" Is there a man would say that to me but your own good-looking self, now. Father ? "
I begged to hear the story.
" You must believe it," said the priest.
** And who doesn't ?" said the major, gulping down his third tmnbler of punch, and slamming the glass on the table. Then, turning to me — " Sir, every body knows the fact — ^I caught a hare and a salmon at one cast of the fly 1"
" Oh, Benedicite," says the priest.
** None of your holy bother, now. Father. I'm after relating to the gentleman this remarkable adventure. Give me the matariak."
The needful was soon prepared ; and the major, directing his conversation exclusively to me, proceeded to say that, while fishing in the Lee, not far from Macroom, he saw a fine fish rise under the opposite bank. He immediately drew out his line, so as to enable him by a cast to reach the exact spot. He had previously put on two large flies, such as are commonly used for salmon in high water. He drew back the line which
54 THE DOUBLE CAST.
would extend thirty or forty yards behind bin On endeavouring to make the cast, he found 1 had, as fishermen call it, ** hitched behind." 1 this moment the sahnon rose again in the sai spot, and, in his eagerness to cover him, he gave strenuous jerk, with the intent of breaking one i and covering the sahnon with the other. Spla into the river went something heavy, which i mediately took to swimming towards the oppofi bank, close to the spot where the salmon had risi The action of the animal so effectually played 1 other fly before the salmon, that he forthwith seii it, and both were well hooked. The major a tinned to relate that hereupon commenced a hi struggle ; sometimes the salmon was on the surfii and sometimes the other was drawn imder wat till, by judicious management, both were saf landed, and proved to be a fine hare, hooked by 1 leg, and a salmon of twenty pounds weight !
*' I made them both a present to our worl host," added the major, " and it''s myself that j part of both."
'* I'll bear witness to tlie eating, at any rat said the priest.
" And it's I'll bear witness to the catching said the major, '^ and who'll deny it?"
So earnest was the major, that I would offer dissent } but, on the contrary, intimated my surpi
SPORTING WONDEBS. 55
at the singularity of the adventure, with the utmost confidence in the &ct. This so pleased him that he b^ged to be allowed to make my punch, which he could do tii rale Irifh proportions.
The next story the major warmed into was of his catching a rat by a dexterous cast of the fly ; and a pike, which at once seized the rat, was safely landed.
'* Oh," cried the priest ; " is it the rat you're after ? now be easy, major ; you know we never had the rat for dinner/'
" To be sure you didn't; but every body knows the iiEict, and none but an unbelieving jew or a priest would dare to cast discredit on the account/'
*' It*s impossible to surpass the story of the rat and the pike, and I defy the major himself to go beyond it," said the priest, appealing to me. I admitted that I thought it was the extent to which such exploits could be carried by any concurrence of circumstances.
" Extent y cried the major ; " drink your punch. Here's to our host ! Oh, it's in Ireland you'll see the wonderful things."
** And hear them, too," said the priest.
** Troth and you will, if ye listen to the whining preaching of the Fathers of this day. Extent, indeed!"
56 RIDING A SALMON.
It was evident the major was on his mettle, and he ever and anon seemed boiling with some con- cealed yet important mystery. The students grinned applause and acquiescence, while the barrister thought that it would, in ordinary cases, have required stronger evidence to convince the world in general, although for himself he could entertain no doubt.
Our host now invited us to replenish, and the conversation took a general turn. Politics, the wrongs of Ireland, the Catholic claims, and Protes- tant ascendency, in turn, were discussed; in all which the major was inobtrusive. I could not but observe that he gidped down draught after draught, hastily ; and when matters had settled into a calm train, and the affairs of Ireland were undergoing a fearful review, smash went the glass of the major on the table, and immediately followed his brawny fist, which made the numerous tumblers ring a violent change.
*' Extent ! is it extent you mane ? Look ye, sir — I am a Major in his Majesty's army, and am paid by a rascally government: and, sir, I have never lost my character for veracity. EiXtent !— by the honour of the commission I hold, I once rode a salmon astride out of the stream, and spur- red him ashore !"
A burst of surprise and admiration, from those
RIDING A SALMON. oj
least acquainted with the major^ followed this as- sertion.
" Rode a salmon ashore ? Impossible ! '* says the priest.
^ Vemm quia impossibile, I presume you mean/' said I ; '* the major will explain."
** Troth and I will, and the devil help the spal- peen that is not satisfied with it. I repeat again, I rode a salmon astride, and spurred him ashore. — Father, you know the shallows leading to the mill of Ballyvoumeen."
" A good spot for a salmon," says the priest, " but bad for riding him."
" You shall hear — I had been to Ballyvourneen, and was returning to Macroom, on horseback, in the evening. I had had a long ride. Where the road passes by the side of the river, and along the shallow which falls into the good jpeorpWs hoU^ whom should I see, hard at work with a salmon, but Phelim, the piper. Hold on tliere, says I — and, booted and spurred as I was, I dashed into the stream, and seized the rod from the piper, who never had a steady hand, and was timid. The sahnon was in the hole, above which I stood in the shallows, and about mid-stream. The moment the
^ Good people's hole — a spot supposed to be haunted by £uries; who, although the cause, as the Irish suppose, of all possible mischief, are thus designated in deprecation of their wiatb.
d5
68 THE SALMON^S BRIDLE.
fish moved, I knew his weiglit to be above forty pounds, for it's meself C€m tell to an ounce the weight of a fish at the first plunge. Away went the salmon, and away went the reel. I held on firmly and tightly till the line was nearly out; when, all at once, the fresh run fish dashed up the stream. I reeled away as quick as lightning, lest I should lose my hold ; and, as the stream was strong, I bent my knees in the water to get a firmer hold on my legs, and to give me the power of winding quick. Suddenly I felt myself lifted oflF my legs ! Oh, Bubbaboo, says I — it was but an instant — Is an Irishman ever at a loss? — I caught hold of the line for a bridle, stuck my spurs into the side of the fish, which I now found closely stuck between my legs, and with one bound we were both in the high shallows, where I safely landed the monster, to the immortcd honour of
fishing and the excellent dinner of Lord V ,
who swore if any other man had said he had caught him in the same way, he would not have beUeved him."
Wliatever the surprise excited by the former stories, it was nothing to this. The priest thought the major must have been mistaken ; I assented to the fact, because the major told it; the students laughed; but the lawyer was silent. The major had enough to do to assure all parties, over and
THE BTENIKa 59
over again, that the relation was true — one of the party had winked, and aU forthwith acquiesced.
Each gentleman having now done his duty with the punch, the piper was called in — and amid the joyous revels of the dance, the priest, with a good humour which greatly pleased me, was the first to volunteer the jig with a lady who happened (of course by the merest accident) to be the prettiest of the party.
It was late ere we rose to depart. My leave- taking was a matter of difficulty ; the cordiality and warmth with which I was pressed to prolong, or to repeat my visit, being echoed from every part of the iiEunily. Having at last, however, succeeded in making my acknowledgments all round, and while hastening to the door, I was arrested by the grip of the major, who assured me he should with much pleasure join me at Killarney, and would show me some real fishing; adding, that he had still in store some surprising stories of the philoso- pher's art. ** Extent, sir ? I shall yet have the honour of surprising you . "
G(» CHARACTERISTIC SCENERY.
CHAPTER V.
Characteristic Scenery — Encampment of the Whitefeet Rebeb
— Romantic Escapes and Dangers of an Irish Gentleman- Irish Hospitality — The Lake of Inchgeelah — Delicioas Treat
— Difficult Road — Inn of the Desert — Splendid View — Irish Ingenuity — History of an Irish Fisherman — His Devoted Affection — Heroic Self-devotion — Death of his Betrothed— His Filial Affection — Character of the Irish Peasantry — Sporting renewed — A Double Bite — Start for Killarney — The River Flesk — Noble View — Coltsman Castle — Sporting Notices — Killamey — A Perfect Gentleman ! — Ill-effects of English Generosity on the Poor of Killamey — Differenoe between English and Irish Peasantry — The Problem Explained
— Appeal to Legislators in favour of Ireland.
FaoM Macroom to Ballyvoumeen, a distance of fourteen miles, the road lies along a branch of the river Lee, and through scenery of the wildest character, consisting of sudden projections of rocks, with here and there a cultivated patch. Here the plough is unknown ; all the husbandry is performed with the primitive spade, and even the labour of other animals would be unknown, but that the carriage of the turf from the bogs to the isolated huts gives ocbcisional employment to wretched
THE WHITEFEET. 61
1^, which speak, by their condition, Uie grinding poverty of their owners. The silence of the wilder- Q^ is alone broken by the occasional low of the straggling cattle ; while, to the mind of the traveller, Qiiles of uncultivated bog, here and there broken by masses of projecting rocks, the scene presents a pfoof that he is indeed in a land neglected and oppressed.
The road which pursues the course of the river ^ is protected to the right by a chain of moun- ts of precipitous character, cutting off all com- munication from that side of the coimtry, except by such narrow passes as the goat may have ^blished ; upon the brow of these mountains, once the scene of human massacre, can now only be seen the hovering eagle.
On the height of this chain it was that the
^Vhitefeet — to the number of 20,000 — rebels,
poorly armed, and worse led, once encamped them-
^Ives. Harassed by the severest pursuit, cut off
from supplies of every kind, in this ill-judged
position they awaited the attack of the military,
till, by hunger, hundreds expiring, and surrounded
o& all hands, they made a rude and defenceless
assault on the troops, to whose discipline and
judgment these misguided creatures fell an easy
prey. The bloody history of this insurrection is
too well known to require remark j seventeen were
62 THE ESCAPE.
hanged in the market-place of Macroom> amidst the silent but deep execration of the populace^ whose revenge had been excited by the reckless disregard to property which the insurgents had evinced.
The track is now without a mark of the carnage by which its beauty was once defaced. The clear turbulent river rolls on in silent grandeur; Ae peaceful angler may now cast his line on its bright waters, and meet none but unoffending peasants !
I must not forget to do justice, as I pass, to the character of a gentleman whose seat is in this neighbourhood, and who is mixed up in the tragical events to which I have referred; I mean Mr. B , of Kilbarry. It was by his courage, skiU, and prudence, that the effects of the insurrection were averted. Amongst others, he was especially marked for destruction, and singularly romantic were the stratagems he used in gaining intelligence of the rioters' movements, and in evading their designs. His house was suddenly beset and as suddenly reduced to ashes. The rebels had been taught to believe that, in this act of destruction, they had accomplished their revenge by burying him in the ruins. So well were his plans laid, and so well were they acted on, that, having prepared the military and put himself at their head, many hundreds fell into the hands of the authorities. He
MOUNTAIN HOSPirALITY. 63
now enjoys a pension firom government as some small remuneration for the heavy losses his property sustained, and as a testimonial of the valuable lervices he on this occasion rendered. The cha- racter he has acquired for hospitality— a quality, indeed^ Taluable in these wilds — has aided the general esteem in which he is so deservedly held. All tbe guides to strangers who vii^t these moun- tains have full instructions to bring their charges to his house ; nothing can more offend him than tile neglect of the guides to obey this injunction. Owen was strenuous on this point, and I yielded to his solicitation : although I had the misfortune to find the excellent proprietor from home, there was no absence of friendly cheer on my presenting myself.
The lake above Inchgeelah is one that will repay the visiting. It has already been remarked that it is separated from the lower lake by a waterfall, up which the pike cannot ascend. It is crowded with trout of a small size, but very delicious quality. They will take any fly that is not too large, and, as I fished fcnr them, I used seven flies, frequently bringing two, three, or four, to Icmd at once. The largest did not exceed half a pound. Mr. B' , of whom I have spoken, has here erected what is termed a lodge, for the purpose of offering accom- modation to the visiter 3 should it not be occupied
64 BALLYVOURNEEN.
by any previous applicant, there is no danger of a refusal when applied for.
Having filled my basket with trout, and the rain beginning to descend, I despatched Owen for the pony which we had left at a hut on the road. We were soon on our road, and bad enough that is. Some of the acclivities we were obliged to assist our pony to surmount. At length, however, an isolated tower appeared in the valley — the once proud residence of nobles, whose names exist no more. It is now the dreary retreat of a few policemen^ under whose protection is established an inn — truly an inn of the desert — every second pane, as usual, patched with paper, although obviously bearing indications of an expensive structure. Through the village of Ballyvoumeen, if it may be so dignified, flows a branch of the river Lee, and on it is erected a mill. The situation is splendidly picturesque, formed by an abrupt valley flanked by declivitous masses of rock.
No sooner had we arrived, and the refreshment Owen and myself stood so much need of had been supplied, than I prepared to try the stream at the mill-tail. It was now evening ; the cold rains had subsided, and, for the first time on these mountains^ the sun broke forth in peculiar splendour, tipping all the rugged masses above us with gold. The face of the landscape at once altered by the sudden
A SPORTSMAN. 65
gleam ; and, with that change, a change came o'er our sports. These were not damped by the success we met. I found the fly useless, and betook my- self to the salmon-roe. In about one hour I had taken thirty trouts ; not large, indeed^ but of a very excellent quality. It was quite dark as I returned to the inn, resolving to devote a day to this stream.
The untiring ardour of a sportsman, who has a new country before him, is not difficult to account for; but the elasticity of spirits which kept up my attendant began now to excite my surprise. He had walked nearly thirty miles of a mountainous countrj' — wet the whole day — yet ever cheerful, uncomplaining, and full of alacrity. My own sense of weariness directed my attention to his comforts. He modestly declined all but a little tobacco which fortunately the inn supplied.
There is a good-humoured ingenuity in Owen's mode of making a request, which I should do him injustice in not recording : —
** Well, Owen, I have determined to stay to- morrow, and try the stream above the mill.*'
" It's your honour will kill the trout, to-morrow, any way."
" But I shall start early — what hour ? "
*' Oh, your honour will never be too early ; and we'll see Killarney in the evening."
66 HIS CHARACTER.
^* I hope we shall have better weather. The rains are endless/'
" To be sure, the rain wiU come downto-monow, but your honour's niver bothered by the rain. Oh, it will be fine weather, any how, for your honour- it will be fine weather for me — rain away — ^barring the price of tobacco."
" But you'll be wet again, Owen, and you will have to put on your wet clothes."
" That's barring the price of tobacco, you know.'*
Rain, wind, and damp clothes, were all one thing in the consideration of my patient and ever cheerful companion, if accompanied by tobacco. Of this I ordered a supply.
The desolation of the place, joined with the howUng winds without, threw me at once on the society of this wild philosopher, who had rather adopted me as a master than I him for a servant. The first glass of punch opened his heart, and I found no difficulty in extracting his history. It was simple, and more touching from his own lips than I can pretend to render it. Perhaps it consists only of circumstances which are of daily occurrence, yet I fear that a being in every respect so kind, and generous, and devoted, is not frequently the inhabitant of any country.
I have already said Owen was the sole support
HIS HISTORY. 67
of an aged mother, from whom no inducement conld sever him. He was a tall and gaunt figure, though of slight make, and of a countenance simken as with premature age. The eye, nevertheless, l»e8poke inteUect and vivacity, and would sometime, lighten in an arch drollery, which gave great effect to his general conversation. He had been bom and bred at Macroom, and though his knowledge extended little beyond the streams of the neigh- bouring valleys, his mind had cherished the most refined afiections. He had never swerved from his original bias, the native freedom of the soul which animated him ; and this which in others of better for- tunes might have made a statesman of the highest character, or a conqueror of countries^ had made him a fisherman. Wild was the sport — exciting and uncertain the effect of the labour — calling and admitting no man his master, he felt that he bounded over the well-known rocks, through which the rivers dashed, a free man !
He had been betrothed to the daughter of a fiumer, whose home he had in liis wanderings frequented. The idea of marrying with fortune even enters into the calculations of these cottagers ; and a small array of furniture, with the site of a cottage and the promise of a lease, are considered a fiadr ground on which a youth may propose for his bride. These had not Owen ; and the absence
68 HIS BETROTHED.
of them was enough to ensure his dismissal by the stern father of his light- haired girl, who^ never- theless, admired his character and determinedly favoured his suit. So rigid, however, was the guardianship of the father, that little or no oppor- tunity was afforded of their communicating. At length, in the general distress, when the cholera visited these remote deserts, and, with a fatality unknown in other and more civilized districts, the father fell a victim to the raging contagion. A ban was put on his house ; his little stock was seized for arrear of rent and tythe, and all refused to receive the destitute and afHicted daughter of a home where the deadly contagion had been known to rage. Owen immediately brought her to his own humble home ; and his aged mother, who ever adored her son, oflFered every consolation within her little means to assuage the anguish of the afflicted girl.
Night and day did Owen traverse the mountain streams, sometimes ten hours a day ; up to his mid- dle in water, without food or comfort did he throw his unattractive fly, in hope of the success which would supply the means of subsistence for his de- pendent family. The mind of the poor girl, by her sudden calamities, and, perhaps, by long watching during her father's disease, had con- tracted a melancholy which nothing could alleviate.
HER DEATH. 69
The devoted mother of Owen had watched by the bed of her son*8 betrothed with unceasing affection, while the loyer spared no labour that would lead to the production of those little comforts which her declining health required. Strange that having by great success accumulated a sovereign, he set off for Dublin on foot, without any provisions for his own expences, but relying on the resources of the numerous streams over which he must traverse for the supply of his daily food and lodging (the latter I believe more frequently in the clefts of the rocks than elsewhere), and all for the purpose of consulting an eminent physician of whom he had heard !
Sad is the story of the invalid. The mother watched and prayed by her bedside for three linger- ing months, while fell consumption made its fearful and undeviating progress. She died as my humble friend re-entered his cottage with the prescription in his hand, and which he had that day borne for fifty Irish miles, with bright anticipation of its sanative effects. As he entered his lowly abode, the pallid lips of the innocent cause of his labours could but bless his name, and recommend to his unceasing care and affection his kind, enduring, and benevolent mother, who never for an hour had left the sufferer alone during his absence, but had even denied herself common necessaries, (and those,
70 FILIAL AFFECTION.
alas^ in that country, are contained only in po- tatoes and turf for fuel) to supply the young and patient creature with the little comforts her store could furnish.
She died, blessing the name of her betrodied ! with one hand in that of the mother, and one em- balmed in the tears of her lover, she breathed fordi a spirit as pure, as grateful, as angelic, as ever in- habited the breast of the high-bom daughters (d wealth and refinement.
" At that moment/* said my humble companion, " I vowed to cherish my mother ; at that moment I called on the beloved being to hear my oath that nothing should separate her from me ! No thought of other woman has entered my mind from that day to this. I love my mother, not only because she was ever a kind and good one, but because, in the day of my distress and anguish, when my whdie soul was concentrated in another, she was my staff and my support. She did for my angelic girl all that I had wished to do — my only hope and in- centive in life is her preservation and comfort — to supply them I think no labour too much ; and when, after a day's disappointment, I return home with an empty basket, I have the satisfaction of thinking that this is but a test and a trial of my affection to my beloved parent !"
These were not, indeed, Owen's words, but they
FILIAL AFFECTION. 71
were fiEuthfully his sentiments. The brogue with which they were clothed rendered them more sim- ple, but not the less affecting. In a ragged moun- taineer did this noble affection betray itself — in the humble, laborious, and contented creature, who, for his own gratification, amidst storms, and wet, and cold, and fatigue, sought only a Uttle tobacco, did I recognise as proud and as honest a heart as ever dignified the form of man !
My readers will forgive this episode — I took it as it passed me — I noted it amidst the search for amusement, and it gave a train to my thoughts in studying Irish character, which may, perhaps, be referred to the source by those who follow me.
Affisction, filial affection, is the strongest trait in the Irish character. In the course of all my travels never did I see that sacred affection violated. In the number of their children do the Irish peasantry rejoice — in the hope of an early family do they marry young. They calculate on their children as their wealth, and look upon their offspring as the resources from whence, in age and in sickness, they must derive their subsistence and their happiness. As yet there are no poor-laws — Nature steps in and supplies the place of legislation by the warm gratitude of the child to the parent. In every cottage may be seen the decrepid and the infirm of the femily peacefully passing the remainder of their
72 THE INCH.
days, their wants suppUed by their children j and I believe nothing would appear tx> an Irish mouD-' taineer more unnatural than the neglect of filial duties. In England, the father, tired of the burdea of his children, seeks to be freed from the alliance; and the child, not unfrequently seeking amidst tiie world a better home, neglects that of his infancy, and forgets the claims of those to whom his being and early nurture are owing. Too frequently may be seen the parents supplied by the parish with those necessaries which would have. been unnoticed in the luxurious household of the child.
Nor does this state of things seem to create sur- prise, or to excite reflection on an ingratitude so generally shared. In Ireland it is otherwise ; the ban would be put on that child who should neglect to nurture and provide for the authors of his being ; and, though other virtues be neglected, no quarter would be shown to him who should forget the duties of the child to the parent.
By four in the morning Owen was on the alert, and, with pipe in mouth, rod in hand, was ready for the sport. We fagged up the stream about a mile above the bridge, where we foimd a broad ex- panse of water, not dignified by the name of a lake, but designated the Inch. Here I changed my roe for flies, and, after the second cast, found myself tolerably well engaged with a white trout.
THE DOUBLE RUN. 73
Not, however, quickly reeling up, I was suddenly
astomshed by a heavy weight, for which I was little
prepared. I was not long in ignorance: a pike
had taken a fancy to my trout. Of course I
troubled him little. My fly-gut stood till I had
convinced myself of the determined voracity of the
creature, which would rather su£fer himself to be
restrained by the line than abandon his prey.
Owen had secured a tolerable salmon, and, as usual, the rains descended in almost heavy sheets of water rather than in separated particles. We agreed, therefore, to abandon our post at Bally- voumeen, and push on for Killamey.
To this end our arrangements were soon made. Leaving Owen to bring on the pony, I mounted the Cork and Killamey coach.
We soon reached the river Flesk, at the point where the Clydah pours in its waters, which form by their junction a broad and rapid stream, faUing into the bosom of KiUamey. On ascending one of the hills, the whole view at once burst on the sight. Lakes of immense extent, here and there dotted with islands, covered the expanse, and called forth the liveliest feelings of admiration. The wild beauties of Switzerland seemed here blended with a more sober variety of objects ; while the anticipations of the sportsman are excited by the beauteous variety of water and mountain.
VOL. I. E
74 THE FLESS.
We DOW passed one of the prettiest modern ob' jects in the neighbourhood of KtUamey — a caaUifl on an abrupt ridge of the Fleek, which, at the (Uc tance of the road, presents a very imporang ^peai" ance. It is named, from the builder and master* who has exhibited considerable taste in the cboce of the site, Coltsman Castle.
COLTSMAN CASTLE, ON THG FLESK.
Although the Flesk, which runs by the Castle, ta at certain seasoDs celebrated for the variety of its fish, it is hy oo means a river to which I woold direct the angler's attention. In the summer, when the waters get low, no fish are to be found beyond the smallest species of trout ; but, in tbo autumn, when the mountun floods begin to de- scend, the whole tribe from the lakes of Killamey
ENTRANCE TO KILLARNEY. 75
piish up to sandy and gravelly beds to lay their spawn. This is the time when the spear is in re- quisition, as the large trout and salmon may be found in the shallowest parts^ <liggii^ holes with a determination and strength that would hardly be ascribed to them* They are easily taken, but are out of season ; and, though I have frequently fished this stream through the autumn, I never took one fish which was not sickly and poor. It would appear that the extensive waters of the lakes are necessary to the renovation of trout, as the sea is to the salmon after spawning.
As we approached the miserable cluster of houses wUeh constitute the town of Killamey, there was a manifest alteration in the appearance of the peasantry; and the baleful effects of an indiscrimi- nate generosity (if it may be so dignified) in the visiters to this spot, became every where conspi- cuous. There were two gentlemen on the coast, armed with every implement for the destruction of game and fish, but evidently as yet unseasoned to the climate. It was not difficult to collect that they were perfect gentlemen, their conduct through- out the journey from Cork having evinced irre- fragable proofs of their claims. As the coach passed the ragged and shoeless creatures, one amused himself by throwing halfpence, and at length chaI-> lenged a miserable-looking youth, who had pursued
eS
76 KILLABNEY.
the coach, by the offer of half-a-crown if he wouh keep up with us a mile. The road was newlj covered with broken flint, and the lad's anxiety to select the shortest way wholly overcame the caution which should have directed his steps. He had almost achieved the imdertaking, when the Iogb d blood from his wounded feet, and want of power to continue the exertion, overccmie all his efforttj and he sunk on the road amid the vidiaA laughter of the liberal patron who had excited his attempt.
There is altogether a new character observaU^ among the poor, and they are the chief inhabitants oi Killamey ; there is idleness exemplified in its most intense degree ; and the effects of it, among all classes of expectants, are almost sufficient to detd the visiter from any long stay at these beautifiJ lakes.
Although, throughout Ireland — that is, in al places where the diffuse and indiscriminate extra* vagance of Englishmen has not yet polluted it--' had reason greatly to respect the general characte of the Irish peasantry, I must except that vxi merous herd which has suffered from the balefo effects of a residence in Killamey. In general, tb< good feeling which exists among the Irish pod the affection they appear to entertain for eacJ other, and the general hospitality they, in thei
THE PEASANTRY. 77
humble way, show to their destitute neighbours, is worthy of imitation. The contrast between the Irish and ESnglish peasantry is, indeed, veiy striking. In E«ngland the clown will answer the inquiries of the traveller with a bluntness which he mistakes, perhaps, for independence. He answers the inquiry, indeed, but without suffering himself to be for one moment diverted from his employ- ment. In fact, the Englishman is from his cradle taught to care for no one ; he walks the high road with a surly doggedness which bespeaks his utter independence of all whom he may meet ; he fi^els that he has at least a right there, and will take the wall of any. Not so the Irish peasant. With many of the best qualities of the human heart, he will be foimd without independence. Address him by the road-side — he immediately throws down the implements of labour to attend your conunands. He does not point out the way, but accompanies you on it. He is your servant, and, if you please, your slave. Use to him ex« pressions of anger or disappointment — he never answers; abuse his conduct and condemn his labour — he says nothing, or extenuates his fault by the humblest submission. In all intercourse with superiors you find him servile to a fault, an adept at flattery, and not unmindfril of the wrong which he endures with perfect serenity. He says.
78 PROTESTANT ASCENDENCY.
indeed, nothing ; but he treasures all your unjt upbraidings in his heart, and^ when the opportunity arrives, a wild feeling of revenge, which might, by proper culture, be trained to high honour and actv of heroism, hurries him into the commission of crime, and the wrong-doer is waylaid in his journey by a ball from a hidden hand.
Although the Irish are most religiously instructed, their morality is lost sight of. It must unhappily be admitted that, though there is scarcely one who would not deem his salvation at stake, should he neglect a mass or forget a filial duty, yet few would hesitate to succour a murderer, or to conceal the perpetrator of most atrocious crimes. A himdred will be present at the slaughter of an unarmed man ; yet is not one found to denounce the agent.
Inconsistent, indeed, is the general character, but not difficult of solution is the incongruity. Not only should the administration of the laws be im- partial, but they should appear so ! I cannot con- cur with those who think that Protestant ascendency must necessarily induce partial and unjust admi- nistration of the law ; yet, I cannot conceal Gnan myself the fact, that the difference in character between the Irish and the English peasantry has wholly arisen from that opinion. At an early period of our history, when the lower orders were
ITS EFFECTS. 7^
emancipated from the thraldom of the feudal lords, the protactioii of the poor against the tyranny of the rich became the object of a boastful admiration. Soon were the middle classes capable of making stand against their more wealthy and ennobled masters or employers^ and independence became the feature of the people. The aid of that people in all contests was sought with avidity, and their pro- tection became an object embracing many advan- tages. Some were so destitute as to be deprived of the protection of the law^ which was, as time and knowledge advanced, more and more equally dealt out, and impartially framed. At length, the poor began to have confidence in the law, which they found protected them, and felt that no man was great enough to oppress or wrong them with im- punity. A natural jealousy of the wealthy was disseminated ; and the severest civil wars, which evinced the power of the mass of the people, taught them also to feel that they had a redress, let the spoiler be ever so strong. If you were to threaten a breaker of stones on the road in England, he would smile with contempt on you ; he would, in all probability, return your opprobrious epithet with interest, and defy you to put in practice your threats ; conscious, as he is, that his redress would be in the law. Is that so in Ireland? The tiueatened would fear the execution of your
80 JUSTICE,
threats^ and would not reply to your abuse. Hfi convinced that wealth and Protestantism are tl only safeguards in his misgoverned country.
Wealth and Protestantism alone engross tb fears of the Irish peasantry. If their assailant b a Protestant, the Irish peasant must bear in secic his contumely ; if he be wealthy, he has probaU; the means of punishment delegated to him ; whil no redress presents itself to his prejudiced mine in any application to a magistrate, who (at least f< a long period) has been appointed such, solely f< his possession of wealth, and his profession of < alien religion. The peasant thinks, however u justly, that he has no appeal ; that his story wot not be believed in opposition to that of his religic enemy ! he hopes nothing from justice, admin tered by such obviously partial hands as a Protests magistrate. He, therefore, bears your injust with patience, but not without feeling ; he estima. to the full the wrong that is done to him, and i hopelessness of legal redress ; but the time mi cmd, perhaps, will arrive when he may satisfy wild and savage justice, by directing a bullet your heart, when you little suspect the lurki ambush.
Legislators, is this wonderful ? Behold i effect a religious ascendency has caused in t natural character of a people imbued with all t
JUSTICE.
81
elements of the finest race in the English domi- nions; who possess qualities which, if nurtured and cherished by kindness and education, would adorn human nature, and raise the character of man.
E 5
82 KILLABNEY,
CHAPTER VI.
Arrival at Killamey — Strange Coatame — Street Annoyancet i^ Beggars — Character of the Inhabitants of Rillarney — L0^ Renroare and the Lakes — Inn Accommodation — Doherty, t^ Fly-maker — ^The Lions of the Lakes — The Major — Impndeo^ and Imposition — Advantage of Private Lodgings — Price ' Provisions — Impositions of Innkeepers — Hints to Anglers ^ Killamey — The Major*A Narrative ^ Hoaxing — A Figbti^ Tailor — ^The Major's Revenge.
On our arrival at Finn's Hotel, we were soi rounded by a host of human beings covered wit rags, or rather having rags of all possible variet of colour and fashion hanging from their bodic than covering their bodies, the nether limbs of tli more juvenile being absolutely naked. The dre of the boys, even those of twelve or fifteen years < age, was whimsical : and^ as I find that it is a sty! which is every where adopted, I may as well d( scribe it particularly ; it consisted of some sort < jacket and a shirt, the latter extending about a fo( below the waist, and hanging in strips, which, i
KILLARNEY. 83
tlie rough wind visited them, formed flags little calculated to accomplish the purpose of clothing.
Hundreds of men, women, and children flocked round the coach, and beggars of all descriptions im- peded the entrance into the inn. All seemed bent on one determined purpose — that of robbing the unfortunate tsuveller; some by prayers for long life to him, others by offers of assistance to see the lakes, others by the display of the most trumpery specimens of shells, little boxes made of the arbutus tree, which abounds on the island of the lakes, by the offer of flies, &c. ; the whole constituting such a din and clamour as make a hasty retreat into the inn a work of difliculty as well as necessity.
The crowds of idlers of all descriptions whTch constitute the residents of this town exhibit the character of the Irish in an unfavourable light, and may, by persons who extend their inquiries no ftirther than a visit to Killamey, be mistaken for the general one.
Here are congregated an immense mass of per- sons, who are attracted by the hope of some good fortune, which they suppose is to arise from the numerous and wealthy visiters who arrive in search of the picturesque. Through the winter they have no settled employment; they rely upon the coming fununer for their store, of which they never accom- plish the accumulation ; and though more nK>ney
84 KILLARNBY POPULATION.
is, I doubt not, spent at Killamey than in as/ other town in Ireland of equal population, povei^^ is nowhere more extreme, or wretchedness wsx0 congregated. They are, nevertheless, a romantics and problematical race.
It is their object to appear as poor and destitvtie as possible. They fidly expect you to open your purse the moment you look into their cabin, and have no notion but that every visiter's business ii to give something to them. Too indolent to make provision for the future, and unassisted in their ex- tremity by poor-laws, they are infected by a sort of constitutional disposition to begging, which ener- vates their own energies, destroys all feeling of manhood, and renders them a speculative and chance-calculating set, every one looking for scHne singular advantage which is to arise they know not how or when ; perhaps by the providential advent of a stranger, or the all-promised influence of 0*Con- nell. Meanwhile, however, it is not worth the trouble to set their house in order, or to do any thing that is not absolutely necessary to their pre- sent existence. If you ask a wretched naked Kil- lamey man to hold your horse for five minutes, he expects you will throw him at least a sovereign for the trouble, and looks with wonder at a few half* pence. Every man of this class looks in the smallest service for enormous gains ; and he would rather
KILLARNEY. 85
wait in expectation of such a remuneration for a year than secure that which is within his reach by steady industry.
This disposition to begging and hope of acci- dental advantage has banished every feeling of independence. If any landlord should build com- fiartable cottages (as some have), the people would only inhabit them in their own way, viz., by making pigsties of them. They make no eflfort at clean- liness; and though the interior of their cabins, which are here of the most wretched description, is ever black with the smoke of the turf-— and though they have lime at every comer, and in such abun- dance that it needs only the fetching — ^you would never induce one to apply it to his walls ; if he did so, it would give an air of cleanliness and comfort to his habitation, much against his disposition and his interest ; he would appear too happy to excite commiseration; his landlord would expect some rent, which is ordinarily paid by an appeal to the debtor's utter destitution ; and begging (the be- setting vice of the town) would be less profitable. The pride of independence and the endeavour to make appearance of well-doing, which are gene- rally seen among the lowest orders of the English, are here wholly reversed, where a wretch deems himself rich in proportion to his poverty, and appeals ever to his squalid destitution, which he
86 KILLARNEY TACKLE.
regards as the best means of getting a li^ hood.
Although arrived at Killamey, so kindly has main landlord dealt by the inhabitants and vis that from no part of the town can the lake seen. The great charm which the view of t lovely waters are calculated to create is effect extinguished by the high walls and inclosed main of the Earl of Kenmare, the proprietc nearly the whole of this side the lake. This h walled in, wholly depriving the town of Killi of any peep at the waters, which, I supposi lordship deems his own.
On my alighting at the inn, I found tole accommodation. I was surrounded at the do a host of ^y-mongers. Crowds of fishermen boatmen beset the inn, at the news of an an and many with books of flies, which there cou no hesitation in pronouncing the greatest i sitions on the unsuspecting stranger. Ai these was a veteran in the fly- tackle manufac one Doherty, who has a hump-backed son, some ingenuity. He showed me an immense lection of gaudy affairs, for which he dems an enormous price. To get rid of him, I be a few, manifestly to the chagrin and displeast Owen, who had just come up with the pony who did all that winks and nods could do to
KILLARXEY INNS.
89
::;: Hi id meat. The prices were as
. i.M. f» ft; beef, 8d. tx) Sid.;
i4-fii>li, six pounds, Is.; fowls,
"viis, frum fid. to fijd. ; potatoes,
: i .'^arins of life, therefore, at so
i.^iiiT surprising that the inn
- hiigf' at Killamey as in Lon-
V, 'u'ljcssary it is that strangers,
-, -hould defeat such unfair
iMuro a boat ; this the ■ ii<l agreed with a man iiiings per week, for a 0 tor fishing. ^'' matters, because, i-iiiflisli anglers and • |H'r>3uasions of per- I'loporiy visited in . tor crew and all, ■ amount very ill : tlu» sportsman. : y; and fishing ■ Ivo, would be
mpaniedthe ' lad we ar-
; 1^ lie ii Clorwen. where > ::u:.r -.'.urTHMJ. ami ia.
] thfa. nalfc t»
KILLARNEY INNS. 89
dance of sea-fish and meat. The prices were as follows : — pork, 2d. y ft ; beef, 8d. to SJd. ; mutton, 4d. ; a cod-fish, six pounds, Is. ; fowls, lOd. a pair ; chickens, firom 6d. to G^d. ; potatoes, 4|d. ip stone.
With all the necessaries of life, therefore, at so cheap a ratio, it is rather surprising that the inn charges should be as large at Killamey as in Lon- don; and it shows how necessary it is that strangers, by their arrangements, should defeat such unfair imposts.
My next step was to secure a boat ; this the major kindly imdertook, and agreed with a man at Ross Island, at four shillings per week, for a small, but very convenient one for fishing.
I am particular in all these matters, because, without this information, English anglers and tourists will be deceived by the persuasions of per- sons, that the lakes can only be properly visited in one of the inn boats, at a charge, for crew and all, of about two pounds per day ; an amount very ill tuited to the real amusements of the sportsman. Tlie fisherman, indeed, requires privacy ; and fishing fipom a boat, with a crew of ten or twelve, would be
Tbieae arrangements complete, I accompanied the
to his cottage, where no sooner had we ar-
tfaan the proof of friendship was produced ^-
90 VISITERS.
*^ the matarials ;" and no sooner had he despatched the first tumbler, and given all directions necessary to his two gardeners, and boatmen, and domestic servants, (for two ragged good-tempered boys ful- filled all those offices) than I could perceive that a suppressed rage was forcing its way to ebullition. By his second tumbler, and when he had been joined by one of two of his friends, whom he had sent for to meet me, he became communicative. His first injunction to me was, that I should be aware how I accepted the acquaintance of any Killarney visiters. A wound was stiU rankling in his bosom.
It would be difficult to follow the major through the disjointed variety of his exclamations, by which he made me understand the source of his chagrin, for a true knowledge of which I was indebted rather to the running conmientary of his friend than to his own explanations. It appeared that two gentlemen had arrived at Killarney, armed with all the im- plements of piscatorial destruction which cock* neyism could devise. Hearing that the major was the genius loci^ they had presented their compli- ments to him, and requested the honour of sharing a bottle with him, an invitation the major could not answer to the rubicundity of his nose, if he had refused. Afler some time, the strangers informed the major that it was their intention to make a
THE DEAF LAKE. 91
book — a vice very common amongst all visiters to Killamey ; and hinted not very delicately that the inhabitants of Killamey had better pay respect to them, if they valued a good character with Europe and the world. Now the major hath a great contempt for books and book-makers; and had, I believe, seen, during his residence at Killamey, as many of the latter as the fomier. Hereupon the major had begged to be informed of the nature of the intended work, and, finding it was to celebrate the wondrous beauty of the lakes, at once had proffered all his knowledge and assistance. These had been gratefully accepted.
We have said that the major mortally hateth books — and especially that kind of book- making rather prevalent among the English — which pro- fesses to enlighten the world on matters which they, the book-makers, have gathered from the foolish impressions of an ignorant peasantry or pre- judiced natives. The major was determined that the wonders of Killamey should not be forgotten amongst the gentlemen's notes, and forthwith pro- ceeded to describe the wonders of the Deaf Lake, a small pool so called, at the top of one of the mountains that surround the town. He explained that the most extraordinary phenomenon existing in Ireland, and for which philosophy had been wholly unable to offer any explanation, was this —
92 THE DEAF LAKE.
that though the lake was not more than three hundred yards wide, yet it was impossible to convey across it any sound. This, he said, had been frequently tried, and he oflFered to accompany one of his new friends to the morning's IriaL So singular a phenomenon was worthy of note ; but the major made a stipulation that one only should attend the trial.
After considerable labour, they the next morning had reached the pool ; and the major, planting his friend on the one side, proceeded himself to the other. He then commenced a series of grimaces and contortions, indicative of the most boisterous efforts to convey some words to his listening com- panion, who adopted the most approved system of acoustics, by putting his hands to his ears and stretching as far as possible over the verge of the lake. Not the slightest sound reached him. The surprised listener now ran round to the major and protested that he could not hear one word, although it was manifest that the major had made every possible effort. They then changed places ; and great, indeed, was the surprise of the stranger to find all his bellowings met only by the same efforts on the part of the major that he himself had pre- viously used.
" Is it possible you did not hear me ?*' " Not a word."
A CHALLENGE. 93
" Why, I shouted as loudly as possible."
" You seemed to do so. I could perceive you were opening your mouth and inflating your lungs, but no sound reached me."
" Did you not hear me request you to speak out, major?"
" Certainly not."
*' Wonderful ! "
On their return, the expressions of astonishment were repeated, and the time of descending the mountain was fully occupied in discussing the merits of so wonderful a case.
Here, had the joke rested, it had been more satisfactory ; but the note-taking stranger published the imexplained mystery so ubiquitously, that he soon became aw^ of the imposition which had been practised on ms credulity, and piurposed most furiously to resent it.
In a day or two, our major received an intima- tion that an explanation or an apology would be necessary, and he heartily d— — d himself and the note-making-knight together — himself for volun- teering a dangerous joke, and the other that he had so little Irish blood in his veins as to be unable to bear it. As an apology was out of the question, the old pistols were rubbed up. The affair, how- ever, getting wind, both the parties were summoned before a magistrate, and then a singular discovery
94 THE REVENGE.
was made. To the magistrate's question as to his station in life, our note-maker first described him- self as a gentleman.
" Of what class ? "
" Of the London class."
** Have you any trade or profession ?^
** Yes, a profession."
"What is that?"
" Am I bound to answer ?"
" I conceive so/'
With much hesitation, therefore, he confessed that he was an eminent tculor in Bond Street.
The indignation of the major now broke out. " What," said he, " have I been wasting my time and lowering my honour by associating with a tailor! Thunder and turf! 1^ is the first snip that ever cut me before. To be called out by a snip !"
Whereupon he appealed to the magistrates, and expressed his hope that the tailor might be in- stantly transported, at least, for having offered so incurable an indignity to an officer in his Majesty's service.
The magistrate, seeing that the affair could go no further, dismissed the case ; but the major's in- dignation could not be stayed ; he deemed it his duty to give full explanations of his blamelessness in the affair. Indeed, so cast down had the major
THE REVENOB.
95
been by the dishonour of having been called to ac- count by the tailor, that he had scarcely been able to face his friends until that day, when an unhoped- for revenge was by accident thrown in his way. The tailors had been shooting on the lake. By ill luck the boat was capsized just as the major and his little crew were passing them. The major's magpanimity prevailed — he saved them — but could not resist the admonition which the circum- stance suggested.
** Oh, Bubaboo ! '* cried the major, having brought both into his boat. ** By the powers, you should be after staying at home and minding your own hot goose, and not be bothering here to get nothing but a cold duck."
The tailors were no more seen ; but the major still boiled with abhorrence of Killamey note- making visiters.
96 BOSS CASTLE.
CHAPTER VII.
First Day on the Lake— Ross Castle — Splendid View — Accidental Sport — A Disappointment — The evil of Sight-gazing — Scarcity of Salmon in the Lakes — Island of Innisfiallen — An Imprompta Breakfast — Beauties of the Island — The Monastery — Coasting — Famous Sport — The Eagle's Nest — Extraordinary Elchoes — The Pass — The Lower Lake — Residence of Mr. Hyde, Rector of Killarney — T routing — Directions for Bait — How to astonish the Natives — Wonderful success of Salmon-roe — Lord Ken- mare's Cottage — An Angler's Dinner — ^Turk Lake — Its monster Trout — Angling Exploit of Lady Headly — The Major in his glory — Enormous Trout — More Hints to Sportsmen at Kil- larney.
It was a cool, cloudy, yet, to the sportsman, a beautiful morning, as I entered my little boat, which Owen had already brought to the landing- place of Ross Island, with a view of trying the first or lower lake, sufficient of itself, indeed, to supply a continued change of fishing-ground for some weeks.
Ross Castle, which is the only place allowed for embarkation, is an ancient ruin of some beauty. It consists of a lofty square tower with embattle-
THE LOWEA LAKE. 97
ments, on the very verge of the lower lake. From the castle itself the view is splendid, and will repay Ae trouble of mounting ; it forms a perfect pano- rama of Mangerton, Turk, and Glena mountains, and the lakes which are named from them.
Tliere was an aspect of gloom over the lake, which, in the opinion of Owen, augured favoiuably for a salmon. We first mounted, therefore, two salmon flies of a temperate order, and started for what is called the salmon course. That is, the deep ridges by the sides of the several islands which every where spot the lakes of Killamey. It is to be noted that for salmon fishing these courses must be strictly observed, while trout will only be found on the fiats in the neighbourhood of the shores.
The wind being off Ross Castle, we at once suf- fered the boat to drift, and began our cast. As we continued to throw with the wind, and before the boat, the lower lake in all its majesty opened by very gentle degrees, and expanded itself in boundless beauty. As we drove onward, the noble Toomies and Glena arose, abruptly and boldly, from the very bosom of the waters. Overcome by so singularly beautiful a scene, I had thrown down my rod, and had almost unconsciously taken the pencil, the boat still drifting down the course. 0*Do- noghue's prison, a perpendicidar rock, thirty feet
VOL. I. F
98 A DISAPPOINTMENT.
from the surface, now presented itself; having passed which, the modest, arbutus-clothed island, Innisfallen, came in view. It is a spot covered with verdure, and in charming contrast with the barren promontories which every where else pre- sented themselves. As I was engaged in contem- plating the agreeable variety it presented, I was startled by Owen's sudden exclamation : *' O, bad luck to it, but your honour's rod is gone : a salmon, huzza !"
I had just seized the reel as it was passing the edge of the boat, and foimd that I had indeed a heavy fish to contend with. He had taken the fly while trailing (as it is here called) behind the boat, the breeze just giving sufficient way to keep the fly on the surface. Now came the tug of war. The danger of being rocked was imminent, for rocks every where surrounded us, while the power of the fish gave evident proof that he was fresh from the sea. All difficulties, however, appeared in a few minutes to have been overcome, and my prize was at the surface, hardly capable of another effi^rt WTiile just on the point of drawing him gently to the boat, that Owen might gaflF him, the mouth gave way, and the fish remained at two or three yards distance, motionless on the water; before, however, we could approach him, he recovered his power, and slowly moved downward.
SALMON. 90
Our disappointment was extreme ; Owen threw the bat from his head, and tore his hair. '^ If your honour had been minding the fly, perhaps——/' Owen hardly dared to proceed, but it was manifest he thought I had ill managed the fish. I was in disgrace, it was clear. " But," said Owen, " your honour played him well.^
Fortune seldom forgives a bungler, and we had no further chance of a salmon, haying now com- pleted the whole course. We, therefore, put on our trout flies, and drifted towards Innisfallen. In this kind of fishing we were immediately successful ; and, indeed, scarcely a cast was made as we ap- proached the land without a rise. It was not long, therefore, before we had secured two dozen trout, though not any of very large size— generally from a quarter to half a pound each.
The great decrease of salmon in the lakes of Killamey is attributable to the river fishery esta* blished all up the Lawne, of which we shall after- wards speak, by nets. The run from the sea to the lakes does not exceed twelve miles; the river is drawn at every spot calculated for the halt of the fish, nightly ; and few, therefore, now escape to the lakes. Indeed, the salmon fishery of the lakes may be considered almost extinct, though sufiicient is still taken by nets on the shallows to supply the town at Ad. per lb.
f2
100 A LAKE BREAKFAST.
We now landed on Innisfiedlen, which was spread with a beautiful carpet of verdure. Here and there are occasional openings, which, through the luxu- riance of the foliage, give views of the lake. The lo% trees, in ahnost every variety, form arbours of considerable extent; and amongst them the arbutus, which appears to have been indigenous. Smith, in his history of Kerry, seems to think that it was first planted by the monks on this island, an opinion which their existence on all the other islands seems to contradict.
We now descried the major's boat rowing hard towards the island, and we made a signal that we recognized him. He was soon with us, accom- panied by his two men of all-work, and a bugler. *' By the powers, and you were stirring early this cool morning; that's a proof of the sportsman; what luck ?"
We exhibited our trout, and related our discom- fiture ; he expressed his surprise at our having met a salmon so early in the season, for which he said he had now ceased to fish on the lakes, at least till the autumn should return. But from his boat was produced a fine lake trout of five pounds, which he had taken by trailing. The lads were active, and in a few minutes an excellent turf fire was blazing ; three sticks, gipsy fashion, were stuck up, the tea- kettle was boiling, the cloth laid on the velvet
INNISFALLEN. 101
green^ and the trout suspended for roasting. The major had not foigotten a good dried sahnon, which, broiled with some of the smaller trout, furnished forth a noble breakfast.
We employed some time in rambling over the island, which has been so long and so generally celebrated for every species of romantic invention. I find that Archdall speaks of the monastery^ the remains of which give grandeur to the otherwise beautiful spot. He says that, in 1180, ^' this abbey being ever esteemed a paradise and a secure sanc- tuary, the treasure and most valuable effects of the whole coimtry were deposited in the hands of her clergy, notvnthstanding which this abbey was plim- dered by Maoldwin, son of Daniel O'Donoghue ; many of the clergy were slain, and even in their cemetery by the McCarthys."
It is said that a collection of bones were dis- covered beneath the threshold of the oratory, and supposed to have been the bones of the clergy thus slain. I think, however, the practice of making the islands of these lakes burying-grounds, which will be noticed of Lake Waterville, will give a better account of them.
Having sufficiently admired the beauties of Innis- fiedlen, we now proceeded to coast the other islands, and the day's sport began in earnest. The major's boat having drawn off* about a hundred yards, we
102 TROUT- FISHING.
both drifted towards a cluster of rocks. There were two rods going from ^each boat ; and, as the sun occasionally broke forth and was again clouded, we found as much as we could do in taking trout. At mid-day the major hailed us, and, on comparing notes, we found our number to be sixty-aevaiii his 108 — all fish of the same character, and about tile same size. We, therefore, set forth, weaijiiig tt the monotony of trouting, towards the pan of ttie upper lake, the major being the leader.
At the Eagle's Nest, which is a splendid pro- montory overhanging the pass between the lakes, an explosion took place that had been nearly fatal to my equilibrium, as I wets standing in the boat, and carelessly throwing my fly as Owen rowed.
" Ha, ha ! ** said the major ; " d'ye hear the answers ?"
These were the echoes from the different moun- tains, which returned many times the sound of the major's duck-gim, which he had just discharged, and as distinctly as the original explosion, till it died into a kind of thunder. The succeeding si- lence, broken only by the dashing of the water£edls which supply the lakes, was singularly impressive, and we paused on the oars to enjoy the change. After a few minutes the major's bugle sent forth a shrill blast, which was repeated in a varying key from mountain to moimtain; the scream of the
TBB UPFEB lAKE. 103
rock binis formed a chorus, and the mountains seemed to vivify.
THB OLD WBIB BKIDOE.
We DOW came to the pass of the Old Weir Bridge. The lakes were not high, and the small river which separates them was hardly deep enough to allow our boats to be rowed up. We, therefore, listened burdens, while one lad brought the boats through.
The sight of the upper lake was more surprieing, though not of such extended beauty as the lower. The sliores are abruptly rocky, and there are few places that will admit of a landing. The islands, which are numerous, present less beauty than those of the lower lake. On a green base, however, be- tween the lo^ ranges of mountsans, may be oh-
104 TRAILING.
served one dot of white, surrounded by plantations of variegated hues. It is the residence of Mr. Hyde, a clergyman and rector of Killamey, and forms the only feature which recals one from the belief that we are in an uninhabited wild.
At the major's instance we now changed our tackle, and for flies substituted small trout of two or three inches long, which the major had provided, and which will be readily found in all the Httle brooks falling into the lakes. These we pot on in the following manner : pass one large hook, the curve of which should be a full inch^ through the mouth and body of the bait, and bring the hook out through the tail, so that part of the body may be on the curve, in order to make the bait spin weU. Then, with a needle, sew up the mouth of the bait, and fasten it tightly to the hook to prevent its slipping. This done, attach two good swivels to the line, and let out thirty yards as the boat is gently rowed. One rod from each side the boat will keep all clear.
Having thus provided ourselves, we proceeded to row round the lake, which is of about two or three miles in length, and, in places, of about one broad : nor had we traversed far, before an halloo from the major indicated his success. He had taken a sea trout of four or five pounds. While he was holding up the fish for our admiration, a sudden check was
THE BOO BIVE&. ]06
given to one ci my own rods, and a clattering of the reel called me into action. This was a good be* ginning ; for^ in a few minutes, I was in possessicm of a lake trout of about six pounds. I did not, however, succeed so well afterwards ; for, though there were several runs, the inconvenioit manner in which the hook is necessarily placed defiaated its object. By this mode of fishing it more firequently happens that the hook takes effect outside the mouth, as the running fish always seizes its prey in the middle.
Ebving now arrived at the top of the lake, we entered a fine rapid river. It was my turn to in- struct the major; my tackle soon changed — I [noduced the salmon-roe.
Owen began to smile in anticipation of the sur- prise by which the major and his crew would be overwhelmed, as I trudged up the rocky banks. This is a river which feeds the upper lake, and is apparently its principal spring. It falls from the mountains through a long chain of cataracts and alternate bog valleys, which^ though difEciilt and sometimes dangerous to get through, will amply repay the enterprising bait- fisher who shall visit it. At Killamey the fly or trailing only are in use, neither of which is suited to the fishing of a river of this description. Yet it is in this river, being tiie head of the lakes, that the fish are commonly
F 5
106 THE FATAL BAIT.
found of the best order and size. A fly would be useless on the surface of the boiling whirlpools below the cataracts, and trailing impossible.
Having loaded my line with a heavy bullet^ I stopped at the first fall, and commenced the fatal mode of angling. Fatal — as I believe it to be the only certain mode of taking trout, salmon, and all of that order, without reference to weather or season.
The major was incredulous, and smiled. Having examined my tackle and the bait, he pronounced it more curious than effective, and was certain^ what- ever effect it might produce elsewhere, it could avail nothing in Ireland.
^^ By the powers, but that's an odd kind of fish- ing," said the major, whose countenance had imder- gone a complete change as he saw me deliberately land a fine trout of two pounds, and immediately drop my line into the same place. Trout after trout appeared in continued succession, till the major declared he would bum his flies, for the true secret of fishing remained yet to be learned.
^^ The divil a fish any soul but yourself can ex- tract from this execrable river," exclaimed the major, '* though we all well knew that the finest fish are to be found up this stream in the spring. Netting is out of the question — flies useless — groping impossible — so that we have been always
THE SACBED BIVER. 107
constrained to r^ard this bog as holy ground, which would never repay the angler for traversing."
Here was the day's best sport, but, as I felt that it was at the expence of the major's pleasure, after having secured a dozen fine fish from one fidl, I put up my tackle, resolved when alone to revisit this liver, and abandon the fly-fishing on the lake. Some few days after I did so; and putting up at a little cabin on tiie Kenmare road, six miles from Kil- lamey, and dignified by the name of the half-way bouse, I had incredible success on the banks of the stream. The only drawback was the wretched ac- commodaticm at night, it being nothing more than a pallet and what covering my own clothes afforded, used blanket-wise ; while the whole culinary cata- logue of the hut was comprised in one pot to boil potatoes. If, however, any succeeding angler should, warned by my example, take with him all the necessaries, he will find the poor people willing to afford him all they have — their labour and atten- tion ; while the sacred river — for so I must term it— will prove an inexhaustible fund of amuse- ment.
On our return homeward we again landed at tlie cottage belonging to Lord Kenmare, which contains a room for the accommodation of visiters, and affords a decent aalle d manger for those who bring the mangibles with them. Although persons live
106 A LAKE DINNER.
at the cottage, and, under the hope of rerj con- siderable and disproportionate remuneration, afford you an opportunity of cooking, yet they ave permit- ted to sell nothing. If, instead of this kind of rmtal, his lordship had procured a proper licence to allow some decent person to sell for the relief of visiters on the lake, who are frequently overtaken by un- expectedly boisterous weather, and who have not provided themselves, the accommodation had been more complete. Here, however, the foresight of the major was not at fault A collection of all his little household would afford was quickly spread before us, and, I believe^ the air of the lakes had well qualified us to do all his preparations justice. We made trial of the large lake trout, which, though of a deeper red than the salmon, was not equal in flavour to the inviting appearance. It was dry, and required the assistance of condiments, with which, of course, we were not provided. The smaller trout, however, are delicious. They should be scored crosswise, and put on a gridiron ; no further preparation is requisite to render them a most agreeable dish.
Our repast finished, we returned through the pass; and the major, having reloaded his gun, repeated the experiment of the echoes ; but they were by no means so clear or distinct, as by this time the wind had arisen. To hear them under
TUSK LAKK. 100
every advantage, the day should be still ; thetever- beratioiis are then perfect.
Having r^ained the lower lake, we found that it had lost all its solitary grandeur. Numerous boats floated on its surfiuse ; parties, accompanied by flags and bands of music (if so execrable an association of performers can be so called), were every where seen and heard, while we made the best of our way to Turk Lake.
This, after an hour's hard row, we reached. Turk Lake is separated from the grand, or lower lake, by a range of islands. There are two passages into it ; that by the side of Denis island, on the GQena side, is the most convenient, and certainly the most agreeable route.
On entering the lake the ear is immediately arrested by the sullen roar of a distant cascade, which falls through a chasm which separates Turk from Mangerton mountain, and forms one continued sheet of foam from the fall to the basin bebw, and thence, through a bridge, joins the lake. Although this lake is generally esteemed the best for the sportsman, and does sometimes yield trout of a better character than either the upper or lower lake, the height of the mountams, which on all sides surround it, renders it generally so calm that few opportunities exist of effectually throwing the fly on its waters.
1 10 LAKE GUTANE.
After some attempts, which were attended by no success, I proposed to proceed to the fiEdl, and again try the bait under the cataract. Here I was again successful ; and, after having secured several fine specimens of the dark lake trout, tlie major seized my hand in an exstacy of delight, and protested that I was the only English angler whom he had ever believed understood any thing of the art. He insisted on my passing one day more with him on the lake, at the top of Mangerton, to which, the next morning, we proceeded.
The lake to which I allude is Lake Gutane, four miles from Killamey. We arrived there in my pony gig, and found a boat in waiting. The fly was not attempted, as, in this lake, trout of fifty and sixty pounds are to be found, which can only be taken by trailing. Here Lady Headley suc- ceeded in landing a trout of twenty-seven pounds weight. Although that size is considered ordinary, it Was spoken of as an exploit worthy of being re- corded ; performed, as it was, by a lady.
For two hours we were wholly imsuccessful, until a breeze, or rather a gale of wind, began to create some anxiety as to our. power of keeping the wind- ward side of the lake. With the boat running rapidly before the wind, smash went the rod in the middle. Owen secured the butt, and we now found ourselves in a most dangerous position. To abandon
A LAKE TROUT. 1 1 1
the fish^ which was obviously a monster, was im- possible ; indeed, had certain destruction been be- fore Owen, he would never have yielded his hold. Meanwhile, the boat was drifting rapidly tiowards the rocks, and I was myself obliged to seize the oars ; and employing all the strength of which I was master, hailed, in terms of distress, the major, who, in the other boat, made the best of the way to our as- sistance* Here, indeed, the major was great. He jumped from his own boat to our's, directing the lads to take us in tow, and brought the trout to the best bearing he could with the broken tackle. An hour at least was employed before we could safely anticipate success. The fish was sullen, and would frequently betake himself to the bottom, whence, until he pleased, it was impossible to dislodge him. Luckily, however, he ran towards the middle of the lake, and we were safe from the rocks which threatened danger to ourselves and release to him.
'* Forty pounds, on the honour of a British oflScer!" exclaimed the major.
I ventured to express my disbelief.
** Forty poimds to an ounce j feel him."
The major placed the rod for a moment in my hands. The effect was that of being fast to a log of wood, which occasionally rose and descended — nothing more. After the major had gradually reeled up a great portion of his line, before he or
112 THE WEIGHT.
any of us expected it, the creature gave a bound from the surface, three or four yards high, and ex- hibited, indeed, one of the monsters of the Loch Gutane. The major's dexterity was now rea% worthy of admiration. The rod was down in a moment, so that his antagonist took nothing by his leap. That was his last effort ; he soon appeared on the surface, occasionally shewing the whiteness of his stomach, and was cautiously and safely gaffMl by Owen,
The length was two feet one inch and a quarter, which, however, was very disproportionate to his weight ; he appeared to have grown only in thick- ness and breadth ; and, on our weighing him in the evening, at the major's cottage, he proved to be just nineteen poimds and some ounces.
The major protested he never was out before — that my tackle had deceived him — and protested that he despised the capture from the unnecessary trouble he had given.
I, several times during my stay at Killamey, fished this lake with no better success than two or three trouts of from two to five pounds : and, although I do not doubt that there are still to be found fish of from forty to fifty pounds, yet the distance is too great to enable the sportsman to fish for those of the larger size at the proper time, viz., at daybreak in the morning, or late in the evening.
NIGHT-FISHING.
113
The road down the mountain is dangerous, and though I intended for this purpose to have passed one night on the hanks of the lake for the pur- pose alluded to, so many new and interesting scenes of action presented themselves^ that I did not realize my intention. It would be quite worth a night's trial; and I am assured tiiat the enterprising sportsman who would fish during the night with a very light-coloured trout^ well swivelled^ would be rewajpded by a prize worthy his perseverance. The lake is very little known, and less attempted, from its dreary position among the most frightful mountains which even this wild scenery presents.
THE Biveas.
THE GAP ANU CASlLIt OF DUMLOR.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Rivers — Reiidencra arjimea and John O'Connell — Lord Kanmire — The Qip of Danloc — M.jor Muhony — B«»ufort Bridge — Reaidence of Mr. Mallini. Member for Kwry — The River Lawne — Excellent Sport— IuaIi Walton — Tbe Major iacredoloos — Sporting eitraordinir^ — A Cnra for everj thing — KilUrney Scandal — Lord Headley — The Iriib Agents — A Stag-Hunt in the Lake — Eitraordinary Smos oT IHih J ol lit;— Timber-Han ting in the BogH — Eitinct Animali — Unpopalaritf of Lord Keomare — Reaaoni for it — Beaotiea and Merita of Killamey a« a Watering Place.
Having now tried all the lakes, 1 took leave of the major's kind surveillance, and, accompanied by Owen, proceeded to try the rivers ; the most beauti- ful of which is that which carries the united waterB of the lakes into the Castlemain Bay, Euid thence
THE RIVER LAWNE. 1 15
into Dingle Bay and the Atlantic. This river, which is in tiie lower part continually disturbed by netting for salmon, is little fished by the angler ; the lakes presenting a much breeder expanse, and a much mote convenient bosom for the fall of the fly.
lliere is a good road by the side of the lake, by which are passed the residences of James O'Connell and John O'Connell, brothers of the inunortal Daniel, and gentlemen of independent possessions ; retired in their mode of living, and, I believe, highly respected and beloved by all parties, even here, where the perverse conduct of Lord Kenmare, himself a Catholic and a professed reformer, has occasioned a dissension among those who are pro- fessedly liberal in their politics.
The fall of the stream from the lake is at first hardly perceptible, but increases as it advances to a noble river ; it is bounded by varied and bold banks, covered with trees, and, to the fly-fisher, almost inaccesnble. It here receives several tribu- taries, and, if the lakes of Killamey were absent, would alone form a fishing station of no ordinary promise. Passing along its banks, we arrive at the opening, celebrated as the Gap of Dunloe, at the foot of which is situated the residence of Major Mahony . It is a wild and sudden severemce of the mountains which confine the lake, through which there is a mountain pass, and now a road of con-
116
THE GAP OF DUNLOE.
Biderable picturesque beauty. The eDtrence to the Gap is veiy narrow, and the mountains on either side are perpendicular. The pass is directed by the side of a small black lake — black from the reflection of the high and perpendicular mountains which overshadow it— end narrows so fearfully, yet so wildly, that many have failed in achieving the ascent from the horror which ie calculated to over- whelm timid and nervous persons.
These miignificent scenes, which make the passes of Borrowdale and the Devil's Bridge mere nature's toys, the angler will leave unexplored, and pursue his journey to Beaufort Bridge, a , handsome structure, leading to the lodge and park of the Honourable Mr. Mullins, member for Kerry,
BRIDOE-FI8HINO. 1 1 ^
Into the park the angler may enter, without let or hindrance ; the porter of the lodge will civilly open the gate for his admission, and, though the grounds for nearly a mile on the banks are beau- tifully and tastefully laid out, he will find him- self free as air to pursue his sport. In all pro- bability he will receive an invitation to avail himself of the accommodation of the house, which stands at no great distance from the river.
From March to May there is no better sport for the an^r, content to seek what is here called the brown trout, than may be found in the river Lawne. Its extent is about twelve miles, seven of which are well calculated for the salmon-roe ; and here, on Owen's arrival with the pony, and such refresh- ments as I had ordered him to bring, I had, from the bridge fidls alone, extracted upwards of eighty of good size and in excellent season. Owen had now given up all surprise at the use of the bait, and confessed he was no fisherman. He, therefore, occupied his time in laying the cloth, which he had brought, on the green lawn, before the house of Mr. Mullins, and close to the verge of the river. A neifffabourins cottafpe added to our treat the luxuries of hot potatoes and boiled trout ; and, as we sat down to our repast, I threw my line into the river and lodged my rod on a tree. Not a moment had I to enjoy Owen's ample arrangements; no
1 18 THE angler's philosophy.
sooner had I selected my fare than a tug at the rod required my attention ; and, indeed^ so magical was the bait^ that it appeared (which I believe to be the fact) to have congregated the fish. My success on this river was so great, that I fear to weary my reader by recounting it ; but it must be remembered that this mode of fishing wba wholly new, and that the bank, from which my rod^was suspended, was covered with trees, and consequently impervious to the fly-fisher.
The visit to the river Lawne was pregnant with amusement, constituted of that calm and reflective enjoyment, which is the true source of the fascinating art ;— covered with the now abundant foliage from the sun's rays — our meal spread on the turf— the inspuing spring-note of the numerous birds ; and, above all, the exciting success of the day brought to my fullest recognition the peaceful delights of our father and friend Izaak, who, albeit imused to this mode of securing trout, enjoyed all the pleasures of the more moderate victory over the roach, chub, and dace. One of his maxims I have never omitted to act on — one which I can confidently recommend as the grand panacea for all the annoyances of the world — one that will outlive the rest — " study to be quiet."
On our return to Killamey, I found myself pos- sessed of upwards of eighty fine trout, varying from
THE MAJOR INCREDULOUS. 1 19
one quarter to two pounds, and b^an to consider how I should dispose of so monstrous a store. J at length resolved to despatch the whole to the major, who, knowing better than myself how they would be properly distributed, would, I was assiued, apply them to the use of the really deserving poor. It is a fault among anglers that sufficient care is not taken in the disposal of their produce. It is his duty to seek proper objects on whom to bestow the fruit of his success, and this determination reconciles his amusement with the object of use- fulness.
In a short time the major was with me ; and I lost no time, in my really comfortable lodgings, in ordering a supply of the ** matarials." He pressed my hand with an ardour which, I was sure, denoted that I had risen in his respect, and I saw I was fixed for an evening.
** What size is your English net?" said the major.
" Net? — I never used one."
** Be aisy ; let Owen produce it ; d'ye mean to assert here to me — an officer holding her Majesty's commission under a rascally government — to me, who have fished these lakes and streams ever since the year 17 — , that that load of fish came out of the Lawne by the help only of a rod ? — impossible ! "
** Never mind, major ; it is true."
" Then you will depopulate Ireland with your
120 THE PANACEA.
magic bait ; and the sooner I give you your billet and route, the better it will be for the fishermen who remain behind. But you must not leave to- morrow. At six I have ordered you to be chanti- cleered — to view the stag-hunt — it will be a glorious day."
I readily ceded all my previous arrangements to this occasion, and gave my promise to attend the major at his appointment for the next day.
As t?ie matariab attenuated, I foimd the major relax into his old disposition to communicate Ihe wonders of sporting, and, indeed, of all other things ; and the evening closed with a description of the effect of some grand medicine, which, being of the quack order, possessed, of course, the most contradictory virtues, and was equally applicable to every species of disorder or accident.
*' Cure? by the powers, and nothing can equal the grand preservative ! it ciu-es all diseases and mends all mischiefs. If you won't believe me, hear what happened to myself, which, without the aid of this extraordinary medicine, you would have never heard. I was drying powder for grouse- shooting, and had, for that purpose, spread it on a large sheet of paper, before the fire; while stirring it, some unlucky spark fell on the stuff*, and blew us all up together. Away went one of my arms here, another there; my head into the
KILLARNET SCANDAL. 121
Ceiling, and my tail out of the doorway. I was a lamentable sight to look upon^ as I could not be seen at all, but by three or four different looks. ' The cordial/ exclaimed I ; the cordial was brought —poured into my mouth; the first draught brought back my legs, the next my arms, to their proper places ; the third attached the trunk to the rest ; and I was whole and sound as ever ! *'
I had also the several fistcts, that, at one stag- hunt, the animal had dived from one island and come up at another, two miles distant; and also that a boatman, who had seized one by the horns aa the hunted deer was swimming, had securely mounted his back, and fairly traversed the lake, throwing a fly and catching trout at the same time.
Although these stories seem monstrous, they all undoubtedly had some foundation; and the good humour and kindliness of heart, which were manifested in the major's every act, had begotten for him an indulgence in his amplification, on which no one who knew him would be desirous of trenching.
Of the scandal — for even here the curse of all small towns among the residents, in which every person's business is every other person's business, has not been spared «- of the scandal of Killamey there was an abundant crop ; but, as it referred to persons whose influence might have gained, if
VOL. I. 6
122 LORD HEADLEY.
properly directed, the respect of all classes, but who had secured that of none, I shall decline to record it. Among the landlords, however, I must except Lord Headley, who does not employ a con- ceited, overbearing, and tyrannical agent, to beard him on his own domain, and exercise, with oppres- sive exactions, all the powers which ought to centre in his employer who exercises none. The real proprietors of the soil in Ireland know little of the wants of their sub- dependants. To avoid the direct intercourse with persons so generally poor and destitute, the whole authority is usually delegated to some attorney, whose interests are too much bound up in the amount of the rent-roll and his own per centage to allow much indulgence in sympathy; while all the tenants and dependants look to him, and him only, as the real master of the soil, the arbiter of their fates, and the autocrat who may, at will, thrust them forth from their home and birth-place.
The morning arrived, and with it came the major and his posse comitatus, to escort me to the lake, to witness, and, if need were, to assist in the stag-hunt. The weather was boisterous, and even dangerous, for I shall be well understood by any nautical reader when I describe the seas of the lakes in a gale as singularly short and rapid« Nothing but keeping the boat's hecul to wind will
8TAG-HUNT« 123
brave the difficulty ; and, on embarkiiig, even the major expressed some apprehension. Seeing, however, others start, we set forth ; the major at the helm, encouraging his little crew, among whom Owen was now associated, much to his disapproval. I would not understand his winks ; and, amid the roaring of the winds, and the shouts of the as- sembled parties, our little launch was pulled out. The rendezvous was at Innisfallen ; and, I believe, every boat that the lake afforded was crowded by visiters and others, who were seeking to congre- gate on the island, forming a motley group not very easy to describe. Numerous parties were already on the island ; some dancing to the pipers, who had severally selected some fiat spot for their adherents, while many, too great or too affected to join in the general hilarity, contented themselves with a dig- nified parade.
The major and myself joined the dance till tlie cry was heard that the stag was started. A hun- dred bugles from all directions of the lake now summoned each party to their boats, which crowded the shores of the island, and ludicrous were the scenes of apprehension, screaming, and splashing, as the lake, now wild with storm, dashed its angry spray over the dignified segregators. Many boats put back to the lee of the island ; but the major, relying on the skill of his little crew and his ovm
O S
124 STAG-HUNT.
steady hand at the helm, set forth, and we arrived at the opposite shore just as the hounds were descending to the strand. Splash went the afiiighted animal into the lake, amid the shouts of the hun- dred boatmen who were immediately at utmost stretch to follow him.
Each crew was now put to the test of strength, and I must record the fact, that the major was not last; the shores were crowded with spectators — the mountains reverberated the sounds in continued echoes — the clamping of a thousand oars — the resoimding bugles from the boats — the cries of cargoes upset in the melee — the alarm of the drowning, and the shouts of the foremost, raised altogether a din that must fiedl in description. The chase, however, was not of long continuance. The sea was too high to allow the tired animal a chance, and he was secured by two boats in a state of exhaustion that took from the captor all the credit of difficulty or danger. The stag was then reconducted to his native wood, and turned loose for a future day.
Although I give this short account of the stag- hunt at Killamey, I must, in justice, observe, that it afforded me individually no pleasure. The whole arrangements were artificial, and therefore, to the true sportsman, uninteresting. It is a piece of ab- surd pagecmtry 3 the only amusing part of which
BOOS. 125
is the assemblage, after all is over^ at the island of Innisfallen, where every true and loyal Killamey- man thinks it his duty to dance and get drunk, if he should have the misfortune to be sober for the rest of the year. The evening, however, unlike other Irish festivals, passed peacefully ; and, with the exception of a few broken heads and one or two drowned, on returning to the main land, the stag-* hunt at Killamey was fraught with no particular consequence.
The deer which is preserved in the woods in the neighbourhood, and which furnishes the hunt, is of the red species, and was originally brought from. FVance. Although they are still found in a wild state in Scotland, I believe Devonshire and Corn- wall are the only counties in which they are now found in England. With the wolves they appear to have been destroyed in Ireland ; once, doubtless, productive of those of a much larger and more splendid character of deer, now extinct.
The bogs of Ireland were once woods — the proof of which exists in the fact, that, in all parts, trunks of trees of immense size are found ; and even now the traveller will not unfrequently find the natives boring, by long iron rods, to search for timber. Having discovered the existence of some hard sub- stance, which they immediately recognize as timber, they proceed by continued boring to ascertain its
126 THE ELK.
length, and the depth from the surfieu^, and by these discoveries decide whether the exhumation would be worth the labour. The timber so dis- covered is hard as iron, and perfectly black, and it is not extravagant to believe many have been thou- sands of years imbedded in the b(^, its preservation being accounted for by the total exclusion of the atmospheric air. The Rev. Mr. Isaacson, in passing one of these numerous tracts where persons were thus employed, discovered the head and horns of an immense animal ; the former considerably larger than a bullock's, and the horns standing nearly seven feet high, and of a weight which could hardly be lifted by one person. The proportionate dimen- sions of such a creature must have been enormous ; but, with the destruction of the woods, by some convulsion of nature which philosophers have not explained, also fell this noble race of deer.*
Wolves, however, still escaped; for we find a presentment made to the grand jury for their de- struction in the county of Cork, so late as 1710; the inhabitants then complaining of their devasta- tion.
I cannot take my leave of Killamey without complaint. Of the habits and dispositions of the
* The horns and head of the elk were presented by Mr Isaac- son to the late Dake of Beaufort, in whose possession they now are.
THE LANDLORD. 127
people I do not complain : they have been formed by the folly of loose, idle, and indiscriminating visiters, who have sought a momentary popularity by gross and mischievous extravagance, the effect of which has been to give a very unfavourable im- pression to their successors of the Irish character. No such impression ought to be encouraged, as nothing can be more deceptive. The complaint I make is. of the pomp and folly of the resident land- lord, who, though extolled in the highest terms by the late Mr. Inglis, in his galloping tour through Ireland, is admitted even by him as ^^ far from being so popular among a certain class as he deserves to be." I must add, that the class referred to is a very numerous one. The proud obstructions of high walls, around that part of the lake which belongs to him, shutting even from the view of an ordinary walker the objects he has come to Killarney to see — ^the restrictions placed upon landing from the lake, on what is termed his lordship's domain — the ap- parently studied insults offered by his servants and agents to all strangers — the deliberate sacrifice of the interests of the liberal party, to which he has always professed to belong, to his own jealousy of the influence and power of a much greater man — one from whom benefits or injuries, whichever they be, extend over the whole of Ireland ; — all these things may perhaps better account for his " not being so popular as he deserves to be.'*
128
THB FAREWELL.
The '' fear'' of Mr* Inglis may have been ac- counted for, and the great praise bestowed on his lordship may have even miconsciously emanated from the fieust which ultimately creeps out, that Mr. Inglis '^ had likewise the advantage of Lord Kenmare's boat and rowers, and of tiie particular instructions they had received from his lonkbip."
But Killamey is beautiful, and doiorww to be visited. In liberal hands it would be ffae dm* de« lightful of watering-places* Its proaimity to die sea— its native attractions-^ its cheapness — all combine to render it the most delightful retreat to families seeking retirement, economy, and health. And, amid all the &ults of the population, it should be observed, that a people more free from crime, and more peaceable, cannot be found. Their po* verty and their idleness are chargeable on others.
^ACKWATEB BSIBOE.
BLACK n'ATEK BRIDGB.
CHAPTER IX.
Ktnmsre — Blackttiter— Liberktity o( the Rtv. D. M . —
Itiih Cunning and Rogner; — O"R0Qrke. the Salmon-Poacher — Stor; of O'ttoarkeRnd the Magistrate — Gaffing at the Falls -The Poacher in Exile— The Flood — Singular Habiti of the Sdmon— AaccDt of the Hills — A Sadden Storm, and lis con- wqaencei — PeriU and Euapes— Fatal Catastrophe at Cljdah --Tbe whole of the Cattle and lababitanta destroyed b; a Flood.
From Killame; to Kenmare, 14 mites.
The moat unfrequented, yet by far the most
magnificent scenery, lies between Killamey and
Kenmare. The latter is a small town, containing
g5
130 BLACK WATER RIVER.
a good inn ; seldom, however, boasting any other guests than the poorer attendants of the markets, and the occasional visits of the tourist. Although, on arrival at the town, little beyond a wild and barbarous coimtry meets the eye, the road will amply repay the journey. One miserable cot alone, dignified by the name of a half-way house, breaks in upon the general impression which steals over the mind, that the traveller is passing through an uninhabited country. The succession of mountains, displaying all the varied grandeur which forms so distinguishing a characteristic of Kerry, is here in- cessant, till, having traversed the now well-planned road fourteen miles, the sea bursts upon the view as suddenly as beautifully.
My view of visiting the Blackwater, a river cele- brated for its fishing, though by English travellers little known, prevented my staying at Kenmare. This river presents to the tourist and the angler at least a fortnight's varying amusement j and, in the liberality and kindness of the Rev. D. M , whose property it is, full reliance may be placed. His establishment is the oasis of the desert, while all around presents nothing but wild neglect and desolation : not an acre of land for miles under cultivation.
The strictness with which this river has been preserved has rendered nearly all the scattered in-
THE SALMON-HUNTER. 131
habitants adepts in the art of fly-fishing ; and even his domestic servants have been afflicted with* Ihe general desire to assist in gafflng, spearing, and hunting the saknon, although it has been always held a serious crime.
While I partook of an early breakfast, among others, who, like myself, were allured to the county by the high reputation it bears for sport of every kind, our host made frequent inquiries for one O'Rourke. At last 0*Rourke appeared. There was a conscious knavery in Iiis countenance, an archness in the eye, which betrayed the motive of our host's inquiries.
** Are there any salmon in the river, O'Rourke ?"
O'Rourke smiled, scarcely knowing whether he ought or ought not to answer the question. At length an imperious repetition of the inquiry brought a confused reply : '^ To be sure your honour knows right well ; how should I know, your honour ? sure it isn't for the likes of me to be looking for salmon, or peering about the river any way."
^^ I ask you, sir, if there are any salmon in the river ?"
** There are seven, your honour, in tlie first lodge, and eighteen in the upper pool.''
" TTien you do know,''
" Plase your honour, I don't pretind to know more than the rest, but the fish will show them-
132 THE SALMON-HUNTER.
iselves, your honour, and one can't help seeing them, your honour."
<^ That will do. Be ready with the gaff/' *^ To be sure and I shall, your l^pnour.*' The light flashed from his eye, as, with a hasty step, he retreated from the room evidently over- joyed.
^* That/' said our host, ^^ is the best salmon- fisher and the greatest knave on my estate. Not- withstanding the terror of dismissal, and the utter starvation which would be consequent on it, such is his propensity to poach salmon, that no con* sideration of this kind can restrain him. Salmcm- catching is, indeed, a constitutional disease with him, and I am compelled to give especial coders to my keepers to be ever on the look-out against all poachers, and especially against O'Rourke. Although he is now nothing more than a labourer on my estate, he was once in a higher employment ; and such was the pleasure my father took in his company, especially when fishing, that he might have taken any liberty save that only of catching salmon. The cause of his degradation, however, was the irrepressible love of salmonry, which overbore all other considerations. It was his office to carry my father across the stream, which, as you maj have observed, is, in many parts, exceedingly sha} low and broad; yet, during the floods, to which v
THE SALMON-HUNTEB. 133
are sometimes subject, we have foimd bridges of little avail. It was the old gentleman's custom to visit his summer-house on the opposite side^ and O'Rourke's duty to carry him across the stream, as the gout had at that time rendered him wholly helpless. About a year before his death, O'Rourke was performing his office with due care, and had already reached the middle of the stream with his gouty burden, when, as though struck with sudden madness, and uttering an Irish scream indicative of joy, he precipitated the old gentleman headlong into the stream, and threw himself into a hole which was close to the spot. Fortunately, my father recovered the sitting postiure, and, perhaps, as fortunately, had presence of mind to keep it, although the stream was rapidly flowing as high as his arms. His screams brought assistance from the neighbouring cottage, whereupon 0*Rourke jumped up with a monstrous salmon in his hands, which he held up by the gills. The curses of the old gentleman brought him to his senses; he awoke to the terror of his situation, which he knew would, during the paroxysm of his master, be fraught with danger. Throwing down, therefore, the salmon on the bank, he took to his heels, and was never heard of for at least a month.
" On regaining his home, the first business of the enraged magistrate was to grant his general war*
134 THE SALMON-HUNTER.
rant for the apprehension of O'RouriLe ; and, had he been then founds I do not doubt but that sentence of instant execution would have been passed against him. No warrant, however, availed ; he was not to be found.
*^ It was not till some time had elapsed when a sportsman, who well knew the worth of O'Rourke as a companion, dining with the still ofiended magistrate, to whom this enormity was detailed in accounting for O'Rourke's absence, and detailed with all the serious indignation of one mortally aggrieved, that a petition was presented for the culprit's pardon. This, with great difficulty, was at length obtained, and proclamation being made forthwith, the delinquent came out of his retreat, which had been no other than the inmiense mass of rocks which form the last fiBill of the river. Here had he endured a month's imprisonment, living on shell-fish, obtained from the shore, which was within a few yards of the spot, and perhaps mainly assisted by the better fare which the river supplied. Nothing, however, could wholly recon- cile my father to him, and, though restored to his employment on the estate, yet has O'Rourke never held up his head since he plunged the magistrate in the river to catch a salmon with his hands/*
Armed with the gaff, O'Rourke, myself, and fidus Achates Owen, now set off for the river.
GAFFIK6 AT THE FALLS. 135
When arrived there, I was somewhat amused at O'Rourke's account of the mode of life he had adopted while in retreat. The bridge, which is sixty feet above the rocks, where the last fall mingles the river with the sea, is of the wildest and most picturesque construction. After having shown us the precise hole where he boiled his potatoes at night, and the upper part of the hollow, which, on dried sea-weeds, he had made his bed, with the oimbleness of a monkey, though at that time at least sixty years of age, he jumped from one ledge of rocks to another, till he had gained the point of one which overhung the descending torrent, and there, with gaff in hand, awaited his opportunity. Strange as it may appear, this spot, if it could be maintained during the increasing flood afler rains, would present continual opportunities of gaffing the salmon and sea-trout as they endeavour to jump the fall.
'* Ah, your honour, we*ll have a glorious flood to-day."
This prognostication was formed on an expe- rienced observation of the habits of the salmon.
The river Blackwater is subject to sudden floods — ^torrents falling down from the immense range of mountains, each containing its lake. These lakes become sometimes overcharged, and it is not un- usual to find a simultaneous burst over the pre-
136
THE FLOOD.
ci[atous &lls of the stream, eo that frton a ripple to a flood is the change of a moment. Indeed, some parts of the river are so shallow, that a child may, at every two or three hundred yards, ford it. Od the approach of a flood , of which the most expe- rienced inhabitants of these glens can, perh^, form no prescience, t he habits and instincts of the salmon and trout from the sea are singularly evinced.
THE FLOOD.
The fall from the bridge, to which we have jt referred, forms a dark' basin, protected on ei side by perpendicular rocks. Such, however, is transparency of the salt water, that, from the of the bridge, although so much elevated from level of the water, it is not uncommon tc
THE FLOOD. 137
crowds of salmon sulkily awaiting the increased stream to make their first leap. Whenever, even in the most settled state of the weather, and while the river is nearly empty, excepting only the occasional lodges, these fish are observed to con* gregate mider the bridge, be sm^ of an impending torrent.
Convinced that, with this intimation from O'Rourke, and the dull and dense atmosphere dbove us, there would be little chance of sport, we proceeded up the river ; leaving O'Rourke at his p06t, with the gaff, to supply the salmon for dinner. As we ascended the hills by the side of the river, the stream exhausted, the pools motionless and transparent, the mists awfully capping the abrupt and prodigious heights, by which, on all sides, we were surrounded, weary with our walk towards the first lake, which is one of the sources of the stream (a journey undertaken more with the view of marking the ground for future operations, than with any hope of present sport), I despatched Owen to the solitary house of the hills. It was the habi- tation of one, who, in this unhappy land, is termed and esteemed a mountain farmer; and within five miles is no other cot. While I uselessly threw a fly on the undisturbed surface, awaiting his return, and ruminating on the solitary grandeur of the scene, a sudden crash of thunder startled me ;
138 SUDDEN STORM.
and, looking towards the heavy ranges of mountain which towered above me, I beheld black and threatening masses^ that, in any other comitry than these regions, would not be described as clouds, but as substantial volimies, portending some grand catastrophe.
I stood on the verge of the stream, on a jutting rock, and turned quickly on these demonstrations from above to reel up my line and prepare for my retreat. There was an air of terror among the cattle, which were here and there scattered about the ledges of the river ; and, to my astonishment, the rapidly increasing stream had already encom- passed me; a new arm had been formed behind, while the rising torrent threatened me before.
There was a scream of birds, whose wildness seemed to belong to the sea ; and I could distin- guish human voices between the intervals of thun- der. At length I beheld Owen and the farmer, on the opposite side of the river, directing me to some mode of escape which I could not comprehend, and using gesticulations of the utmost anxiety.
I now became seriously alarmed. Crash suc- ceeded crash ; the rain fell as in heavy volumes, hardly separated into drops ; and I resolved to ford the stream which had grown behind me, not con- ceiving that so short a period could have so won- derfully increased its depth. The first step con-
PEBILOnS SITUATION. 139
vinced me of my error. I slipped from the rock, on which I thought there was safe standing, and was instantly immersed in eight or ten feet of a rapid stream.
The first sensation which I recognized was a blow of scHne severity on my shoulder. I had met in my quick passage an obstacle, to which the pre- serJtilofW^wasowingl-itwas a sharp ledge of rocks, which formed the barrier to the stream. By one of those prodigious efforts with which in the moment of danger we are endowed, I threw myself out of the course on the bank, and now perceived that the current had already saved me three or four hundred yards of my journey homeward.
Panting and shaken by the roar of thunder above, and the dashing riot of the torrent below, I had but time to remove the blinding water from my eyes ere a fresh danger presented itself in the form of huge masses of rock, which continuously fell into the river, unable longer to endure the sudden shock. A bog was before me, over which kn ew it to be impossible to pass ; and I resolved to shelter myself, as well as circumstances would allow, by a project- ing mass which still braved the current, until some advice or assistance should be offered by Owen, who, I knew, was on the look-out. Then it was, and for the first time in my life, I beheld and felt the power
140 ESCAPE.
of the mountain storm. The enormous masses of clouds simultaneously burst over my head, and, for the few minutes they were discharging their un- equal weight of water, I was still drowning ; the torrent being hardly greater below than above me, and all seemed by one sudden convulsion to have become a raging sea.
To ward off the power of the descending cataract, I had covered my head with my hands, and, on my knees awaiting my fate, my arm was suddenly seized and I fell backwards, as I supposed, on some demon of the stream : it was the drowning wretch, who, to save me, had tempted the torrent's danger, and now lay extended on the rock. I raised him in my arms; he recovered quickly from his ex- haustion, and entreated me to swim the lesser stream, as, in a few minutes, one more flood firom the mountains would inevitably entomb us both.
Desperation was in the effort: I made it and succeeded, while my faithful mountaineer kept me fast by the waist ; and I, being the taller of the two, was enabled to afford him the assistance he needed.
The bog was to him well known. Under his guidance it was soon traversed, and we arrived at the farm-house with no further hurt than some severe bruises and excessive cold.
The effects of these sudden storms were mor
FLOOD OF THE CLYDAH. 141
deplorably manifested on the river Clydah, a stream which {isdls into the Flesk, and thence into the lower lake of Killamey. It is a shallow and rocky stream, sometimes fSedling down cliffs and rocks of immense height. Small as it usually is, it was once guilty of terrible destruction.
In the year I8S2, the month of June was singu- hrly dry. The 15th of that month put forth the appearance of a brilliant day; — the sun shone out in unalloyed splendour, and diffused heat and life around. On the banks of the Clydah might be observed the rustic dwellings of numerous hwnble fJEunilies, and in the midst of them the mansion of a gentleman who had devoted himself to the exer- cise of that hospitality which is almost the distin- guishing characteristic of the Irish ; at least, of those who are unpolluted by the extravagance of a residence in England. On the morning of the day abovementioned, he was surrounded by his family ; the cottagers were enjoying the loveliness of the day ; the cattle every where grazing on the abun- dant verdure which covered the slopes towards the river. Suddenly the sun became obscured — the roar of distant thunder shook the dwelling — fear started into every countenance — and, before any had time to communicate with another, a terrific cataract rushed from the mountains, sweeping all before it "^-bridges, cattle, houses, and their un«
142 THE CLYDAH.
lucky inhabitants, all hurled to an instant destruc tion. Such was the fury of the flood, that rocks of fifty tons weight were thrown from the bed of the river into the adjoining fields — the habitations of the poor retained no vestige of their existence-^ bridges, built on granite, at once disappeared, and the power of the flood reigned supreme. In one hour all was again still. The river assumed its usual form, trickUng among the rocks, and here and there forming a slight bay. The sun shone forth with his accustomed splendour ; but the in- habitants, whose smiling dwellings had before given a charm to the scene, were no more heard ! Bveiy human creature, whose habitation was on the banks of the Clydali, suddenly perished, without waniiog and without apparent cause.
A MOUMTAINEEB. ]43
CHAPTER X.
A MooDtaineer — Harreit-Huntera — Kerry Agents — Inflaence of the Catholic Clergy — Caases of that Inflaence — Safe Tra- velling in Ireland — Temper of the Irish Peasantry — Means for Improving their Condition — Abundance of Wild Fowl — The Secret.
The mountains about Keninare are of the most wild and stupendous order^ and I am in doubt whether the finest of the Swiss scenery in any d^ree surpasses this. With mine host, whose humble roof had sheltered myself and Owen, I re- mained the whole day, the waters not having sub- sided. He was a tenant of Lord , whom he
had never seen or heard of in the country, farther than that he is the proprietor of the soil. This man's condition may be taken as the general one of the moimtain serfs. His family consisted of three daughters, an aged mother, a wife, and two infant sons. Being literally without all other provisions.
144 A MOUNTAINEER.
I joined in their meals, which consisted of potatoes alone, poured out on a table with a ledge. The &mily stood around, and all partook of the humble fare with a kind of contentment and cheerfulness which would« I apprehend, be exhibited by no other persons in the world. The refuse of the meal was carefully collected and applied to the feeding of some fowls, which the daughters kept for the purpose of supplying clothing by their sale. For this purpose alone does any of the &mily visit a town ; and on such occasions they have to tra- verse an almost trackless country, shoeless. There was no pig, the sign of prosperity in an Irish cabin ] nor, on inquiry, did I find that any of the cotters could afford to sustain this useful animal.
Notwithstanding the utter destitution of these poor creatures, the man was by no means deficient in intelligence ; and, from his inquiries as to what was doing in parliament, and what measures Mr. O'CJonnell proposed to bring forward in aid of the Irish, I learned that he had the means of acquiring information on these subjects, which were seldom in the power, even in England, of persons so situated. The numerous families we meet with in England, who come over to the harvest, are of this order. He paid £^. 10s. for his cottage and plot Labour was at four-pence per day, when it could be had, and that was seldom, as his own ground
HABVEST-HUNTERS. 145
required his care at the time labour was in demand.
The plot having been planted, the whole family set o£f for Cork ; this they accomplish by carrying with them as many potatoes as each can bear, and the stock of fowls, which are disposed of at the first town. They find no difficulty in traversing Ireland. Every cabin is open to them, and the sympathy and kindness of the lowest order of Irish poor for each other are worthy of admiration. The duties of charity to their fellow-beings are strongly incul- cated by the priests, and it is on this class alone that their instructions appear to have full effect. The houseless and destitute wanderer will seldom want a meal of potatoes, or, at least, a contribution towards one ; wherever he applies, his bag is bur- dened by the addition of a few potatoes, till the whole amounts to a good meal. By this mode of charity, the destitute are sustained from town to town. Their passage-money, by a butter-boat from Cork, is paid from the small proceeds arising from the sale of the fowls ; they take, as their sea-store, all the remains of the potatoes first boiled, and generally arrive in Bristol utterly destitute. On the road, one of a party gets employment, and the earnings of one are amply sufficient for the suste- nance of the whole. They sleep in hovels, generally by the permission of the farmers, through whose
VOL. I. H
146 HARVEST-HUNTERS.
grounds they pass on their way to the interior of England ; and, I believe^ it is but justice to say, that they have on no occasion been found guilty of depredation.
The harvest having commenced, they generaUy get from two to three shillings a-day, all of which they keep with the greatest care, sustaining, sometimes, sixteen hours labour for successive days, without better sustenance than potatoes and milk afford.
On preparing for return, one of the party care- fully sews up the whole of the earnings in some part of his dress least likely to be examined, and they proceed homewards, still exhibiting all the outward destitution which accompanied their arrival. Ap- plications for assistance are regularly made, and generally received at each parish through which they pass homeward ; emd so careful are they of what small sums are given them in this way, that out of them they frequently make an additional store. Their journey homeward is prosecuted in the same way, assisted by the kind contributions of the poorest, for they never apply to the rich ; and, on their arrival, the amount is carefully shared amongst them, and their rents duly paid. By this time their potatoes are fit for digging ; and, if the pro- duce be good, the family is sustained by them alone, in the way I have described, for a considerable portion of the year — while the few days' labour at
MOUNTAIN PEASANTRY. 147
four pence, or, at best, six pence per day, serves to <^ out the rags which can hardly be said to cover them. It was in these annual migrations that I discovered mine host had acquired his information of subjects which never excite the inquiries of the English poor.
Upon the completion of the second meal, I could Dot help putting some questions :•—
^ Is this the way you usually live ? *'
^ Faith is it ; sometimes worse when the crops are poor.'*
'* And you live peaceably and cheerfully in this way?"
** Peaceably enough, your honour."
** But you are content ? "
'' Your honour sees we are content. Content till the liberator, all honour to him, shall restore our rights — give us labour and its value — not that we should be content and peaceable without this. Your honour sees the helpless old woman, and the good girls there — better children never breathed. My heart has been sometimes near to breaking when the crop has fiuled, and they have been obliged to walk every day to the shore^ six miles off, to bring each a load of sea- weed as manure, at two-pence per load. Many a time have I seen them fiunting under their burden ; but it was that (Mr death : they are good children."
148 KERRY AGENTS.
The poor fellow could hardly refrain from Uars, while the daughters^ conscious that he was speaking of them, left the hut.
^' But why have you not sought the town in the neighbourhood ; there would surely be respectable employment for them?"
*' That might be, but I wouldn*t part with my children, and your honour knows little of the num- bers that are already starving in the towns : where would they get kindness or assistance in sickness and distress? In your honour's country there are poor-laws — hospitals ; and your people are not left to die; but here are none. I couldn't port with my children^ though, God knows, there is little enough for us here, and our English jour- neys have not been so profitable as formerly : the farmers refuse to employ us since some change about the English poor ; and we are a small arrear in rent, which the agent threatens to distrain for. However, the fowls go next week, and we shall make up that. But we are content — ^we must be content."
'* Does the agent take no interest in your wel- fare?"
'' None."
" Does he never call ? "
" If the rent is in arrear. The country is bleal your honour: there is but one person who tr
THE MOUNTAIN VISITEE. 149
verses these mountains, or feels for the inhabitants in a time of scarcity or of distress."
*' And who is he?"
" The priest."
" Does he visit you often ?"
** Whenever we require him,"
" What remuneration can he receive from you ? "
" Remuneration !"
" What do you give for the attendance required of him in sickness ?"
" Our thanks, our respect, and our love are all he receives from us; but he has these, and he should have our hearts' blood, if it were wanting to prove that he has them."
This devotion to the priesthood, throughout the south of Ireland, has been the subject of the grossest misrepresentations. Anathemas against their influence and the abuse of it have been uttered in both houses of parliament, at all public meetings, and almost in all societies. To the superstitition of the Romish church is that influence wholly ascribed — the power given by confession, and the utter darkness and ignorance in which its com- municants are held, are referred to as sufficiently explaining the source of the blind obedience which is paid to the Irish Catholic clergy.
Religion has nothing whatever to do with it. The influence they enjoy, and I every where took
150 THE PRIESTS.
occasioQ to seek information, arises from those causes which— over the minds of an oppressed and starving population, a population not deficient in intelligence and warmth of feeling — would suc- ceed, under any religion, in achieving (he same results.
Nothing can be more unjust than the violent attacks made on this generally useful body ; and it is to be lamented that those attacks are made in places where they have no opportunity of defence, where the audience is one-sided, and where Aey themselves are unrepresented. Full of prejudice against their supposed misdeeds, I sought every where an introduction to the priests. I found them, 1 may with truth say, universally well infonned ; many of them persons of the highest acquirements, yet humble and content with the smallest remu- neration— they have no personal wants. They have no families to distract and divide their atten- tion, or to inspire the wish to possess and amass wealth. The donations by which they are sup- ported are voluntary ; the performance of their duties, severe as they sometimes are, exemplary. They have, individually, and as a body, but one grand object — the furtherance of the interests o/ their religion, and the acquirement of the love anf respect of their people. That those objects ai achieved by the unceasing attention they pay
THB PRIESTS. 151
aUy in sickness and distress ; at the hour of mid- night, called from their beds to traverse a trackless mountain to adminisier comfort to the sick and dying, where not even the meanest accommodation exists ; even under such circumstances the catholic priest will be found watching by the departing, and comforting the mourners. He is, in such districts as these, the fiaither and the friend. With this what can the form of religion have to do ? The complaining protestant incimibent, who receives for no service, because none is ever called for, the ample income which is drawn, from the produce of a soil already overcharged, from the poor earnings of the poorest people in the world, joins in the out- cry, so universally set up in England, against the priestly influence — the priestly dictation. Have the protestant clergy ever used the same means ? When did a protestant clergyman start from his bed at midnight, at the call of a wretched cottager ? When did he journey behind his guide over miles of mountains, to administer comfort and the forms of religion to beings in destitution, who have no- ting to offer in return but their gratitude. But this is nightly the labour of the priest ; in this, and the exercise of the kindly offices to his destitute flock, consists his power ; and to the use of that power, in a way deserving, if the truth were known, the highest commendation, is the internal peace of Ireland mainly owing.
152 THE PRIESTS.
While I am on this subject, let me endeavour to remove an impression which, much and unfiedrly, militates against the interests of Ireland. The dis- tricts on which I now write are little known, because little visited ; and, among inquirers on the subject, I have found a distrust of the inhabitants — a sug- gestion of danger. There is none. Every English- man may be assured that in no country in the world is he more safe. My route throughout Ireland was out of the ordinary track — ^the sportsman will always choose the most unfrequented paths— * but, during a residence of two summers, spent chiefly in places little known to the English, I never ex- perienced a loss of any kind. The crimes of the Irish poor, destitute as they are, are not those of theft. But were property lost, an application to the priest would immediately be the means of its resto- ration; a general exhortation at the mass would have that effect, while of personal violence there is no instance. No stranger, I believe, was ever yet molested among them. On the contrary, every cottage would be open for his accommodation ; and whatever it contained would be at the service of the traveller.
But let us not be deceived by the notion that the Irish peasantry are or will be content in the stat of destitution to which they have been graduaU brought; let us not imagine that they are ur
PEASANTBT. I&3
conscious of tiie deprivations they suffer, or of the inequality of their lot, in comparison with other tiations. They will be found generally intelligent, and even clever— they endure their fiette in silence, it may be, but in hope — they look, through their priesthood, to the power of one man — a power, which, originating in the instructions of the priest* hood, has been established by a daring perseverance never before exercised in their behalf — a power, which, as long as the oppressions of the people last, will not only endure but increase.
It was said by Cobbett that the cultivation of the potato was a misfortune — I believe it. It is the lowest sustenance to which the human frame can descend — below it, there is nothing but death. To this, the absent landlord, the grasping middle- man, and the oppressive exaction of tithes, have reduced all the rural districts of Ireland — one step further, and destitution and despair will be fraught with their natural results. Why should they starve? WTiy should any people starve? It is against the common law of nature, which is, above all, the law of society. If regard for the law, and obedience to its mandates, bring death — nature cries out, break it, and live. It is a cry not to be resisted — ^it is a cry that will be obeyed.
Contending interests and factions repress the me- lioration of the condition of the Irish peasantry. It
h5
15 1 THE DEPARTURE.
is not poor laws, for the peasantry are exemplary in their kindness to their relations — it is not hospitals or subscriptions — ^it is the residence of their landlords, and employment for a now redundant population. It is the reclamation of lands, to meet the demands of an increasing people — it is the establishment of manufactures on the broad and splendid streams, which every where irrigate the country — to give a market for produce, and wages to the labourer. The first of them would produce all the latter — the first would reinstate the poor, and, perhaps, bring the lord of the soil to some slight knowledge of the state of those thousands who starve under his dominion, wanting only the legitimate direction and aid to which they have a just and irrefragable claim.
The surprise and gratitude which beamed in the countenance of mine host and his wife, as I placed a small sum in the hand of the infant while taking leave, showed how far I had exceeded their expec- tations, and how little accustomed they were kindness of any sort. There was an indispositio: to receive it, and a protestation that they were happy to have had the honour of sheltering me all which being overcome by my request that the; would refer to it no more, the man requested to b^ allowed to accompany us over the mountain pass« I again visited the banks of the river — it had
WILD FOWL. 155
fisdlen to its ordinary yolume — and all the flats were covered with sea-fowl, attracted, no doubt, by the shoals of small white trout, with which the river, after the storm, abounded. Among the rest, the cormorants were numerous, pieces of rock , which jutted from the river, being here and there covered in one dense mass. My gun was now in requisition — so unaccustomed were these animals to any an- noyance from uian^ perhaps even to his sight, that I found no difficulty in approaching a flock, thus aetded, and sending the contents of both barrels amongst them. The death of many of their number scarcely disturbed them — they flew up- wards, and, in a few moments, again assembled on the same spot. The screams of every class of sea-bird, which followed the report of my gun, conveyed the idea of our being amongst an inter- minable flock. As we passed down the rocks, fol- lowing the course of the river, new coveys met us at every turn. It was hard work to load — my powder was becoming exliausted — and I regretted I had not a better supply^ as one of the flat pools of the stream exhibited a dark mass of ducks, widgeon, and teal.
** Your honour's our friend," said my host.
" Certainly."
" It's pity your honour has no powder, and another gun — a heavier gun would send better — your honour will be secret."
156
THE SECRET.
** You may trust me, safely."
" I will fetch your honour a gun — an old one, but a true one — and powder."
" Where have you these things ?"
'^Not a man on these mountains but knows where both are to be found. Your honour will own the gim, if any inquiry. God knows when we shall want it." The confidential whisper in which this was conveyed disclosed much of the state of general content in which the Irish moun- taineers are held. It would be dangerous to break the peace of such a people.
KELLOBGLIN.
157
CHAPTER XI.
Return to Killarney — Kellorglin — Lake Carraght — Wales's Inn — Fishery on the Carraght River — Lob-Trout— Fishing in Lake Carraght — Disappointment — Seal-Shooting — Castle* maine Bay — Birthplace of Daniel O'Connell — Arrival at Cahirciveen.
From Kenraare I returned to Killarney; and^ having taken leave of the major, who promised again to join me so soon as I should arrive at Galway, I despatched Owen with the pony, and followed the coiurse of the town to Kellorglin. This is a singularly interesting walk of twelve miles, though the lower part ofthe river becomes tame and flat as it approaches the sea. The late rains had greatly swollen the river, which was now clearing, and I was anxious not to lose the golden moment. Trout was abimdant; many of good size, notwithstanding the continual netting of this
158 ABUNDANCE OF TROUT.
river ; and, as I crossed one stream, a tributary to the Lowne, about six miles from Killamey, 1 found the fall, under the bridge, crowded with those fresh run from the sea. A fly was useless — a good worm, well scoured, would have been eflFectual at this moment — and the best substitute for the resistless bait I offered. I took upwards of forty common trout and sea-trout, from a quarter to a pound and a half, under this fall alone. I met with many anglers — rude ones indeed — they vere fly-fishermen, and had met no success. The fish they had taken were all small; and, from obser- vation on all the rivers I have fished, I ever find the smaller size most greedily rise at a fly, while the heavy fish are generally to be found in falls, where the fly could never attract. The bait is, therefore, the only mode of fishing these fJeistnesses*, and, even then, it must be offered with some skill. Much will depend on the weight attached to the line, as trout invariably take the salmon-roe at the bottom. If, therefore, the fidl be deep and turbu- lent, I append a heavy bullet, three feet from the hook ; that the former, lodging on the ground, plays the bait in the eddy with such effect as to attract fish even from a hundred yards distance. There is much in this plan. I now approached the sea; the river was still, and subject to the tide. I therefore put up my tackle, and pushed on towardf
KELLORQLIN. 159
the little town of Kellorglin. All the civilization of Killamey had vanished ; I was now approaching the wildest part of Kerry, where no intercourse with England existed, and where the Irish lan- guage was in its native purity. Most, however, of the peasantry understood something of English, and had little difficulty in directing my route.
At Kellorglin will be found a very humble, but not an uncomfortable inn; and, above all, I re- commend the angler to spend one evening here, for a very essential purpose, that of procuring flies of a gaudy feather, exactly suited to the fresh-run salmon, among which he may anticipate abundant sport. There is a very ingenious artist at Kellor- f^f the only fly-fisher of the place. I sent for him ; and, supplying him with hooks and gut, he made for me a dozen salmon-flies, not easily to be surpassed in the delicacy of their construction, and certainly not at all in the attraction they present. He was well rewarded, by a glass of punch and a shilling, for his evening's work.
The Lake Carraght, which is situated about six miles from Kellorglin, is a splendid, though utterly neglected lake ; and, in visiting it, the sportsman must lay his account with the loss of all the usual comforts. He should provide himself with neces- saries at Kellorglin ; and, among other pref>a- rations, be must ask leave of the renter of the river
160 WALES'S INN.
to ffih the stream up to the lake. This pennission, although granted by a person who pays a heavy sum annually for the river-fishing, I believe to Lford Headley, is never denied. On my application, I was informed that the river was quite open to me, and that the renter would have great pleasure in meeting me on the banks, near the weir, in the morning.
The only house on the road towards Cahirciveen, which presents any accommodation, is at Wales's, the bailiff of Lord Headley, which is about seven miles from Kellorglin, and very invitingly situ- ated between two rivers, each about half a mile from the house. One is the Carraght river, the other a mountain stream, of considerable volume ; and there is this extraordinary peculiarity attached to them — up the Carraglit is found nothing but salmon ; I believe there is scarcely an instance of the white trout making up that river ; the other is crowded with white trout, and not a salmon dis- turbs them. Both these rivers fall into the sea, within a mile of each other, behind Wales's houses yet, as by ^ marine arrangement, the fish never invade each other's dominions.
Wales himself carries on a fishery of considerable extent, at the mouth of the latter river, where, at one draught of the net, it is not uncommon, at the end of May, or the beginning of June, to take
WALE8*S INN. 161
from six to seven hundred white trout, some of from three to four pounds in weight. Nor does this appear at all to decrease the supply, so entirely are ttrey immolested in the river. On my arrival at the little inn, I found that the host was an Englishman, many years, however, resident in Ireland, so many, indeed, that he appeared wholly to have forgotten the relative value of things, and to have adopted, to the fullest extent, the delusion so general among Irish innkeepers, that all the English are afflicted with Vembarras de richesses. No doubt a very reasonable agreement might be made with him, as at all other stations; but I, having made none, the more strenuously advise all who follow me to establish a clear understanding of that nature. His house is well situated as a station ; and, should the weather be rainy (which in these mountainous districts may generally be ex- pected) exhaustless sport would be found. Here, having established my head-quarters, I sallied forth to keep my appointment. I found the proprietor at the weir, accompanied by my ingenious friend, the fly maker, who had brought the whole of his feathers, for the purpose of suiting the day. From the weir to the sea, it should be known that there is but one lodge for salmon ; and, though the distance is a mile, not one will be found at any other spot below the weir. The lodge is a
162 YOUNG SALMON.
flat, about a hundred yards fnxn the weir; and, though I had fished carefully, from the road up- wards, without a rise, no sooner had my fly hllen fairly on that spot, than a fish, of six or seven pounds, rose to meet it. He broke ofl^ It is very difficult to hold the young salmon, especially in streams. Their mouths are tender, and if the hook should not take efiect in the bony part of the jaw, they break off at the first struggle. My new friend and myself now began in earnest, and, out of twenty which were hooked in the course of two hours, on the s£ime spot, we were successful in landing only three. One of these I took to Wales's, and, having invited him and the fly- maker to join me, a substantially good dinner was put before us, and to it was ample justice done.
It is a mistake to cook salmon quite fresh. The flakes are hard — the oily matter which, by keeping, insinuates itself into the flesh and renders it tender, is curdy. Although fresh salmon is generally sought, and as generally esteemed, a day's hanging is a manifest improvement.
I now visited the river on the other side ; and, changing my fly- tackle for the roe, invited my company to view a new style of fishing. They were perfectly incredulous till they saw my success, which, indeed, was almost incredibly great. The late heavy rains having brought the white trout
LOB-TROUT. 163
into the river in such abundance, that it was im- possible to find a spot, below the bridge, and to- wards the sea, ^riiich possessed not its silvery tenant.
In this river I met, to me, a new species of the trout ; it is common, however, in Ireland, and in some of the rivers in Scotland ; and appears to be a bastard between the common and the sea, or white trout. It is called a lob. It is found only in brackish water, in such parts of rivers which aro frequented by the fish from the sea, as are subject to the tide. On the retirement of the tide, these fish are most ravenous, and may be taken with almost any bait, but especially with the salmon-roe. They aro found of three and sometimes four pounds, are exceedingly muscular and violent, but by no means good for the table. I was assured that these fish are so destructive of the spawn of the sea-trout and salmon, that a premium would be given by the proprietors of rivers for their destruction. Certainly, their eagerness for the roe was unprecedented, taking it even from the surface, before it was well in the water. Tltey are less timid than other fish of their species, and would afford sport even in the finest weather, when neither the salmon nor white trout could be moved.
This day deserved to have been marked with a
JG4 CARRAGHT LAKE.
wkUe stone. It was a day of splendid amusement the success such as would have gratified a wholessi^ fishmonger — but, alas! the produce here was of no value ; after all my labour, and after the exhi^ bition of my pride, in depositing eighteen fine trout at the inn, mine host, with a coolness that almost made him mine enemy, requested the plea* sure of my company at his salting-house ; where, from one draught at the low water, at the mouth of the same river, that very evening, I beheld a heap of not less than two hundred fish, chiefly of larger size than any I could boast. The chagrin and mortification I experienced were heightened by the smile of all parties, as they took their leave, and bade me good sport.
The Carraght lake, however, was untried, and I despatched Owen, on the pony, to endeavour to procure a boat, so that it should be ready in the morning, at a certain spot, nearest to the road, or rather pathway, which led to it. A dreary path it is, by the side of the rocky stream, which some- times falls down heavy precipices, at others, spreads over a vast space ; not a tree or shrub to vary die monotony of the vast masses of black stone, which seem to have directed its course. After an hour's difficult riding, early the next morning we arrived at Lake Carraght. There were ^traditions of trout, of sixty, and even eighty pounds^ taken from this
CA&BAOHT LAKE. 165
^ter. I was fired with the accounts I every where ^^^, and resolved to try my fortune for tlie %hest prizes alone. Having, therefore, put on ^ trailing tackle, and young samlets for bait, we ^ off, keeping, as Owen recommended, the deep ^^urses. Four times round the lake did we in- dustriously row, without an indication of an inha- bitant; and it was late ere, wearied and disap- pointed, we sought the hovel, where the pony had been left, to return to our inn. We could not CQDdescend to attack the white trout in a spot where every retiring tide gave hundreds to the net.
That evening Owen and myself held a council of war. It had been disgraceful to have abandoned 80 fine a lake. It was clear we had not adopted the means of fishing it, and I was determined to make a bolder attempt. I was aware that, in many large lakes, the best trout are only to be taken by a ground bait ; and this I determined to try. I therefore directed Owen to t€ike some salmon-roe, load it heavily, and endeavour to secure from the river some eels, which, it must be re- marked, throughout this part of Ireland are re- garded as noxious vermin, not only unfitted for food, but even for sight, so hprror-stricken do all the Kerry people appear in their presence. Mecm- while I arranged a stout cord, of one hundred and
166 FISHING IN EARNEST.
fifty yards long, with a hook of good size at eveiy' second yard. This I wound round a deal board o( exactly the width of the hooks, so that they wer^ not entangled in the process. Owen was soccessfiil in eel-catching, and brought a basket fiill, with which, the next morning, we started.
On arrival at the lake, my first care was to select two stones, of sufficient weight, for each eoii of the line. Alternately on the hooks were put od a small trout (which are easily caught by tiie hand, under the stones, in the tributary rivulets) and an eel, cut in two. The line was then sunk, at length, with a large cork, as a buoy, in tbe middle of the lake. Having done this, we com- menced our trailing with better tackle — I say better, for I attributed our want of success, the previous day, to the imskilful arrangement of the bait, which was not properly swivelled. Now, however, I had corrected that error, so that the fish twirled in a most inviting manner; and, being resolved to employ our time like real sportsmen, I directed Owen to row, while I attended the t?n> rods, one from each side the Wit, and also threw a line, witli four flies of different sizes and colours. This was fishing a lake in earnest; and, I be- lieve, never was success greater. The first fruits were from the flies, and I landed a small salmon ; next from the trailing line, botii of which were nm
DISAPPOINTMENT.
167
^g^r; and, in the agitation of the moment, W nearly proved fatal to myself and my com- P^OD, as he threw down the oars, forgetting where « was, to seize the rod, which was quietly disem- l^kiog itself at the sunmions of one of the lake Dionsters.
The anxiety of both, as the fish ran foul, can
i^y be described. I blamed Owen whenever
^ game crossed my line, and he thought it was
f^ possible that I might keep mine clear of
^' After some bickerings, blamings, and, I fear,
^temperance on my part, Owen landed his fish.
It Was a lake trout of twelve pounds, which we had
*^ determined to have been thirty — short, thick,
"'^, and ugly — with a mouth almost as large as
^t of a pike. What my candidate for the honour
^f the atmospheric region may have been, I cannot
^U; he threw himself once out of the water, dis-
^t^gaged himself from the hook, and left nothing
W my mutilated bait.
This disappointment, however, did not check <Hir exultation at the safe arrival of Owen's fish. We both burst into a fit of laughter at the ap* pearance of the ugly creature, while Owen as- sured himself and me that there were trout still to be caught in that lake of seventy pounds, and that wehad only received this as an instalment. We now proceeded to take up the dead line;
168 THE KING TROUT.
and, flushed with our recent achievement, I will not attempt to describe how anxiously we drew up this buoy rope. On raising the stone towards the boat, a struggling power, which I could hardly re- sist, indicated the presence of some of the lake monsters. Yard after yard was hauled in— I paused — Owen swore it was one of the celebrated trout. I thought so till the line reached the siu&ce and betrayed a dark-coloured andferocious-lookiog eel, of seven poimds. The buts of our rods were now in requisition ; and, aft;er a flagellatioD that would have been ill sustained by any other creature, he was landed ; next hook, still a struggle ; an eel again — again and again. As I proceeded, how- ever, a dash was made that showed the presence of a more vivacious creature. I held on the line in the utmost anxiety — I brought it to the surface- it was, indeed, one of the lake monsters, of which we had been so laboriously in pursuit— -but I had no power to govern him — for a while darting ahead — then towards the stem — now leaping from the water, and falling with an appalling splash— at length, he made one dart under the boat — one of the hooks caught — the line broke, and our hqpe was annihilated. Freed from restraint, we saw him once more dash from the surface, and then disappear for ever.
Who shall paint our mortification. Owens
THE KIKO TROUT. 169
^Untenance, always lengthy, was greatly elongated. ^ stood in surprise for a moment, drew in the ^mainder of the line in an affected resignation, ^Ut spoke no word. I motioned Owen to row ^^^^^WBids the shore, quietly packed up my tackle, ^iid we proceeded on our road homeward. I daied not trust myself to speak — all our ar- '^Qxigements were made in silence — nor was it till ^^ had half accomplished our journey to the inn, ^^hat Owen ventured to hint that it was a large
'* What fish?"
*' The trout your honour lost."
"I lost r
**No; that the line lost. By St. Patrick, he ^^ a rale one."
*^ It is impossible to say."
'* Sixty, at least, your honour. I knew him by "^ breadth of his tail ; his tail was broader than H^ my hands."
" You think so."
^' I saw him a dozen times."
^' Owen, say no more about him ; he was a large teut. If we told the story, we should hardly gain t)redit, and neither of us any satisfaction from "^citing our ill-luck — let us forget it — but that trout was the largest of the lake."
On arrival at our inn, we found our host busily
VOL. I. I
170 SEAL-SHOOTING.
employed in boiling down seals for their oil. led me to inquire, and I soon learned that the abounded along the Castlemaine bay. I therefbr^^ ordered the gig early, and made preparations fcK^ an attack. The road from Wales's to Cahircivieezi is now excellent, cmd perhaps one of the most picturesque in Ireland ; sometimes elevated on emi- nences, above the beautiful green bay, from which, on a calm day, can be seen the fish scudding over the white patches of sand. Not a hut interrupts the wildness of this lovely region, which I passed through on a singularly fine morning. Wlienever the shore, which it frequently does, approached the road, I left Owen in charge of tlie gig, and beat out my own track among the rocks. Although I could frequently see the seals, mounted on little jutting eminences, before I could creep towards them, within the distance of two or three hundred yards, they splashed into the sea. At length, when the curve of the bay suddenly presented me no less than ten or twelve, of all sizes, I rushed tofsrards the sea to intercept them. They had the benefit of both barrels among them ; but, failing to strike the he^d of any, nothing but the rising blood on the wave showed that my load had taken effect.
Although unsuccessful with the seals, I was not so with the cormorants, puffins, and teal. The
CASTLEMAINE BAY. 171
^Ojidance of tiiese birds supplied continual sport,
^though it is to be lamented that the useless birds
P^^^dominate greatly. The teal were shy and few.
We now passed the bridge, which leads over the **^er, forming the little harbour of Cahirciveen. Bere I resumed the bait-tackle, and found tolerable Bporty among a small sized white trout^ which were ^'^^^ abundant in all the rivers of this district. As ^^ approached Cahirciveen, the black and desolate fountains of Iveragh broke through the clearing ^^K&osphere ; while the sun, now flashing on the ^^'Oad Atlantic, presented a scene of wild splendour. ^ now deemed that I had, indeed, reached those ^'^gions into which no civilization had yet pene- ^lUed. Immense tracts of uncultivated bog, ab- nipily broken by a sudden mountain, behind which Qootber of greater elevation rears its head, itself ^gain and again succeeded by masses, if pos- Aie, still more black and awful in their combi- nations.
Ldttle as this road is traversed, considerable soms have been expended on it ; and, assuredly, its boundaries present sites for marine residences of an extraordinary beauty. The view over the Castlemaine bay, of the Atlantic, and, in the dis- tance, the fairy island of Valencia, possesses a rare combination.
l2
17- O'cOXNELL'S BIRTIirLACK.
If I were to fix on a spot where I would hope^ tc pass the rest of life's fitful dream, in quiet retire- ment^ it would be impossible to select one of tnore accumulated advantages.
On the right, between the road and the arm of the sea, which receives the Caliirciveen riveri is Cashen — now, alas ! a ruin — used only for th© occasional shelter of cattle. It is prettily situateciy and was once the residence of the chief proprietor of much of the surrounding country. It was th0 hospitable mansion of the father of that extras ordinary man, who is now inextricably associated with all the destinies of Ireland. It was the resi'^ dence of the father of O'ConneU.
I could not pass this spot without a closer exa^ mination ; the now unglazed window of that room in which the ^^best abused man in the world '^ first drew breath was pointed out ; and I paused^ to carry with me a faithful reminiscence of so interesting a spot. My sketch occupied som^ time; and, on its completion, I walked towards the ruin. I disturbed my fidus Achates; Oweo was on his knees, uttering a prayer for the weUiBu:^ and success of his country's indomitable friend. As what he uttered was in Irish, I had some difficulty in arriving at the substance of his orisons. *' Your honour will forgive an Irishman. Long life to him who liberated Ireland !"
O'CONNBLL. 173
What benefit has the liberation bestowed on ^land, Owen ?"
' b it your honour asks that question in earnest 7*^
** In earnest."
"Sure it is not for the likes of me to tell your '^^Jour what the O'Connell has done for his country **tbe world knows it. Faith, it's to him we owe ^ jQor honour's parliament ever cared about us ^^ It's to him we owe that your honour visits ^ country and inquires about us ; and it's to '^ we owe that we are represented at all in the ^'i^r country, which conquered us, and kept us ^dermartial law for many a day. Oh, it's meself ^ remembers the time when a candle shouldn't ^ lighted, but a troop of soldiers would hunt in Qpou us and abuse us. Oh, we were slaves then, ^y way."
**But how has O'Connell remedied all this?"
^* Long life to him, and he has remedied all he ^ We may have a light, if we please, now ; and ^ may walk about, without being stopped by the '^ers; and it'll not be long before we get law ^ justice, and catholic magistrates, that will be- '^ the truth from a catholic. Oh ! the devil fly ^^y with all protestant magistrates that find all <^tholics guilty!"
'* And do you believe the protestant magistrates «o decide ?"
1/4 O'CONNELL.
'' Faith, and your honour may say that. Sore all the world knows it. If we had among us a spalpeen who would swear any thing but the truth, he had only to turn Orangeman and pro- testant; he couldn't swear too stoutly or too much. 0*ConneIl has smashed the Orangemeo, and an honest man may now have law, and eome- times justice."
That this was a feeling too generally dissemi- nated, whether justly or not, was evident; that there had existed grounds for such impresflons, may be readily inferred. It must not be imagined that the services of 0*Connell are not understood by the Irish. Frequently have I been astonished by observations from the poorest class, which have betrayed more judgment than even the refined London press has sometimes exhibited, in db- cussing the groundwork of his popularity and influence. The frequent announcements ci the decline of that influence, from some ill-explain^ or party squabble, can create nothing but a smile in the traveller, who has made himself acquainted with the firm reliance placed in him. The reproaches of mendicity, which seem to con- stitute the standing thesis of abuse, ^^pass bf him like the idle wind." He is no beggar; he had, long before he received one fSurthing from his countrymen, in the way of contribution, added to
ARRIVAL AT C A HIR. 1 75
^e independence bequeathed him, a fortune, and a ^Jiie that was better than fortune; an income, ^^^t, with half the personal labour he now under- goes, would have ensured a more certain, and. Perhaps, not more contracted income than he now ''^ceives from his countrymen. If he receives, like ^ l>eggar, he has the redeeming quality of spending *ike a prince. He is not rich, nor can ever be so ; ^ hospitality and devotion to his country's interests forbid it.
We now passed the handsome mansion of Charles
^*Connell, (late member for Kerry, and son-in-law
^f the O'Connell) and a handsome erection, that
^^med to stand forth as an example of the use
*0 which the noble streams, which every where irri-
§^te this part of the country, might be applied.
It was a mill, built and carried on by a relation of
O'Connell's. A few minutes more brought us into
Cahirciveen. It is a pretty town, for Ireland ; and
the appearance of comfort which pervades it at
Once evinced the power of resident proprietorship.
In 1815, the entire village consisted of fifteen
houses, and those of a mean order. Now will
\ie foimd two streets, some handsome shops and
buildings, a good inn, and vessels, of one hundred
tons, at the quay, and between 1500 and ^000
inhabitants ; perhaps the most peaceful, increasing,
and prosperous spot that Ireland can boast. Such
I.
1
I'
I
11 KILL* ill
la popular landlo]
CAHIRCIVEEN.
C&HIKCtVEBS.
CHAPTER XII.
TCeo — Comfartiblu Inn — John O'Connell — Portrait of Jbei>tor— Mount ain HuntiDg— A SporCiman'a Brnkfuat «M«»» — 3Hteo( CriniHin Kerry— Pirtjr Feudu —The on and CwileeD*— A Smuher— the Riier Iiiny— W&ti:r- lAke— Courtesy of Mr. Butler — Live Lamb for Dinner — DCS of lb« Weir*— A Deathbed Scene.
I Killarney, 40 milea; froni Tralee, 36ini1n: fromDablin. a; from Waterville Lake, emilei; from the riTcr Inay,
E town of Cahirciveen is of very recent origin ears all the marks of rapid improvement — 15
178 THE INN.
the houses recently erected, and of a handsome structure. Its situation is singularly beautiful, beingr sheltered by the island of Valencia, and hav4 a navigable river of two nules. It is pro- tected from the great northern storms by the range of mountams compoeing the district Iveragh, and affords a site, particularly adapted to embrace the commerce (such as it is) of the whole aoatliem coast of Ireland. Here is a comfortable imi, kept fay no less a person than John 0'Ck>nnell, Eisq., one of the many cousins of the renowned member; although I say kept by him, I must have it distinctly under- stood that he interferes not in that or any other por- tion of the business which is carried on under his name. He is, at once, a wine and whiskey mer- chant, storehouse-keeper, and general dealer. At his store may be foimd almost any matter of con- venience, and even of luxury. His house, which he has himself erected at considerable expense, furnishes rather the hospitable mansion of the friend, than the venal accommodation of the inn- keeper. This is, by no means, an uncommon combination of trades and character amongst some of the Irish districts ; and, after having afforded you all the accommodation which you could rea- sonably expect or desire, you are left rather to form your own estimate of the expence, than be made subject to any charge; indeed, so unreasonably
TUB POBTRAIT. 179
'^'^^te were the expectationg of the host, that it
(became necessary voluntarily to add to the carte,
^ otder to constitute a fair remuneration ; nor
^ the traveller find, in putting up at this, if
Qiay so term it, inn, any want of education or
^telligence in his landlord; whom, however, he
^Q8t not scruple to meet on terms of equality,
^ikb will not be long ripening into those of
^"i^dship. Here the traveller will find what is
^^ CQmmon in Ireland— exceUent beds, and a
^^nigly-fumished room. Over the mantel-piece,
^lie first object which struck my attention was a
-targe print of Daniel O'Connell, Esq., framed, but
^t glazed. Daniel appeared in his travelling-cap,
tor an indulgence in which the Times newspaper
tlid not forget to assail him with all the epithets of
puppyism ; there was, however, a somewhat outr^
addition to his face, as it appeared over mine host's
fireplace, and indications of war, not, as it should
seem, very congenial with his interests, had been
liberally added ; I mean a pair of large mustachios,
obviously appended by the hand of an imskilful
artist; and, lest the characteristic of his country
should be wanting, an enormous pipe was stuck into
his mouth. Aware of the high veneration that is;
throughout these districts, accorded to the great
original, my curiosity was excited to discover how
this contemptuous mark of disrespect had arisen :
180 THE PORTRAIT.
it appeared that, a few days before my arrivali some officers bad been quartered in the peaceful town of Cahirciveen, and, as a matter of necessity, had taken up their residence at 0'Connell*8, there being no similar accommodation at least within twenty miles. After having partaken of the best the house could afford, perhaps not having been too chary of the excellent whiskey, which was always there to be found, these soi-disant gentle- men had amused themselves by offering, perhaps, the only insult in their power, to what they considered the democratic landlord; and, after their retirement to bed, the indignation of their otherwise hospitable host had been displayed by turning them all into the street; in this, it ap- pears, he had met at first some resistance, but, before so athletic and powerful a form, little in the way of personal objection could be opposed, and those who had wantonly offered this unprovoked insult were glad to make the humblest apology which meanness could suggest, before they were readmitted. The insult, however, was not to be whoUy pardoned, even by apology, and the next day freed the house of the aristocratic warriors.
Perhaps there is no one who enjoys greater general esteem among his friends than Mr. John 0*Connell, and he may rank among his most intimate the chief of his name. I was shown several dogs, and,
MOUNTAIN-HUNTING. 181
^ the second day after my arrival, found my
^^^^Dent bost prepared to give me a day up the
iBoimtains. Starting at four in the morning, in
*^t two hours we reached a summit of one of
^ gigantic and ahnost trackless mountains of
iTeragii^ and overhanging the broad expanse of
*^ Waterville, of which I shall hereafter speak.
1 lie view at the opening of day was magnificent ; the
•«nce unbroken, but by the cries of the numerous
****fi)wl that hovered over the surface of the
^^. The process of hunting in these precipitous
^^*^rtct8, where the hares abound, is thus conducted.
^ si2^ terrier is despatched under the charge of a
^> accustomed to the dangerous crags which
^'^^ shelter to the victim : the himters and the
P^yhounds remain stationary till the cry of the
^ ^vams them to watch in all directions ; as soon
^ ^e hare appears, the dogs are loosened, and
^ scramble then is among the sportsmen to
^ Ughest crag to obtain the best point of sight.
^ &tigued, indeed, would one unaccustomed to
^ sport be, that I was compelled to intreat my
^^^r to desist, after three excellent runs, killing
^0 hares ; but, alas ! we found we had four Irish
^^ules to walk before we could gain even the
liiunblest roof.
This is the sport of Daniel O'Connell, who, as soon as released from the anxieties of politicd
182 MOUNTAIN- HUNTING.
turmoil, with the utmost gladness escapes to ! retreat at Derrynane (about six miles Irom Li Waterville). Day after day will lie be fin* rouse the alumberers — his fellow huntsmen: will not be uninteresting to give an Etccount of last day's sport of this kind, which he enjoyed Wi the year 1838.
I I At four, he was found at the window of J<
II O'Connell, rough in his dress, and wholly Iris) JUI his manner and brogue. " Hurrah, boy ; the i
will be over, any way, before you're up," Jt recognizing hia cousin's voice, was in a few mini by his side, accompanied by three pair of gi ! I hounds, in which Daniel took the utmost pr
off to the mountains trudged the Liberator, beat in his strides, even his brawny and athletic c paniou ; they stepped over the ledges of ro which overhang immense ravines, with the Ii| ness of a boy, and, by his shouting and hilai manifested a lightness of heart which would ha be reconcilable with one whose mind must 1 been charged with so many heavy considemti Equal even to the fatigues which in his boyt these mountains had so abundantly created, entering into the sport with every demonstratio) delight, it was not till long after liis companion surrendered that he proposed adjourning for freshment. Having accomplished the journey
K
A sportsman's breakfast. 183
^ hoom of Mr. B— ->, who resides at the head ^ Waterville lake, the two sportsmen sat down to "'^BBk&st. I shall be minute in describing the '^'^liBsinan's. Fbrst, a large bowl of new milk, ^&h instantly disappeared ; then a liberal allow* ^'^ of cold salmon, soaked in vinegar — a very *^^*>mion dish — of this he ate very heartily; after ^^Uch he finished a bottle of port wine, took leave ^ his entertainers, and set off to walk six miles ^ his home.
I am not aware that any commixture could be ^Vine iniquitous, nor that any would have agreed ^^^tter mth the stomach of the Liberator.
Dmu ilia Metsomm !
How much of all that has been achieved in ^attle, in the senate, at the bar, has been owing to ^ strong digestion. — How many thousands have tank under the bare diiEculty of facing, without arembling, the apprehended evil. — How often the ireakness of the nervous energies alone depresses xiwers capable of the highest objects ! It is not inreasonable to refer the phlegmatic contempt of «proach, the indomitable perseverance through rvery diiEculty, the moderation \mder success, and lie calm determination under adversity, so mani- estly the distinguishing characteristics of Daniel yConnell, to a strength of digestion, seldom the oncomitant of the great mental acquirements rhich are conceded to him by all parties.
184 THE MASS.
On Sunday I attended, first, the established church, which is a neat little edifice ; a rectory of about £600 or £700 a-year, but, as usual, the rector is an absentee — ^residing, I believe, in France, while the duties were performed by a curate. Ouf congregation consisted of about seven persons, among whom were the official protestants, I mean the policemen. Yet, the service was performed in an exemplary manner i and I had the pleasure of receiving from the clergyman an early visit. The mass, however, presented a congregation of up- wards of two thousand persons, collected from all parts of the mountains ; hundreds walking shoeless many miles to attend the solemnity. I afterwards became acquainted with the priest^ and found in him a mild and amiable man, with none of the pugnacious and anathematizing spirit which is so generally represented as the characteristic of the catholic clergy. On the contrary, he had obtained the veneration and love of his numerous and scat- tered communicants, by the same means that have been so successful elsewhere — by the spotlessness of his private character^ and his devotion to th^ religious consolation of the poorest as well as richest of his flock. It would be difficult to find him absent at the time of distress } he knew all his communicants, and they knew him. He did not, however, visit them in a carriage, or refuse a
STATE OF CRIME. 185
™^*^iught attendance on the most destitute of his "fountain dependants.
Nothing, up to this part of my journey, could be "^re subordinate, obliging, and kind, than the ^^^^uet of the peasantry ; and I looked in vain for ^y of those exhibitions of violence which fill our '^^^spapers. In answer to all the inquiries I made, ^ found no one who could recount any atrocities ^hich could have iustified Mr. Incrlis, in his book «»I«dand,in the expre«dou of hi! winder at the S»^^^^ amount of a Kerry sessions. The numbers, ^ he places them, indeed look large j if the offences ^ ^t nicely discriminated : they were, in his time, ^ One quarter, 199 ! and " of these," as he says,
I74 cases implying the undue exercise of physical
^^*^." Yet, on examination of his own account,
^^te were but ten for larceny, all the other cases
^^ riotous assembly, Hibemic^, a row, and the
^^'^eking of divers heads at a "pattern." Ten only,
^ his own list, are set forth as even charged with
^Hm^; but '^ these cases implied the imdue exer-
^," &c. : that is a very awful announcement,
^d well calculated to promote the views of a
iBbidly tory newspaper, and prevent the benefits
arising from English visiters who would, if the
beauty of this and most of the stations in Kerry
were well known, and the truth relating to them
ascertained, crowd to Ireland instead of the
Continent.
J 86 PAUTV-FEUDS.
The Irish peasantry are very much addicted to
the '' undue exercise of physical force*' among each
other. At a ** pattern^ (patron saint's day), which is
fair, where vast numbers assemble for all purposes
— hiring and being hired — of meeting old friends
and separated relatives— of purchasing or selling—
the whiskey does its mischief. Stick-combats are
the consequence ; and a broken head or two are
healed by shaking hands with the head-breaker,
and being better friends than ever. There is, in«
deed, a kind of feud which must be spoken of more
seriously; I mean the assembly of dans for tiie
purpose of trying their strength against each other ;
although much of this has been, by the exhortation
of the priesthood, abolished, yet a feeling of rivalry
and jealousy has been handed down to the clans,
which it seems almost impossible to subdue. The
Rathkenny riots did much to impress the peasantry
with the dreadful consequences of these feuds, and
I have heard of no subsequent outbreak. That,
indeed, was a terrible affair. The Lawlors and
the Cooleens were parties, between whom had been
nurtured a feud of centuries standing. either
party knew the o£fence of the other, but a boast
that a Lawlor was a better man than a Cooleen was
sufficient to awaken implacable ire. In 18S4, the
two parties met at Rathkenny ; a regularly ordered
combat ensued, till, at length, the Lawlors gave
THE LAWL0B8 AKD COOLEENS. 187
vay, and made towards the river in retreat^ to vhich they were pursued by the conquerors. To ivoid the stones and blows of the pursuers, too nany crushed into the boats, which were overset, md forty persons^ chiefly young men, were drowned. [t is but just to the Cooleens to say, that, at the mnirrence of this distressing misfortune, none sould be more active than themselves in giving Btostance to the drowning rivals, and but for their BHOstance many more must have perished.
Although this catastrophe gave occasion for sweeping condemnation of the Irish, when calmly oonndered, it will be, by the unprejudiced, regarded zither as a misfortune than a crime. The con- querors had never contemplated the effect which ensued; the circumstance had occurred in the hereditary rivalry, which excited an annual trial of strength and skill. But even these exhibitions have given way to the better instruction the people have received.
While, however, I speak generally in favour of the peaceable and subordinate dispositions of the Kerry peasantry, I cannot omit to notice one crime that did come under my own observation. What- ever atrocity is contained in it will be well ex- tracted, and put forth by some noble marquis or toiy hireling.
An old man, whose bald head was streaming
188 A SMASHER.
with blood, was introduced to the magistrate. In the custody of the constable was» also, a strong, good-humoured looking fellow, who seemed anxious to tell his tale. The injured party, however, was directed to state his case, which he did, by assuring the magistrate that he was peaceably going to his home, at Currane, and had met the prisoner. He had ffiven the time of day to him, and walked on ; the sun being very hot, he had taken off his hat for coolness, when, to his surprise, without the least warning, and without having offered the least provocation, he received a blow on his head from a stick, which felled him to the groimd. The magistrate indignantly demanded what excuse the prisoner could have for so unprovoked an assault upon an old man. The prisoner considered for some time ; at length, he burst out into the follow- ing defence: —
" It's true, your honour, as the ould man says ; he passed me on the road, and, just at that mo- ment, took off his hat, and showed the most beau- tiful shining head ; the sun lit upon it, as it bobbed up and down in the ould man's gait. By the powers, all the blood came to my fingers at such a head; oh ! what an elegant head intirely for a crack, sis I ; and, before I could consider, your honour, I had fetched him the smasher, and sure your honour's self could hardly have done less, may be.
THE INNY. 189
Jour honour had been unluckily thrown into bo ^werful a timptation."
It is needless to say that the powerful temptation id not operate as a justification, and the smasher impulse was consigned to a fortnight's durance. The river Inny, which lies between Cahir and ^^aterville Lake, will be found worth exploring by ^^^ angler. In August, I am told, it is literally ^^rowded with sea- trout; and, indeed, I found Abundant sport at an earlier period. It is a draw- back, however, that not even the humblest inn can ^ found in its neighbourhood, and must either be "visited from Waterville or Cahir, at both which stations the sport is superior. The Inny, therefore, is little known ; and I question if one angler in a year visits it. It may be said to be a maiden river; and, though dreary, the walk along the banks of the lower part, and the rocky crags of the moun- tainous passes, through which it nms, will be found replete with all the wild scenery which here abounds.
Three miles fisurther on, and the summit of a hill at once discloses the broad expanse — the deep, sullen, and dark waters of Waterville Lake. From this sununit its whole extent may be viewed, which stretches five miles in length, and is divided only by a small river, if it can be so called, of five or six hundred yards long, from the bay oi BallinskelligM^
190 WATI^VILLE LAKE.
which adds its cerulean beauties to the gorgeous beauties of the scene. At first, the stranger is im- pressed with an idea that the lake itself is nothing more than an arm of the sea; the faU is ten or twelve feet only from it to the bay, but sufficient to protect it from the influence of the tide, and affording, for the whole tribe of the genus salmo, an easy transition from the salt to the fresh water. A small cluster of cottages, which forms the newly- arisen village of Waterville, and situated at the very edge of the fall, covere from the view the mansion of Mr. Butler, whose property the short but productive river is, and whose house is almost attached to the profitable fishery.
Having secured my lodging, which consisted of a single room, the only one vacant in the village, and which was, indeed, the lodging of the priest of this district, who was then absent on one of his rural peregrinations, I despatched a note to Mr. Butler, requesting permission to fish the river. To this I received a courteous and immediate reply, containing full leave to do so; and having sent also for Segueson, the only fisherman of the place, Mr. Butler's boat was put at my disposal for the- lake. The next thing was a selection of flies. l£^ supplied with the materials, I found Segueson am- excellent hand ; he knew the exact colours abov^ and below the fall ; and having learned the par—
THE COlOnSSABIAT. 191
^iculars that, at the head of the lake, there were ^^o rivers, both celebrated for trout, that the lake ttBelf was redundant in sea-trout and the heavy ^J^Wn lakers, as they are called, I proceeded to **T^^ange my swivels, and prepare for the morrow^s ^^^ack. My commissariat was not so easily ^'ifanged; there was nothing to be bought; the '^^^i^est market for bread was Cahirciveen — as for ^ the other neceuary Inxuriee. I despatched, ^©irefore, the running messenger, who should not ^ forgotten ; he is the WaterviUe postman, and, Without a shoe, has, I believe, for years, ran twenty '^leg a day without an intermission. My inquiries ^*' the butcher's supply, for I had really lived on ^^"^^Hit and salmon till I was tired, was met by a ^^^^*^ of surprise. I learned, however, that, by S^^ng due notice, lamb might be had from the ^^Xantains. At this prospect I cheered, and ^^Viested the requisite notice might be given. On ^^ foUovdng* morning, my ancilla announced its ^^val, and I was luxuriating by anticipation on ^^ splendid dinner it was to afibrd.
** Would your honour wish to see the man ?"
*' By all means ; let him bring in the lamb also."
After waiting a few minutes, open flew the door,
^d in bounced a lovely little creature, which, for
^ moment, stared me in the face, and then ran to
^de under the table.
H)2 LIVE LAMB.
** Wliy, the lamb is alive !"
'^ I drove him and carried him seven miles down the mountain for your honour^ as word was sent up last night"
*' Whjf what am I to do with a whole lamb?— What is the price ?" It was a very fine one.
" Why, it's dear any way, your honour — three shillings is the price, but, as I have had a good step to bring him, perhaps your honour would be backward in giving three-and-sixpence."
Three -and-sixpence were paid, to the delight of the moimtaineer, who had doubtless exceeded market-price by a shilling ; and the little trembler"*^ was soothed into confidence — not converted into a—— meal. He became my attached companion during: my stay, sharing every meal with an acquired of right, for, if he were not first attended to, adopted the offensive style —^ butted at my Irgn^ — and pulled off the scanty table-cloth. On my de- parture from the country, I made a present of to a gentleman, who assiu^ me that he woidc never part with him, and that he should have liberty in his fields for life. I heard that he had fulfilled his promise, in giving the littl^^ fellow ample liberty, but that the object of hi^^^ kindness had soon lost all his engaging and impriL^ — dent tricks, and had become quite sheepish.
I walked down to the weirs, the produce of*
THE WEIRS. 193
^ch amoiiDts, asl am infonned, to £700 or £800
P^f annum. In four traps it is not uncommon to
^ from 600 to 600 fish, nightly, in the full
^y^n season ; and, perhaps, a more astonishing
^h could not be presented than the shoals of
"*^ creatures, one over the other, constituting, in
^^ir confined cells, almost a solid mass ; the boiling
^^'^eam, which rushes through the bars of their
PHjon-house, keeps them not only alive, but per-
*®ctly well, till the arrival of the higglers, who take
^^^m alive up the mo\mtains, and to the towns,
'^^^y miles distant. None, I believe, reach England.
* ne land-carriage is too great, and they have no
^^ittte here of pickling or preserving, otherwise than
y Common salt. But, when the length of tho river,
*^^ the weirs to the sea, is considered — not greater
'^ 400 yards — that immense sport will be
^ ^d for the angler, in that short run, wiU easily
tielieved.
It had rained the whole day ; and, towards the
^tiing, I mounted the salmon-roe, determined to
^ its effect on fish just up from the sea. The
^^ter was a little discoloured, and highly favourable
)ny experiment. A more glutting evening I
^^er spent. The moment the bait was in the
^ter, it was seized ; and I believe that I should
^Ve had no difficulty, had my industry kept pace
^th my success, in loading a donkey with white
VOL. I. K
li)4 AN ARRIVAL.
trout of all sizes. There is no association among them. I was obliged to change my situation foi salmon, four of which I caught on the same evening I will not attempt to depict the surprise of S at whom Owen directed continual gibes, as the made their appearance on shore ; the former never seen or ever heard of the salmon-roe, could divine what charmed compost it was. H protested that, on such an evening, the most fly- angler would not have secured a fish. Bi here, also, the same disappointment arose ; the were of no value, as the poorest cottagers, wb food is the potato, and generally that alone, little for fish, which abounds under their doors.
(^1 returning to my lodging, my attention arrested by an arrival, indeed extraordinary these parts; it was absolutely a post-chaise, contained two gentlemen, who had fully expec to have found some magnificent hotel. As it there was neither food nor stable for horses, uOT accommodation for themselves, beyond that which a cabin and two beds, or a wet mud-floor, couJ^' supply. Like true anglers, however, they had not been deterred from the prosecution of their sport by such small hindrances; wisely judging that, where the fish are, the fishermen commonly are noi^ As soon as I thought the arrangements were com-
THE DEATHBED. 195
P'^^, I assumed the superior, because the first
^^ved tenant, and invited the strangers to partake
^ the preparations made in my own little camp,
P^^fectiy convinced that they must otherwise have
'^mained destitute till the morning : they very
S«dly accepted my invitation. They were Irish
S^ntlemen ; one, I believe, an eminent surgeon of
^^cn*k; a fact which he had in confidence communi-
^^^ted to me, as it was by no means his wish that
^^ should be professionally called on. This,
■however, did happen ; for, as my attendant, a little
*^t Irish girl, brought in the matarialSf she was in
On inquiry, I found that *' the spirit of
^trick Macguire was passing," and that all the
llage had assembled to view the solemn sight.
-^^re was no getting at the nature of his illness,
^^ the object of the assembling of so many persons.
^ looked at my companion and solicited his inquiry.
I was afraid of this," scud he, " but I must go."
Ending, therefore, for his little package, in which
*^« always kept a few common drugs, we sallied
M)rth to the cabin.
What a scene was there ! In a mud hut, with a ^mall hole, covered with paper, for a window, had ^Dgregated, at least, fifty persons of all ages, ^latives and friends. The widow, by anticipation, ^vas, with her fiwe covered with her apron, rocking herself on a chair by the fire ; the crippled grandam
196 THE DEATHBED.
occupied the other side, seated on an invert while knots of busy talkers crowded roimd tl couch of the dying man. No one offered him ; his spirit was passing, and it was all to interfere.
The first act of my friend was to clear 1 this was not done without my assistance, obliged to explain that the gentleman was a man, whom I had brought ; that air was 1 requisite for the sick man. Incredulity se mark the countenances of all, as they left the cabin. We then broke the window and proceeded to examine the man, wJuk was passing. It was now ascertained by m that he was in the last stage of a kind of ( no remedies had been applied, nor sustenai of the usual kind, offered. The poor fel dying of exhaustion, not of disease. No had a little brandy, and a few drops of lai been given him, than he rallied greatly, milk, in very small quantities, were ordere given hourly, and my humane companion p to see him again that night. On our retu that object, we found the hut crowded as at which both I and the surgeon expressed anger ; but we failed in making the people stand that there was any possible chance o ence for one whose spirit was passing.
THE SURGEON. 197
Ibeir astonishment and gratitude, however, at
^vering that poor Patrick Macguire was not
^y Kving the foUowing day, but rapidly recovering,
^^ &tal to my friend's amusement. The fame
^ ftis salvation of a dying man travelled with
^'^vulerfiil swiftness through the mountains, and,
^theevening of that day, the door of his cabin was
^ with the halt, infirm, and diseased. It was
^'^^ to protest against such an attack ; each case
^ intixxluced by such humility and earnestness
^resistance was' in vain, and the mud cot became
^ dispensary of a district of seven miles, during
^ remainder of the visit of the professional angler.
^® assured me that he had never, from any pre-
^^ experience, thought it possible that such
^^^^dful effects could follow from want of the due
Pplication of the simplest remedies, as numerous
^^tances disclosed in this district. The disease
^^^ prevalent, and, to the sufferers, generally
^^^ was rheumatism ; the patient required only
^ be removed from the wet mud floors, well
^^thed, kept warm and dry, to be restored to the
^^ of those limbs which had wasted to nothing
^■"^Hn want of action j paralysis, arising from the
^tery diet on which they fed; yoimg cripples,
^hose distorted limbs had never been set after a
fracture, all combined to show how necessary the
^tension of the provision the government has
196
A RETREAT.
made, with regard to medical attendance on tt^^ ^ poor, has become.
If I were a surgeon or physician, and content ■ plated retirement from the remunerative ezertic^ of my profession^ and were desirous of qwndin my latter days as usefuUy as possible to my ftlky«^^- creatures, and as happily to myself, I would iH "4 stick up a cockney dwelling in the neJghbomiMig — J of some large town ; I would drop on tiie mountains of Iveragh, where the charitable of my art would unite with the beauties of Nat
to create a happiness, which none but those w -ho can estimate life's value, by the power it gives of assisting our fellow-creatures, can enjoy.
WATBBTILLE LAKE.
WATER VILLE LAKE.
CHAPTER XIII.
Enonnuaa Eagle — Fiabing in Watsnille Lake — Homing'BrMk- &«— liland BDrial-Ground— Fnnnnl — A New Friend — Tho White SlriDd— Anecdote of the Dake of Wellingtan — Round Toirer— Mollet-fiihiDg.
After the heavy rains of the preceding day, what angler but would arise to greet the morning nin, gorgeous as he appears, shedding his brilliant flaahes on the regenerated pastures, which present a green carpet over all the scene, save only where huge and partdcolouied masses arise in indepen- dent grandeur, the impervious abodes of the wild aea-fow), the eagle, and the fox.
200 DEATH OF THE BOCK-KINO.
Owen was at my window by four. Tl were all reculy, having been well baited wit trout, which he had taken by hand in the e The swivels were on; Segueson had mi flies ; our day's provisions were prepared, ai as much delight as the anticipation of a | day could inspire, we rowed up the flat rive leads into the lake. The boundary is mai some scattered rocks, which divide the from a long plain of bog ; just as we an this spot, a caution was given by Segues seized the gun ; our oars had scarcely cease ment, when a wild scream, and the disch both barrels, startled me. " Hurrah ! " ex Segueson ; " down at last. St. Patrick, a an ould offender ; row on, row on, take care legs." In a moment we were on shore, an in the midst of a danger I had little appre A wounded eagle, of the largest size, lay sci on the ground ; there was life enough left U him dangerous, as he crawled, or rather towards us, flapping his enormous wings, a revenge and mischief in the furious expre his eye. The savage nature of this animal w so powerfully exemplified. One snap with 1 had been enough to sever an arm from one' by stones, the butt-end of the gun, and oars at length despatched.
THE ISLAND. 201
5e had been long and unfavoiirably known on
^^^ lake. Thousands of chicken, fowls, and salmon,
^^^d been buoyed in the air to senre his annual
^^^ixiily, whose habitation no one dared approach.
^^iieson declared that there was a tradition of his
*^^ving carried off children, and that his age was
^*^doubtedIy above a hundred years. However
^at might have been, it certainly was the largest
^^ the largest kind of eagle, and, when erect, must
■^ve carried his head between three and four feet
^"^^^tki the ground. I regretted that no one under-
^^'^^Hid the art of stuffing j and, after several trials
^^y^lf, I was satisfied to retain his feet in token
f^* the victory ; which I afterwards had, mounted
^ silver, converted into the handles of bell-ropes.
*^^ body of the noble marauder was consigned to
*^^ dogs of Mr. Butler. I fear they found him
7^^^. We now advanced to the middle of the
^^^e, and, under Segueson's direction, cast our
^'^ted long line, put out the swivels, and proceeded
^^ throw our flies ; Owen being pilots and gently
^^'Vving the boat, so as to give full play to the
^^ivels.
The flies were quickly successful, at every cast
/^^^all white trout or those of the lake were landed —
^t no indication of any of the lake monsters. Twice
^^d we made the likely course and no run. The
^^^ had now become powerful^ and a proposition
k5
'202 EARLY BREAKFAST.
was mcule that we should visit the beautiful island,er — which is one of the most remarkable ornaments o^ ^m the lake. Within twenty yards of the landings — - spot, both swivels were simultaneously run. !Z~ 1 seized one rod, Owen the other ; the length of lin^ ^^^ which was out gave us little power; the two GsET^^^ darted across each other, and were in great of entangling and breaking the lines. Mine, twenty yards distance, gave a leap, at least yards from the surfiBu;e ; and, before I could proin^ against the shock of his fiEdl, he had thrown whole weight into the water, and departed swivels, hooks, and a great portion of my line. ^
now assisted Owen, who had a less mercurial suTl^CJb- ject to deal with, and, after some time, landedJE:^ a fine lake trout of eleven pounds. This fbrmed^B:^ a valuable addition to our contemplated meal; T ^ was crimped and hung by the tail, while Segueup jir^^on made the fire by the side of the ruined chap ^^^h whose roofless walls contained myriads of hum-^*^"" skulls.
Here I will describe a morning repast. First 9 a large iron pot, slung by three sticks over a gc=^^ clear turf-fire; well washed, but not skinr^^ potatoes; a fowl, split and well seasoned, anc:?a crimped trout of eleven pounds — hot, even yxK^^o burning ; plenty of lake water, clear as crystB^; and finally, an infusion of the best Cork whiskey.
ANCIENT BDRIAL-OEOUND. 203
^ thii, (M a lovely island ia the middle of the lake, '*ficiou8 wanntb, a glowing eun, and appetite from ^^nase and free ocean air, which gently ripples the ^"ftco of the waters, who shall demand " what ^ the pleasures o ftlie sportsman P "
ANCIENT BURIAL-OBOIIND OK WATERVILLE LAKE.
Amidst the eDJ03nnient of all this, I was aroused by a long and lugubrious cry, which seemed to issue from the opposite mouDtains to be reverbe- rated by those of the lake's boundaries. Segueson crossed himself, took off his hat, said a few wordf in Irish, and replaced it ; Owen did the same, and there was a silent mystery in the act which excited my curiosity. I found that this island was the burial-ground of the district for many miles round ; that it had been so time immemorial; but that
204
rUNl^RAL.
this peculiarity in the time of burial was preserved- No corpse was ever brought to the spot, excepting while the sun shone; and it was not uncommor^K'— i for the relatives of the deceased to delay the las^* offices for weeks, that the custom might be com — plied with. I am not disposed to complain of th^ Irish howl 5 there is a demonstration in it whiclK^ ^ -** is well suited with the liveliness of feeling, whicK^^^=- -** is a strong characteristic of the Irish ; the coli formula of an English funeral would ill suit them.
The body was now embarked, and two othc boats were filled with followers, who all contini the loud lamentation, wiiich produced an a^ effect in these wild regions. On arrival at island, Segueson and Owen immediately their faces and fell on their knees. I also rently removed my hat as the body was borne al( the widow, with dishevelled hair, and beating bosom with her hands, then throwing herself the coffin, till, at almost every step, exhausted the violence of her cries, and the apparent madni of her grief, she fell to the ground — was raised the others around her^ again to join in the lamen again to inflict blows on her bared and burstii» bosom.
The body was, in the deepest silence, conunitte^I to the grave ; the young priest gave a short exhor- tation, and the people returned to tlie boat, sup-
FUNERAL. 205
P^xUng the now fiunting widow. It was a scene ^^^^t made a strong impression on me. The ^^^merous assemblage which had attended the '^^mains of the departed, showed a general feeling ^^ attachment towards each other, for which in vain ^^^ look in more civilized countries ; the kindness ^-^ul sympathy which were by all shown towards the '^^pless widow, showed also that in her distress she ^'ould not be without friends to assist and protect
I was not wrong in this view. The young priest, ^'hofle unassuming yet pleasing manner much in- ^^^^^ested me, assured me that a subscription would entered into by all the attendants on the funeral others, to provide some mode of life for her; ^^^ that, though the deceased was a cotter only, by ^^^ help of her children she would be enabled to ^'^^^'^tinue to meet her rent. That though there ^le no poor-laws to relieve the destitute, the pri- ^^te charities among the middle order were very ^tensive ; in these, however, the greater proprietors ^^ the soil seldom join.
After the departure of the mourners, I took a
^^^rvey of this island. It had once been undoubtedly
^ greater extent ; and, perhaps, the residence of
^^Mne order of monks. The continual dashing of
the waves of the lake against the ^ide jutting
towards the west, had materially diminished its
a06 BIYEBS.
size, and had probably rendered dangerous. Nothing remained of the which must have at one time been ezte the tower and roofless walls of the chapel tained, as I have said, myriads of hum heaped together against the walls ; the indeed, were such, that it would have possible that they should have been ac< from the ordinary burials which have, d last half century, taken place on it ; anc sonable to believe that this country, no¥ desolate as it is, was once much more n inhabited.
On leaving the island, we made for tl the lake, and^ in our progress, secured fine lake trout, of six and seven pou The waters are supplied by two rivers, < character ; the one being of a mountainc and rocky description ; the other, a dull stream, issuing from a long valley of bo| are excellent for angling ; the former for \ and salmon, the latter for the brown or 1 which may, by the salmon-roe, be taken any numbers.
At the head of the lake stands a fa one of the most delightful spots, for spoi kind, that can be imagined. It is a g( and was originally erected, I do not dc
A NEW FRIEND. 207
"^ttier purpoee than it is now put to. But here ^^^^ommodation might be had ; it would depend on ^be good spirits of the sportsman to make it a "^ppy retirement.
On our return to Waterville, the whole village '^^d assembled to see the eagle; countless stories '^^ere related of his depredations^ and the cottagers ^Po^ of his destruction as though some midnight *^btier had been removed from among them. **^^eed, none of them dared at any time to let ^^^ir fowls out of their dwellings until they had '^^mselves arisen; and, generally, I found that ^^ reason of their keeping them in their own ^Vues was the dread of the eagles and the foxes,
t^ose impudence was irrepressible, coming almost ^^ tte very doors to pounce on tlieir prey.
Dly friend, the surgeon, and his companion, had
^n on the river all day. The sun had been too
^"Xght for any great success, but they had, never-
*^^le8s, landed three salmon. They joined in my
*^^^e dinner ; so that, even in the wilds of Iveragh,
did not find myself without a companion. In
^e evening I tried the roe, from the bridge, with
^^^nsiderable success ; but the salmon I there took
^^ere in bad season, having come down from the
^ver after spawning. The flesh of one was quite
"White, and I regretted I had killed him.
As I stood on the bridge, I was accosted by a
208 DEBRTNANE.
gentleman, in the English accent, to which my had been so little of late accustomed^ that I fancied he must haire been an old friend — he not so — but a new one. He had the undress ^^^ an officer ; and the gold band, round his blue ca^p/ denoted that he belonged to the navy. He invit^l me to visit him, at White Strand ; it was, he 8ai<li a lonely place enough ; he was the coounander ^ the coast-guard station there; but, as I shoim^d * pass Derrynane, on my way, he solicited me ^ give him notice of my arrival, the day before, Urm^^ he might have the deep sea-lines ready. I much pleased with his hospitable invite, and termined to accept his offer.
In my way to fulfil this engagement, I Derrynane. So much has been said of the dence of the great proprietor, that I am dii to dismiss it with a word. It is a stragglir^ -^ building, on the verge of the sea ; its furniture ^ ** plain, but there is a hearty welcome to eve^^^^ sojourner. During his autumnal residence at fe^^tne abbey, it is almost an open house; and ii — ^^ unfrequently are congregated within its wa-^^^" much of the talent and worth that Ireland boast.
On my arrival at White Strand, I found lieutenant (for such he was) ready to receive I was welcomed by a very lady-like person, ^^
WHITE 8TBAKD. 209
^ifej who had obviously made considerable prepa- ''tttioiis for my reception. After a very good '^^ountain dinner, my host and myself put to sea, ^^here we had notldng to do but to take up the long ^^Q^lines, which his men had previously laid down, ^ about fifteen fothoms. The hawl was tremen- *Hi«; the whole of these shores^ which are flat ^*4 sandy, peculiarly adapted for the best sea fish, ^*^* I believe, imtroubled by a single fisherman. ^^^ would suppose, from the ease and quickness ^*tli which we took small cod, whiting, haddock, ^^Miet, and occasionally turbot, that the whole ^^'^^m was covered with them. Sea-fowl, of all ^^riptions, abounded; and, as the lieutenant "^^^shed me with a gun, we made a tolerable ^l^ction of teal and ducks for the next day's
My host was a gentleman of refined manners,
^ the middle age, and had seen much active
^ivice. But he had eight children, now requiring
^^ucation. This necessity weighed heavily on his
^(lirits, as the small income which the government
^ded to his half-pay, for the performance of the
Heavy duties of the^ coast-guard, would not allow
liim to send his sons to any distant school, and
there was no human being of intelligence, above
that of a cotter, within many miles. He had been
stationed at the White Strand for nine years, cut
210 PUBLIC VIRTUE.
off from all society, and all intercourse with pei =r
sons of his own grade. He had ventured, on resumption of power by the Duke of Wellinf
to address a prayer to his grace^ not for ai — ^j advancement of rank, but for a change of situati( where he might obtain education for his family. In preferring this very humble petitic^ ~n, he had referred to a circumstance which might sibly have recalled him to his grace's remembrani He liad been the young officer who had safi landed his grace's horses and baggage, on his fi arrival in Spain, to take the conunand ; on whS.«b (X^casion, he had been so fortunate as to have b^^^ honoured by Sir Arthur WeUesley's comm^fl* dation.
He had received an answer, written by tJie duke*s own hand — and it was almost with tears that he showed me the document — it was a coJd and unfeeling refusal to interfere for the removal of the applicant ; and that refusal was accompanied by the stoical and profoundly virtuous declaration, that he (the duke) should never consider any per- sonal service to himself as a proper ground for bestowing any public office^ or of interfering in the arrangement of public duties. Nothing can be more self-denying and magnanimous than such a resolution, in the first Lord of the Treasury, though something a little more polished might
UOUMD TOWBB.
211
have been added to the style, in refuBiDg the reoaonable request of a meritorious officer. We are bound, however, to believe that his grace's declaration is founded in perfect truth ; and that it was to services done to the state, and the state akme, that had gained so handsome a pension for Mrs. Arbuthnot.
ROUND TOWER. WHrPE BTBASD
While I was in this neighbourhood, I visited one of the Round Towers. The only opinion I can give, from a careful examination of the remains, is, that they were certainly not of a warlike cha- lacter. It is remarkable that there are no remains of any entrance. The thickness of the walls, Without any windows, would indicate the purpose of burial; which, perhaps, was the original object.
212 MULLET-FISHING.
The only inlet to the building was an openir of modem and rude construction^ obviously n forming any relation to the original design.
That these Round Towers of Ireland may h& been an improved form of the Pyramid, is, perha] more easily shown than the wild theories of t writers on this subject can be established.
On our return from the White Strand to Wata ville, a new kind of sport hcul presented its« The mullet, which at this season of the year c« gregate aroimd the entrance of the river, t formed a black mass at the embouchement of " lake. It was impossible to use a net, the sIm being covered with rocks. Neither bait nor fly 1 the least attraction for them ; and, although tl might be seen in the sun as shoals of myriads, fl as closely packed together as was consistent wi their power of motion, no means had yet be devised of securing this excellent fish. The annual visits, therefore, were always paid with in punity. I was angrj' at this, and spent some hoiu in endeavouring to allure them with flies, wonni bait, all to no purpose. On inquiry, I found tha Segueson had taken some by salmon-flies ; not i the usual way, but by accident. He had hooke them in the side gills and tail. An idea stnic me that such a system might be available; anc stringing together about twenty stout pike hooki
MULLET-FISHING.
213
.^vvaited the bubbling which indicated the pre- of the shoal. I threw over them with a long
9 and jagged the line after it had sunk amidst Aem. This plan was comparatively simple^ and I lisid the pleasure of adding to my fish-dinner, in '^v^hich my friend, the surgeon, was generally joined, the exquisite mullet.
214 FISHING TACHT.
CHAPTER XIV.
An Extempore Fishing Yacht— The Knight of Kerry— Cok»y of Fishermen — Fishing Arrangements — A Night's FiihiDg— An Unexpected Prize — Paddy Shea — The Perfection of Sp«t — A Great Haul — Ck>rmorant Soup — Threatening Weather- Irish Superstition — A Storm — Coarage of the Irish f'v^^' men — Dangers and E^scapos — A Dance — An Event— Dang*'* of the Irish Coast — Frightful Scene of Shipwreck — A safpi- cious Visit — Irish Smugglers — ^Tax on the Poor Man's Comfort. Tobacco.
My quarters at Cahirciveen were, after a fe^ days' stay at Waterville, resumed. I had heard? and was resolved to be convinced, that the iron' bound coast of Kerry was celebrated for sea-fishing* I had no difficulty at Cahir in setting up a good fishing yacht, which consisted of a newly-built saud boat, which, at a very moderate rental, was easily procured. With the assistance of the carpenter, we soon turned it into a very convenient vessel of about twelve tons.
There are no fishermen at Cahir ; although the coast on the outer side of Waterville is abundant
TACHT FISHING. 215
dud of fish, yet no regular market exists, ers, therefore, at particular seasons, make cause in attacking the herrings and ; few attempt any other method, net- ting the supply of fish in a catholic rould be deemed so essential, oedy this want, during his stay in the die Knight of Kerry, whose property the alencia is, had invited a small colony of I, consisting of four men from Dingle. IS he gave them were apparently advan- they were supplied with houses and small land, a small hooker and tackle. The believe, was to be supplied with one third )duce as his share, and the residue was to f divided among the men. an had not succeeded, for I found that the ws had gone through a very dreary winter, e or no sale for their fish ; and, on my the island, which is not more than three iles from Cahir, they were on the point of ig their engagement, and returning to
be a satisfactory guide to my successors to the terms I entered into for the services ew. Four were by no means too many avy rigging in use among fishermen here. I have two masts without stays, and two
216 TACHT FISHING.
very large spritsails, simple enough in constructi(ni ^^ but by no means easy of management in a rollings sea, such as we were liable outside the island encounter. In calms, also, it was absolutely sary to have considerable strength in the boat ; that I at once engaged the whole crew. The tain's wages were, per week, seven shillings ; th^B others received six shillings each. To this I sub — sequently made an addition, by supplying potato store myself. Small as these wages in the course of a month the sum each had acciB^ mulated amounted to a small fortune, made all arrangements, among which the important were the long lines and deep sea tackle — a good cooking apparatus — we set sail Aowtm the Cahir river, the evening being beautifully serene. We arrived about six at the island of Valencia, where I found a very snug little inn, the hostess being an English woman ; and the welcome the English gentleman received was indeed cordial. Having supplied all little omissions here, we set forth for a night's fishing.
There are two outlets round the island, which will admit ships of considerable burden. Both, however, are of a dangerous character, unless under very skilful pilotage ; the southern outlet passes by, on either side, immense and towering ranges of perpendicular rocks of awful height. The sea has
NIGHT SPORT.
217
^om immense caverns under their bases ; and, even *** the calmest weather, the roaring of the Atlantic, ^^ each succession of waves retires from the im- '^ioveable mass, is singularly terrific. On the ^^treme point of Valencia there are the remains ^ Cromwell's fort; a position commanding the ^bole island, and effectually prohibiting all hostile entrance into the harbour. Once having passed ^his fort, there is no landing-place for twenty '^^iles round the coast, either way. A depth of ^Wenty &thoms is found within a yard of the rocks ^hich compose the coast.
MTith a gentle breeze and a favouring current,
^® reached the fishing-ground just as the evening
^^^ closing, first threw out our long lines, and
^'^Ught to an anchor. We had hit the exact mo-
^*^Ht ; no sooner were our lines at the bottom, than
^^ting, of a very large size, and such as are never
^xi in England, were drawn up. These were
^Oiediately put on the large hooks, and set out.
^^Ur hues, baited with muscles, were continually
B^iug, till darkness stopped our further sport. We
^^w trimmed the fire ; put on our enormous kettle
^potatoes ; erected a very comfortable tent, by the
help of the sails and yards ; and, with the addition
of boiled whiting and good whiskey, enjoyed a
capital supper.
While, however, we were busily employed in
VOL. I.
218 NIGHT SPOBT.
discussing these comforts, sundry vehement tugs at the boat's side indicated the neighbourhood of some of the tyrants of the deep. The first I was impa- tient to haul with my own hands.
'' Arrah ! Paddy Shea; is it yourself that'll be afther litting his honour lose his hands ! catch hould and haul."
I found this assistance timely, as I had just cooie to a stand ; the fish having, as the sailors call ity bored downwards* After another impetus, "iio^' ever, supplied by the assistance of Paddy Shea, an enormous creature of the skate kind was secured- He was as large as an ordinary table, and weighed very nearly one hundred weight.
The only mode by which we could, on our arrival at Cahir, carry him up the town, was by thrusting one of the spars through his body, and thus sus- pending him between two men. Conger-eels were a terrible annoyance ; but the occasional landing a ling, which is here held in high esteem, and which is indeed an excellent fish, again inspirited my little crew.
Paddy Shea, I soon discovered, was in high re- pute as a dancer, while my captain was somewhat celebrated as a singer. There was no lack of amusement between the frequent calls made on us by our lines. At length, however, one hand being constituted the watch, all were ordered to turn in.
NIGHT SPORT. 219
Our beds were by no means uncomfortable. The foresail, well folded, served every purpose of a couch ; our time was short, as, with the gray of Ottming, we were to make our first haul at the long lines. We had now a good stock of ordinary ^, and I was impatient to see the result of the ^ line in the deep water.
Certainly the perfection of sport is the oppor- ^ty of fishing new ground. When I call the ^oasC around the isle of Valencia new ground, it ^^ be understood to convey this meaning — that It has never been attempted with a net, trail, or ^y other means than the deep sea-line, and even ^t has been very sparingly used.
The delight I felt at the first violent movement perceptible on the long line will be easily under- stood; and, as the white body approached the surface, the conjecture as to the kind of prey was li%hly amusing. The first was a fine cod ; next, conger-eel; third, a large ling, skate, haddock; then only a row of heads, the bodies having fallen victims to the ruthless community by which, in iheir thraldom, they had been surrounded. Flat fish, and here and there a tolerable turbot, served to supply us with so sjilendid a cargo of fish as to render all further pursuit useless.
On our return homeward, millions of cormorants, forming black masses on the projecting rocks,
l2
220 DISPOSAL OF THE FISH.
attracted our attention. So little had these been disturbed, none of the fishermen who frequented the coasts around being possessed of fire-arms, tiiat there was no difficulty whatever in approaching within- gun-shot. With the first volley, however, all dived ; the second barrel was ready for those who appeared first on the surface, many popping up their heads within three yards of the boet. The hand and eye must be quick, for the instant they perceive their mistake they as suddenly dis- appear. The sport, however, is very exhilarating, as it is endless ; while, under a steady foresail and good breeze, the ground is continually changed. Puffins, teal, cormorants, gannets, and gulls, would, with a good breeze and a good shot, soon load a boat.
On returning to Cahir, we found we were possessed of about three hundred weight of fish of all descrip- tions. The weather had now become too warm for salting. I sent, therefore, a few to the inn; and gave public notice to all the poor of Cahir, who chose to come for their share, that they should be supplied. In this division, the produce really of value to the destitute and helpless, I took much pleasure ; and I felt that the life of a sportsman is not necessarily a useless one ; for, although the coast is so abun- dant in the produce, there are none possessed of the means or skill to furnish the Friday's meal. Of
APPROACHING STORM. 221
^ birds, with tiie exception of the teal, which are sot 80 niunerous as the rest, I can say little in
The cormorants make, I am told, a good soup, ^ unlike that derived from the hare; and, ^ough the priests have decided that the puffin ^ Qot a bird, but a fish, and there is in consequence general dispensation that it may be eaten on a Viday, I availed myself but once of the privilege, was perfectly satisfied that, without the dispensa- ion, I should have little sinned in that way. The lover, however, abundance of which are here found, »«twell.
As yet, all my experience on these seas had been ■^ompanied by singularly fine weather; but, on ^ third or fourth day, when about twenty miles "om the Skelligs, we perceived a heavy roll of the ^ coming in from the Atlantic ; a hazy dulness 'dually covered the horizon, and mixed its clear ue with the darker cloud ; the breeze, which had fterto carried us, now died to a perfect calm ; iture seemed at once to fall into a sudden repose ; t even the cry of the wild bird disturbed the (tant echoes of the caverns, whose hollow recesses it forth the accmnulated wave, as if indignant at > intrusive volumes.
rhe darkness of day is solemn, and the spirits xmsciously flag. Not a fish was moving, aware
222 A STORM.
of the coming change ; the sea-monsters ceased from their prey; and nothing now was seen upon the increasing masses, which appeared causelessly to blend one with another, but an occasional shoal of porpoises making towards the land.
The crew looked at each other, and spoke in Irish, in a low and mysterious tone : at length, my captain ventured to hint that, as the sails ^^ useless, and the weight of the masts increased the rolling of the boat, we might as well have aD iO) and take to our oars. Our compass was duly con- sulted, that we might not lose in the coming mist our exact position ; there was little or no current, and, should we lose sight of land, the entrance to Valencia might be easily hit. It was on Friday; the effect of superstition was becoming manifest^ and it was not difficult to perceive that my little crew, accustomed as they were to the sudden gales which come in upon this coast from the broad Atlantic, looked as much for approaching danger in the day as the elements.
Two hours were laboriously spent in pulling to- wards land ; but the sea had, as we approached it, increased to a mountainous roll, while a few large drops of rain, and a suffocating heat, betokened the arrival of the storm . A scudding breeze tipped the surface of the swell ; a distant crash was heard, which reverberated around the shores. The oars
A STORM. 223
fell from the hands of my little crew, and each was momentarily on his knees, uttering a prayer in Irish, and crossing himself in great apparent agitation.
This done, for I would not interrupt their devo- tion, I b^an to remonstrate with them on the terror they seemed to exhibit. I found myself utterly mistaken; there was no fear of danger; and as each rose from the performance of what he deemed an hmnble acknowledgment of the divine power, I could perceive a resolution and determina- tion which reassured me in the coming difficulties. The wind had now begun steadily to increase ; scudding squalls passed rapidly ; while, at intervals, the heavens opened with liquid fire. The masts were to be shipped; and here it was the coarse and rude style of rigging presented its difficulties. The weight of the sprits, which was enormous, aided by the sudden lurching of the boat as she fell into the trough, rendered the setting the foresail a matter of danger ; but we were rapidly drifting towards the island, and no time was to be lost in getting the boat close to the wind. This at length accomplished, she became more steady, but the gale rapidly increased ; and, as she mounted the now breaking summits of the heavy and long seas, it became apparent that we should not fetch the upper entrance of the island.
224 A STOBM.
A consultation was now held, as to the pro- priety of getting up the mainsail, and at once putting her on the sea tack. The objections were, that we might lose our reckoning, and miss the entrance, while nothing but destruction awaited our falling below the island. The mainsail was at length got up ; and now, indeed, we began to feel the value of good ballast. She stood up admirably — ^wet, indeed — but stiffly; and, though we found ourselves, by my unluckily letting her fall oflF a point just as she was rising, once or twice buried in the crest of a sea, we had no apprehension but that she would, in one tack, stand up for the harbour.
We kept well out to sea — gunwales under — just shivering the sails as the gusts increased, and still she kept to the wind. Another terrific crash of thunder, which appeared close over our heads, again prostrated my men. I began to be angry, as I, being at the helm, needed their assistance at the sheets.
It was at this moment that a squall came off the headland, catching the sea at about a quarter of a mile from our little struggling vessel. The surface seemed uprooted; the foam danced over the ocean in a white mass ; and, ere I could sum- mon the attention of the men, the boat was on her beam ends. Luckily, on the first touch of the
A STORM. 225
squally I had put the helm a-lee ; she ran up into the wind suddenly; and this, perhaps, was the cause of her righting. But I had run her too sharply up ; the squall caught the foresail aback, smashed the mast, and, in an instant, our vessel presented a wreck.
The coolness and determination of my men was imperturbable, though I confess my own courage had long smce flagged.
We had no difficulty, except from the tremen- dous rolling, in shipping the mainmast forwards, and again bringing our bark to the wind ; but, no sooner had we done so, than a new and unforeseen danger sprang up ; our compass, in the fall of the foremast, had been demolished, and I immediately fixed my eye upon an opening stream of light, which had emanated from the direction in which the island stood.
The gale now increased to a hurricane. Our spare sail was drawn round the leeward side, to form a bulwark, as nothing but keeping her well to windward could effect our safety. Every minute we were covered with a breaking sea; and one with a crest, that denoted the extent to which the gale had arrived, broke in upon the forecastle, and literally smothered Paddy Shea. The good humour of the fellow, as he rubbed the water from his eyes, almost caused, in our state of danger, that kind of
l5
226 THE HARBOUR.
uncontrollable laughter from which esveo. the con- demned cannot on occasion refrain.
The danger of missing Cromwell's fort, at the southern end of the isl&md, was pregnant with a frightful alternative — that of running before the wind, round the islcmd, and entering by Bi»y Head. Fortunately, we were not reduced to this, for the wind came more free round Doulus Head; and, to our satisfaction, when we made the point, we found ourselves midway. The entrance became now the last danger ; the sea, rolling in from the southern Atlantic, had assumed by this time a terrific height, and as each wave was rejected by the bold shores of either side, the midchannel, through which our course lay, formed a mass of raging confusion, through which we ultimately dashed, with one or two seas completely over us.
"Hurrah !" exclaimed Paddy Shea — "we'll want no more washing for a week." *' Hurrah !" ex- claimed the rest — " It's the boat that'll do it, any how."
All confidence and honour seemed now, by general consent, to be placed in the boat. Our short passage round the island, to the quay, was readily accom- plished, amid the utmost hilarity, which the cold, wet, hunger, and even the deprivation of the conso- latory pipe, could not repress.
Thou who wouldst enjoy the pleasure of such an
A WRECK. 227
arrival, must undeigo the disagreeable part of such a trip; and the cost is rather extravagant. We met every accommodation and comfort at the Uttle inn, where we had, for an apparently inde- finite time, established our quarters. Our absence had, it seems, occasioned considerable apprehen- sion, and several boats from the island had gone round the Bray Head passage to look for u^. They were retummg just as we arrived; and, at the suggestion of Paddy Shea, we were to have the piper, '^ any way." He was sent for ; the in- habitants of the island soon assembled, for a dance is an attraction not to be resisted.
As the storm raged, the piper played the louder; and, just as I had accomplished the difficulty of the jig, a half-drowned, shoeless, hatless islander, burst into the room. He uttered something in Ifxgh — the piper dropt his instrument, and each betook himself to his covering. It was some time before I could get any explanation. ^' It was no matter to my honour — my honour was to go to rest, any way."
Insisting, however, on hearing what was the cause of this sudden excitement, I learned that there was a large ship beating against the perpendicular rocks of the island, where every soul must inevi- tably perish.
It is to be lamented that so little is known of
228 A WRECK.
the Irish coast From their ignorance of the appearance or situation of the few lights which are barely sprinkled along it, captains of foreign vessels continually mistake the Blasket lights for the entrance of the Shannon, and thus run up a blind bay — which Dingle bay is — without a har- bour, and with very little possible protection from the weather.
This had been doubtlessly the case in the present instance. Having accompanied the rest to the heights which overhung the spot where the devoted vessel was dashing her sides against the huge masses of granite, a scene of the most harrowing character presented itself. A mastless ship was lifted up by a wave, twenty or thirty yards, and dashed against the rocks. Three of the doomed crew spread forth their hands to us as we hailed them from the cliflFs in hopeless supplication.
*' A rope ! a rope !" was reiterated on all hands. On letting it down to the deck, one caught hold ; but, before he could be raised one half the necessary distance, he fell from his grasp, and was buried in the raging sea.
We were mute spectators of the scene below. The cries of the two remaining crew were heart- rending. One of those had been injured ; for, as the vessel heeled, and apparently was settling downwards, the other took him in his arms and
A WRECK. 229
placed him in a momentary safety. This done,
^^ wrung their hands, and looked towards us in
^•^ extremity. Once more did the vessel rise with
^e swell — one dash against the stern mass which
^^^itned their doom, and the whole fabric, with its
'^Uanden, disappeared. The bursting waves rolled
^« and the noble vessel, with all that she con-
^^^iied, passed away as a phantom.
Iliis was the Henry Brougham — a noble vessel ^ «nd many a hut which now cheers the coast of ^'^.Jiir and Valencia has been erected with the ^^^^^bers of which she was composed.
*IIhe relation may seem trite — the reality was ^^*^c. Little, indeed, is known of the horrors of ^^is iron-bound coast; and, were it not for the ^^^^^2asional aid presented by the coast-guard, hun- ^^^^ds of stately vessels would here meet their fate, ^^>pitied and unseen.
After having done all that our limited means
'^uld allow, to secure aid to any possible survivors
^C the wreck, we returned to the inn, greatly de-
^^Iressed by the awful scenes of which we had been
^tness. Here we found another arrival ; a boat
from Kinsale had pushed her way mastless through
the lower passage round the island. The crew
had by mere personal labour accomplished this
extraordinary feat, having rowed sixteen hours, as
they declared, without rest or food.
230 FISHERMEN.
I could easily believe the latter to have been the fact. Those who are acquainted with Irish sea- men cannot but have observed the patient en* durance of hunger and labour which they manifest, without the least complaint. The fishermen on the Dingle side of the bay are accustomed through- out the year to endure the cold and wet necessarily attendant upon their dangerous occupation, with no further comforts than boiled potatoes and very slight covering afford ; yet^ without the least mur- mur, they are not unfrequently subjected to the deprivation of the potatoes, where the sea is high and smothers their little fire.
It is perfectly wonderful, that, with such mise- rable tackle as that with which their boats are rigged, more losses should not occur. I believe, however, I am correct in saying, that, in three years, not one boat's crew had been lost.
I visited the newly-arrived crew, and was shocked at the poor covering which had been opposed to the inclemency of the storm. Legs naked — nothing but a mass of rags, suspended from the middle, formed their dress. Neither hats, caps, nor shirts, encumbered their physical energies. But they were perfectly happy. Wet as they were, the panacea for all evils, the pipe, afforded the consolation which the possession of all other comfort would not have supplied.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 231
They were not communicatiye, and seemed
^^ther to fence off all inquiries as to their mode of
fishing, and the success they had met. It appears
t;tfte7 ^^ been overtaken before tliey had com*
ttienced their labours^ and the first squall had
Otttrried both their masts by the board. Deter-
siunedy howeyer, to ascertain what the coast east-
"WBird produced, I applied my inquiries to one who
^teemed more disposed to frame answers than the
Y^est. There was a look of suspicion directed to
Ixis comrades, as he replied to my interrogations,
^uid a cleverness in the answers, that induced me to
inegard him with a stricter eye. I was confident
X had seen him before. He acknowledged that it
^^9BS 8O4 and disclosed his imder jacket, which
X immediately recognized as the slight uniform
"^vhich had been presented to him in Spain, in lieu
of his ten pounds.
He informed me that he had starved through the country, tiU chance had brought him to Kinsale, ^here he had joined a fishing-boat, under hope of share. This was his first trip — and it had ended, lie said, as all his other ventures had, in total dis- comfiture. He informed me that, notwithstanding tlie storm, they purposed to put to sea that night ; a resolution I strongly opposed, as unlikely to meet with any thing but destruction. He took me aside. '^ Sir,'' said he, ^' I know
232 THE STORM- SAILORS.
I can trust you — ^you were kind to me in t.' packet — I have not forgotten it. Do not oppc^^ our putting out to-night. We know the and the wind is abating. This is, to us, glori< weather — the only weather, in fact, in which dare face the sea. We have already done business here, and hope to accomplish anolKm wreck before morning on the coast of Dingle." ^* Your fishing will be useless on such a night; • ^^ Useful as it ever was to us. The coast-gua-> are still quietly asleep in their cottages, ne^v^ dreaming of boats or landing on such a night atm in such a hurricane — a whiflF of good tobacco i^ after all, the best thing in the world — and it hard the poor should not be allowed the only com^ fort they ask, in their destitute and miserable con- dition. They will have it, however, after this storm."
I now comprehended the whole affair. It was only in gales of wind such a crew dared venture to sea; or, having done so, would dare to land; to them and the stormy petrel the tempest brought joy. They were smugglers of the poor man's luxury — tobacco ; they had that night run part of their cargo; and I was not long in discovering that even my own crew were their aiders and abettors. I did not blame them — and, as Owen would say, '' small blame to myself for that same."
TAX ON TOBACCO.
233
Detestable tax, invented by the rich, and im- P<^^ on a commodity exclusively consumed by *e poor !
234 WATERVILLE.
CHAPTER XV.
Visit to Waterville — New Mode of Angling — Mistake aboot th( Potato Diet of the Irish — Cobbett right as to its Mischievotu Effects — Drive to Tralee — Miserable State of the Peasantrj
— Prevalence of S<5rofala and Consumption — Fine Moon- tain Scenery — Castlemaine — The River — The White Tronl
— The Lob Trout — Fine Shooting Station for Sea-Fowl an^ Grouse — Sporting Exciseman— Folly and Rapacity of Irish Landlords — The Surgeon's Tale — The Murderers — A Mys* terious Character — Irish Court of Justice — The Trial — Th< Defence — The Cross* Examination — The Verdict — The Mys- tery explained.
As I felt that I had been personally obliged hy my friend, the surgeon, at Waterville, I drove ovei to pass two days with him, previously to his qmtting the country ; and ordered my little yacht round tc Ballinskelligs Bay, for the purpose of joining m( tliere, and trying the sea-fishing of that celebrated spot. The time of the surgeon's visit had run out, and my purpose was to show him at parting as much amusement as the varied sports of the de- lightful Waterville would allow.
NEW MODE OF ANGLING. 235
All our lake lines were in requisition, and it ^^ost fortunately turned out one of the best days "^^e had experienced on the lake. I found, however, t^liat it was by no means a day of uncommon success '^nth him ; having followed my plan of night-lines ^jid trailing, he had, with little labour, supplied all 1^ poor patients with that which, indeed, many of %hem more inunediately needed than physic — I xnean nourishment. He had hit upon a new mode K^{ angling, which had turned out very amusingly tiuring the hot weather and fine sunny days, when exertion was by no means desirable. He had been Ctting up three or four very long rods from the ^olds, which every where cover the sides of the lake. To these he had attached lines loaded with lead; and, baiting with the earthworm of the largest kind, had planted himself on some of the rocks at the back of the little island on the lake. Throwing himself on the grass, which covers the tops of the ledges, he had amused himself with a favourite book, while, as Izaak says, his ^^ angles fished for him, and were put out to interest.'' He succeeded in killing very fine trout by this means, the only particular caution being necessary of keep- ing out of sight. He had discovered, also^ that the lake had another species of fish, unknown to the inhabitants of its banks — a flat fish of the flounder kind, but exceedingly delicious for the
236 IXFALUBLB BAIT.
table. Thej, no doobC, make thei the sea, as I baw not un&equently < in the lakes of Scotland, where the
The safanon and sea-troat had afforded him, duiii^ my absence, miremitting sport ; and he ex- pressed himself in terms of the warmest gratitude, such as a sportanan can really entertain for the amusement I had secured him in the communica- tion of the secret of the infidliUe bait — ^the salmon- roe. He had not, however, been allowed to pursue the even tenor of his way at \\'aterville. His fame had for him too rapidly and too widely spread; and the calls on his himianitv had become so inces- sant, that he hardly regretted the return to his professional pursuits elsewhere.
^^'e found the bav crowded with mackarel and gurnet, which afforded a good afternoon's sport, but it was of too monotonous a character to be worth the labour. The shooting was improved by the late gale, as it had brought to land innume- rable flights of gannet, some of which we secured. The bay, however, having no harbour, is an unsafe station for a boat ; and I ordered the crew to take her round again to Valencia, while my friend and myself proceeded next morning to Tralee.
Nothing is more fallacious than the opinion generally entertained, that the Irish are healthy on
THE POTATO. 237
^'^e meagre diet the potato affords. From the pre-
^®ot diseases of these mountains, as well as from
^6 iJJness which I find in towns where the potato
^ t«e staple, I have arrived at the fullest eonvic-
^^^ that it is not suited to human food for any
^^o'Jtiuiianee.
I^he disregard to human life/' said the surgeon,
^^hibited in the hard measure of justice, dealt out
/^ British government to these unhappy islanders,
18 woi^liy only of execration. What is now to be done
1 KUow not, but it is impossible not to perceive that
l^early all the fatal diseases among them originate
^^he absence of proper and generous nutrition.
^^i^ver skill is applied to a failing constitution,
^ find it unavailing ; there is no native strength
^Ustain a change, or to apply sanative resources.
*^en sick from any cause, they generally die;
^^d a disorder which, among a well fed-people,
^^uld bear no danger to them, brings death even
^ youth. You cannot but have perceived the
^*^dity of expression in the countenance of the
Youngest here. The prevalence also of scrofula,
^he sore eyes, and frequent blindness, are referable
'to the potato diet. Out of fifty, who at an early
^ge meet death, more than half that number have
expired, not from the ostensible disorder by which
they were first attacked, but by that universal
curse — the potato. Cobbett was quite right in
238 TRALEE.
deploring its introductioi) as an irremediable mis- fortune. It enabled the landlords to compel their vassals to subsist on a lower and less nutritious diet, from which they will hardly ever be able to escape, but by a determined effort, which may, while it procures food proper for man, at the same time establish their independence as a people/'
The drive to Tralee displayed to me more than I had yet observed of the terrible state of misery to which the rural population of this district is reduced. Children, literally without any covering, or, perhaps, only a ragged shirt, defying the rain and wind, and apparently not aware of the possible comfort of any superior clothing. At one cottage, where we stopped, we found nine children, all under ten years of age ; the mother nursing two, and con- sequently herself helpless, while the father's wages did not exceed fourpence per day.
It is remarkable that the children, throughout Ireland, bear all the indications of strong health. This appearance is deceptive ; the tendency to scrofula and consumption every where exists ; and both these diseases need only some exciting cause to display their horrors.
The passage by the side of the mountain, on entering Castlemaine, is of the finest order of scenery; and, from a considerable elevation, the beautiful bay bursts upon the sight. The river
TRALEE. 239
^Wch forms this bay is the Alang, composed of t^o rivere, the Flesk (not the Killarney Flesk), and bother mountain stream of some volmne.
•The stream at Castlemaine is sluggish, but there ^ be found excellent fishing for white trout and y^ common trout, two miles from the town . There ^«so in abundance, in the river, what is called the ^^fo\xty which I have before described. Here ^y become large ; indeed I found them quite ^^ pounds in the tide's way.
-^though the accommodation is not very good,
^®* ^ station might be made for shooting at Castle-
^e during the winter. The entrance to the
^ is safe, and the shores easy of access. It is
^ded with every variety of sea-fowl, while the
^hbouring mountains afford continual amuse-
®^t in an undisturbed stock of grouse. I say
^disturbed, for I believe they are seldom shot
^^r. The only sportsman I could discover, resident
^^ Castlemaine, was the exciseman. Of him I
^^arned, and he affected to make a considerable
favour of the communication, that there were
abundance of grouse on the hills.
On inquiry of my landlord, I found that he was not deceiving me ; for, having abandoned his rule, like a bold exciseman^ on the first day of tiie season (a day not very scrupulously regarded) he had pro- duced at Castlemaine more than thirty head of
240 TRALEE.
groiise. They are not esteemed by the residents; and there are no means of sending them to the other side of the island.
The entrance into Tralee is now so much im- proved as at once to inspire the notion, that we have as suddenly emerged from all that was wild and uncultivated to a liigh state of civilization. The town is nearly all new, and has, I believe, been built within a few years. Cottages and really handsome houses, adjoining each other, in an agreeable variety. There are here, even, rovt of houses, built in the English fashion, with the exception only of the usual inattention to the en- trance ; a disregard of which, either for cleanliness or appearance, the Irish^ on this side the island, share in common with the Spaniards and Portu- guese, their immediate neighbours^ from whom no doubt many of their habits have been borrowed.
The bay of Tralee presents the most eligible site for building ; but I am informed that the land cannot be leased for a less sum than ten pounds per acre^ per annum ; an eifectual barrier to any thing like possible improvement.
The rapacious folly of these wretched landlords is worthy of reprobation. Thousands of acres remain uncultivated, producing nothing but the rank and useless reed, yet at such an elevation from the ses as would render the effectual recovery of them a
INN8. 241
natter of easy execution. Yet, I believe, a lease for lives — even of such property — can only be obtained on such exorbitant terms as to render the QUempt hopeless. The land, therefore, remains ^cultivated 5 the people are idle, and starve.
% friend, the surgeon, marshalled me into tlie head inn.
'* This is my second visit to Tralee,'^ said my
^^panion. ** I had once visited it under other cir-
^^^^^tances, and such as made so deep an impres-
^^ on niy mind as will not easily be effaced. It
^^ this very room tliat I took my solitary dinner.
^ Oiat day the assizes were held at Tralee ; and,
^g the accommodations in the way of lodgings
^ "espoken, I was necessarily obliged to resort to
. ^ iiin. An Irish inn is a spunging-house, when
^^ted in the capital of any district, where the
^rges are immoderate, the attendance bad, and
^e provisions worse,
** As I took my solitary meal, the door of what ^ here called the coffee- room — but, in comparison ^th such rooms as you are accustomed to in ^logland, would be considered a tap-room — was thrown open, and in walked a person of some Apparent pretensions. His whiskers were enor- Inous, and his moustaches were of considerable growtli. His appearance was of the inconsistent order ; his countenance bespoke rather a bold de-
VOL. I. M
2 12 MYSTERIOUS STRANGER.
fiance than any engaging interest. He bowed however, politely to me ; and inquired if there any objects worthy of note in this dull town, whicl he professed not before to have visited.
^* I explained my ignorance of the locale, BXk* also the object of my visit, which was then loaA-^ for the purpose of fishing. He also drew from nm-^ that I was unacquainted with any person in th^"^ neighbourhood, and then stated that he was similarS.^ circumstanced.
" It is singular by what trifles we are sometime^^ induced to form an estimate of character. My fir^^ impressions were that this stranger was a gentle ^ man ; I, however, wavered when I saw him thicr*^ off" an elegant and most expensive great-cuat, ancS> for a moment (the error was immediately detecte?^ by himself), exhibit a marvellously foul shirt. Thi^^ however, might be a national inattention to tl»^ person. His conversation was shrewd, and by r^^ means vulgar, though the chain of his watch w^s brass, and the gorgeous eye-glass, which was sus* pended round his neck, was gilt.
*' He informed me that he had travelled nearly throughout Ireland, with a view of forming soin« opinion of the capabilities it possessed of more extensive trade and manufacture ; that he had ex- ammod all the mines which had been opened, and that he had hope of introducing the iron trade
THE ASSIZES. 243
fo some extent. He familiarly referred to persons tf high mercantile character, whom he connected ^ his views ; and, having despatched his break- w with an air of authority, he demanded of the ^ter what would be procured for dinner, and whether his horse was properly attended to, and
^ The first inquiry was easily answered, as the
^^ogoe of an Irish larder is not difficult to be
'^ through. This point settled, his next inquiry
^ relating to the lions of the place. The waiter
Conned him that, in addition to the church and
^ harbour, the assizes had that day commenced ;
*^d that there was a trial of some interest expected
^ take place, relative to a murder. Of this he
^pressed great indifference, and thought an Irish
^ttrt of justice not likely to be very amusing. As
^ had little of the Irish accent, though in some
^rds he uttered it was sufficiently marked, I con-
^hided that he wished to pass for an Englishman.
^6 said he was English, but that he had caught a
little of the brogue from the frequent visits he had
|)aid this country.
** He now invited me to join him in the dinner, to which I expressed my assent ; and we both pro- ceeded to view the lions, and thence to the court- house. Having found om* way into the gallery of the court, and obtained good seeing-places, we
m2
244 TRIAL FOR MURDER.
found the jurymen already assembling, and answer- ing to their names.
*' The important cause was just coming on, and tlie prisoner was now conducted to the bar. He was an elderly man of fifty, perhaps more^ decently dressed, and wore a brown wig. His &uce was ex- pressive, though entire confidence seemed to pervade that expression. His appearance altogether, how- ever, created no prepossessing effect. During the charge, he was in constant communication with his attorney, and frequently shook his head with a sort of smiling dissent.
" The charge was that, in company with others, he, on the night of the 14th of May, had murdered and robbed the Rev. , in wood.
'' The counsel for the prisoner now appHed to the court for a postponement of the trial, on the ground of the absence of material witnesses, whom every exertion had been made to find. It was stated that a clear and convincing defence could be establislied in the form of an alibi, but that it had been impossible as yet to find the parties, whose testimony would effectually clear the prisoner of every imputation. This application was refused by the judge, and the trial proceeded,
*' Witnesses now stated that, on the day in question, they were passing down the road which skirts the wood of , about one in the moming.
THE MURDERERS. 245
on their return from -^— fair. They distinctly heard the cry of murder, and at first feared to enter the wood. On its repetition, the witness and his fellow-traveller, arming themselves as well as they could, proceeded to the spot whence the cry had emanated. They clearly saw two men rifling the pockets of the murdered man. They fell on them, and, after some hlows, the murderers fled. Two others then rushed from the thicket, and joined the retreating party, who were soon out of sight ; and the witnesses now directed their atten- tion to the dying man, whom, on being brought to the road^ they recognized as the Rev. Mr. ■ He was not dead, but faintly declared that he had been set on by four men, who had stabbed him in three places, and robbed him of one thousand pounds, which it was known he had that day received as
tithes at . He particuku'ly described one
man, who was dressed in a white great-coat : that was the man the witness had seen running from the deceased — it was the prisoner at the bar.
'* On cross-examination, both witnesses admitted that the dress was a considerable ground of their belief in the prisoner's identity. They both agreed that he had a wig, which corresponded with that he now wore.
*' It was some days after the murder that the prisoner had been apprehended. He had only
2^ THE MUBDERERS.
some silver in his possession, and professed his entire ignorance of the crime at the time of being taken. He added, also, that he was not in the country at the time the murder was committed.
<' On re-examination, the witnesses swore posi- tively to the identity of the prisoner, and adduced many circumstances to show that they could not have been mistaken. Indeed, it was impossible to shake their testimony ; and, with this evidence, the case for the prosecution closed.
" The prisoner was now called on for his defence. He stated, in good language, that he had ever felt the utmost confidence in the providence of God, and his case was a signal instance of it. Notwith- standing all his exertions, and those of his solicitor, to procure the attendance of some witnesses, who could establish his innocence, he had failed in find- ing them; but at that moment he beheld a gentle- man in the gallery, who could certainly give the court very satisfactory evidence.
" As the stranger and myself were now the objects of general attention, we both unconsciously rose, and the prisoner at once pointed out my com- panion as the gentleman to whom he referred. Hereupon the stranger addressed his lordship, and assured him that he knew nothing whatever of the cause, the crime, or the prisoner ; that he had never heard of the murder itself, much less of
THE MURDERERS. 247
^ prisoner, or the circumstances connected with
'^' that he was there hy entire accident, being on
^ Waj to the north of Ireland, and that he only
^ted in the town while his horse rested.
' The judge intimated that, as the prisoner
^^'^^anded it, he niust be sworn. Again protesting
^S^Uut the necessity of being made a witness in a
^'^^^^ter of which he was wholly ignorant, he reluc-
^^tly descended, and was sworn. He was then
^^^iJiined.
, *7%e Jtdge. *Do you know the prisoner at the bar ?»
* * I do not. To my remembrance I never before
^ him. My being in this town, much more in
^^^ court, is purely the effect of accident. There
^^t, therefore, be some mistake on the part of the
^^^oner. I never saw him before/
** Pri9oner. * Look on me. Are you certain ^^^ have never seen me before?*
** ' I am morally certain I never before saw you.' ** Prisoner. *Pray, sir — for much depends on ^'•^look carefully at my features. Do you re- member no traces of them ?' '' * None.'
^^'Can your memory suggest no occasion on Which we have met ?'
'^^I have distinctly answered that I know nothing whatever of you. I have no recollection of either your person, manner, or voice. I cannot, there-
248 THE MURDERERS.
fore, but wonder at the extraordinary accident or mistake which has forced me to stand here to repeat it, after the declaration of my entire igno- rance of the whole business before the court/ *' Prisoner. * Now^ sir, do you remember me ?* *^ The prisoner here took off his wig, and exhi- bited a head nearly bald, but with a large unhealed scar on the scalp. The witness, after ccurefully looking at the prisoner, manifested some confusion and surprise, and addressed the court.
** ' My lord, I must beg pardon of your lordship and this court ; I do now remember the prisoner, and more particularly by the scar on the head. The circumstance which recals him to my remem- brance is, that^ on my passage from Liverpool to Dublin, this man, during the evening and night at sea, was exceedingly entertaining. He sung comic songs with great talent, and appeared in such bad circumstances that, among a few gentlemen in the packet, we made a trifling subscription for him. While he was receiving the amount from the hands of a gentleman who had much admired his singing, and had taken off his hat in returning thanks, a block which had been hanging loose from the rigging fell on his head. The fall inflicted, what we considered then, a very serious wound; but, after it had been dressed by a surgeon, who hap- pened to be on board the packet, he recovered.
THE MURDERERS. 249
^ there were some jocular observations as to the
^^ of the accident — remarks on his being too
polite— and, in the end, a second subscription was
^tered into for the purpose of purchasing a wig,
^^n he might be quite as polite at a much less
^^< This is all I know of the prisoner ; as, from
^t time to this, I have never seen or heard of
^^ii-'-iior could I have at all recognized him unless
. ^ had removed the wig in which he first appeared
^ this court/
^Prisoner, * Now, sir, on what day was it that ^^u passed over from Liverpool to Dublin ?' *** I cannot remember/
" The Judge here intimated that it might be most ^^portant that he should accurately state the day. ^' The witness said it was impossible, from me- ^^ry, to do so ; as, however, being concerned in lieavy mercantile affairs, and travelling much, he liad always regularly kept a diary of every day's pro- ceedings, by a reference to it he could accurately ascertain the day. This journal, however, was at his inn, where he had that morning arrived, and, if an officer were directed to fetch his portmanteau, he would at once confidently state the day.
" This was agreed to, and the portmanteau pro- duced. On opening the journal to which he had referred, he stated that he had passed over in the packet on the llth day of May.
m5
2r>0 THE MURDERERS.
" Prisoner. * That is the day on which I am charged with having committed this murder.'
^^ There was a general murmur of satisfactioir ^^ among the auditors, which was repressed by th< judge, who asked to see the journal. It handed to him ; he went carefully through it ; puti few questions as to other parts of it, which were satu factorily answered ; and he returned it to the wil ness, with every demonstration of entire satisfiustion
** After a few inquiries as to the witness's name. ^^ business, residence, &C.9 which were answere^^^^ agreeably to the account which he had previoi given me, the case was sent to the jury, and prisoner at once acquitted.
*^ I now left the court, ruminating on so ordinary a coincidence of circumstances, whidc:^:^ liad saved the life of a human creature, who doubtlessly, innocent of the crime laid to his charge.
" On arriving at my inn, I found the stranger**** had hastily devoured his dinner, and was already"^*^ about to start. He barely wished me good day^^ and disappeared.
^^ The truth remains to be told. The ' mer--- cantile gentleman' was the accomplice and feUoW' murderer of the acquitted prisoner !"
Since this recital was made, I am informed some of the outlines have been before published. The focts and putieolar* are, however, I believe, exactly those I have set forth.
THREB PLEASANT WEEKS. 251
CHAPTER XVI.
^ree pleuant Weeks— O'Connell m a Landlord— His Occupation ^t Derrynane — His Demotion to the Peasantry — The Dancing- Vaster in Ireland — ^Advantages of Ireland over the Continent "^Cheapness and Security of the Living— Farewell to Cahir- ciTeen— Departure for Dingle— Wild-Fowl Shooting— Fishing tt Dingle^Hoepitality of the resident Gentry — Trout-fishing tod Qronse-shooting— Causes and Remedy of Irish Discontent —An Irish Wake— The Irish Howl— A Victim of the " Good People "—A Fairy Tale.
On my return to Cahirciveen, haying taken leave of my excellent and philanthropic friend, the surgeon, I began to make preparations for my own departure. I had now spent three weeks at this lovely spot; and, I believe, three weeks of more unmixed amusement could hardly again, by any circumstances, be achieved. There had been no lack of society —the mild, modest, and learned priest, Mr. F , had been always a resource; and between him and my hilarious and downright hos^ Mr. John O'Connell, all my unemployed evenings were pleasingly disposed of.
i52 KF.RRY TKNANTS.
1 v'ntnno^ bill farewell to the Iveragh, without Swhng tesdmony to the effect produced among ;he ix>pulakv by a kind and judicious intercourse v:th their superiors. No part of Ireland will be souad more tranquil or free from crime than this d5$izvt — the very meanest of the tenants, poor thouarh in^ivwl they are, still cherish, in honour of their lauvilcirvU D. O'Connell, a jealous regard to the general imputation. Wliat I have elsewhere saivi ot the Kerry peasantry will be fbimd pecu- liarly applicable to this — here, indeed, are not< ;wmn anv of thoise exhibitions of violence am( them^vef^^ so much to be deplored in ivuntie$ — here we shall not find, as elsewhere, spirit vU' litigation, too much encouraged by cheap law which the courts of the assistant bar- risters pr^^Mit. I have, indeed, been informedE — - tliat O'Conneli'* tenants, by far the laif^r pro-^ portion ot* the inhabitants of this district, have b^ court of their own — a court of appeal personally^ to hini« and to the settlement of their disputes — to an investigation into their wants, and an imre-^ mitting endeavour to alleviate them, is he, during his stav at Dem'nane. chiefly devoted.
I cannot say that the peasantry are unhappy—- their wants are of the simplest order, and they appear ix^rfectly content when those are supplied. The proximity of this county to the lively inhabi-
ADVANTAGES OF IRELAND. 253
tants of the continent has also had its influence — and I was at first somewhat surprised to find men and women, without shoes or stockings, submitting to the instructions of the dancing -master and piper, evening after evening. I found, indeed, that the former was a regularly paid ofiicial, and his labours were in continual demand through the summer. The Sunday evening is, of course, a general jubilee, in which all passers-by are requested to join. My prejudices were soon overcome.
How can the English sufier themselves to be so grossly deluded as to fly to the continent in search of scenic beauty or economy ! This beau- tiful spot presents both, without the concomitant opprobrium of exile. What part of the conti- nent presents the combined advantages of all wild sports to be indulged in, without the land- lord's leave — good society, and cheapness that will erect a pittance into a handsome income ? Where are our half-pay sojourners ? — in Tours, Bologne, or Bordeaux, where they are considered only in- truders, and despised as persons necessarily expa- triated. The danger of living in the remote parts of Ireland is a general suggestion. Danger ? In no land is peace more profound — in none are the inha* bitants more gentle and obliging than in the wilds of Iveragh ?
Cahirciveen, farewell! Had not pursuits that
254 DINGLE COAST.
necessarily call me to a varied intercourse with the busy world heavy claims on my exertions, I could be well content to erect my cottage on thy verge, and tranquilly eke out the remainder of life amid thy sports and beauties !
My moveables being all safely stowed on board my little bark — ^my crew, in high spirits at the prospect of revisiting their native town — we set off for Dingle, the capital of the extreme west of Keny. This passage is sometimes effected in three hours, and abounds in objects of beauty. Bold thoFes, skirted by lofty rocks, tenanted by innumerable wild birds of every species, while the surfeoe the bay is blackened with flocks of puflins and teal. The roackarel were now in the bay^ and^ with the glass, I could perceive the opponte- shore dotted with black specks, formed by the nn-^ merous fishing-boats from Dingle. There was w^ lack of amusement in the passage. Our lines, out- astern for mackarel, were productive, and we weii^ continually under the necessity of altering our course to take up the produce of my double-baneL I had by this time become skilful in shooting wild fowl. It is not an easy acquirement. The boat's motion, being always crossed by the motion of the birds swimming on the rising seas, will render some practice necessary. They must be caught just as they attain the summit of the wave.
DINGLE BAY. 255
As we approached the Ventry shores, numerous
^'^ stood towards us, and many and hearty were
uie gneetings of the fishermen, who had so long
'^ their companions, constituting my crew. The
'^^^^^ent of these people to each other is re-
^kable — there is not even any competition in
^ ask of their produce. The hucksters, who
^^^ their arrival every evening, for the purpose
^ conveying the fish up the mountains to Tralee
^ through the country, are always prepared to
*^e the whole, and the prices rarely vary. They
^ generally at this rate : — whiting, 6d. per
^^tij of thirteen 5 mackarel. Is. 4d. per hundred;
^^9 or hake, 9d. per dozen ; and all other fish in
^^^^rtion. The mode of division of the proceeds is
^ a principle also that ensures unanimity. There
^^ six men to a boat, which is generally hired of
^^)iQe large proprietor. For the boat is put aside
\wo shares ; the rest equally divided.
The harbour of Dingle is well adapted for yachting; yet, with the exception of a pretty "Vessel belonging to Dr. B ^ a physician of con- siderable eminence, it has none of the advantages arising from aquatic amusements. The town is superior to those in other parts of Ireland of much greater pretensions ; it affords excellent lodgings, and is surrounded by seats of resident gentry. The inhabitants of Dingle appear to have more
256 DISTRESS IN IRELAND.
comforts — are better employed, and better paid than at most other places— while the improvements, continually progressing mider the influence of landlords who take an interest in the management of tlieir own property, have contributed much to the social advantages of the poor. The bay is a source of endless wealth, being never without abundance of fish of all kinds. Here also, with letters of introduction, good society would be found; and the open hospitality of Ireland, so fast disap- pearing from the more mercantile districts, would be fully recognized.
In euldition to the sea-fishing, a white trout river will be found very abundant in the smaller kind; as, also, excellent grouse-shooting. I believe none of the mountains are preserved. I I could speak of the general state of this part Kerry in the same favourable terms as of that oa. the Iveragh side. Here the chief landlord, a» usual, deserts his domain — here the tenants ar9 abandoned to the tender mercies of agents, while the proprietor dissipates in a foreign land the sums extracted from the extreme wretchednessof the poor.
What can be the object of the elaborate disser- tations daily issuing from the press, on the causes of distress in Ireland? The cause is as obvioui as the remedy is difficult of attainment. No money is spent in Ireland. The produce of tb
THE REMEDY. 257
^ either in the shape of money or exportations, tt transmitted to the original proprietors, who "^^tarn no portion to the labourer — the whole is ®«ewhere dissipated. The only source of em- ployment— ^tillage of the ground — furnishes no '"^fi^ns of provision for a rapidly increasing popu- '^on. Manufactures — the arts — all but the '^^^est exercise of man's faculties, tillage — are **^t. Rents increase in the ratio of increased ^^bers, and the competition for land among ^^ who must live — and live only by the labour applicable to it — ^has reduced the peasantry to the '^^est means of subsistance. Money they have ^ne— labour they can alone oflFer as rent — and it ^^ by no means uncommon to find one hundred ^ fifty days of the year devoted to the payment of the rent for a miserable hut and plot of bog ground, that would not be valued in England at three pounds per annum.
What might not a patriotic spirit in the pro- prietors of the soil effect for the Irish people ! Nothing is required but another direction for labour. Mills on the streams — manufactories on the coasts — ships for their naturally formed har- bours— all not only within the means of the landed proprietors, but, offering certain success, might raise this country to a noble competition with any. Ab it is, neglected, or utterly deserted by those
2r)S THE WAKE.
who should direct the people's energies, it presents only a scene of destitution and misery^ which, with the number of the sufferers, must continue to increase. Poorer, however, they can hardly be — they are already reduced to the potato alone— > - braver and more determined they may be !
''Sure, and myself will spake to his honour n^ faith and it*s I have the best right. Keep back; Paddy Shea — would you be 'truding to his honour*i own room?"
Confused voices accompanied this remoi
till I gave out intimation that Owen should singl; appear.
•* Well, Owen, what do the crew want?**
''Faith, they want a holiday — it's a wake u; the hill ; and sure, sis I, his honour must go to great wake."
*' WTiose wake is it, Owen ?"
" It's the wake of a great farmer, your honour^ and he fell down the other day."
" Fell down !''
" Faith he did, and died outright. His widow is making a wake for him that would do honour to the country, and has sent to beg your honour to be one of the howlers."
" But how can I assist? I never knew the de- ceased, nor the way to lament."
"Oh, it's no lament, any way. Your honour will be sure to be plased there."
THE WAKE. 269
I's importimities were not to be overcome ; it was quite clear that nothing was to be thout the assistance of my crew, I promised npany my fidus Achates to the scene of
lad to walk three or four miles up the Q, a task I did not perform with the same my attendants; and I really began to » at the full value, the opportunity about 3rded us of refreshing our griefs. On our I to the door of the deceased farmer, a ion burst forth that at once showed the our arrival was the appointed signal for ition. The widow, with dishevelled hair, he foot of the bedstead which sustained 1, her head buried in her hands, which y occasionally raised to beat her breast, as nearly bare, and thump the coffin, lonstration of violence in grief was really mt remonstrance was in vain. The by- took no notice whatever of the liard she inflicted on her bosom; her face, e occasionally caught a glimpse of, was th her exertions in screaming— every one indeed, before my little band had entered », they had commenced with all energy, ed howling. The din was distracting— ery variety of tone, men, women, and
2G0 THE WAKB.
children, all seemed detennined to show their affection for the deceased by the goodness of their own lungs.
The first impression made on the mmd by the Irish howl is really a painfiil one. The tone « lamentation, so prolcHiged and loud, conveys the feeling of a sudden and irremediable grief; but, as my ear became accustomed to the sound, I ven- tured to look into the faces of the most sonorous of the party — there was almost an instant re- vulsion to the ridiculous. Not an expression oi seriousness even seemed to accompany the howl — the muscles of the fieu^e were all perfectly quiescent; and so great was the philosophic bearing of some of the LADIES of the party, that I perceived they were examining and altering some parts of their dress, but in no degree relaxing in their stentorian efforts. One was deliberately putting on her stockings, which had been, as usual, carried with her shoes, not worn while walking to the scene of grief, and were to be put on only for effect on her arrival. Another was arranging the stray bands over her forehead ; while here and there, amid the parly, might be observed a steady and ragged old gentleman, who would suspend operations for a few whiffs at a short black pipe, and then recom- mence as a giant refreshed.
While the din was at its height, a person, ob-
TBE WAKE. 261
^OQsIy of some importance, stalked into the room *^there was an instant cessation of the howl. Eivery one for himself the widow arose and calmly f^caded the party, now consisting of at least forty, ^ led the way to the large kitchen. There were [Apes, porter^ whiskey, and a blazing fire. It was ^usiDg to see Owen, who had howled as effec-
"^^ly as the best, entreating the ladies to suffer
•
^ to assist them to whiskey, and performing all be little offices of attention with an air that soon instituted him a favourite. Of course he took ftre of me, and I was soon seated with a long ipe and a tumbler of whiskey-punch, in the best bair the kitchen presented. The conversation, hich now became general, was translated to me rOwen, but did not at all refer to the solemn use of the meeting. I learned, however, that the ceased had been one of the numerous victims of e " good folk ;*' that is, had been bewitched by me fairy. No greater or more satisfactory proof the fact could exist than in the circumstance of » having been, previously to his death, utterly »ipable of swallowing a glass of whiskey — an eration he had never for many years omitted. le man had really died of jaundice; I doubt not, leed, by intemperance ; but which, had it been bjected to medical treatment, would not, in all dbability, have proved fatal. The impression.
262 A FAIRY TALE.
however, that he had been *' banned *' by the good folk " was irremoveable.
Is it the good people ?" exclaimed the steady old man, who now intermitted his whiffs and burst into tolerable English ; '' and if it was night, now, I'd tell the story of *em."
This appeared to give proof of determination^ enough. These terrible good people are powerless,^ it seems, in the daylight.
** Wasn't it myself escaped by a wondrous miracle ?*'
** To be sure and it was yourself, any way,*"" reiterated numerous voices.
" It was night, and I slept alone by myself, onl^^
the childer and the pigs, when what should I hea
but a knocking that would have aroused the d< *Oh, oh !* sis I, * the whiteboys are up and doing, am it's meself will see the fun, any way ;' so with that T got on my clothes, and looks cautiously through the door-cranks. The moon was bright — the divil a whiteboy there. Knock ! knock ! again at the door. * Hollo there !' sis I, courageously, seeing there was nobody there, and open I throws the door. There were rows of little people all dressed in fine scarlet cloaks, and mounted upon small chargers, for all the world as complate as a regiment of foot, with drawn swords no bigger than a needle. ' Come on,' sid they, ' to the wood, Paddy Brady ;' * and that's
WH
A FAIRY TALE. 263
^^self/ fids I, 'and here*s for you.' OflF went the ^*Ves at full gallop, and feith it took my be«t **^e8 to keep up with *em. Over rocks and bogs
^ Went — never a sink for horse or foot till we ^Ited on the ridge of a lake. There was a dead ^Iciioe, and I wondered what next was to come ;
lien a small fairy, with a long flowing red mantle,
l^oke to me. * Paddy Brady/ sis he, * if you are
^cret, you'll come to no harm.' — * Faith, and I'll be
^Mat same,' sis I.^' Look down on the lake,' sis he.
^h, the wonderful sight ! — ^the bottom of the lake,
^lear as day, was covered with skeletons of men,
^ alive and kicking. ' It's the skeletons of the
^tu» that spoke of the good people,' sis he ; ' and
beware, Paddy Brady !' Hereupon be^un a dance,
the likes of which one wouldn't aisily see again,
though Murphy, the dancing-master and piper,
should try his hardest. All at once a stop — and
the little man with the red cloak again comes up
to me. * Read,' sis he, * that paper.' — * Faith and
I can'ty^ sis I. — * Tim Murdock's wife,' sis he. — * Tim
Murdock's wife,' sis they all, and fell to dancing
again. The little man agin ordered the stop, and
cried out, * A cooleen !' — * A cooleen ! a cooleen !'
cries all the band.
** There stuck I, wondering what the divil was the maning of all this -» my knees began to totter as I looked into the lake again — ^there were all the
264 A FAIUY TALE.
skeletons, dancing as the elves danced, and doing in imitation all that they did.
" Oh, fear came upon me thin — my hair bristled up till it forced the hat off my head. * \^liat for is this?' sis I. — 'Silence/ sis he; ' you*r hearing the names of the banned.' — 'Oh hone!* sis I; * I'll be after telling them/ sis I, unawares like. Crash went the rock — in went the moon — dc tumbled I from crag to crag, an endless fall, till ^
after travelling in this disagreeable manner, crack -
ing my ribs against rocks as I rolled^ slush inU^so the lake I fell— 'twas there that Terry O'Rourk^^ found me — and sure, haven't I the marks of wounds I got in my fall?"
All signified perfect conviction in the truth the events related by the ragged old gentlemi^yt who resumed his pipe with a consciousness of dignity that greatly tried my ability to restrain laughter.
" Our life is twofold, sleep hath its own world.**
The truth is, that Paddy Brady had doubtlessly got very drunk and had fallen down in his road homeward. Paddy rady had dreamed the rest, and had recounted the story till he almost himself believed in the reality.
The whiskey and porther had now progressed, and perhaps would have proceeded much further, but that a sudden och hone from the adjoining
THE WAKB. 266
^^ denoted the recommencement of the orgies.
^^^ went the glasses and pipes. " Och hone, och
^^" joined all^ and in two minutes all were
^^ around the corse of the departed. At every
^^tion there was the same recourse to whiskey
^^ pipes — the same fairy stories were told, only
^th less perspicuity ; and it was one o'clock when,
^^iCQmpanied by Owen, I left the company, to fight
^t the remainder of the night, (an exercise they
^^ already begun) or to sleep off the effects of
^keir inebriety.
Such was the Irish wake ! the original institution Mms^ perhaps, intended to have been expressive ^f grief and condolence. It is as much a custom '^th the mountaineer8,and fraught with as little real feeling as the attendance of mutes at an English funeral. I must not, however, do these poor people the injustice of allowing it to be inferred that they are wanting in attachment to each other, or in sorrow for their bereavement; they are re- markable for both ; but the custom of congregating their friends on the occasion of a death is one, by me at least,
'* More hoDoared in the breach than in th* observance.
t«
VOL. I. N
Moot."'" ~_-o(e V""' MirtSW^
LISTOWJIL. 267
After leaving Tralee, we traversed the base of die Stacks and Glanruddery mountains ; immense ranges, which seemed to guard the island from the encroachments of the wide and coerulean Atlantic, over which, from the road, were presented splendid views. The immense concourse of wild fowl, which here seem wholly unmolested, would perhaps have seduced a more devoted shot from his way; but I pressed on, only carrying my gun as we ascended the precipitous hills on foot. I found no difficulty in killing a few hares; plentiful, indeed, throughout Kerry, and of so little value that the extreme price is sixpence at any time. I found also immense flights of cormorants, wild geese, and swans, which evidently have, time immemorial, bred in these un- traversed moimtains. I could get no opportunity of securing any of them.
On our arrived at Listowel, I was resolved to spend at least one day in traversing the river, which passes through the town and falls into the sea at Mill Street. With this view we slept at Lis- towel.
The appearance of the town is in the highest degree dperetched, presenting all the worst features of the Kerry villages. Civilization has yet made no stride towards the skirts of the mighty Atlantic, for here nakedness among children seemed the prevailing fashion.
N S
268 RIVER FISHING.
We had traversed with great difficulty the ban^ gf the Feale without any chance of rest or refresh menty until we arrived at a few huts, dignified bj the title Innsmore, which boasted only of a " public,'' of the poorest order. We were heartily weariec^ as the banks were boggy and rocky altemateiy, the former compelling us sometimes to go a mile round before we could, with any safety, rejoin the river.
Tlie result of our labours amounted only to a few trout, and those not of the best order. However, a selection of the largest among them soon fur- nished a tolerable dinner. It consisted of excellent potatoes, whiskey and water (which we had brougW with us, uncertain that we could be supplied on the road), boiled and baked trout. The cost of our banquet was sixpence for potatoes, oatmeal, br«»ad, and cooking, and a good turf-fire.
From Innsmore we pushed forward to the point about two miles from the village, where the Feale receives the river Gale, a shallow but rapid river, from the mountains. Notwithstanding the ob- jections of Owen, I was determined to give this fall a fair trial. At a distance of some yards firom the spot we lighted a good fire, which may be almost everywhere among the rocks easily accom- plished by the abundant supply of dry weeds and hog-wood, which the overflowing streams have
THE DESERT DINNER. 269
^ in the clefts. This arrangement first made, spared two rods, fitted with strong tackle, as appearance of the water^ the deep lodges b here and there terminated the streams, gave
token of a salmon. On endeavouring to e on the depth, I was somewhat surprised to ny reel nearly naked of line. I am disposed lieve that it was above thirty yards deep. 9 had no success with the salmon-roe, while i^ pursuing the river, was busy with the small A trout, which had doubtless belonged to the er river, and had come down from the moun- They were worthless, as, indeed, are most \ mountain trout. At length, a tug at the end r rod indicated the presence of some stronger [onist. I called to Owen for his ga£F, and 1 to reel up my prize. The first spring from irface showed that we had a chance of a *^ good ng, any way/' as Owen expressed it; and, a labour of some minutes, our prey was duly )ed and supported across the turf- fire by
triangular sticks, which presented a dish fit noble's banquet.
rhaps I am travelling out of the record in g a dish — ^if it constituted one, it was of easy ifctcture, being nothing more than a large flat
from the shallows of the river, polished by ' an age of flood. Owen baked the potatoes,
270 MILL STREET.
and my small wallet furnished the few condunen our desert journey rendered desirable.
While we were busily engaged in perfoi
the last oiEces for the defunct salmon, I was agBi -J
called to the relief of my second rod; it was &
salmon again. I had in this pool three runs, killed three fish ; two of which, being about eigl poimds each, we carried to Mill Street.
I had disdained to attempt the trout of river ; and, therefore, fished no part but the where the two streams meet. I do not doubt, ho ever, but that this spot, after floods especially, furnish almost continual sport through the year.
The rivers in this neighbourhood appear to remedned untouched. The fishermen of Mill Stn^»<t being all seamen, and the splendid supply whsci in fine weather they can command in the mou.t& of the Shannon, supersedes all attention to tbe minor rivers.
Mill Street is beautifully situated at the tenzu- nation of the Feale, bounded on one side by a high range of moimtains. There is, also, a small stream, which nms by the town, abounding in small trout from the sea, taken, not unfrequently, after floods, by the hand in the shallows.
Less, perhaps, is known of the inhabitants of this part of Ireland than of any other. The intercourse with any large town is confined to such commoiii-
ITS POVERTY. 271
^tion as necessarily springs from the supply they deceive of such articles as are required for the ordinary wants of life. There is not even a road by which the produce of the sea, their chief wealth, can be conveyed to any considerable, distance. The consequence is, that every article which is of native production is sold at ruinously low prices. I saw a pig hanging from one of the cottages — killed to pay rent. It weighed eighty pounds, and was offered to me at six shillings. Of course the luxuries of life — that is to say, tea, sugar, and clothing — are in the same ratio, dear.
The miserable state of poverty in which the inhabitants pass their lives is almost indescribable; and if one had not beheld destUuiian even more de$titute in the larger towns of Ireland, from a view of Mill Street, the traveller would be induced to say, *^ Surely life can not be less life than here."
It was at four o'clock on the first dawn of a glorious summer morning that, on ascending a hill out of the town of Listowel, on the road to Tar- bert, that the wide expanse and magnificent waters of the justly celebrated Shannon burst on my view. The green surface of the land on either side, which now bore the appearance of a velvet carpet spread over the beauteous face of the soil, was reflected in the dark and silent stream with a brilliancy that no glass could imitate. Every object, however
272
THE SHANNON.
minute^ was faithfully portrayed in the Narcissian mirror.
And this is the Shannon^ whose course divides almost into natural provinces the vast regions through which its waters glide — the Shannon — Nature's canal — formed to convey to and from the inhabitants of a prolific land their manufactures and productions.
In the lower part of the river, however, there is little hope for the sportsman; the body of the stream is too large for tlie angler; with the ex- ception, therefore, of the tributaries which fall into the Shannon, which, with no great success, I en passant tried, the sportsman would be ill em- ployed who would follow this stream.
Packing up, therefore, our apparatus, we deter- mined, without loss of time, to push forward for Athlone — ^the embouchure of Lough Ree, of which station report had highly raised our expectations.
ATHLONB BKIDOB.
CHAPTER XVIII.
(IliaMloe Fair— Onlopt >dJ Ee1« — Alhlone Bridge — ee— Thg ShtpnnD — Splendid Titct of Counlry — HkTbour for Shipping — Nationll Btnelit of Ruilruads, Goferoment Specul&tian.
m, however, bears more marks of civili - has a tolerable street; women occasionally Idogs and shoes, and some of the children ed. I found it impossible to obtain from the crowded state of the town, this e Bidlinasloe fair — perhaps the largest ' in England or Ireland, The inns make
Z74
•jiBVS-
Ml
reader "^"^ ^t ti^*
this tttttve^ gYva»»°^ ^ ^ t\»e t^P^^, ^ cto8*<J descend the^^, the fto<^ * ^ o^^"^^
^ucVv \essj^^, ^hu»4e^* «^P
SHANNON TEOUT. 275
We now took possession of our little apartment ^m the borders of the celebrated Lough Ree.
The first thing that aroused my surprise at Athlone was the continued exposure for 'sale of trout of eight, ten, or fifteen pounds each, which seemed to excite no admiration among the people. I believe the Shannon produces the largest in the world ; and, though difficult to capture, yet success in aoe instance amply repays days of disappoint- ment. I was almost angry at the sight of such splendid creatures, sold for the merest trifle, and apparently regarded with less respect than the eels which satiated the town.
At the old town bridge there will be found a considerable fall in the river, which afterwards joins the main body of the stream below Athlone, con- stituting a little vortex. After having procured a boat, I first cast my line on this spot. Owen's labour and my own were without effect. Not a rise— not an appearance of a fish. We floated down the stream two or three miles, still accom- panied by disappointment ; nor was it till the even- ing began to set in, that we returned to tlie spot from whence we had first started. I now changed my tackle for the salmon-roe, and, having well loaded my hook, sent it off to seek its fortune in the whirlpool. The difficulty I found in fishing this spot was the extreme depth, at least forty feet ;
-76 SHANNON TROUT.
and, unless the roe was well put on, and wholljf^^aly covered the hook, I found, before it had reached th^.c:£Jh< bottom, the latter was frequently bare. As soon fir #t a I had corrected this error and effectually com^gTrr^m manded the bottom, success followed. A tug, thaj^jcAu nearly took rod and all from my hand, aroused m^.cx:z'in hopes of the new bait — new, indeed, to these fislrfa Jlst among which it had never been tried.
^' Huzza f"^ exclaimed Owen, in an ecstasy ^^^k^ *^ here's the Shannon trout, any way j and it's yoiirc::>^ou honour's the only man can catch 'em." But, ulmt ■ mrw JBs I could not hold them ; fish after fish broke awa^^Jts^^^ayj and, after an evening's hard work, we found oui^s-^^Uf. selves only masters of five fish, from three to sev^"^^^ pounds each.
The day is unfavourable to Shannon fishing ^"^y. Like oilier large animals of prey, their motion h
too slow to enable them to catch the smallest fit -S«4 in full light ; twilight, therefore, is the time of thfc===yi' hunting, and should be that of the fisherman's -^^ all these rivers and lakes. Having returned to o'vJ^ little inn, I requested permission to accompany t^o of the Lough Ree fishermen, who lived in cottages close by our little hotel, and who principally sup- plied the inns and inhabitants of the town with fish. In this I had little difficulty; and, making preparations, therefore, for a night out, and not forgetting those essential portions of such arrange-
THE NIGHT OUT. 277
ments, whiskey and tobacco, we set forth with muffled oars. The navigation of Lough Ree is dangerous in the extreme. My crew luckily knew every turn; and, as they prepared their long lines, I and Owen were busy with our flies. The success with the lake trout was trifling, not one having been captured of more than a pound weight.
The process of shooting the long lines was now b^gun. At every yard was a hook of the size of the whiting hook, and about two inches of a tole- rably-sized eel, well twisted on each hook. I did tU>t anticipate that such a bait would be effective for trout.
The number of hooks was two hundred, and the ine was cast, or, as the boatmen say, shot, just as iias been previously described. The result, at day- ight, was twenty-two trout^ varying from three to Bve pounds, several large eels, and two very large pike. The amusement was not exciting, and, Ijiough we endeavoured to keep up the hilarity of the evening by Owen's songs and our boatmen's 8t<nries of their English wanderings, it must be con- fessed that fishing on Lough Ree is, to use the current expression, ** slow.''*
There is a change of character worthy of remark as we approach the more northern part of Ireland ; Owen's disgust had manifestly assumed a more in-
278 ATHLONE BOYS.
tense feeling, as he besought me not to remain on the Shannon ; the inhabitants, he assured me, were heartless and cruel; that they had lamed every kind of cheating ; and that, for himself, he could have no chance whatever with them; even the boatmen expressed extreme dissatisfaction on Owen's presenting them, for their midnight com- pany, three shillings, a sum that would exceed the produce of many a night's toil. I was not long in discovering the true cause of these peculiarities, for so I must term them, in the Athlone and Shannon '^ boys.'* At Athlone there has been long esta^ bUshed a barracks, and it is now held as a station for several regiments. The officers have, in some measure, imitated the Killamey visiters; and I took leave of Lough Ree without regret, and aban- doned all the joys of onions and eels for the better fitre of Galway salmon.
The Shannon is, indeed, the queen of rivers ; navigable for nearly two hundred and thirty miles through the interior of the richest tract of country in the world ; abundant in every production that a river should present to the angler ; but the sailing on the loughs is dangerous, and the river itself too rapid. Although, on all the loughs, vessels, or rather yachts of all kinds may be observed, like beautiful phantom ships, gliding over the dark waters of the endless lakes ; yet the continual oo-
'iTwl
THE LOUOU8. 379
urrence of hidden rocks^ and those just emerging rom the sarfiBu:e, renders the utmost skill of the ilot necessary ; nor, indeed, without his assistance, lould any one venture on the water. It were safer liling on the wide Atlantic.
Upon the whole, I do not think the fishing of le Shannon agreeable. I say little of it, indeed, Q that account ; it is a style too much resembling aa-fishing ; it must be long line sport or none, as he fly may in general as well be cast on the broad ea-shore as on these inland oceans. The river iresents no better sport ; a week*s trial convinced ne that nothing but the baited line at night, or the weeping and execrable net, can be rendered avail- Jble. I did not, however, try the tributary streams, Inhere, I do not doubt, in the spring and autumn, preat sport might be found ; as, at those periods, :he best fish are found in the shallowest rivers, [t must, however, be remembered that nothing but ±e salmon-roe or the minnow will at those seasons mcceed ; with these the natives are wholly unac- ^[uainted, relying on the more wholesale methods of netting or night-lining.
In speaking of the splendid tract of country through which the Shannon flows, it is impossible to refrain from expressing deep regret that so little lias been done to secure the advantages which ought bo have been derived to Ireland. Nature, indeed,
280 RAILROADS.
seems to have pointed out this tract as the har- bour for shipping, commanding the whole con- tinent of America by a direct and safe passage. If to the lower harbour, formed by this splendid river, could be cut a railroad, either from Dublin or Cork, Ireland would at once become a new coimtry, and commercial prosperity would begin to relieve the oppression of a now too abundant population.
Great has-been the misfortune to the people of England that it has been, for ten years past, go- verned by parties too weak to undertake any na- tional improvement. Tliere was a moment which, had it been seized by a powerful administration, would have relieved England from many embar- rassments, without inflicting injury on any class. If the railroads had been undertaken by the go- vernment, and the government alone, a great por- tion of the interest of the national debt would have been paid from the profits — profits which, to the government, would have been treble those of the companies which have been suffered to undertake them, authorized by acts of parliament, which render their constitution one of the most grievous monopolies. Wherever a monopoly must exist, it is important that it should be a monopoly of the state ; over such monopolies the public have direct control, through the medium of their represen-
■'f<
RAILROADS. 281
tativesy and no abuse could be long suffered to Temain. As it is, a system of jobbing and patron- age, adopted in all the committees of railroads, has rendered the price of travelling to the public higher than ever, and without a remedy against any abuse. It is a mere commercial, instead of a national un« dertaking ; and the loss of life, which negligence may occasion in its conduct, is cooly calculated at so much per cent.
Had a strong government existed at the time ^'ailroads were projected, that government would ^ve boldly made them a monopoly for the good of the public generally. The construction would have l>een relieved of three-fourths of the expence ; all Ibw cheurges would have been avoided ; the govem- tuent engineers would have been appointed ; and, ^bave all, the thousands of able-bodied convicts, ^ho are now, at an enormous public expense, sent to waste their strength on a desert island, might liave been fully employed in the lowest description of the laboiur, and thus made to effectuate an atone- ment to the community whose laws they had violated. The diminution, therefore, of the expense of constructing railroads by the government would have been a boon to the public, who must have reaped the advantage in lower rates of charges ; and who would have thus, by an indirect, and, therefore.
282 RAILROADS.
almost imperceptible taxation, have supplied tho national revenue.
The loss of this opportunity was a blunder whic the public have greatly to deplore; it is to deplored in the high rate of charge to which are compelled now to submit ; in the thereby in* creased value of money, which now threatens tbt restriction of all commercial operations, and in total absence of all voice in the arrangement an- control of a monstrous monopoly, to which all mus ultimately bow.
It is not too late to retrieve this error in ference to Ireland; it is not too late for government to give employment to a s population, or to lay the foundation of a fiitu i^ ^ prosperity in this neglected land, which will ull mately not only firmly establish peace and contei but become a source of great profit to the Kingdom.
Nothing can be more contrary to truth tL^ any calculation made upon returns of pres^^^* ^ mercantile transactions; with the means, cott^^ merce would be created ; one unbroken high rosd would exist from the metropolis of England tc7 the extreme point of embarkation to the southeni world ; and, with that facility, transactions of greater amount would arise, and conmiimication would be more frequent. With the opportunity
RAILROADS.
283
of exportation, manufactories would be established, and the banks of the beauteous streams of Ire- land would no longer present the desolate neglect which has occasioned her degraded position among advancing nations.
Q ALU AY.
CHAPTER XIX.
Oalwaf — Mr. KcDgh — Fiihing in Lough Comb — Firit Fmilonv of thv Infallible Bait — lu Caoaci — A NewAcqnaintanea — Tb^
Monastc^ry— Cluililagb — Itt Antiqaitj — Form* of Harrwiis
Dm s of the Females — Rnpect paid to the Dead — PnTalnw^ of Ihe Cholera— Benevolence of the ReT. Father Fay— ProtM- tant* and Catholics — History of Jame* Lynch Filz Stephen, the Mayor of Gatway.
Hatimg left tlie valley of the Shannon, the country again assumes the barren and uncultivated garb; masses of rocks, with scarcely a spot of verdure, arising abruptly from amidst the deep green plains of bog, over which, as the coach rolled on, might be observed, for hundreds of yards, a succession of undulations that carried somewhat of
GALWAY. 286
fear to the inexperienced traveller, lest the road, the only firm spot over the boundless morass, should at any part give way and entomb the voyagers. The entrance to Galway, however, gave back all the beauties of land and ocecm ; at one burst from a hill the broad Atlantic presents herself, covered with white dots, the boats of the Galway fishermen ; and the white smoke, extending along the shore of tiie creek, indicates the approach to what is still a large and considerable city ; but what, alas ! was once the capital of Western Ireland.
I cannot easily describe the sensation of pleasure I experienced in my first walk through Galway, a spot to which my highest hopes of success in angling had been directed ; the town, through which a salmon river still nms, and in which the silvery tenants had not, through a succession of ages, de- creased. Taking my stand on the venerable bridge, through which the trembling waters of Lough Corrib, a lake of sixty miles extent, fall into the bay, I gazed stedfastly on the transparent stream ; masses of black, here and there, covered the bottom, forming the appearance of seaweed, gently moved by the course of tlie waters, till occasionally by a silvery flash, here and there, was seen the delicate white of the salmon ; those masses were constituted of fresh- run fish, congregated in preparation for their annual voyage to the vast lake.
286 THE WALL FISHING.
Having marked the spots where they were thus clusteringly placed, I betook myself to the urn, soon unpacked my tackle, and, presenting myself at the gate of Mr. Keogh, the liberal renter of the river, requested his permission to try my fortune. This was promptly given, and in a few minutes I was on the wall which divides the stream from the weirs. Mr. Keogh accompanied me, but did not give me hope of success. A short time convinced me that his knowledge of the habits of the Lough Corrib salmon exceeded mine ; not a rise to the most at- tractive fly I could present cheered my expectations ; and, after two hours' hard labour, during which I had cast over the very heads of some thousand salmon, I retired in disappointment.
This was not to be borne, and I immediately sought the acquaintance of a gentleman, to whom Mr. Keogh recommended me, as a thorough fisher- man. I record what I consider my good luck, be- cause it may be serviceable to any sportsman who may follow in my track. With that gentleman, at a very moderate price, I immediately domiciled; having, for twelve shillings per week, an excellent furnished drawing-room and two bedrooms, with* all necessary attendance. I lost no time in making my permanent arrangements for a sojourn in so in- teresting a town.
I now learned that the only chance of success on
GALWAT SALMON. 287
^ nver was at the dawn of day. At that time
&b, unscared by the continual view of objects
^^^ing over the bridge, were on the feed ; but
^t, in fine weather, any attempt during the day
^5 fruitless. Furnishing ourselves, therefore,
T^th a gaudy fly, such as fresh-run fish are most
^ly to be attracted by, before daylight in the
^Orning my host was with me.
£arly as we were on the scene of action, we had, ^^vertheless, been anticipated. Two anglers were ^ere, and had well thrashed the stream before us. '•^y companion introduced me to one, the Rev. Mr. "^^j who expressed his regret that he had not known ^^y intention to visit the river, as he would un- doubtedly have left it for my amusement This ^as so kindly said that I was immediately pre- {K>88e8sed with my new acquaintance, and requested )us company to breakfast. In accepting my invite Ke pointed to a fine salmon of nine pounds weight, \ivhich he had just landed, as an addition to our commissariat.
It was necessary to allow the river some quiet before the fly was again cast, and, changing our tackle, we threw for white trout at a spot higher up than the salmon lodges. Success quickly followed here ; but with the humbler species of the salmon I was dissatisfied ; the nobler game had al- ready possessed me, and I longed to try my chance
288 THE MONASTERIES.
with the roe. Candour obliges me to record that in this river^ for the first time in Ireland, I was foiled ; for, although I was convinced I so managed to present the bait that it must have passed the noses of the fish, not one noticed it.
The cause of this I at length discovered ; in this river the fish do not spawn ; they proceed through the lough to the mountain streams, and, being fresh- nm from the sea, they have scarcely recovered from the violent transition from which they neces- sarily suffer. The truth of this opinion was well established by my subsequent success in the tribu- taries to the lake ; in those, the roe was the most effectual bait for the salmon.
On resuming the fly, however, I was successful, and my companion not less so. In twenty minutes we had landed two fine fish, which I was assured and found was the extent of the sport we should meet ; as the river, once fished down, was generally no further productive for the day.
On my return to breakfast, I had the pleasure to find that my new acquaintance, the priest, was my opposite neighbour ; being the head of the monas- tery, a plain, though extensive building, situated on the banks of the. river. The establishment con- sisted of twelve monks, and himself the prior. Their incomes arise from bequests, and were about fifty pounds per annum each. They all had sepa-
THE MONASTERIES. 289
^te apartments, a common hall for dining, the ^Qeans of which were amply supplied by the pre- sents of the laity.
There was, indeed^abmidance — ^but an abimdance well directed — at a certain hour, daily, might be seen the aged, the destitute and diseased, knock- ing at the door of the monastery, and each receiving a portion, firom the hands of the priest himself, of that which charity had supplied.
We are greatly misled in estimating these insti- tutions. The services of the monks are, like those of the priests, services of hardship ; nor is it un- common for them to be absent among the moun- taineers for days, visiting and consoling the afflicted and the dying. In this coimtry, also, where no t^egulated provision for the poor exists, they form the authority for the judicious direction of charity ; ^hile themselves, independent of the world, and Having no claims on their assistance but those of duty, are free to bestow all that is not necessary to the sustaining their institution.
The prior had, as was the case with the rest, been educated at Rome. Seven years had he passed within the walls of a monastery, wholly de- voting his labours to literature of all kinds. I need not say that he was highly learned ; for, in addition to that ordinary education which a college affords, he had traversed the whole Christian world*
VOL. I. O
290 THE CLADDAGH.
I shall not easily forgot the happiness I derived from his society, nor be ungrateful for the advan- tage it aflForded.
Perhaps one of the most interesting features of Galway is the fishing village called Claddagh. The name signifies in Irish the sea- shore, on which it is situated. It is irregularly built, and intersected by several narrow lanes, and contains about four thou- sand inhabitants, who are exclusively employed in the bay fishing. It has, like every part of this curious town, strong characteristics of antiquity, and by some is assumed to have been the original site of the earliest settlers' first habitations. It con- stitutes a perfect colony; and has, time immemorial, been ruled by one of their own body, periodically elected ; he is dignified by the title of mayor, cmd, though a ragged representative of the municipal power, satisfactorily settles all disputes, and pro- pounds laws by which the whole population are governed. To him are all disputes referred, civil as well as criminal; and by him are they generally decided, without any apparent disobedience to his decree. It appears they still remain exempt from all government taxes, have no party feeling, and never interfere with politics. In short, so perfect a specimen of the imperium in imperio will nowhere else be found.
The forms of marriage, among these singular people, are worthy of notice ; they have no c(xinec«
THE CLADDAGH. 291
^ with the townspeople, to whom tliey appear to ertain a decided dislike, and their own mar- ;e8 generally take place at a very early age : en being the nsual time tliat is recognized for man. Having made his choice, the young lie elope, and, having been two or three days at, retom, are pardoned, assigned a dwelling x>mmence as independent members of the com- ity. It is remarkable that infidelity is unknown ig them ; nor, from all I could gain from my in- ^nt informant, the priest, could I understand jealousy was ever known to exist. The for- of the wife is the sliare in a boat. be dress of the females, as among those of the bitants of Gal way and Connemara, still retains ;haracteristic of their Spanish origin — the blue tle^ and red body gown, petticoat of the same vc, and a blue or red cotton handkerchief bound d the head. Sometimes the gaudy ribbon may iserved, but the regulation among the Claddagh tie is strict, that none shall be allowed the use ds ornament who cannot speak English. There
0 difficulty in selecting the lady one would *esB, though I should by no means advise any ber sportsmen to cultivate any pcuticular ad- ktion of the Claddagh damsels; the conse- ices might be more direct than those of damages
1 action duly recovered.
OS
292 THE CATHOLICS.
The respect shown to the departed friend is manifested in an especial manner, by adjournment to the whiskey-shop 5 and the measure of grief is ordinarily established by that of the inspiring liquor served out to the survivors. The lamentations con- tinue the whole of the night, which is consiuned in carousal with the party attending the funeral. It has been observed that this peculiarity seems to connect these people with the Arabs, whose peculiar constitution it is to rejoice at the death of their friends. There can be no doubt that the Irish wake ever has been and still is a festival ; whether established for such an occasion by sound philo- sophy or not, is still a problem I am imable to solve ; this, I think, is certain — ^life is not made for happiness— death may be so.
It is to us laymen, who presume to understand nothing of the matter, but who are happy enough if we do all that we can in the fieur and right way, and can, as Izaak says, obtain health and strength and leisure to go a-fishing — it is to us sometimes amusing to listen to the opinions one set of reverend priests express of priests of another class- it is amusing to hear the Rev. Sidney Smith, the mouthpiece of all that is liberal in the church, in his bold and round manner, lay down this posi- tion :—
" The Catholic faith is a misfortune to the world,"
THE CATHOLICS. 293
Yet can no one step into the humble habitation f the dying labourer in Ireland, whose life^ as it ^<I8 been without comfort, so the loss of it is •ftended with little to regret — yet whose sorrowing elatives surround him in all the bitter anguish of he parting hour— no one can step in and view the onsolations offered by the priest, consolations not if forms, as too often are all the solaces of the Atholic fidth supposed to consist of, and say the ' CathoKc/aiih is a misfortune to the world." To he protestant world, our reverend friend and mili- ant should have said ; and to the protestant world, imall as it is in Ireland, in particular.
But let us see how the catholic religion is a mis* Tortune to the world.
In the summer of 1832 the Claddagh was more than any other spot in Ireland the resting-place of the destructive and horrific cholera ; then might be seen in one house the dying father laying out the lifeless corses of the mother and her children ; the physician, even the druggist doctor, had abandoned the place ; and death in his most frightful form, unchecked, held on his way of devastation. The cholera was by no means exclusive, nor made it any particular favourites, either with the protestant or catholic — if one may be allowed to personify so deq) a blue^ it may be well observed that the lady swept all before her in Ireland ; and even the decen«
294 THE CATHOLICS.
cies of life, which protected as it was thought the rich in England, were here unavailing.
Galway has its protestant church, and takes all the tithes ; but the protestant clergyman, seeing how useful his services at that moment might be-> come elsewhere, bid adieu to Galway as the cholera entered. Why should I hesitate to name the man who has entitled himself to the love of all his parishioners. It was the Rev. Father Pay, who, so far from abandoning his post, he being at the time in the cure of the fishermen's city, ordered a room io be fitted for himself in the very midst of destitution, that he might beat hand to administer to the wants of the countless sick and dying. Here was not only religious consolation, but also for the exhausted and the fainting all the comforts and restorations which the active priesthood had accumulated from the general contributions of the people.
Nor were the inhabitants of the convent idle — not a call was disobeyed — the habitations of wretchedness, disease, and death, were alone en- tered by the priests ; their whole labour, and even their slender means of support, were generously devoted to the succour of the poor ; at the hour of midnight would the wearied inmate of the convent obey the summons, to traverse the mountains during the descent of rains and floods, to give, as they
THE CATHOLICS. 295
ihtmghi than, and believe now, consolation to the sick and wretched* From such communicants could be obtained none of those enormous fees which excite the indignation of the protestant dergy. No I the fee, by which their exertions through this terrible and destructive time were re- munerated, was the affection and confidence of their flocks, which can never be removed.
Preach to the peasant the villany of Catholicism — show him how vile a faith hefollows, and bid him remember the conduct of the Irish priesthood during the cholera, and recal that of a reverend lector of ■ ! The result might possibly be that the attentive listeners would, because it would be very impolite to do otherwise, admit the propo- sition of the Rev. Sidney Smith, that ** the Ca- tholic faith is a misfortune to the world," but he might at the same time insinuate that it is useful in times of cholera !
I am no catholic, but I reverence the religion which produces humane feelings and cherishes the exercise of kindness of heart. What is it that some — slight enough— distinctions are to be made, in those nobody seems agreed — shall such a cause take from the deserving labourer in the vineyard of generous devotion all the honour which his sin- cerity and exertion challenge ! Protestant Eng- land— alien in blood, language, and religion —
206 THE CATH0UC8.
having seized for the propagation of her own religion, which is not and cannot be that of the people, all the funds originally intended for £Eur other and more useful purposes, would at length strip the catholic priesthood, of the influence which their merits have created. It will be easy to curse the power of the Irish priesthood ; but, to destroy it^ the same means must be used which have created it among the people ; let me see the protestant der- gjrman vie in good deeds to his fellow-men with the priest ; let me see the same absence of all per- sonal motive, of pride, of state ; let me see the same conduct adopted, and the catholic power will be in jeopardy — not till then.
The singular good fortune of the priesthood, throughout the prevalence of the terrific scourge to which I have referred, is worthy of record. I be- lieve not one fell a victim to the exercise of his office and the discharge of his difficult duty. The veneration now expressed by the populace must be to them the proudest reward, and obviously exceeds that vast amount of wealth which is delivered to the tender mercies of the aliens in religion. Father Fay, whose courage in casting his lot amid the dying fishermen has been spoken of, may be found in simple guise, with an unassuming euid quiet de- meanour, peacefully casting his fly on the stream that runs through Galway ; as ready with any in*
THE LYNCH. 297
fermatiou he can a£fbnl a stranger who seeks it, as he is in the perfonnance of the high duties attached t» his office.
The scrupulous reverence which is paid to the ancient habitation of the Lynch fiamily, though now occupied by meaner tenants, will, necessarily, ex- cite the inquiries of the stranger; nor shall I deem any apology necessary for giving the whole of the story with which it is connected. The romance of history greatly exceeds that of ima- gination ; and, while the stem deeds of a Roman Father have been for ages extolled, the still firmer mayor of Galway has fiedlen into oblivion, and nothing now remains but the skull and cross- bones reverently preserved to indicate the spot where the most terrible sacrifice of feeling to justice was once made.
James Lynch Fitzstephen, an opulent merchant of Galway, was elected mayor in 1493, at which time a regular and friendly intercourse subsisted be* tween the town and the several parts of Spain. This mayor, who from his youth had been distin- guished for his public spirit, had, from commercial motives, on all occasions encouraged an intercourse that proved so lucrative as well to his fellow-towns- men as to the Spaniards ; and, in order the more firmly to establish the connection between them, he himself went a voyage to Spain, and was received
05
296 THE MAYOR.
when at Cadiz at the house of a rich and respectable merchant named Gomez, with the utmost hospitality and with every mark of esteem suitable to his high reputation, and to the liberality of his entertainer. Upon his departure for his own coimtry, wishing to make some grateful return for the numerous civili- ties he had received from the Spaniard, he invited his son, a youth of nineteen, to accompany him to Ireland, promising to take parental eare of him during his stay. Young Gomez, who was the pride of his parents, was rejoiced at this opportunity, and seized with ardour the kind offer of his father's friend.
On their arrival at Galway, Lynch introduced the young stranger to his family ; he was kindly re- ceived, and especially taken as a companion to the son of his host, a young gentleman of great acquire- ments, and enjoying the general respect of his fellow-townsmen. His popularity was so great, indeed, that he might at any time have become the leader of the Galway men, and could even have commanded the affections of his choice among the Galway ladies. There was, nevertheless, some dis- position to freedom in his attachments, which had in some degree afflicted his father, who had ever been remarkable for the purity of his life. The latter had, however, conceived hopes of an entire reformation in his son, from the discoveiy of the
THE MAYOR. 299
^^ust that he was deeply attached to a lady of great ^^rsonal beauty and accomplishments, the daughter ^^f his warmest friend.
Anxious as he was that the mayorality^ an office ^^hich had been thrust on him the year of his sietum from Spain, an office of high importance and ^gnity, inasmuch as he was invested with the full powers of judge, both in civil and in criminal mat- ters, should be sustained with unsullied honour, the prospect of his son's succeeding him gave new pleasure to his life.
The attachment of the young men was matter of general observation ; they were seen together on all occasions ; and, even in the visits to the beautiful Agnes, they were seldom separated. At length the English youth conceived a jealousy of his compa- nion's attentions. It was confirmed by .watching, from the house of the beautiful Agnes, him who had been his nearest friend. It was night: the streets were dark : his dagger was buried in the bosom of the stranger, who, though wounded unto deaths staggered some distance towards the shore, whither the relentless assassin pursued him, and cast the now lifeless body into the sea.
On the coming morning the body had been cast up by the tide, and the whole town was in con- sternation ; the mayor had been summoned — a dag- ger was found on the shore, red with the blood of
300 THE MAYOR.
its victim — one was only absent — it was he to whcxn the dagger belonged — ^it was to the son of the mayor, who sat in deliberation on the murder !
On the discovery of the criminal, he made no denial of the deed, but avowed himself the mur- derer amidst the deepest exclamations of remorse for the frenzied act. The disconsolate yet deter- mined parent consigned him to a prison ; public disgrace awaited him, should he shrink from the performance of his duty ; the violated laws of hos*- pitality must have been vindicated. The rigid se- verity he had, during the discharge of his functions as mayor, exercised towards an unhappy criminal guilty of a similar act, shut out the possibility of compromise, and sealed the fate of his son.
Once only in the annals of men had so terrible a scene been witnessed ; and it was left for the up- right magistrate of a small town in the west of Ireland to revive the glory or the horror of con- signing to death the son of his affections, as a sacrifice to public justice.
On the promulgation of the inflexible sentence of death the people became tumultuous and violent : they surrounded the house of the heart- stricken magistrate ; and, incensed by the belief that jus- tice was second to the feelings of nature, deter- mined on the rescue of their admired fellow-towns- man. Some suggestions were made, in order to
THE MAYOR. 901
pacify the people that mercy would be extended, and that the actual execution of the son was not contemplated by the father. This was effectual, and prevented the outbreak, which had become cytherwise irrepressible. It was at midnight that the stem father entered the cell of the criminal •— announced to him the certainty of his fate on the coming mom, and banished from his mind all hope of escape. The father wept and prayed by the side of his prostrate son» who spoke no word : the exhortations of the priest were without effect — with hope had departed reason; still the father watched, till the first my of daylight warned him to act. At that moment, looking into the vacant coun- tenance of his son, the heart gave way, and he fell on the upreared body, overwhelmed by his feelings.
At length he arose, gave the necessary orders to the guards, and, between the files of the soldiery, who had formed a strong guard by the orders of the mayor — the priest supporting one arm, and the father the other — the subdued culprit was con- ducted to the place of execution. Who shall paint the concluding scene ? — a frantic mother, heart- broken sisters, met him at the spot — the reproaches of the frenzied parent were loud against the sternness of the magistrate, but ineffectual.
Demonstrations, however, among the populace arose ; shouts from the armed mob of relatives,
802 THE MAYOR.
whom the wife had excited to the rescue, su rrounded the place of execution : it was amidst the tiureats of the crowded thousands that the mayor took his son in his arms. ** My hoy,*' said he, ^ thou hast only a few moments of life. God may pardon thee ; I dare not. I may end my life with thine, but cannot save it/' And, before the multitude could be aware of the intention, with his own hand he placed the deadly cord round the neck of the criminal, and launched him into eternity.
In the full expectation of instant death, from the fury of the mob, the calm magistrate, with a dauntless countenance, presented himself to their threatened vengeance : they were stayed by his determination — a sudden sentiment of awful admi- ration prevailed, and all peaceably retired. It was his last public act. The father was never again seen, but by the members of his secluded family.
The house, which was the scene of this terrific tragedy, still exists in Lombard Street, Galway and, though now tenanted by more humble citizen/ is still a spot regarded with reverence. Over tJ window from which the unhappy culprit was si pended may still be seen the monument which v erected to record the deed. A skull, carved stone, and cross-bones beneath, are all that ren to mark the public virtue of the mayor of Gal'
LOCGH COBRIB. 30S
CHAPTER XX.
FiahiDg io Loogh Carrib — Enonnoas Troat — The W< Pen^ and Pike — ProdactiTencss of the Weir^—ArriTml of the Major — ^DilBcnltj of gcttiog m F»hiog-Boat — lodepcndenoe of the Fishermen — Herring Fishery — ^The yH^jor of the Claddigfa —The Prior — ^The Priesthood — Preparmtioos for Sport.
Os the second morning after my arrival at Galway, I took care to be early on the walL It is, perhaps, hardly credible that, with dressing-gown and slippers (Hily, I daily stepped from my lodging, crossed the bridge, and secured a salmon — some- times two, and, not unfrequently, white trout of a good size. The latter are ccxisidered of little or no value, but are, nevertheless, of most delicious flavour.
During one of the autumnal floods, when these fish run in shoals into the lake, I was surprised by one of extraordinary magnitude. I had two flies on ray line, the dropper had been chosen, and, in darting towards the bottom, a salmon took the stretcher — I was close to the bridge— one fish took one arch, downwards, and the other made a dif-
:^*
804 LOUOH COBBIB.
ferent choice, and, for several minutes, so stout was the tackle, that the two fish were suspended be- tween the arches— a stream of immense volume bearing on each.
My friend and host, seeing my difficulty, hastened to my relief, and with one blow of the boat-hook, which was close at hand, so stunned the salmon, that, tbough by the concussion freed from the line, he was easily taken by the landing-net ; the other, being the stronger of the two, dashed down the stream, and to him I abandoned my rod, which easily passed through the arch to the dark pool below. Having with some difficulty recovered it, I now began a fair contest, and, in a short time, succeeded in landing a white trout of sixteen pounds. This size is not unusual, and, when they are taken so large, exceed in value the best salmon ; although, I believe, very few of this class of fish are seen in London. Indeed, they seldom attain such a size but in lakes of enormous magnitude, such as Lough Corrib.
From the lake to the weirs there is a long, flat river, in which the more contemplative and unam- bitious angler may find excellent sport, should he be adept in perch fishing. I believe the whole of the river, at least, wherever the waters form a still pool, is crowded with perch, and, with a common stick, and the coarsest tackle, hundreds may be
LOUOH CORRIB. 305
taken finom one spot in a day. They are not, how- ever, esteemed, and the style of angling is below the noble game the glorious lake and falling streams should suggest. Pike are also taken with great ease, either by trailing from a boat, or by the long line, baited with eels. So abundant, however, is tiie supply of sea-fish from the noble bay, that, when taken by the few fishermen who frequent the lake^ they are considered valueless. Threepence is con- sidered a great price for a pike of ten pounds.
Beally, this is mortifying. The English angler, who, by a due application, has at length extracted leave for a " day's fishing " in some dull ditch or puti^scent pond of an English landholder, exults in having captured a pike or two; nor is there any lack of broad direction on the basket he fills, addressed to his nearest friend or most liberal patron. The prize is spoken of as worthy of record. Visit Lough Corrib, and fill your boat daily, without the mortification of having asked a favour from the selfish owners of the water whence the supply comes. The broad expanse of Lough Corrib — as are all the lakes of Ireland, with the exception of those which are situated in the desert of Ireland, Connemara — is open to all.
I must not, however, fail to notice that the river leading from the Lough to the weirs presents ad- mirable sport throughout the summer and autumn,
306 THE BAY.
when the salmon are, as it is technically called, running ; nor is it at all preserved. The fishery is below, and at the weirs— all that escape the traps are free game, while the salmon season lasts. So productive are the weirs, that, I believe, the present rental is from £300 to £400 per annum.
According to an engagement made with the major, I deferred my sea-fishing till his arrival at Galway, where we had appointed to meet for the purpose of exploring the coast of Connemara. I liad written a full account of my success at the weirs and on the lake, the relation of which so hur- ried his arrangements that I was surprised by his presence some time before his promise.
His greeting was that of. an old friend — ob- viously excited, nevertheless, by feelings of strong jealousy — jealousy at the advance I had made without his tuition and superintendence. My friend, the prior, readily joined the evening party, to which was added mine excellent host, whose society was really an advantage, not included in the small sum which had been fixed on as rent. His knowledge of the locale was invaluable, and I owed much of the enjoyment I experienced, in my Galway visit, to his assistance and direction.
The difficulty of getting a fishing-boat was dis- cussed. We had already visited the Claddagh, but, such was the independence of the fishermen.
u^
THE CLADDAGH. 3Q7
that there waa no hope of obtaining, at any rea- sonable remuneration, assistance from them.
The Claddagh men look upon the bay of Galway as their inheritance —- one which they have de- fended with a courage which speaks better for their determination and spirit than for their knowledge of law. They have, however, up to this period, ^feetually prevented the use of the trawl, although frequently attempted by gentlemen who had pos- sessed yachts. Their opinion is that such a mode of fishing is destructive of the spawn, and that the disturbance of the shallows would end in the de- struction of the deep sea-fishing, froift which, for a great part of the year, they draw their subsistence.
At the herring time, however, the nets are in requisition, and in this fishery all are joined. They have not the same mode of taking the herring as will be noticed in the Scotch fisheries. Whenever a shoal is indicated in Galway bay, every boat is at sea ; the nets are all fastened together, forming a circle of nearly half a mile in circumference ; these are gradually drawn together^ and then begins the work of sport. The herrings are literally scooped into the boats, as solid masses, and many tons are frequently the reward of one night's toil. This is the harvest of the fishermen, and, from the im- mense profit derived from the short period of the herring visit, they are sustained through the dreari-
SOB THS CLADDAOH.
neas of the winter, when the sea-fishing is attended with considerable danger.
But the Claddagh men are a noble race of inde- pendent fellows, innocent in their lives, and deter- mined in character. Of their honesty, generally^ there can be no suspicion ; and if they do not pos- sess the polish of citizens, they, at least, are not deficient in the sterner virtues.
*' The divil take the selfish loons !'' said the major : '* not take hire for their beggarly washing- tubs of boats ? May be it's a high market they want."
" I think not," said the prior. " There is little to tempt them in money. They are wholly free from the characteristic vice of the towns."
'* Oh, by the powers, Father, they want to be in a regiment ; a little military law would aid them ; but they have at least the satisfaction of being free from the patronage of a rascally government, from which I draw a paltry pay quarterly.*'
*' No doubt they purpose to remain so. Although neglected now, many a family among them has suffered deeply by the ruthless demcuids of the state, which, if applied to in their affliction, is tardy in affording assistance. You know not how many widows and orphans are there whom the pressgang has rendered such. Finer scdlors were nowhere to be foimd. But they were not enslaved
THE CLADDAOH. 309
easily ; and in the contest for liberty many a life has been lost. Although these people would resist to the uttermost, even to blood, the impost of a tax, or the subjugation to municipal authority, they are open to all the feeling of gratitude which kind- ness can inspire. What is it you want ?'*
I explained that we had determined to try the sea-fishing of the bay ; to visit Arran and Conner mara ; and for that purpose our intention was to fit up a good boat, such as the fishermen used, with some additional comforts.
'* It can immediately be obtained," said the prior 5 " I will write to the mayor — not of Galway, butof theCladdagh."
The note was soon despatched, and as soon answered by the presence of the mayor himself. He was an elderly man, of the roughest exterior ; the tanned complexion bespoke a long life of ex« posure to the roughest breezes; but there was an intellectual boldness that might, under other cir« cumstances, have raised him to eminence among a community more powerful than the Claddagh fishermen. He bowed as he entered the room, and his countenance brightened at the prior's pre- sence.
^' What can the Claddagh do for your reverence's honour?" said the sturdy official.
** Not much, MichaeL My friends, here, are
310 THE CLADDA6H.
anxious to have one of the fishing-boats that hap- pens to be unemployed, and a good hand to attend them in their excursions. I am told it is difficult to find a boat."
^^ Difficult 1 Sure is it your reverence that talks of difficulty in getting a boat ; the whole fleet is ready."
'^ It is not for myself, Michael, but for these friends I want it."
*' It's enough, your reverence ; when shall it be ready ?"
" To-morrow."
" Your reverence would have two hands any way to the boat. The sprats are in the bay, and there will be glorious sport to-morrow with the white fish."
" Take a glass of whiskey, Michael."
'* Oh, long life and blessings to your reverence !"
He was impatient to begone, bowed with pro- found respect to the prior, and retired.
A short time only had elapsed before we were literally beset with applicants for the honour of attending us. A selection had been made, and several of the best hands, anxiously hoping to be^ come the choice of the prior, had been permitted to present themselves. The two first were at once appointed to the office ; and, though full intima- tion was given that the choice had been made.
u*
TITHES. 31 1
nothing could repress the anxiety of the poor fellows to secure the happiness of obliging their kind pastor.
" You must oflFer these lads no money for their services," said the prior; *' they will really fieel aggrieved if they have not the opportunity of serving you without being suspected of any mer- cenary views. While in your service I know you will treat them well ; but give no wages. I will contrive that you shall not be without the means of rewarding them, but it must be done with delicacy, and through the medium of their families."
" By my soul, they are noble fellows/' said the major. '* Why the devil was not I a priest? I shouldn't then have been paid by a rascally govern- ment."
*^ There would certainly be no chance of that," said the prior, smiling ; " we are not the paid of any government ; but our usefulness, I trust, is not the less on that account."
I suggested that it was probable the strong pre- judices of the English would one day yield to the irrefragable proofs of the importance of sustaining the influence of religion amongst a people whose education and improvement were so much the apparent objects of parliamentary solicitude, and that an adequate remuneration would be ultimately awarded to the services of the priesthood.
312 TITHES.
*' Remuneration 1" said the prior, while a blush of excitement mounted to his cheeks. ^' I trust I shall never be one of the body that coidd be induced to accept it. Nothing can be more untrue than the suspicion that, as a body, the Irish priesthood aim at any state assistance. We war not with the tithes ; if they were collected from the right sources^ they would become nothing more than burdens upon the tenure of the land ; we would scorn to accept any part of them, if offered. Our influence and our usefulness might date their downfall from the moment the Catholic priests condescended to be sustained at the expense of a Protestant govern- ment."
** Condescend ! ** said the major ; '^ fiedth, and we must all condescend ; and whenever I draw my quarterly — this is quartering upon the inimy, says I."
** The priests," said I, " have no enemies to quarter on, but those who have not known them."
" And," said the prior, while he took my hand in token of a grateful cordiality, " it is not from strangers we would derive the reward of our labours ; we are content to receive it, humble though it be, from those who know us."
Our evening was spent as an angler's should be. The subjects discussed were indeed various, but none were passed by the prior. We learned the process of
' SEA-FISHING. 313
edocatioii adopted in Rome for those intended for the priesthood ; the discipline is severe : seven yean of absolute confinement within the walls of a monastery 5 the utmost labour exacted^ each hour bringing its appointed task ; while the per- sonal comforts awarded to the noviciate are of the most meagre order. The range of the studies, however, is extensive, comprehending not only the learning of the ancients, but the controversial pro- ductions of the fieithers, whose voluminous tomes would alarm an English collegian. Nor is modem literature neglected ; the priests are generally ex- cellent linguists ; their manners subdued and ami- able, affected, doubtless, by the severity of their education ; but the reward attendant upon the sacrifice of all the worldly happiness of their youth is, when viewed in reference to other pro- fessions, of a very inadequate amount ; there must be, therefore, other motives than the selfish ones too liberally ascribed to them.
Having taken our leave of the Father, the major produced his basket ; it contained a supply of every sort of tackle calculated for deep sea-fishing, an art very little understood, as the mere pot-fishers of the coast pursue it in the cheapest and, therefore, the coarsest manner. The science of sea-fishing has indeed been wholly neglected where nets are not
VOL. I. P
314 SEA-FISHINO.
available ; but it is a science that will repay the trouble of acquirement.
The ordinary coarseness of the tackle, used by the seamen, is very ill adapted for the better sort of fish, such as turbot, ling, and cod. The hake, in- deed, is a very voracious creature, and partakes of the qualities of the dogfish, although the former, properly dressed, forms by no means a contemptible dish. Galway bay presents, however, sport of every kind, and, on the approach of the herrings, which is indicated by the arrival of immense shoals of cod, ling, and halibut, there is, perhaps, no variety of the northern tribes, some of whose frater- nity do not appear on the coast.
Preparing, therefore, for impending business^ we selected the finest tackle. Our mackarel hook-lines were composed of good twisted gut, instead of the heavy hemp lines of the Galway fishermen, and our whiting crosses were made of the same material, vice the common tarred string. To each of our long line hooks, which were an inch and a half in the diameter, was affixed a swivel to preserve the tackle against congers ; villains who abound on the coast, and whose dishonesty is so intense that on the discovery of any fish fast hooked, no matter of how large an order, they never hesitate to convert it into an extempore meal, politely, however, leav- ing the head to communicate the intelligence when
It.: f ;
SEA FISHING.
315
the line is drawn. If, however, by any accident, he should also take a fancy to the head, or should him- self be induced to attack the original bait^ and find no accommodation for his contortions, in the way of a swivel, it will not occupy him long to destroy a whole line. Although this difficulty may be guarded against by the use of the swivel, there is no such thing known among the Galway fisher* men.
Our long line prepared, and hand lines duly stretchedj we appointed an early hour in the morning for our essay, determined to visit Anran in the evening. Full of anticipation, we separated for the evening, the major having drained the whiskey bottle to the dregs, declaring that there was nothing in the Galway bay, or on the coast of Conne- mara, that could come near the ridinff a salmon ashore.
END OF VOL. I.
LONDON: P. SHOBKRI.. JON., PRINTER, 51, ROPRRT ITREBT, HATMARKBT.
THE
SPORTSMAN IN IRELAND.
VOL. II.
THE
SPORTSMAN IN IRELAND,
WITH HIS
SUMMER TOUR
THRorea thb
HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND.
BY A COSMOPOLITE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON : HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
OKEAT MABLBOBUUOH STREET.
1840.
LONDON : F. SHOBERL, J UN , PKINTKR, 51, KUPtCRT STRKKT, HAYMARKKT.
CONTENTS
OP
THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAPTER I.
DrcBS of a Sportsman — Embarkation — Wild Fowl — Appearance of a Grampos — A Haul — The Conger and Dog-fish — The Herring — ** Heads, heads, nothing but heads!" — Accident to the Major — A splendid Halibut — A Sea-Dinner — Islands of Arran — Costumeof theArran Peasantry — Cordial Reception — A Dance — A Beauty — Amorous Propensity of the Major — Smuggling — Coast of Connemara — Magnificent Scenery — Return to Galway ..... 1
CHAPTER II.
Superstition of the Fishermen — Execution of Lynch for the Murder of his Wife — General Sympathy for the Murderer — The Priest — His Disclosure of the Circumstances of the Murder — Villany of R . . . . .22
CHAPTER III.
Departure from Galway — Coasting — The Coal Fish, or Bace — Aground on Roundstone Flats — The Harbour — Protestant Clergyman — The Major*s Reminiscences in America — Catching a Sea- Serpent with a Shoe . . . .37
IV 0ONTKNT8.
CHAPTER IV.
Coiiiieiiiar»— Serring a Writ— Mr. Mutin't Permisiion toFbh — ^Ragi, Rags, every where Rags ! — Character of the Inhabitantt — ^Departare— Bad Roada— Desolation of CoonemaFa &0
CHAPTER V,
Cong —The Sabterranean River and the Lady White Thmt— Mountain Aoeommodation — A Strange AdTentnre in the Gorge— Ito SatisfiMitory Result .69
CHAPTER VL
Bog River Fishing— The Wilds of Loogh Mask— The Deaert Lands and their Proprietors — The Bfajor's Ron and Catas- trophe—The Prize . .78
m
CHAPTER VII,
The Friar*8 Visit— The Monster of the Monntains— The Mystery Solved— The Whiskey Store— The Unparliamentary . 94
CHAPTER VIII,
Traversing a Bog — Process of Grabbling — A Brood of Otters — Castlebar— Wretched State of the InhabiUnts- Annual Sab- scriptions — Ludicrous Adventure of Owen — Following a Salmon — Decency on Entering a Town . 106
CHAPTER IX.
A Corse against Preserves— Reasons for condemning them— A Slap at the Peers — Apology and Reconciliation — An Irish Tory — Aftcr-Dinner Argument on Popular Education — Chal- lenge— Preparations for a Meeting — Satisfiustory iVrrang»- ment .126
CONTENTS. V
CHAPTER X.
An Old AcqoaiDtance — ^The Spanish Legioner — His Last Trip— The Shipwreck — How to qualify for Exciseman 146
CHAPTER XI.
Belfast — Sute of Ireland —What is the Remedy ? — Poor-law Qaestion — Manufactures at Belfast — Last Evening in Ireland — Leave-taking — Claims and Prospects of Ireland — Absentee Landlords and starving Tenants . .161
CHAPTER XII.
Scotch Steam Packet — Scenery of Argyleshire — The Clyde— Rock of Dumbarton — The Fatal Bequest — Greenock — Imposi- tions of Hotel-Keepers — Inverary Castle — Disgraceful decep- tion practised on the Eoglish Sportsman — Scandalous charges at the Inns — Preserves without Game — A Scotch Landholder and his Steward going Snacks — Scene at a Highland Inn — Loch Fyne — A Night on the Lake — Herring Fishing — A Whale — A Steamer — Accident to a Herring Boat . .170
CHAPTER XIII.
The Muir Lochs, Inverary — Varieties of Trout — Civility of a Scotch Fanner — A Clever Trick — A Day*s Fishing on Loch Fyne — Meeting with an Old Mendicant . . 203
CHAPTER XIV,
The Old Mendicant's Story — Legend of Dnndarve Castle 216
CHAPTER XV.
Sport on Loch Fyne — Abundance of Fish — I«ong Lines, Hooks, and Bait — Immense Turbot — The Cobbler Whale— The Inn at
VI CONTENTS.
Cairndow — Celebration of a Wedding— Table of Fish caught — The Wedding Dance — Completion of the Ceremony — Return to the Loch — Great Success with the Lines — Enormous Hali- but— Pier of Inverary — Disposition of the Spoil — Scotch Envy and Knavery ...... 227
CHAPTER XVI.
The River Aray — Instinct of Fish — Spawning — Descent to Loch Awe — Destructive Nature of Pike — Village of Cladich— Sport on Loch Awe — The Execrable Pike — Island of Innishail — Re- mains of a Monastery — A Venerable Fisherman — '• The Mon- ster of the Deep " ..... 240
CHAPTER XVII. The Last of the M'Gregors, a Tale of the Highlands 254
CHAPTER XVIII.
Return to Inverary — Sea- Fishing - - Loch Goil — Loch Long — Tarbert — The Black Loch Lomond — Taking a Sketch — A New Friend — The District Schoolmaster — Excursion on the Lake — Island of Inveruglas — Ruins of the Fortress — Its History 273
CHAPTER XIX.
The Laird of Drummondernoch, a Story of the Last of the Clan M'Gregor ...... 281
CHAPTER XX.
Return to Tarbert — Inferiority of Pike in Mountain Lakes — Loch Lomond — Rob Roy's Cave — Loch Arkill — The Salmon Roe — Method of Curing it — Spirit of Imposition on Travellers — Loch V^ennachan — Fall at Miltown — Grandeur of the Sce- nery— A Venerable Fisherman — His History — Happiness of a Country Life — Conclusion .... 293
THE SPORTSMAN IN IIUELAND.
CHAPTER I.
Dress of a Sportsman — Embarkation — Wild Fowl — Appearance of a Grampus — A Haul — The Conger and Dog-fish — The Herring — ** Heads, heads, nothing but heads !'* — Accident to the Major — A splendid Halibut — A Sea-Dinner — Islands of Arran — Costume of the Arran Peasantry — Cordial Reception — A Dance — A Beauty — Amorous Propensity of the Major — Smuggling — Coast of Connemara — Magnificent Scenery — Return to Galway.
The morning was glorious; the gray tinge, which covered the mountains and amalgamated with the cool and unbroken clouds, gave token of a goodly day.
The major's voice was my alarum. '* Hollo ; is it yourself that keeps the fleet waiting ? — Daylight, and a fisherman asleep;" — and thump went his
VOL, II,
B
1
THE PBBPARATIONa.
heav; fistat the slight pannelling of my chamber- door.
There was do tiine lost. The canvass dress was soon ahgjped; and, on opening the door, I could .not refrain from immoderate laughter. There stood the major; a pair of coarse well-tarred trousers ensconcing his nether man, and a rough pilot jacket over all ; a tarred straw hat, lined with green silk, while the wrists betrayed linen of the most delicate texture and hue. It is odd, but no disguise of dress removes a certain air of refinement —it is inseparable from the possessor. It was im- possible not to see that the major was a fisherman in masquerade only.
Owen stood behind, loaded with baskets, from some of which might he seen to peep certtun corks, indicative of an attention to the possible privations of a sea-voyage. All was hilarity ; the freshness of the morning air, the anticipation of success, amid scenes of novelty, and, above all, the merry companionship I had secured, conspired to make such opening days little gems of remembrance.
The guns had not been forgotten, and the major, a second Robinson Crusoe, had slung them behind his hack, forming altogether a most picturesque figure, while the gravity with which he sustained the metamorphosis did not constitute the least amusing part of the scene.
THE ATLANTIC. 3
We were soon at the Claddagh : here a surprise awaited us ; a huzza from a long lane, formed by double rows of fishermen, at once evinced the cor- diality with which we were to be received ; our two visiters of the preceding evening quickly unloaded Owen and the major, and conducted us to our boat, which, though of the ordinary kind, that is, about twenty-five tons, half-decked and sloop-rigged, had been thoroughly cleansed and ornamented by all the means the poor fellows possessed. On our em- barking, the admiral of the fleet, who is also the mayor of the Claddagh, paid us his respects, and wished us good sport.
The major said not a word, but seizing one of the bottles, and breaking, by a dexterous blow, the neck, without losing any of the contents, pro- ceeded to hand round the whiskey in an ecstasy of delight. As he shook hands with the mayor, there was another shout of the fishermen ; the hawser was loosened, and, in a few minutes, we were gently gliding with the tide out of the harbour of Galway.
The rising sun illumined the bay ; the bold and rocky coast of Clare now opened, till the broad Atlantic, obstructed only by the shining spot called Arran, presented a gorgeous picture. The surface of the sea, for miles, was spotted by the white sails of the returning fishermen, or those putting out in
b2
4 SEA-SHOOTING.
search of prey. The fresh ocean breeze soon caught our sails, and we formed one of the group which completed the morning picture.
The scream of wild birds of every kind, congre- gated on one spot, put every sail in requimtion ; and in an instant might be seen a fleet of five hun- dred vessels, with all canvass spread, dashing for^ ward, as in a race ; we were not behind, but, to our gratification, discovered that the vessel selected for our accommodation was one of the fastest sailers of the fleet. Our two boatmen were in the bows, each armed with a long pole, at the extremity of which was a deep bag-net, for the purpose of scooping up the sprats, which, at this season of the year, consti- tuted the only bait.
The major and myself, each with a double-barrel in readiness, were silently watching the approach towards the mass of birds. It was a perfect trial of the fleet. The breeze was fresh, and the shouts of the different boats, as they passed through the shoal of herrings, and scooped up a basket of them, did not disturb the wild fowl, which seemed per- fectly aware of the purpose of the visit, dashing a yard or two under the water, and again appearing on the surface at the stern of the boat.
A space of a hundred yards was dense with ducks, teal, widgeon, gannets, gulls, and cormo- rants. Within twenty yards of the spot our four
THE GRAMPUS. 5
barrels were discharged ; all in an instant disap- peared for a few seconds ; first one quietly rose and rolled on his back ; another, another, and another, were scooped up by the nets, till we steered into the midst of the mass of fish, so thickly crowded together as to give the appearance of discoloured water. At that moment two other boats dashed through, and^ as we were all closing, the appearance of a third party put a sudden stop to our proceed- ings ; up went the helm of every boat, and blanched became the cheek of every boatman ; the shout of hilarity was in a moment changed to the silence of utter terror. The monstrous grampus had arisen in the very midst of the shoal, and, within three yards of the boats, opened his frightful jaws, en- tombing hogsheads of the small fry at one gulp.
The view I had of the monster was distinct ; the head was completely out of the water as he opened his expansive jaws, which were lined with sharp teeth, in several rows, of about an inch long. On sinking, he flourished his tail on the surface ; and this, it seems, was the great object of danger.
On our escape, it will be supposed, inquiry was soon made. The grampus is a continual visiter of the bay, on the approach of the herring season, and was regarded by the fishermen as the most deadly of all foes. Boats have frequently been sunk by one dash of his tail ; and it was not without reason
6 THE LONG LIKE.
that the sailors expressed so much terror at his proadmity to our little bark. The major was for setting up means of capturing him, a sport in which I begged not to be associated ; but as my dissent beoone positive, the major's courage increased, till, having seized the gun, he fired at the spot, in the overboiling of his valour, where the monster had disappeared. This seemed to appease the major's wrath, and, threatening a future attack on this mo« naxch of the bay, he betook himself to preparation for the deep sea-line, which was now ready for the bait we had taken.
Upon sounding, we found twenty-five fathoms a good depth for the larger sort of fish ; and having prepared our hooks, upon each of which was a sprat, and on some two, we proceeded to sink the long line, attached to a buoy.
This done^ and the bearings taken, we stood over towards the Clare shore, where we found the water deeper, and in thirty fathoms cast anchor.
We now let out the hand-lines, each person having the management of two. These we continued to sink and draw, but not long, as we soon found a dash at one : then commenced the real labour of fishing. Thirty fathoms of line, with a cod of twenty pounds weight at the end of it, was not a light amusement ; but we got through it manfully. No sooner had we unhooked the fish, re-baited and
THB CONGER. 7
set off the line, than the other was ready. This continued for an hour, till one of our new friends, the boatman, cried out that it was time to up anchor.
*' Oh, the divils are here, your honour I Up anchor, or our tackle's done."
He was right; we were all busily engaged. The major declared he had nothing less than the grampus at the end of his line, and we were all in glorious expectation of a simultaneous haul. Up they came, indeed, writhing in all directions ; run- ning foul of one another^ darting across each other's lines ; congers and dog-fish all — and of so terrific a size, that nothing but the sledge-hammer made any impression on their skulls, or could reduce them to any reasonable conduct. The scene was ridicu- lous in the extreme : each bellowing ineffectually for the assistance of his neighbour.
In the mel^e, however, it was discovered that the major's was really a ling; a fish of great value on this coast, and apparently of forty or fifty pounds weight. Every man, therefore, abandoned his own difficulties to remove those of the major : he was landed — our estimate was not incorrect as to his weight. One conger was also landed of enormous size, but the rest were sent adrift, as we thought it better to cut the hook than endanger the safety of the boat's bottom by their violence.
B THE CONGER.
The congers, I know not why, are never nsed by the Irish for any purpose. There can be no doubt that they form, well cooked, excellent food. In Jersey and Guernsey they constitute the staple (rf the inhabitants. Here, however, they are held in de- testation, as is also the dog-fish, which, at Boulogne, and at the other fishing ports of France, one may see daily exposed for sale, at no very cheap rate.
The intimation our last haid had given of the invasion of our quarters by the congers and dog- fish soon put us again under sail. The produce of our long line now became the object of our soli- citude. In the present disturbed state of the bay it was impossible to conjecture what would be captu- red, as it was obvious that every part of the bottom was covered with fish of some order.
What the herring eats no one knows. There are not wanting fishermen who record the catching of these spiritual creatures by the exhibition of a bright hook, without bait ; but it never fell within my observation that they were in any way addicted to the gastronomic vices.
However involved the meaps by which they are sustained may be, it is certain that the purpose of their existence is no matter of doubt. They form the chief food of all other sea-fish ; they are an un- lucky set, go where they will j from the whiting to the whate they are diligently followed, and if the
THE HERRING. 9
enemies of their own element are not sufficient^ they have an ample* assistance in the population of every country they are unhappy enough to visit. He who never before fished, but who hath spent the year in attendance on his flocks, is called on in the herring time. Common cause is made to prosecute the war against the unoflFending visiters, who ap- pear to migrate from one shore to anotlier, for the sole purpose of affording a general chance to all. But the herring is a capital fellow, and must not be quar- relled with, forming, as he does, the only security against utter famine among the poorest, and the most delicious dish possible for the opulent.
Whenever the herring can be obtained, let no sea fishermen attempt any other bait. The flavour of the herring is omnipotent among the villanous com- munity which inhabiteth the deep — I say a villa- nous community, because in it is no respect of kindred or of genitorship. The father, remorse- less^ devoureth the son ; and the mother her own spawn, the moment it has become enlivened. I have no pity in consigning such ruthless savages to the bottom of the boat, especially when in doing so a noble revenge presents itself in devoting them to the mosaic equity of mastication.
The breeze was still fresh, and enabled us to come up with the buoy without difficulty. It was tlie first draught in the Galway bay, celebrated
b5
10 THE DRAUGHT.
throughout Ireland as the beau ideal of piBCStorial acbievemeDt. The major drew the buoy, it was heavy, and he swore there must at least be a ton weight of fish on the lines. Our two boatmeD coiled the line as it was drawn in gilent doubt. At length the first hook appeared. .
"Ahead!" cries the major.
"Aheadl" cried the boatmen; "thedinlsare here agtUB." It was the head of a fine cod.
** F^% pounds, if an ounce I" says the major.
" A good cod !" stud the fisherman.
" A head 1" exclaimed the major, as the second hook appeared.
The boatmen crossed themselves, and wished the bay was n't spoiled by the carrion.
" Oh, by the powers," cried the major, " your prayers are heard. Cross again, ye spalpeens ; here 's a flat gentleman, at any rate."
The boatmen crossed themselves.
" Cross again," says the major, " as if it was pay-day, when every man must make his cross."
" A turbot."
It was one of the largest order ; he had not, however, been unassailed ; the marks of teeth in his side were visible,
" Cod !" cried the major.
A cod was landed.
Then followed a long list of empty hooks, or
THE DRAUGHT. 1 1
rather strings from whence the hooks had been broken.
** Cross again, ye spalpeens !" cried the draughts- man. The rite was performed, and a fine ling made his appearance. ** Heads, heads, nothing but heads."
" Halloo," said the major. '* We are done ! the divil himself is in the line ;" all rushed to his assistance — it was stationary — no power could move it. "On a rock, by St. Pathrick!" as he threw down his hat, and stamped in a violent fuiy on the crown. " All lost ! — we are on a rock."
" Will your honour allow us to try," said the boatmen.
They took the line, and, having jagged for some minutes, the obstruction gave way.
" A fish— a fish."
'* Whdt divil of a fish," cried the major, *' could n't I move ! hold on, hold on."
All hands now seized the line. The boatmen implored us to stand clesu*, for, should the prey once get his head downwards, the danger to all was great, from the numerous hooks which the line would run out, and which ought to be clear. They were right. The fish gave a sudden dash down- wards, and, in an instant, all the line which had been previously hauled in and coiled in a basket was thrown overboard.
12 THE HAUBUT.
The major stared ia astoDishm^nt. " What * let the moQstar go, out of pure feftr ? Faith, it's meaelf that woold have held on any way — haul in again."
The process was soon recommenced, and as quickly abuidoned,
" Hould on, ye spalpeens," screamed the major ; " hould on, for the love of the Trinily 1"
We all ran to his assistance — ^it was too late ; one of the hooks had caught his hand, and, although what by the sailorB is termed a round turn had been taken, it was impossible to prevent the acci- dent.
The line was now seized by all.
" Oh ! for the love of St, Pathrick, hould on the fish ; here, help my hand !"
Without using the least ceremony, and with none of the surgeon's skill, 1 thrust back tlie hook, which had penetrated the major's hand. It was but one eSort, a strong one, indeed, and he was free.
** Haul in," cried the major, " I have a hand still " — I had bound the lacerated one with my handkerchief—" haul in, and let every spalpeen that has a hand to spare cross himself."
There was, however, no crossing now, the tackle was too good to yield, and we soon found on the surface of the water a splendid halibut. The size
THE SEA DINNER. 13
is unknown in England, but will be imagined when I say that it weighed upwards of one hundred and twelve pounds — a magnificent specimen of the tribe, not valuable, but still convertible to the pur- poses of sustenance. We resolved, therefore, not to lose him. The boat-hook was in requisition; blows with the oars, large hooks stuck into the body and the tail, all contributed to reduce to sub- jection the overgrown tyrant of our line.
He was secured, safely slung at the stem, (for we did not dare to introduce him to the boat) the rest of the line was hauled in, and, the major's hand dressed secundum artem, that is, bathed in salt water, and properly bound, the fore- sheet was hauled to leeward, and we directed the boat's head to the beautiful speck on the ocean, which was our destination.
This was the signal for all culinary preparations. The fire was resuscitated, the potatoes put on — a bushel, at least — the finest cod, whiting, and smaller fish selected, split and washed in the sea, refidy for cooking.
The dinner was splendid. It is absurd to say that a man makes only a gastronomic journey who records his eating. So indissolubly is this neces- sary process bound up with our happiness, that I cannot think him a fallacious philosopher who sets forth the necessity of strictly providing for that
14 THE SEA DINNER.
which constitutes the chief act of ev^ry day, and, therefore, the prune purpose of our lives — dining. I have no respect for a man who dines iil. It is a proof of bad taite, and ought to be resented by his stanach, the source of all our pQJoyments. Com- mend not me to the philosopher who eats not, or who eata in bad tasle : lie is ungrateful to tbe powers of Nature, and unjust to the energies of his constitution ; he is ever cynical, surly, severe, and ■egr^^ative ; but to him commend me, and to him alone, who, in glowing gratitude, pays that respect to his organs of resuscitation which is due to the bi^iness they engender, and to the sound doctrine they inculcate.
No doctrine is sound which hath not its basis in a good dinner. The kind sympathies of our nature then burst forth, the best acts of our hves are attri- butable to its influence. It Jk poverty, i. e. the absence of a good dinner, which teaches misan- thropy ; it is a false philosophy which exists not among the children of plenty. A lean, squinting abortion may he sometimes seen, contorting his de- testable visage into an expression of general hatred of the convivialities of man — he is an impostor. Poverty and special pleading have destroyed the powers of his stomach, and he no longer feels that the remedy is timely — tliat man has no digestion. Put him on the Gatway bay, let him see the hap-
THE SEA DINNER. ' 15
jmiess of a sea-dinner, and, though he may be an adept in other matters, he will confess that he is none of the real happiness of man, or of the pur- poses for which a good digestion was accorded to beings of intellect.
Retoumons i nos moutons, and our moutonM^ on this occasion, consisted of broiled sea-fowl, split, and washed in the salt water, broiled haddock, whiting, and cod, with a splendid corollary of potatoes, cooked in water from the Atlantic. Those who have never partaken of the '^ fruit*' thus prepared, know little of the real goAt which may be imparted to it. The occasional interrup- tions, which stopped the course of the feast, arose from the frequent crossing of gannet, geese, and gulls ; scarcely had one a fair chance ; the moment all appeared arranged for the due exercise of the knife and fork, they were changed for the double- barreL
Arran now began to assume a specific form. The sandy shores shone brightly in the sun, and we could distinguish the little pier, which the poor inhabitants have constructed, covered with moving dots ; they constituted the chief of the inhabitants of this strGinge spot. As we still neared the land- ing-place, we could distinguish shouts, and waving of handkerchiefs, or rags so estimated ; but we were all at loss to conjecture the cause of such
16 ARRAN.
joyous demonstratioiis. Our boatmeo smiled, but at length confessed that they were in honour of our arrival ; some of the fishing-boats had already apprized them of our approach, and the people of the island had all assembled to bid us welcome.
Having moored our bark, we were hailed on landing by about a hundred men, women, and children, tlie wjiole of the inhabitants the island could boast ; and, certainly, so strange a concourse had never been beheld forming a part of a com- munity which considers itself civilized.
It has been ridiculously said that the only true fasliion of the Irish peasantry is a blanket, two burnt holes for the arms, and a wooden skewer for the waist. Such a costume would be really luxurious. Here the women were covered from the waist only -~«ome rag thrown over their shoulders ; while the men, with old pieces of sack or sail-cloth, care- lessly tied round the middle, and children literally naked, altogether formed so strange a group that it would, in persons less accustomed to such a sight, have occasioned some alarm lest they had arrived indeed among savages.
There was, nevertheless, no lack of hilarity ■ joyousnesB and the piper go hand in hand ; nor was tlie procession towards the huts impeded but by the want of discretion in the major, which uc- casioned a general huzza. A fair girl, whose hair
THE ISLAND DANCE. I?
was hanging over her naked bosom, just covering a countenance of extraordinary beauty — her large blue eyes^ constantly fixed on us as in astonish- ment—at length attracted the major's observation. Whether the sea-air or the whiskey had aroused the elderly militant, I know not; but he burst forth into rapturous exclamations, caught the un- conscious beauty in his arms, and inflicted divers kisses before the poor girl was at all aware of his intention.
" That's for luck !" says the major, as the girl regained her liberty.
" Huzza !" cried the crowd; '* Kate's the gen- tleman's partner."
There was no more to be said : the piper struck up, each roughly seized his particular favourite, and, in one minute, the whole island population, shoeless, were jigging on the sandy shore. The major availed himself of the happy incident — soon wooed his former favourite ; while I, more modest, am ashamed to confess that a lady offered herself to my notice as a partner.
How long this kind of welcome would have lasted I know not; but the major exhibited symptoms of breaking down, and began to puff so audibly that I thought it a good opportimity to desist, and save the major's reputation. He took the hint, and we quietly proceeded to the huts.
)8 THE RUINS.
The largest was selected. The whiskey which the majur had brought was put under the command of Owen, who, a£ master of the ceremonies, had acquired a high character already among the islanders.
We now strolled round this interesting spot, having, with great difficulty, shaken off our new acquaintances for a time, under a promise of join- ing the evening danue.
There can be httle doubt but that these islands once formed a king neck of laud at the mouth of the bay of Galway, and stretching to the coast of Clare. The Atlantic at last burst through, and the remnants of the highest lands may be now viewed as the three islands of Arran. The remains of wood, which are still to be seen, favour this notion. The ruins of a very extensive monas- tery may be still viewed, and the burial-ground, which is attached to them, furnish records of a once extensive population. The writer of the life of Kierian sets forth, in reference to Arran : " in qu& insult multitudo virorum sanctorum manet et innumerabiles sancti, omnibus incogniti nisi soli Deo omnipotenti ibi jacent."
From the burial-ground is a splendid view of the Atlantic un one side, and the whole coast of Con- nemara on the other. The lofty Twelve Pint seemed to bury themselves in the heavens.
THE NIGHT DAXCE. 19
The few persons who now inhabit the island seldom visit any other land, and many of the women have never left their native sward — ^bounded, indeed, in their notions of the world, which to them this little tract encloses, their manners were simple as their lives ; and, but for the occasional visits of the coast-guard^ they have learned nothing of the restrictions of law. They are, it is said, very naughty in sometimes assisting two or three poor fellows, drenched by a gale of wind, in burying certain packages ; nay, I believe some of the Arran men have been known to pollute their py^es with the very contents of those packages, for which no duty had been paid. A few of them had been sent to Galway prison for a year, convicted of this ap» palling crime.
In the evening, the assembly had greatly in- creased in numbers; the fishermen had arrived, and soon joined the dance, which now had attracted the whole population. The major's spirits never flagged, and Owen had become a perfect Lothario, and seemed to have for a time shaken off the sad reminiscences which had so strongly marked bis thin countenance. It was indeed a jubilee for the islanders, with the joyousness of which they were unwilling to part ; and, long after I and the major had retired to the pallets which had been prepared for us, the dance- shout still continued to ring in our ears.
90 THE EETURN.
HaviDg divided the whole of our fish among the aged and helplees of the island, and lefl some littie gratuities among the rest, we set sail for Galway, det<jrinined to shoot our way along the coast. The weather was still fine, so that we could direct our course as we chose. Having made, therefore, for the high coast of Connemara, we crept along the shore, BO that the vast projections concealed our little bark from ohservation till we were in the midst of the numerous flocks of wild fowl which hred there. We were very successful, though it is an amusemj|nt of danger, for, sliould the voyagers have the ill-tuck to be caught on this shore by a westerly from the Atlantic, his chance of ever landing again, otherwise than by the gentle as- sistance of the waves, would be little.
Magnificent, indeed, is the scenery of the Cotme- mara coast. Immense masses, of greater height than any part of the shores of Ireland, still present their dark fronts to the wide ocean's roar. The unbroken Atlantic rolls its immense mountains against these bulwarks of nature, which, still un- scathed, sustain the shock. The deep and thun- der-like echoes add to the solemn grandeur with which the whole scene is invested.
The prior was awaiting our arrival, and we had again to go through the gratulations of the Clad- dagh men. The major shared the last drop of
THE RETURN.
21
whiskey with the high functionary, who received his portion with a becoming dignity, and informed us that our crew would be ready at all times, and the boat would be considered as wholly devoted to our service. We repaid all this with our thanks alone — the prior had forbidden that we should do otherwise — as good christians should, we submit- ted to the church. •
SUPERSTITION.
CHAPTER II.
Sopemitioa of Ihe Fishermen — Eiecation of Lynch fnr the Murder of his Wife — Qencral Sympathy for the Munlerer — The Priest — His DiBcloaure of the Clrcomitsniies of the Murkier— VilUaj- of H .
Although oq the following day nothing could be finer than the weather, or more calculated for fishing, on my arrival at the Claddagh, I was astonished to find all the fishermen standing about in clusters — not even a net Bpread to dry, or a needle plied among the wives and children — their common and almost endless occupation. There was a deep feeling of sorrow pervading the ex- pression of every face, as though some common calamity had befallen this segregated horde. Not even the offer of gold could, I believe, have tempted any one to get under way for the lovely island of Arran, which, as one looked towards the broatt Atlantic, seemed like a diamond sparkling in the sun, and set in splendid emerald.
Having at length found my own compagnon du
THE EXECUTION. 23
voyage^ I questioned him as to the cause of this sudden idleness of the fishermen. Owen shrugged his shoulders.
'* Faith and it's all up, this day, your honour — we'll have the lake, any way, if your honour rows up yourself against the stream — and we may have some pike and perch, but the divil a sea-going fish we'll take."
Disappointed by this sudden refusal, my pre- parations having been of a very laborious kind, I answered pettishly, which Owen immediately felt.
" It's true, as your honour manes to say — there's no use in it — if the man must die, he must die— and faith it's not of their work, any how — ^but your honour's considerate — the poor deluded people of this place will neither wet an oar or set up a sail to-day — and, perhaps, it wo'd be as well for your honour's self not to do the like— your honour knows what is a sudden squall ofi^ the coast opposite-— divil a man can tell when it wiU come, but it will come, and like enough to come at the moment of murder ashore ! — There would be a curse upon the man who should go to sea to-day.^
I could not but perceive that in the attempt to conceal the effect of this delusion, there was also much of belief in the reality in poor Owen. His devotion to my service, however, prevented his at once declining to accompcmy me on the lake.
34 THE EXECUTION. ^^M
At this mometit two of the sturdy sea-fishermen came up. The eldest, as if he had been atqiuaint^ witli the subject under our consideration, " begged his honour's paixlon — he might be too bold, but bis honour would do a great service to the men if he would n't any way go to sea to-day — perliaps his honour would spake to the priest."
On this day the execution of a Lynch was to take place in front uf thu gaol ! — Bolemnty and sacredly was such a day to be held, as the parting spirit of the dying man should pass amid the sym- pathy of all !
Unlike the sight-seers of our more enlightened population, who regard the violent death of a fel- low-creature as an occasion worthy of a holiday, that their unfeeling and heartless curiosity may be gratified — nothing here was observable but a so- lemn grief that did honour even to the prejudices and superstition of the people.
The crime of the condemned man was that of murder — murder, too, at which the best feeUngs recoil with extremest horror ! — murder, the most determined and ferocious, of his own wife — her whom it was his duty to protect and sustain !
I was, indeed, astonished at the general interest the fate of such a malefactor seemed to have excited, and expressed my surprise to Owen, after having assured him that it was by no means my intention
THE EXECUTION. 26
to violate the feelings of the fishermen by persisting in going to sea that day.
'* 'Tis true, 'tis a bad murther, your honour, and I suppose the law must have it murther ; but, if I was judge, I wouldn't harm a hair of his he^d — faith, but it's murther — he's guilty, no doubt, of murther ; and it's myself, and every body else, will be sorry to see him kilt after all."
I inquired the reasons Owen had to become the apologist of so hateful a criminal ; he referred me to the priest, who had attended him all night — who, regardless of rest or food, had preferred the damp and cold cell of the doomed wretch to all the com- forts his convent afforded.
On reaching the gaol I beheld a concourse of persons, evidently comprehending the population of many miles round, and exceeding, in number, twelve or fifteen thousand. All was perfect silence. There was a dignity under even the rags of this multitude which commanded and received respect. With some difficulty I made my way to the gaol- door, and sent in my card to the Rev. Mr. . I
was admitted to the outer room, leading to the gallows, which were before the gaol-door; there stood the condemned man ; his lip curled j his eye still bright in dogged resolution ; he leaned care- lessly against the wall, and seemed to be little ex- cited by the horror of his approaching fiite. The
VOL. II. C
26 THE EXECUTION.
kind sympathy of the priest — ^the sympathy wliidi every word carried with it— seemed to giw w on- natural vigour to the nerves of his auditor; lie was steady, attentive, determined, yet was bo withia a few minutes of death in its most frightful fbiiB.
I was not permitted to hear the last words wlite- pered into his ear by the Father ; but they eateitad a calm smile in the fioatures of the condenmed, who let fall his head upon the bosom of the priest in token of the strongest afiection. I wondered at tiie cool deliberation of that man — while I, and aQ around me, felt that some terrible and unnatural shock was impending— while the horror of contem- plating so sudden a death in another unnerved us ; with a firm and unflinching step he mounted the stairs leading to the fatal window.
" Father, you will not forget me in your prayers . — ^you know all."
As he spoke this, he stood upon the platfimn. To measure the dense mass of heads which sur- rounded it would be impossible; yet was there the most awful silence ; the stillness of night alcme could equal that dreadful pause ; it was but for a moment — a crash — and then a simultaneous groan among the people, so dreadful in its tone, so terrible in import, that I needed not to lift my eyes to the spot to be convinced that he, whose words still rung in my ears, had passed into eternity !
THE EXECUTION. 27
I met my friend, the priest, as he came forth from his long and painful duty ; he was pale and fagged^ and would hardly reply to my questions concerning the eflFect of so immense a concourse of persons. On his way homeward, however, he as- sured me they would sejmrate peaceably — that a word from any of the Fathers would disperse them. I could not refrain from pressing on him the ex- pression of my surprise at the sympathy which seemed so generally to have been felt in the fate of so atrocious a murderer ; at last he replied : — "I cannot now divulge all that I know concerning that unfortunate being; but, in the evening, I will do so; meanwhile be satisfied. Murderer though he was, he is entitled to our deepest com- miseration ; he has been more sinned against than sinning."
** Your anxiety to know the facts of the murder shall now be gratified," said my reverend friend, as he seated himself by my turf fire ; '* and though it is not often we disclose what is under the strictest confidence revealed to us, yet the circumstances of this case are so extraordinary that justice demands the disclosure. Nor need you hesitate to attach to the tale entire credence. So perfect was the con- viction on the mind of the malefactor, that he had, by fully revealing every fact relating to the horrible act, as much as remained in his power, atoned to his
C2
;° "" '•'.■»u„
HIS HISTORY. 20
fort, is, among this destitute class of beings, looked on as a provision of fortune : and it was with the utmost joy that this poor lad, whose age this day does not exceed nineteen, accepted an offer of engagement as working-gardener on the estate of R a resident magistrate, and agent for some
absent proprietors.
" R is a person of great influence among
the extensive community aroimd him — to him the ragged and half-starved cottier pays his hardly- hoarded rent — to him it is he looks for compassion and forbearance, under inability and misfortune ; and when I tell you that he is the only resident in the district of several miles, above the rank of a turf tenant, you will easily believe that his will is law.
*' I will not say more of his character than you may gather from the circumstances. At the time to which I refer, he was living not very respectably with one of his own servants — a young female, who had exhibited symptoms calculated to disclose to the world the nature of the connection which had ex- isted between them. A circumstance of this kind
could not be concealed ; and R was, at that
moment, under an engagement of marriage with a lady of considerable fortune — a matter of great import to him, who, notwithstanding his seclusion, was deeply involved in debt.
'^After Lynch had been some days in his new
tT,
90 THE OEIlfB«
employment, the dreadful train ctoccwrmtaommliSU have cloeed by this day's awfiil executiaa menced. In the evening, on returmng fion work, he repaired to the small study of hb to report Ids labours, and to take orden tat tks next day. On entering the room, he tfaoro the girl to whom I have alluded — the dodr shut and locked. Screams of murder echoed Ifami^ the hall.
'^ R , attended by his bailiff, who was ooik
stable of the district, rushed down stairs tixm aa upper room, burst open the door, and there beheld the woman, with her hair dishevelled — her clothes torn and disordered — struggling with Lynch as in deadly contest: they were instantly separated; the girl fell screaming to the ground, while Lynch, freed from his antagonist, stood apparently in a state of stupefaction.
" Explanations were soon made by the recovering female, that Lynch had come unexpectedly into the room — had locked the door, and had proceeded to accomplish too fully a diabolical purpose. Her solemn assertions of the completion of the crime by the still amazed and silent Lynch were vehe- ment and repeated. By the orders of her master she was removed to bed. Lynch was immediately taken into custody by the constable, who proceeded to bind his legs and hands. The lad protested, as
THE CRIME, 31
soon as he could be made to comprehend the nature of the charge, against its truth — his denial was regarded not, or was overborne by the denun- ciations of his master, who threatened death to the accused. An interview, a short time after, took place between the girl, the constable, and magis- trate : before them she made a statement on oath, that the crime of Lynch had been completed,
" On communicating this statement to the ac- cused, all the horrors of a legal execution were painted ; he was made aware of the certainty of his conviction on such evidence, and thp necessity the master was under of forthwith consigning him to a gaol to take his trial, was fully set forth. Over- come by terror, the apparently kind suggestion that there was still a mode of saving his forfeit life was caught at eagerly by the accused — it was the usual amends — the girl might be persuaded to marry him. After suffering hours of agony, be- tween love of life and strong disinclination to the means of preserving it, the priest was sent for, the sudden license procured, and Lynch became a husband.
" During the ceremony he was passive and cool, uttered no word beyond the necessary responses, nor betrayed any feelings either of satisfaction or
dislike. On the completion of the form, R
was the first to speak. He generously offered to
32 THE CRIME.
provide a supper for the bride and bridegroom, and forthwith ordered his people to be sent for to mix in the festivities. He encouraged the bride to be gay, to shake off the impression of his recent troubles, and to show the happiness he ought to feel when his master declared his intention of pro- viding for the young couple.
'* To all this Lynch answered not a word ; but, on the return of the bailiff, who was loaded with viands for the evening's cheer, he stood boldly up, and demanded to know if he were relieved from all charge, and if he were now free. Both master and man assured him he was so, whereupon he tlirust his wife from his side, darted out of the room, and disappeared.
" It was some weeks after this circumstance that
R was married, previously to which event
the widowed wife of Lynch had returned to her mother's cottage. On receiving, however, some money from her late master, she set off in search of her fugitive husband.
" The difficulty a stranger finds in obtaining even the common necessaries of life by employment in a part of the country in which he is unknown, per- haps would hardly be conceived by the English, where poor laws always present relief to the desti- tute stranger. In these wild, though over- populated countries, the appearance of a stranger begets
THE CRIME. 33
jealousy and distrust ; the observation is common to them, that as they have too little employment for themselves, they need not strangers. Lynch had, however, been fortunate; he had traversed the mountains of Connemara, till he had found on the borders of Galway the means of comfortable living. His employer had overcome the prejudices to which I have referred ; and, approving his quiet industry and inoffensive behaviour, had even pro- moted him to a place of trust.
^' The good fortune this situation seemed to constitute was suddenly obscured by the appearance of his wife. She had previously presented herself to Lynch's employer, and bore in her arms an in- fant, which she declared was the first of their mar- riage. She had represented her husband as one who had been dismissed from every employment in his own country, in consequence of his dishonesty ; that he dared never show himself in Connemara, in consequence of the prosecutions for theft which hung over him. She declared that he had first seduced, then married, and abandoned her and her child.
*' Much, I believe, of the attachment which exists among families, even in this wild population, is the offspring of necessity and destitution — the crime of deserting their wives and children is of un- common occurrence in this country, as it is held to
c6
34 THB PBIMB.
be one of the deepest iniquity, Ths xMm pendenoe of the child upon the ftther, whine the poorhouse nor the hoepital ezistai^ wuiIm tin connection more indissoluble, and tiie fedprood db» pendenoe of the parent upon the labour of tin child repays the devotion of each.
*^ It will not surprise you, therefore, to himr tiiat this statement had already determined the mind of Lyneh's employer : he was dismissed. Bikntiy iv* ceiving his sentence, and without bestowing n look on the abusive woman who had thus sought and maligned his character, he departed.
'* The jeers of the wife at his discomfiture rung in his ears as he sullenly directed his steps over the mountains — jeers that spoke of a revenge at his neglect^ which no bosom but that of a slighted wo- man could entertain. Need I repeat the accumu- lated wrongs the enduring wretch suffered ? Why should I say more than that he found rest nowhere. Employment in every place denied — stigmatized as a thief —conscious of the deepest wrongs — believing himself destined to perish by the calmnnies of a fiend — ^weary and stung with hunger — he was making his way towards Galway, having been that day again dismissed from employment by the ap- pearance of his wife, in the hope of finding some vessel that would convey him to a foreign shore.
" Unhappy chance ! he was too late ; the very
THE CRIME. 35
path he was treading the figure of the to-him-tor- menting fiend crossed — it was his wife — waiting his arrival with the savage vengeance of a success* ful conqueror. On his approach she assailed him with loud and insolent laughter^ took her place by his side, and ceased not a moment her threats of spending her whole life in marring his peace wher- ever he should go. For some time the inflamed mind of the wretched husband was kept in control ; for sometime he bore the exasperation of the fiend- like tongue of the woman with fortitude ; till, at length, as struck with a sudden thought, he turned upon her, and, ere reason could regain her power over his maddened brain, his clasp-knife had pene- trated the heart of his wife, and her warm blood was reeking from the ground !
^' The rest is soon told 5 the proofs of the act at the trial were undoubted — not even denied by the prisoner. His fate this day has closed the scene to him for ever. But there remains yet one, who, buoyed with the hope that his viUany is buried with the wretched malefactor, yet remains for the
exercise of retributive justice. It was R who
instructed the wretched girl to make the charge of violation against the unsuspecting Lynch ; it was he who had promised much, if she succeeded by that plan in gaining him as a husband, who would re- lieve the real seducer from the suspicions which
3G THE CRIME.
might have obstructed his scheme of marriage ; it was he who had placed the girl in the study, had sent for iiis bailiff to be witness of the scene, that the terror of tiie threats of the law might accom- plish the view of the master !
" He has not dared to remain in the country j of that t am glad. I will not — dare not name him ; but 1 trust there is still an honest pen that will not fail to set forth the truth, which, if ever he should see it, will bring on him the heaviest punishnient justice can claim. I was right in saying, that the dying malefactor, who perished on the scaffold to- day, was entitled to our deepest commiseration — that he was more sinned against than sinning.*'
DEPARTURE FROM GALWAY.
37
CHAPTER III.
Departure from Gal way — Coasting — The Coal Fish, or Bace-^ Aground on Ronndstone Flats — The Harbour — Protestant Clergyman — The Major's Reminiscences in America — Catching a Sea-Serpent with a Shoe.
I DID not leave Galway without sincere regret; to a sportsman, it presents every attraction, while the social kindness of those to whom I had the good fortune to be introduced had contributed highly to enhance the amusement I had enjoyed. My land- lord, indeed, expressed deep sorrow at our parting ; and I must in justice say that I had never before met, in any country, a more disinterested and obliging one.
But the advance of Autumn warned me of approaching term; and pictured the necessity of movement over the unbeaten track which the Irish map presented.
Our preparations were soon made, having re-
^1
38 CONNBKABA.
solved to coast it round to Coonemarat and tfasn cross the mountains on foot. For this poipoie our boat was in readiness, and our compagmmB Jb voyii!$fe still on the alert to attend us. ThmsmittiBi^ therefore, all our baggage to Bel&st, and puttiiig our wardrobes in travelling order, we sailed finm Galway, our kind friend, the prior, attending ua to the water's edge. We had determined toMool our way round to the Connemara coast ; and certainljr never did more abundant sport present itself. But we had long since given up all hope of rendering the produce of our guns available to the conunis- sariat ; the abominable toughness and fishiness of flavour which all sea-birds have forbid their use, except imder very adroit culinary preparation.
The coast, after leaving the Black Head, which is the extremity of Galway bay, though in part traversed by us before, presented continual objects of admiration. The picturesque is, indeed, heie concentrated, and the wildness of coast scenery unapproached by the shores of any other country.
As the breeze was favourable, we were soon among the cluster of rock islands which are scat- tered as breakwaters along the Connemara coast : to some of them we approached widi perfect safety within twenty yards, sending our four barrels amidst the cormorants and gannets, which stood on the points of each rock, fluttering and drying their
CONNEMABA. 99
wings in the air, unconscious of any danger from the boat.
While we were listlessly viewing the varying beauties of the coast, Owen started from his seat in the stem of the boat, seized the boat-hook, and plunged it into the sea — the effect was instan- taneous : a large fish floated in a few moments on the surface : we could not, however, stop to take the prey on board ; but, looking over into the wake of the boat, the major and myself were greatly surprised at perceiving thousands of a large kind of fish, which I immediately recognized as the coal* fish of the Scottish lakes — Bace on the Welsh shore. They are of the salmon size, and not un- like the salmon in form, and average about eight or ten poimds each. In bringing the boat to, for the purpose of getting tackle ready, they immedi- ately disappeared. They had followed our course as in pursuit, and the moment our way ceased they sank.
This did not prevent immediate preparations: our swivels were soon ready, and the only bait at hand was a piece of cormorant's thigh. This we soon attached tx) a double hook, and bound it with white silk. The major was in a ferment of haste, and Owen commenced snapping his fingers and dancing the Irish fling in undisguised delight. As the sails again filled, we watched at the stem
40 CX>AL-PmH.
with gTHit cue. Fint» one qipewed id tlie — anodier and another^ till the vast dual had become as munexoiis as befixe. Out vent our tmo swivels — the baits w«re instantly seiaed, and oar tackle as instantlv smaslipd.
We had forgotten that the rate at wUdi we were going thiougfa the water added enomioiis iniH petns to the ori^nal strength of these strong animali^ against which we had to contrad. It was eanaoMf however, to see the very creatures wfaidi had Ihas discomfited our preparations swimming rloea to the boat, having the double gut viably hanging from their mouths, in utter disregard of the danger they had passed. Swivels were out of the question. The common sea-line was resorted to ; and, whether with or without bait, was a matter of perfect indif- ference to these voracious animals. The bare hook was sufficient : one ailer the other snapped at it under the very stem of the boat. The amuse- ment was, for a short time, liighly exciting. Owen had attached large salmon-flies to a line, each of whicli was instantly seized, and the fish securely hooked.
\^liile the bustle of this new mode of fly-fishing was occupying our attention, we had not perceived our approach to Roundstone flats. Our Claddagh sailors, being themselves fishermen, had abandoned all look-out ahead, convulsed with delight at the
A STOP. 41
drollery of our sudden captures. One shock, how- ever, while excitation was at the highest, recalled us to more sober contemplation. We had run up the shoal all standing, and had become safely moored in the sands, eight miles from the coast, and as equally situated as possible between two ranges of rocks. Luckily, we had run so far up the sands that our boat was wholly motionless, and the sea between the ranges of rocks was not high. The two Claddagh men became eloquent in the exchange of complimentary anathemas, each throw- ing the whole blame on the other. Owen let down his rod in consternation ; while the group, which the major and myself completed, might have formed a subject for a painter. The Claddagh men knew the extent of the danger : it was, perhaps, as well that we did not. Having appeased their reciprocal wrath, and represented that it was as well to try some remedy, we at length got down the sails, lightened the boat, and got the anchor astern. The difficulty, however, was this — that we had no sound bottom to work on. Oars and spars buried themselves in the sand, and required greater efforts to release them than could be devoted to the impe- tus necessary to clear the boat. Once having, however, moved her, by all bearing on one side, and just as we supposed she was about to float, a roll came in and set us higher than ever up the strand.
42 THE ESCAPE.
There was nothing for it now but our all getting overboard : this was effected by first securing her to an anchor astern — tying on to our feet the boards ripped from the lining of the vessel, and ranging ourselves along the side, up to our arms in the surf.
After continual slippings from the gunwale, and one or two immersions, the major threw him- self into the boat, and gave up the aiiair as useless.
It was not so ; the tide fortunately assisted us— and in two hours we were again safely under sail : shipwrecked mariners indeed, but shipwrecked in the finest weather which could have ever invited a voyage.
We now resuscitated our fire. The coal-fish were prepared, cooked, and — thrown away; for more execrable creatures were never presented for food. This addition to our meal was attempted and rejected by all ; not, however, without the drollery of our Claddagli men, who knew and avoided these pests of the coast.
It appears that these creatures follow the her- rings, and make sad havoc with the nets ; they are sometimes taken in extraordinary quantities, salted, and sent to England, where a sale is found for them, in Lent, under the disguise of salted cod. They must form a very inferior substitute for that excellent fish.
The harbour of Roundstone now opened to us.
ROUNDSTONE. 43
in all the majesty of a fine, deep bay, well pro- tected from the Atlantic gales by numerous islands of rocks, forming a natural breakwater. The passage up to the rude quay, which the natives have constructed, was easy; the regret that ac- companied the view of a harbour, by Nature's hand alone constructed, capable of receiving ships of almost any burden, but uncheered by a single mast, save from the wretched turf-boats, was inex- pressible. .
A few straggling houses along the quay fonned the toWh — the town of Roundstone — ^the capital of this immense tract, where, from the park gates to the house of the proprietor, it is boastingly put forth that fifty miles may be numbered.
Having secured our lodging at the little public, on the quay, the only one the town afforded, our first care was to provide for the poor Claddagh men. Their wants were easily supplied : a pipe and the eternal iron pot of potatoes satisfied their demands. But our own were not so easily complied with — the major's bustle, and Owen's importunity with the landlady, however, soon ex- tracted the important information that a dinner was preparing — but it was for the clergyman, the protestant minister, who lived at the public. We were soon admitted as guests to the only boarded room in the house, and permitted to share the
4
44 ROUSDSTONE.
prepamtions of the reverend paetor of thn Round- stone flock. But, without tliis p<«rniission, we should have liad nuthing but tlie smoky kitchen, and the humble fare of eggs, potatoes, and butter.
Our new acquaintauce was communicative. It IE not difficult to rL>mark the effect of want of Bociety — the change which the constant abs^ioe of intercourse with our fellow-men will engender. The order of our friend's conversation was that of mtHiologue — we had scarcely a chance of a remark — and yet, so long had the small things of Round- stone achieved greatness, in IJie estimation of the segregated minister, that he never doubted all tbe little affairs which related to himself were fraught with the highest interest to us.
It appeared, however, that his stipend was fifty pounds per annum, which was awarded him by the bishop of the diocese, not as a curate, but as a rniseionary, whose business was to convert from the fatal errors of popery the inhabitants of these wild coasts. His success he himself recounted— appealed to the great increase of his congregatioD, and solicited the honour of our attendance on tbe following Sunday ; on which day, we hoped to find ourselves near Bel&st.
His church was the very room in which we were dining, and his whole congregation eoo- ^sted of the police and the coast-guard. They
THE MAJOR'S STORY. 45
were, I believe, ready-made protestants, provided by government regulation; but I could not dis- cover that he had gained one communicant from the inhabitants. Our meal soon finished, and the major having dozed through the ecclesiastical poli* tics of Roundstone, the "matarials" were the signal for the sportsman's evening; and, willing to get some information from the major's travels, I gently excited his reminiscences.
He had travelled in America, when serving in the British line there, and he had not arrived at the fourth tumbler, when, aroused by a reference to the salmon horsemanship, he took umbrage at the bare hint of that story being deemed extraordinary.
" What think you of catching a sea-serpent with my shoe ?"
We all begged to have the story.
" I can assure you, sirs, that the fishing of America is beyond all that could be conceived in a country like this, whence monsters have been long since banished. Would you believe in a salvation from a shoe ? — Faith and the thing happened."
'* Salvation from a shoe?"
** Be aisy — you're too much in a hurry, any way " — and the major settled himself to a story. I endeavoured to give every demonstration of ab- solute attention.
" I served in the British line, in America, during
46 THE MAJOR'S STORY.
the last war. We were stationed up the country— - a few detachments of outposts, ou the borders <* our American possessions. The divil was atwa^ in me for a fisher, and the regulations could nevei. restrain my wanderings wherever a fish could l» had. One of my peregrinations was interrupted b]^ a tribe of Inilions, whose purpose was politely thsC of depriving me of any necessity of again dressing my hair for parade, or any other purpose. I watf to be scalped ; and nothing hut showing my fish, which a good day's sport had a&brded, aod tM tackle, which I always carried with me in ahun- dance, saved the natural covmng of my bead. Such delight did the savages express at the delieoto manufacture of my flies and hooks, that tbej im- mediately formed a circle and danced around m& 1 was invested with all the honours of the tribe— a detestable compost was thrust into my mouth, in token of kindness and patronage ; and, thou^ 1 understood no word of their speech, I bad little doubt of the mardnff of the ladies. Oh ! it's the ladies will get an unfortunate out of difficulties !"
This tribute was heartily responded to, and the young clergyman was by no means backward ii tbe expression of his conviction of their power.
" It waa soon intimated to me that there was i place full of fish, to which I was to be led. I fbl lowed with alacrity enough, glad of the possessioi
ITS WONDERS. 47
of that organ by which I signified my ready con- sent — I mean my head. I was conducted by the two chiefs to a splendid waterfall, into which two rivers emptied themselves. The constant dry weather had so exhausted the streams^ that the fall had become gentle, and nothing but a dull and un- disturbed basin presented itself. A boat was soon procured, my flies were soon ready, and the divil may tell the rest of the sport, for I 'd hardly be believed."
I protested that nothing but the most perfect conviction followed all the major's assertions. He was appeased, but not without some misgivings ; for I could observe that, in the particular parts of his narrative, his attention was addressed particu- larly to me and Owen ; every startling point being accompanied by a close examination of our coun« tenances.
'* The huchos were there. The hucho is a fish, half pike and half salmon ; they are known in Nor- way and the lower rivers of America. Oh I it's impossible to tell their nvmiber. It's enough to say, that each cast had its fish ; and, as I threw the monsters ashore, the Indian chiefs danced round them in an ecstasy of delight. This went on till my arms were tired of reeling up. In a moment there was a solemn silence ; not a fish rose ; the water was clear as crystal : — * What 's up in the
48 THE EIVEH 8EHPENT.
infernal community?' thought I. It waa then T looked down to the bottom ; the whole wos 8» clear as daylight ; the sun shone with extn^ ordinary brightness, and 1 could distinguish th*; minutest stone — not a fish was there. '
" At length I observed something black, and ul an extraordinary length, exactly like the sunken trunk of a tree, tapering towards the end, and tba tapered end waving, as though in a current. 'The deuce a current is here,' thought I, and, while I examined the form, two red eyes struck me with terror. The trunk gradually rose to the surface ; oh, it was terror then that seized me ; the red eyes showed a monster, that made me heartil} wish myself ashore — it was the work of a momeol — I jumped up in the canoe, over went the execrable craft, and myself was in a moment preci. pitated into the basin. You need n't doubt but thai I struck out like a frog ; the monster rose to tlu surface ; away swam I, in all the horror of impend ing death^I was seized by the foot— fortunately, m; shoe came off; the monster struggled with it in hi throat, so tough was the material, that, before b could recover his power of a second attack, I hai reached the shore,
"It was then the Indians embraced me, tool out their red betel, and marked my face in extrem kindness : — ' To the ford,' said I j but the divil
THE PROOF. 49
word they understood ; but, brandishing their toma- hawks, we followed the stream to the shallows — there was my monstrous antagonist struggling in all the agonies of death — ^hatchets and bludgeons were in instant use, and the red-eyed vermin was chopped and beaten into submission — he measured fifteen feet, with his head off."
*' That was a surprising adventure,*' said the clergyman.
" It was a terrible one," said I. ,
" By the powers, and saving the major's pre- sence/' said Owen, as if awakening from a train of ratiocination, " but that was a fishing any way !"
'* It's more than surprising," said the major ; *' it happens to be true, and this is the tooth of the brute that was caught by my shoe."
The major produced a large ivory tobacco - stopper, held it up, placed it on the bowl of his pipe. The fact became indisputable !
VOL. II. D
50
CONNEMARA.
CHAPTER IV.
m
Connemara — Serving a Writ — Mr. Martin's Permission toFisI
— Rags, Rags, every where Rags ! — Character of the Inhabitant — Departure — Bad Roads — Desolation of Connemara.
It required no great trouble on Owen's part t< rouse us from our beds — they were bad enough and constructed on the most approved plan foi preventing rest. Our Claddagh men had takei their leave the preceding evening, and were far or their journey homeward. They had parted witl us in regret — having entreated us, in any futun visit to Galway, not to recount the adventures oi the sands.
With good spirits the major and myself, bur dened with nothing but a wallet strai)ped acros our shoulders, our fishing-rods and baskets, strode over the rugged masses which constitute the en- trance of this almost unexplored country,
Connemara is the most desolate waste on tlu
§m
THE KING'S WRIT. 51
face of the civilized globe ! Many have spoken of it, yet few have dared to enter the savage dens which are here and there scattered along the un- drained bogs — one continuous mass of rocks, piled on each other by some extraordinary convulsion of nature, tiU they overhang their base — here and there patches of green alluringly presenting them- selves between the abrupt projections, on which, should the luckless traveller place his foot, he is buried for ever ! Fifty miles from the lodge-gates to the proprietor's house ! — that is, from the first mud hut that stands on the domain of Bal- linahinch — Lodge-gates ! — description is beggared ; holes dug in the bogs by the road- side, broken rocks for a floor, and turf for a roof, at once furnish the habitations of the tenantry, and the lodge-gates of Connemara!
This is the free desert into which it has been said that the king's writ never but once came ; how, on that occasion, it disappeared, ought to be no secret.
Two officers, more daring than their brethren, undertook to serve a writ on a proprietor. Having entered the confines of Connemara, suspicion as to their purpose was soon awakened ; the wild inha- bitants assembled, and, as the luckless strangers pro- ceeded, they found their retreat cut off by hundreds of followers, whose numbers increased at every
d2
4
52 THE KING'S WBIT.
taum. The attendance continued to their arriftl at the destined spot, when the people dosed around, with every mark of civility, ofieriog Ham assistance. They were surrounded. The offioo^s credentials were produced, which, on the spot, he was compelled to swallow, seal and all, himself crammed into a sack, and precipitated over the bridge into the river. The other escaped.
Hundreds were pre^^nt at tliis inhuman act^ but not one was ever betrayed.
But the writ has, I believe, run into Connemaia, nev<?rtheless ; and the power of the law is vindi- cated in the wretched poverty and destitution of the inlial it ants, whose welfare is under the imme- diate guardianship of the receivers of tlie rents api)ointed by the law.
As we approached the bridge which leads to Ballinaliincli Castle, as a wretched white farmhouse is termed, we observed girls and lads, almost naked, watching our progress from behind the rocks, and peeping, as it were, in terror of our appearance. Whenever we turned our full gaze on them, they ran from their hiding-places up the rocks, e\d- dencing all the agility and timidity of the savage, who had, for the first time, seen a new animal. Our observers increased as we advanced to the bridge ; men stayed their occupation to gaze on us ; while here and there clusters of human beings
PERMISSION TO FISH. 53
migiit be seeu, fully intent on examining our strange appearance.
Six miles had we traversed without having dis- covered a dwelling beyond what a night's labour might construct. Those we did observe consisted of holes cut in the bog, and covered with the dried turf; the staring inmates regarding us with as- tonishment and suspicion.
The little cottage of Kelly at length presented itself; he is the fisherman in the employ of the proprietor, as he is termed, Mr. T. Martin. I pre- sented my permission from that gentleman to fish the lakes.
We were utterly astonished to find that the per- mission was of little avail ; it was indeed a permis- sion to fish, but the means were in other hands. We found the boats in the hands of some vulgar person, who took umbrage at our expectation of leavo to fish being regarded if coming from any person but himself. The boats, he said, were hi» own, and he cared not for Mr. Martin's leave ; he should do as he liked.
Our error was in not having solicited the permis- sion of this official receiver of the rents. Hitherto, however, the liberality of the Irish landlords had utterly disarmed us of suspicion. Throughout the south of Ireland, even where the rivers were rented at high sumsj no obstruction to the angler had
jU THE RETREAT. |
sver been offered. It was left for aur entnurn Coimemara, to which dismal region the vi^t uf^ tourist would bring more advantages than could!! returned by the hospitality of the inhabitants, * lind all the laws of proprietorship strictly enfotti It excited only a emile to look around the wi morasses, the herbless rocks, tlie uncultiraM pkins, and remember that leave was necessary 1 angle in measureless lakes, from which tlie congH gated wealth of the inhabitants would hardlj sup|| the means of capturing a single fish. i
It is but just to Mr. Martin tu say that be m not in Connemara, and it is equal justice to Oi that he was ill-represented in the authoritative pa son who assumed his power.
Disappointed in the use of the boat, we nevei theless pursued our purpose ; but the lake-fishia was difficult ; the sides were composed of bog> and could with difficulty only be approEiehed. W did not feel that security which had elsewhere al tended us ; and, as the evening approached, bavin met little success, we set out on our return I Roundstone.
Rags ! rags ! every where rags ! The singula ingenuity with which those are held togethc astonishes, and the only means of keeping them a the limbs would appear to be the veritable woods skewer. The beings who had in groups assemble
CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE. 55
as we retraced our steps, presented most grotesque figures ; standing up to their ancles in the wet bog, they regarded us, apparently ill-disposed, unlike the Irish of other districts, to exchange the civil recognition. Had they been met any where but in Connemara, it would have been impossible to have restrained from laughter at the various devices which had been resorted to for the purpose of covering parts of their bodies. But the Conne- mara peasants are not to be ridiculed. Their deeds have been deeds of seriousness, and we remembered them as we passed.
It was a matter of wonder with Foote what the beggars in England did with their cast-off clothes, for at some time they must be worn out even for beggars ; yet one never hears of their ultimate de- stination or use. Foote had never visited Conne- mara, or his difficulty had been at once solved — they must be bought by the Connemara free- holders !
Unhappy country ! The fearful character its in- habitants have acquired has placed on them a ban, which no conduct of the proprietors has tended to remove. Its wealth heis been wasted, its improve- ment neglected, while an impunity has been built on its continual degradation. As yet, no fostering hand hath directed the labours of the half- savage creatures, who hide among its rocks; while the
56 DANGEROUS ROADS.
wretched produce, which the almoet aneultiwtBi soil sparingly yields, is seized with avidity, anc dissipated in a foreign land.
But Connemara has indigenous wealth ; its i» tural productions are marble, tin, lead, and ooal] all which invite the labour and enterprise of civiliiBd man. Alas! there is neither talent to suggest) means to prosecute, nor safety to complete thi undertaking !
We lost no time in preparing for our departure ; having, with some difficulty, procured a cart, ^diidi was dignified by the name of a car, we rather sailed than bounded over the roads. The undulations, occasioned by the unfixed bogs, over wliich the roads pass, being formed only of a wood foundation, would create alarm, and not, in some places, with- out cause. These roads, which have been con- structed at immense public expense, are continually giving way; rendering the journey through tliis dismal region a work of exercise, as every five minutes the traveller is warned to alight, to avoid the danger of being entombed in the morass. The major's industry prevailed ; he was our driver : and an unintermitting disciplinarian, as the gentle mode of persuasion made no impression on the sullen brute, on which we depended for our arrival at a lodging better than the bogs presented.
Oughterard at length appeared; the major
BEAUTIFUL SCENERY, 57
thanked his stars that he had at length got out of such ruthless dominions ; and Owen crossed himself, in token of gratitude, that he had passed the dan- gers of a visit to Connemara.
I cannot dismiss this neglected district, how- ever, without expressing my high admiration for its scenic beauties. They are various 8ls the pro- ductions of nature, and call loudly for the interposi- tion of the skill of man. But, until the habits of the uncultivated creatures who dwell amidst them are greatly changed, however vast the natural advantages, there can be no inducement for the capitalist to risk his energies among a people who have lung been trained to consider themselves above all law.
So general and so great is the apprehension of the lower orders of other districts, that, even where employment has been oflFered, they have declined to undergo the danger of fixing their habitations in Connemara. The jealousy entertained by the aborigines is sufficient to deter new-comers ; while the secrecy with which the most atrocious crimes have been committed, and the utter fearlessness of the laws' visitation, have given a long fancied im- punity to their conduct.
But Ireland must not be blamed for Connemara, nor Connemara spoken of as Ireland. Once over its borders, and the civility and courteousness so
d5
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ASHFORD CREEK. 59
CHAPTER V,
Cong — The Subterranean River and the Lady White Trout — Mountain Accommodation — A Strange Adventure in the Gorge — Its Satisfactory Result.
OuB boat to Ashford^ a small creek of the Corrib, was ready — we were already denuded of all per- sonal incumbrances — the major had tightened his wallet, Owen strapped his s€U3k — travellers indeed ; and now prepared for the worst that a desert could inflict. Our great coats and cloaks, however, which had been sent on to meet us at Oughterard, were now not forgotten ; and the tent, which had long been the theme of the major's laudations, was well packed. The morning was fine, and, luckily, the wind was in our favour ; the beautiful islands which cover the lake— each having, in the rising light, its peculiar and distinguishing hue — formed an addition to the scenic charms of this splendid expanse. But the major saw no beauty
€0 LOUGH CORBIB.
in ity and declared that he never knew any thiii came of the picturesque — if there was no fiaUi there was no beauty — and Longh Conib wi beneath his contempt, harbouring, as it did* fl detestable destructionists of all waters, the Teimi pike. His indignation, indeed, was great at my pn position that we should trail over the Lough; andli expressed surprise that a rale fisherman could li induced to stoop to such a profanation of sportinf I submitted — and we shot our way over Conib.
It was mid-day when we arrived at the cred anil we had some difficulty in procuring assist ance to transport our luggage to the main roaii This, liowevcr, was at length found, and a rougl pony and a lad hired. The route we purpose to pursue prohibiting any vehicle, the tent wa slung across the animal, which a little ragge<] but good-humoured fellow, who spoke no word o English, was to conduct. We soon reached Cong a village of a fow huts, if it may be so dignified about midway between Lough Corrib and Lougl Mask. A river connects these lakes — but not j river to be traced — one of the most extraordinary freaks of nature has sent the full stream througl the earth ; it disappears for a considerable distance and again bursts forth, in the neighbourhood o Cong, in an enormous whirlpool, the object oi general curiosity, as its depth has never beei
THE WHITE LADY. 61
clearly ascertained. It is no matter of surprise that such a place should be the scene of much superstitious and romantic invention. The river, where it was suited to the angler, did not present much attraction, and we passed on, with a hope of reaching, before evening, Craigh, on Lough Mask.
*' The divil a white trout did I see in the cave, Owen."
« Nor I."
" Your honours didn't look long enough — may be she's there still."
" Well, tell us of the white lady.''
" Faith, and it's a doubtsome story, any way — but the ould woman swears it's true — and it all happened in the time of her own particular grand- mother, that lived at Cong, and kept a poteen shop, where the identical sergeant was billeted. There's many accounts of her, poor lady."
" Tell us the old woman's."
" It was in Irish she tould it ; it mayn't be quite so believable in English."
We protested that should make no difference.
" Why, formerly, all the rocks here — and the deuce a bit of any thing else there is now — were beautiful praty fields, all smiling like; and there was, on the top of that kill devil range that covers the road, an ilegant house entirely, of the great
62 THE WHITB LADT.
«
king of Connaught. It was his daughter. Okf she was just what your honour would call bean* tiful — with long hair and a mudin cap^ fioor all the world Uke the fiuries themselves. Well, tben comes a great king of the Connemara bogs — had luck to 'em and the divil mend them I— and makai a great to do about marrying the beautiful young crathur in white ; and a bargain was struck, and the day was named, and the portion paid, and all were joyful like, except the beautiful young eia* thur herself, who did nothing but gxieve because she had lost her choice in battle, and wouldn't be comforted any way. Just as the priest was going to pronounce tlie benediction, a fine little crathur, exactly like herself, appeared, but nobody but the lady could see her. Oh, it was thin they had the private talk, which nobody heard but the priest. * Save me,' sis the lady. — * Oh, it's meself that^U do that same,' says the fairy ; ' your husband's to be no king of the bogs, but a noble soldier, home from the wars.'—' Go on,' sis the father, sternly like, to the priest. * To be sure I musn't,' sis the priest; and, just at that moment, the book fell from his hand, and away vanished the beautiful lady, all elegant to behold, in the shape of a white trout. Splash went the fairy and she into the stream, and imder ground they wint together ; and sure that's the rason she'd never be caught, but
THE WHITE LADY. 63
comes out, once a day, to look for her soldier — never caught but once."
*' How was that?"
" Faith, and a long time passed, and a great big hulking sergeant came to be quartered at Cong ; and, hearing what had happened, he swore he would have the lady, for he was the soldier waited for. Oh ! the spalpeen ! with a beautiful fly he tempts the darling from her dark hole — she caught at the fly — the soldier landed her without any play at all at all, and ran up to the potheen shop, where he determined to have a capital dinner off the lady trout. There she lay on the table, saying nothing for herself, as if she was really a dumb crathur like, while the soldier takes the knife and gives one score down the side of the fish. Oh, then was the bother entirely — a cloud of smoke and a room full of fairies scattered the soldier's brains — the room turned aroimd, and the roof fell off, and out flew the beautiful white trout and the whole band of the good people to the dark cavern again. Oh, it's many have seen her since, with the red stripe down her side, peeping into the day- light."
'* Is this all the story of the Cong white trout?"
" Faith and it is."
" Then it's a confoundedly bad one," said the major.
64 CRAIGH.
'* Whisht," said our companion, *' I was thinking so myself — but we may as well get out of the ctjuntry of the good people, before we say so.*'
Ridiculous as this account may appear to the reader, it is, nevertheless, of such high credit among the ordinary travellers who stay at Cong, that they generally visit the cave of the white trout, with a view of catching a glimpse of her ladyship. I was unable, by any inquiries, to explain on any reasonable supposition the groundwork of the belief that trout do inhabit tlie subterranean river. The absence of light would probably prevent it.
We halted at Craigh — the major being obvi- ously wearied, and having too much calculated ou the resources we should meet on the road. Here, beyond a turf fire and jH)tatoes, was nothing : and we had to despatch Owen some distance to procure eggs. 1 regretted that we had not fished our way, or preserved some of our birds, all of which we had abandoned as useless addition to our luggage. Luckily the major had his flask, for the whiskey we procured was what the Irish call a " durthy drop." Our pallets, which were of straw, did not exactly suit witli the recent good acconunodation we had met, and we required little inducement to proceed early in the morning. A little warm milk refreshed us, and we set forth ou a dull misty daybreak, resolved to traverse the wilds of Carragh.
[tt;
MAGNIFICENT GORGE. 65
We soon came in sight of the lake, which, leaving to the right, we pursued our way on the Westport road. The Aghagower mountains con- tributed to increase the gloom of the day, and shut out from the dark waters of the mountain lakes the view of the Atlantic. The road now crossed the two rivers which lead from the very sources of the broad Corrib ; and we halted to resolve. I proposed following the mountain river, while Owen and the major should try the lake, and join me down the stream. This plan was adopted, and the boy with the luggage was directed to follow me over the rocky masses as well as his stiff- legged pony would allow. It had rained during the night, and the water was slightly coloured, giving goodly expecta- tion of sport. The trolling tackle, therefore, was adopted, and not long ineffectual. The white trout were up the rivers, attracted by the unusual height of the stream — they were not large, but, in our perishing condition, I secured all that gave me the least chance.
There is, between the road and the first fall of the river into the great Lough Mask, a magnificent gorge ; the rocks on each side were nearly perpen- dicular, overhung with brushwood. Its darkness was awful, while the angry stream dashing into the basin below sent forth a hollow sound, that was re- echoed from the many walls of rocks up wiiich the
6o THE DESCENT.
sound ascended. I paused at the atlenipt to i scend, but, lured by tlie prospect of finding hoi maiden fall, wliicli, m all probability, the line ofi angler had never yet pollutetl, I consulted my yoU companion, as far as signs could be called a con^ tation. He shook his head ; but I cheered him-l to tlie attempt, fastened the pony to the bn^ wood, and showed the way. The boy followed vA my rod, which, however, it was found necesary^ abandon in the descent ; and, in a lit of detemii^ tion, I let it down to the bottom of the gorgi where the rod goes, thought I, the angler must fi low ; and, supporting myself amidst the stunti trees, which lined the sides of tlie rocks, and nei daring once to look downward, scrambled along t ledges. At some distance down, when return fl hopeless, we discovered that there was a blank the ledge ; the whole view of the country, and t splendid cataract at a dizzy height, were presente but the precipice was not to be descended.
Mortified and fatigued, 1 rested for some til undetermined how I should proceed, and regretti my hasty determination in having despatched i avantcourier,the companion of BO many and so che( fill scenes. "Hurrali 1" cries my little ragged atte dant. I turned suddenly, and beheld him suspend irom a branch, and about to drop on the Ion ledge. There was joy in his countenance ; 1 g
THE DESCENT. 67
lowed him — the ledge on which he had descended was the first of a series which led to the gulph. It was a dangerous journey ; but what angler could re- sist the dark and boiling basin, in which, during a partial flood, the trout and salmon would necessa- rily be congregated in their peregrinations upward. It was but an eflPort, and we were both landed on the rugged rocks, which formed the bed of the winter stream. My rod was soon recovered ; nor was I long in making my way towards the fall, which now became almost deafening. I directed my little mercury to bring round the pony to the lower part below the precipice, where I should be able to join him.
It is not easy to describe the sensation of loneliness I felt. Pictures of a new country are nothing to the reality of such a spot as this. Though it was day, there was hardly sufficient light to enable me to direct my steps with due care, while the slippery surface of the rocks contri- buted to divers prostrations, not claiming the re- spect of religious rites, nor accompanied by that resignation which excluded some short exclama- tory apostrophes. But the basin was at last achieved. It was about one hundred yards in diame- ter, and required no great strength to command it. The fly was useless : the short but darkening trees reached nearly to the surface ; no net ever could
68 AN OUTCAST.
have been used in so deep and irregtdar a hole, if even the superstition of the natives would have allowed the attempt. Having well loaded my fine with lead, I passed it gradually down the fbamiiig &11 into that part of the pool which formed the deep and boiling eddies. The run was iiutan- taneous, and I was immediately rocked by a kzge fish. I had now gained some experience in tins kind of resistance, and determined to give time to the enemy, who seemed disposed enough to take it, as, with all my jagging, he remained immoveabte. I now set up a second tackle, laying my rod over the rocks, determined not to lose a first fish by any want of temper or management. By the time I liad completed my second tackle, up sprang the fish at the lower end of the basin : I seized my rod ; and, I believe, never had a more determined or spirited enemy to combat. He yielded, however, and I was drawing him gently to land, delighted with the success the adventure promised.
As I turned towards the shore, I encountered the face of a man close to mine, whose lineaments can never pass from my remembrance. He was enclosed within a mass of rags : the hair and beard covered the whole of his face, with the exception only of the high cheek bones, which, protruding through the matted locks, gave an awful effect to the deeply sunken face ; the eye was quivering in alarm ; and
AN OUTCAST. 69
there was an agitated expression, which evidenced some terrible emotion under which he laboured. I caught the infection. I saw nothing but death in such a spot, beyond the possibility of assistance, and opposed to a being whose state could not be rendered more desperate. I threw down my rod without a word. The fierce eye of the stranger pursued my every act. I shook off the but^ and took an attitude of defence. A slight smile passed the features of the man, as he drew from under his dress a pistol.
'* You are here in search of me ?*'
" No."
" You are no Irishman."
" None.*'
" Then, for the love of God and your own life, tell me — am I sought for — will you betray me?"
- I will not."
*' Thanks, Englishman, you are safe ; I will take the word of the Saxon, though the Saxons are our oppressors. How could you descend these rocks ? I believe no man has, before myself, at- tempted to penetrate to this dark and dangerous hole — a sudden flood and you are swept away without the chance of escape — ^this pool has cham- bers underneath the fall, that would bury for ever the creature whose step should slip. — ^I heard a gun an hour ago? are the bloodhounds on the track?"
70 AN OUTCAST.
" It was my rifle — be satisfied, you are peijaj safe, as far as 1 am concerDed : shake off tlte hoH that seems to Iiave unnerred you. What, in | name of Heaven, can have rendered you so i sperate ?" |
" Vour honour shall know. Look into ^ cavern ;" he led the way into a fissure of the rOt which was wholly ohscured from the view by d thick ilusters of hruahwood aiid short oaks, i one end of the i^ave was a h^ap of rushes, and d smouldering embers of a turf fire, over which ht been susjwnded an iron pot ; the aspect of tl man, as he leaned over the fire to restore i flame, was ghastly, and I involuntarily drew bat from so uninviting an apartment. My new frier followed, and, familiarly laying his hand on ni shoulder, as if to detain me, " Sure, sir it yourself will listen to my miseries. I'd show yo hospitality, if I could, here ; but may be ye'd rathi not sit in the cave." I declined that honour, whS he pursued the train of his narrative. " You sa sir, an outcast — if the hloodliounds once caugl him, would hang a thousand times, if a thousaa lives he had."
"A criminal? Say no more — I wish to hei
nothing of your life or deeds — as yet you are safe,
" Safe ! I am safe, 1 have continued ?afe, eve
through the bloody butcheries of Rathcormacl
r ■*
AN OUTCAST. 7 1
Even where the widows — ^made so by the church — send up their morning's curses on the murderers. Through all this I am safe ; yet, by this hand — you see it is a strong one — by this hand four villains of police fell ; their blood is unatoned, and I €un free," I shuddered at the wretch who could so exultingly make a declaration of horrors. '* They were upon my track once ; you see my pistoV* — he grasped it — " the leader of the party gained on me ; I fell ; as he was about to bind me, a ball passed through his heart — you are one of the hunters — ^you are seeking me — beware — I have a load remaining."
Bloodthirsty villain ! — I had determined now to await my opportunity and seize the ruffian — ^the only difficulty was the pistol, on which, during his excla- mation, he continually laid his hands. I could not but remark that his language little accorded with his appearance ; the former evincing an intercourse with persons of the higher order. Although tinged with the brogue, his expressions were some- times even elegant. He took an evident pleasure in the concern which my manner indicated. There was a pause for some moments, during which I had collected my tackle, the salmon having long since made his depart.
I begun, within myself, heartily to regret this adventure, as putting upon me the necessity of a
72 AN OUTCAST.
very serious duty, besides spcnling my fiAii^ flu duty of delivering a murderer oiver to the bcvii My own safety was hardly insured in the retMoaatn, and I was deeply calculating by what stratagom I should manage to betray him into my power.
*' Sir/' said the man, confidentially appraadi* ing me, ^' you have heard of the affiiir at Rath- . cormaek — fifty murders in one day wiU faaidlf be forgotten — the police were the murderen— the police, pushed on by the parsons — they woe told to spare nor man nor child — they spared none. This is a dark place — the light of day sometimes hardly penetrates — the viceroy is, at this moment, in search of me. I heard it from some emissaries ; I would meet him at once, but that there is a difficulty about the passage to the road, and the ground is better here. When, therefore, the fight comes, my dagger will pierce his heart. I have sworn that a thousand times to the saints, and there are plenty to help me."
There could be no doubt of the danger which en- compassed me. I had, therefore, arrived at the fixed determination to arrest the monster in his lair. The only difficulty was the mode of dis- arming him of the deadly weapon which he held in his hand, and scarcely for a moment seemed to relinquish. Stratagem was necessary. I found it hard to restrain my natural impetuosity, which
THE MURDERER. 73
directed the attack at once. I resolved better, and proceeded to fish the fall again with an assumed calmness.
The horrible stranger took his seat near me as I rested on the rocks attending to my two rods. The familiarity and boldness of his manner disgusted me. I was rising to an ebullition^ when he again geptly seized my arm : —
** You have heard of the murder.**
*• What murder ? — The noble lord who fell by the pistol-ball ? — I have heard of that atrocious act."
The wretch smiled — and, standing erect, ex- claimed, '"Twa^ir .
" Then it shall be your last !"
I had the advantage — he was seated — I fixed my hand on his throat, and he was prostrate. I foimd my strength greatly superior to his strug- gles. At the very moment he was lifting his hand to discharge the deadly weapon, I seized and wrested it from his grasp, and threw it on the rocks. Great, indeed, was my surprise to find that no further resistance was offered. Anticipating some deep design in this, I bound both his arms together by a silk handkerchief, so tight, indeed, that he became utterly motionless.
All this passed so rapidly that the time of the narration seems tedious. The moment I felt my
VOL. II. E
74 THE MSSTERIOUS POPE.
triumph, and that I had secured one of the md atrocious malefactors, 1 scrambled towards d opening at the end of the fall, the point to whicll had directed my little attendant with the pom On emerging into the light, I was greatly relicvi by the view of the major and Owen, picking the way in great haste through the bog ; they had wi them two strangers. Having htuled them, ai enjoined their haste, 1 retnmed to the priBotH who had done no more than raise himself agaifl one of the rocks, and, to my astonishment, was a convulsion of laughter, I paused to behold blood-etained a wretch, and could not refrain fro uttering the reproaches which so naturally so, gested themselves.
" Sir," said he, " you would laugh, also, you knew all — will you accept my confession ? by St. Patrick, you shall have the truth, if y will undo this confounded handkerchief — list — «)me nearer — it is a secret that the world dying to know — the great truth which is kt with me and me alone, I am — come nearer." " Speak whatever you please — I will faitiifti report it,"
" 1 am the pope himself." As he uttered this he drew himself up, pinioi BB he was, with a degree of dignity; his v again assumed that peering and anxious h
THE MYSTERIOUS POPE. 75
which had at first so powerfully struck me : «-* " Hear — if you are a good catholic — I am the pope hiiQself «- &11 down and worship/'
As he uttered this, the major, Owen, and their companions, had forced'their way through the pass. The greetings were mutual, my exultation com- plete.
** There,*' said I, ^^ is the atrocious malefactor who has so long escaped justice — there is the monster whose murders cry out for vengeance."
^' Ohl be aisy, there,'' said one of the strangers ; ^' all a mistake — this gentleman is a friend of mine. HqUo, W , why what the divil brings you to the fairy's fall ?''
*' I am the pope,^' said the malefactor.
*' Oh pope be bothered, — youVe Lieutenant
W , any way, and youVe got a greater crack
than ever in your unfortunate head to-day.*'
The whole mystery was explained; the poor fellow was, indeed, a half-pay militia officer, who, having dissipated every thing he had possessed, had been consigned by his relations to the care of the person who now addressed him. A full and clear explanation followed. It was frequently the case that, after having procured by the false kind- ness of friends any quantity of whiskey, he would disappear from the house of his host, and hide him- self in inaccessible cavee. This had happened
eS
(
76 THE MADMAN'S CAVE.
in the present ingtaace, and lie had been mtsiiDg two days.
" But," said I, " how can such a man be < trusted with fire-arma ? he had a pistol, which n directed to my breast."
"ApifitolJ" exclaimed the fanner ; *• a pre pistol ! one of his own manufacture."
1 produced it ; a gi^neral laugh followed ; blackened piece of bent iron was all the weapon 1 which had occasioned me so much real terror.
" Is there no truth in the murders in which he avers he has been concerned ?"
" Murther !" exclaimed the former ; " the poor fellow would n't injure a worm. Come^ W— ," continued he, " we must go."
He took him by the arm, all his former vio' lence had vanished, he became perfectly docile, and, witliout uttering a word, went off in care of his friend, who gave us an invitation to his cottage, about a mile distant It appeared that the two strangers had been in search of the wanderer when they met the major.
That veteran had been more successful than my- self, and produced a couple of fine salmon, which were really acceptable. 1 led to the penetratia, where turf and the iron pot were ready. Owen soon made up the fire, and we enjoyed a hearty meal, enlivened by the store which we had brought
THE MADMAN'S CAVE.
77
on the pony, and our appetites suffered nothing from their being ministered to in the madman'^s cave. ♦
* I lecrned subsequently the death of this unfortunate ; in one of his wanderings he had died, no doubt, from cold and hunger. Although the persons who attended him appeared to show him every kindness, I cannot but think his friends, if such a creature of affliction had any, should have taken more effectual means for his restraint. Although generally harmless, as I learned, his passions and feelings were all connected with murder — a tendency in a disordered mind, that should certainly have suggested the neces- sity of confinement. ' We found he was well known among the cottagers of these mountains, among whom he had been some years located.
d
DESERT CODKTRY.
CHAPTER \1.
Bog River Fishing — The Wildi of Longh Muk— The DcMft Landa and their Proprietors — The Major's Rod ftod Cats*- trophe — The Priie.
" Is there such a swamp in England aa this?" aaid the major, as the whole plain broke on our view, in following the river between Lough Mask and Lough Corrib ; " look about you — not a blade of grass — here and there, indeed, upon the rising grounds, a few patches of oats, the rest bog and reeds — nothing but bog and reeds. Misery in this uncultivated wast« is at the highest sustain- able point; the want of food among these cot- tagers daily forms the theme of your newspapers, and sometimes the ground of your subscriptions. A villanous robbery of tlie English — those sub- scriptions. It is only another way of putting money into the pockets of the landlords. Here,
ABSENTBB8. 79
amidst thousands of uncultivated acres, a wretched patch is let for three times its value — ^the poor crop fails, for even the small tracts that are cultivated are ill managed — all is seized for rent, and the crathurs die, or would die but for a subecripCioD ; and the liberal landlord, who views this desert, pots his own name down for a trifle, and expects the public to do the rest ; while he reaps all the boiefit, and showers his favours among the inhaUtants of London or Paris. Among all the estates you have passed through, what landlord have you found at home ? "
I was grieved to be obliged to admit— not one <si the higher order.
'^ It is to the higher order that tiiese enormous tracts belong. Give me a grant of a thousand acres of this morass ; in two years you should see smiling com fields where now you behold nothing but reeds. Just view the depth of the bed of this river ; several feet below the bog-surface. The whole moisture of this bog might be conveyed into the stream ; the shallow passes might be with little labour deepened; employment would be given to the poor, and wealth would be the result to the landlord. But, no ! the landlord knows notliing of the soil, or has nothing to spare for its improvement/'
^^ May not this neglect be attributed to other causes?"
80 DESERT LANDS.
" The acuureed restrictiona of the tenure," saU I the major, " \Vliy, half of them have no power tt I grant leases to those who would undertake the rs^ I covery of the land. Then, there is the still i iniquitous act of agistment. The instant a plot of ground is drained, and turned for the purposes of agriculture, the tithe-owner comes in ; but there must be an end of that."
" Is it possible," I exclaimed, " that so splendid a country as this should be unknown or neglected? I see before me expanses of water, crowded with every kinil of fish ; land, capable of the highest production, and a climate of great mildness and salubrity ; but, when I look at the wretched hovels of the thinly scattered inhabitants, I cannot but believe that some great error exists. What can be the inducement to emigration to New South Wales, while millions of acres here are untouched by the liand of the agriculturist?"
" Push on," said the major; " these ore reflec- tions tliat bring no good effect. We are in a wild country, but its wildness is our sport ; that river, noble and bounding as you see it, knows but one angler, a poor fellow whom we met at the top of tlie rocks, with a hazel rod, a stout string, and flies of the coarsest texture ; he, I believe, is the lord (^ this stream."
" And can catch a fish any way," says Owen.
PESERT LANDS. 81
'^ Millions of salmon pass this stream annually ; they are never touched or sought for until in the shallow tributaries : a villanous system of poaching is carried on when the fish are spawning. This evil arises from the poverty of the people, and their ignorance of the proper art of fishing/'
*^ There is, it appears, no enforcement of the penalties."
"Enforcement?" cried the major; " all the enforcement here is about a pipe of tobacco and a drop of poteen ; by neither of which do the govern- ment lose a farthing, for, if they were not both smuggled, they could never be consumed. To the bottom of the lake, say I, with their coast-guards and excisemen. Here^'* continued he, striking the sod with the but of his rod, " here is the real wealth of the country; here is employment for their trumpery coast-guard and their poor. But the prevention of crimes committed from necesf^ity is never regarded ; it is honour to a government if it punishes them with rigour. It is pleasing and satisfactory to find all the noble lords of the united kingdom, in one burst of virtuous indignation, ex- claim against any lenity in the punishment of crimes, which are the offspring of ignorance, and to which their own neglect of the imhappy criminals hJB» mainly contributed. Where are the capitalists who affect a fondness for wild sports? where the numerous
£ 5
82 THE LONG RUN.
classes who jrearly transport their dependents for interfering with the game, the object of all tbti* solicitude and care ? Let them behold this Toid— view those lakes."
1 confessed to the inviting nstuFe of tiie scene, and could not but join in the wonder expressed b; tiie major, that these attractions had never yet beer sufficiently known to cause the erection of a ^ogie edifice. The economy of such a location would be no small consideration ; labour is abundant at nx- pence per day for an able man ; stone of exceUeni quality only for the bringing; lime every wher? produced. A small incone, judiciouBly invwtid here, would be wealth in cotnpariHm with 8 rea- dence in any other country in the world 1
" Hould on," cried Owen, in the midst of our apostrophes ; " he's here, your honour." He btd hooked a fine fish on the flat.
" Paith and there's com still in Egypt," excUimed the major; "where the deuce is my fly- book?"
He was soon prepared, and as sochi ro«o a salmoB —another — he is booked.
" The landing-net," cried Owen.
" The landing-net," cried the major.
I stood between the two combatants, knowing Bot which to assist.
" The gaff," cries the major ; " let the spalpeen
THE LONG RUN. 83
At that moment a magnificent fish leapt from the water — down went the major'^s rod — ^^ and that's a fair one, any way/* said the major 5 '* he'll give us a nm, yet. A hand for the saints."
I assisted him to disencumber himself of his coat and hat. " Now we start fair"— but the fish was lodged ; it was the largest salmon I had seen, and I confess I shared all the sportsman's anxiety with the major. ^* Off again" — ^he was off, indeed ; and it was impossible to follow, so ludicrous a figure did the major present, puffing down the stream, utterly unable to guide his steps, his whole attention being on the reel which was running at a fearful rate, notwithstanding his own exertions to follow the fish.
*' Gone, by St. Patrick!" exclaimed the ma* jor, dashing the rod into the stream, and falling squat into a bog on his face. I hastened to his as* sistance ; and Owen, having landed his fish, was before me. We raised the major in anxiety— he scraped the mud from his eyes and mouth, and, as quickly as he could, exclaimed, ^^ Never mind me ; follow the fish — ^I'm done — " and, in a pathetic but earnest manner, made out in signs what the masses of mud in his mouth would by no means allow hini to utter.
We were both sportsmen too well seasoned to hesitate; but the rod was gone, and a long rui^
84 THE LONG RUN.
we had to overtake it. There it was, in the mid- dle of the stream — nothing but tlie top to be seen, the weight of the reel sinking the but ; sikI, tu our mortification, a slack line.
" Tliat's a misfortune, any way," said Owen ; " the fish is gone."
" Gonu '." cried the major, wlio now came up, and who liad by this time so well effected the process of cleansing by his pocket handkerchief, that he had succeeded in well covering every part of his fece, hair, hands, and clothes, with the brown bog mud — he looked like an animated masterpiecd of Van- dyke.
" Give me your rod" — with a dexterous out he covered the top, and caught the line with the flies of Owen's apparatus — " gently, and dAn't disturb him if he^s there." It was a moment c^ real suspense — the rod was recovered — the line reeled in, which had at least one hundred yards out. It was now found to have taken a different course, and the fish had agun turned up the stream — the line was fixed.
" He's here," cried the major.
" Huzza ! " exclaimed Owen, in extreme delight ; " this is a fishing 1"
" Now, major, for your skill — if you lose that fish— ■'
" Be Eusy," said the major, " the time's against
THE PBIZE. 85
me— -he has not been idle all this time — he has been busy enough grubbing at the bottom, to get the hook out of his mouth — faith and he'll give us another leap yet."
As he approached the spot where the fish was sulkily ensconced, I could perceive the paleness of the cheek — the quivering of the lip— both so indica- tive of extreme excitement, that I began to question my own nerve. I was not much more calm — this was a prize. The major did not venture to hint at the weight, but it was obvious that he felt he had an enemy worthy his utmost skill.
llie fish now gradually and gently moved up the stream ; a steady but tight strain was kept on the line, which the reel gradually received, giving token of an approach to the surfisu^e. He came, like a log of wood, to the top. A fish, indeed — for one minute I had a perfect view of him as he broke the water with an enormous tail.
The major grew still more nervous; yet the steadiness with which he held the rod was admi. rable. " Beware now," says he. Up went the fish, at least five yards into the air ! — ^the rod was again down« and recovered at the moment of the splash occasioned by his fall. '^ He's safe," whis- pered the veteran — ** that last spring has tired him." He struggled with some violence for some minutes- I was ready with the gaff — he came
86 LAKE TROUT.
gently to the shore, turned two or three times cm his stomach, and I plunged the hook into his side. It was well that \ did so at that moment — ^the 9; had worn out of his mouth, and he was free ffom the line. " Huzza ! " cried Owen and the major, in which i heartily joined — up went our hats, in token of our triumph — themonsterfiounderedon the shore. " Salmon," cries the major — " the deril a salmon at all!"
It was, indeed, no BalmoD, but one of the great Lake trout, the largest that had been seen for man; years, even from the broad waters of Lough Corrib. Its weight exceeded thirty.tbree ponnds. The me- mory of this fish has Dot passed away— it may sti]! be heard of among the cottagers, many of whom law it Although fish of this size are rery razvly taken, I can have no doubt but that they are abundant 1b the Lough. The mode of taking them is not yet discovered. In the Lake itself they an rarely c^ tured but by night-liues, which must always be a very inartificial mode of taking so timid a fiab as the trout. Yet the expanse is so immense that it is hopeless to traverse it with flies or the trailing lines :— the small brown trout are continuBlly in- festnng the former, and the pike the latter. Nor am I certain that the large Lake trout would be induced to rise at all at a fly on the Lake. In the River, when making their annual migrations to the
LAKE TROUT. 87
tributaiy streams of the upper Lake, they may be lured by the fly ; but it is a Rport of so uncertain a character that I should hardly recommend the angler to pursue it beyond an hour or two.
We had now two fish -^ one seven pounds, a salnKm ; the other thirty-three pounds, as we after- wards proved. They mere really a load : and, from certain intimations from Owen and the major, I £Mind an appointment had been made to spend the night up these dreary mountains which surrounded the bog. But there was some suspicion of me — why, I know not ; and Owen was the spokesman, while the major looked on in a quiet but peering manner, that indicated scone doubt of the effect.
*^ We have five miles, your honour, to return to the road.''
" Well, we must trudge it —there is the pony."
** But your honour's weary ; and the major is not an overfine figure for a gentleman to make among the roaders ; there's a good resting-place across the bog."
"Well, Owen, I'm for the resting-place."
" But may be, your honour will be disturbed."
'* By what ? "
** That's it, your honour — you may be disturbed, you see — ^but the major will tell how."
" Oh 1 you're a rale Kerry man to make out a case. By St. Patrick and we'll have a fresh drop
W BOG-TROTTING,
to-night, any way — leave all to m«, and well keep clear. With the big trout do bad luck can come to us."
I prot<fsted, that after sucli a day's sport, I feared nothing.
"Give me your hand — you are a sportsmaa worth coining to the land of the floods. On witb ' you, Owen, across the bog — look out."
This was no easy matter ; the pony was Uie only and the beet guide. Not a step would he take that he had not well examined ; and we )uul only to follow the route he made for us. ft was amusing to see the little ragged animal pawing ev&j spot which was in the least degree suspicious. The boy had no control when the pony had entertained doubts ; and not unfrequently were we compelled to retrace our steps, at the suggestion of our moon- tain guide. At lengtli, by numerous crosongs sod recrossings, we reached the base of the ru^ed mamas of rock, among which there was an ascent. Tbe major gloried thereat, for he was really orerccnne ; nor can I boast much of my own endurance, which had given way marvellously to the difficulty of recovering one foot, while the other was at least two feet immersed in the bog. The rough and rugged ascent was, therefore, a relief, and we acquired new spirit, as we found the foundation firm.
MOUNTAIN STILL. ft9
A shrill whistle was now heard, and as imme- diately replied to by Owen. It was cle-ar that the major was in the mystery, for he smacked his thighs with a peculiar satisfaction, an indication of his perfect approbation, to which I had long sinc^B become accustomed. Some yards farther a moim- taineer appeared ; he was of the roughest order, but had on the veritable brogues, the great charac- teristic of the inhabitants of the moimtains. We 8txx)ped to enter between two masses of rock, the passage between which had been well roofed with turf, but still shewing evident symptoms of a hasty and recent erection. He spoke in Irish to Owen, who translated for us a thousand welcomes.
There were two apartments : in the first was a noble turf fire, rough seats made of bog wood, and a table in the centre. Here were also plates ready prepared — and roasted hares were soon pro- duced. Our companions had increased to four, and we sat down to the game with excellent appetites, while one prepared the fish for a broil.
The repast finished, the major intimated that I should have a drop of the rale — a jar was brought in, covered with mud; it had been dug from the ground, and from it the major prepared my tum- bler. It was smoky stuff, but any thing was accept- able in a country where absolute starvation would by no means constitute an impossibility. Pipes
9Q THE SURPHI8B.
wero produced, and all joined in the fiunigalioii which filled the cabin.
Owen soon wanned into a toast ; " Here's tht honest drop that a poor man may drink, and par- liament be none the wiser," The loud huzza thit followed thiE toast explained the whole affair : juil then, also, I caught a sight of the inner apartment and did not fail to observe that there was a huge Sn in it, as also a singularly long chimney flue ; theM was also a very particular flavour. It was a moon* tain distillery. I now professed myself in tiw secn>t, and boggod to see tlie apparatus. There was no disinclinadon expressed ; and, it is moiOij of remark that there was entire abBence of all sus- picion. I was sufiered to examine the appantos, which was then at work, and consisted of a laige still, which could easily, at a moment's notice, be removed. I found, also, that one of the party was absent, and tliat he was relieved by another about every hour.
" Do you never deviate?" sud Peregrine to the Cornwall Dan. " No, I always whistles ;" replied he of the Red Cow, and whistling was the order of telegraph here ; for while we were all enjt^ing the luxuries of a good Are, a long pipe, and fresh whiskey, a bUat so loud and thrill was sent forth, that needed not a prophetic soul to uD' derstand. The still was out of the hut in an in-
THE 8URPRI8B. 01
stant. Perhaps it was the sudden excitement which prevented any due estimation of the enormity 5 but the fact must be recorded that we all joined in this. It was not difficult to remove the apparatus a dis- tance of twenty yards, where, by some accident, there was a hole ready cut to receive it, and even covering of turf and wood, as though Fortune had, blind as she notoriously is, foreseen the neces^ Aty« The quiet was wonderful, as all drew round the fire in the cabin.
^ Stand fast," whispered the major ; ^^ we may get into trouble if we remove."
I took the hint, and endeavoured to look as simple and composed as my friend Owen« who pufied away with all the philosophy he of the tub would have exercised while enjoying his pipe, had he known that luxury. There were some slight under- skimlishes in Irish, but I considered the major a sufficient guard, and did not interfere to have it translated.
'^ There are strangers up the mountains," said an authoritative person to the simple Paddy out* side the hut.
'' Faith, and ye may say that," replied he, *^ and rale gentlemen, too, and small blame to 'em, Mr. Exciseman, for coming where they could find a good fire, and a respectable cabin like our^s."
The stranger entered; we perceived he was
92 THE SURPRISE:.
armed ; two others followed : they bowed to tl« major and myself, and then addreesiDg himself to the veteran, he begged to know who and what he was,
"You are little likely to know," replied he, " unless you first give us your own birth and educa- tion, and more than that, your authority to make me pass my examination before ye."
"Hurusli," said our friends, in an under-Lone. " he's got it there."
" I am the appointed exciseman of the district — there is my authority."
*' With all my heart, and a very well appointed exciseman you seem. By the powers, I would have appointed you myself."
" You must be aware, sir, that our duty compek us to examine every hut in these mountains : we know that there are stills regularly at work," " Stills ! " cried the veteran. " Stills '. " re-echoed all voices. " The thing's impossible," replied Owen ; " » still !*■
" Futh, and the likes of a still has never been seen for many a day up the moimtains," added one of our party, with imperturbable gravity ; " where would the poor crathurs get a still, except frran the bottom of the bog, where our forefathers may have left it?"
THE SURPRISE.
93
** The still, sir, is a very good thing to make whiskey with," observed the major, " but I carry my own ; my name is Major , and this gentle- man is , and thafs Owen, our attendant,
and the divil a drop he^d taste any way that wasn't rale parliamentary — would you, Owen 7"
*^ Saints forbid P replied he, as he removed Ms black pipe from between his lips.
'^ Good night,^' says the exciseman, ** good night.''
*^ Oh, the bist of nights to you,^ said the butters, bowing in mock gravity, ^^ and give you a snug berth, where the nights last for ever" — sotto voce. They departed.
Another whistle in a few moments, and the still somehow recovered its lost dignity, and was again spluttering and steaming in the inner cabin.
THE MONSTEB OF
CHAPTER Ml.
The Fri»r6Vi*it— The Monster otthaMounUin*— The MjilBj Solved — The Whisltsy Slore — The UoparUamentaiy.
As we were congratulatiiig oureelves on the comfortable hou^g we had found in so dteuj ft night, aod our good fortune in having eecaped the gusger's lengthened visit, we were again alaimed by a knocking at the door.
The scout had given no intimation, and the host expressed less apprehension than ourselves ; he went fearlessly to the door. An old man wrapped in a blue cloak presented himself; there was an imme- diate reverence awarded. Every man rose from his seat as the stranger entered. It was not diffi- cult to perceive that he was a priest — one of the mendicant order of friars. He bowed to the major and myself, and took his seat with an cur of sub- dued humility. He was obviously weary, and ex- hibited no great disposition to stir from the com-
THE MOUNTAINS. 96
fortable quarters which the cabin presented. The torrents descended with increased violence, while the cottiers shuddered at the peals of thunder which echoed through the ravines. The reverence that the friar's presence inspired restrained any observation ; the major, however, girded himself up to another glass, and ventured to offer his con- gratulations that we were so well housed. *
" Come, worthy father," said he, ** it is by no means necessary that we should sacrifice to drought while the elements set us the example of drenching tlie earth,"
^^ I have seen," said the friar, '^ the Monster of the Mountains/^
All crossed themselves, while some whispered to each other, as though struck with melancholy forsr bodings : the pipe was taken from their lips, and each centred his gaze on the friar's coun- tenance.
^* You need not be alarmed," said the fHar.
** Faith, and the alarm is all their own," said the major ; ^' we are strong enough for any monster of the mountain or flaod. Let us know who he is.**
^^ I shall relate ike history, because I think it right to instruct all in the facts. I have had some difficulty, indeed, in the explanation which should always be the business of those who relate wonders, lest the superstitious effect of tiiieir redtal should
4
90 THE MON8TEE OF
produce Bome of the many evils which have arisen from the Monster of the Mountains.
" Four hundred years have passed since the enormous and terrifying being Brst appeared b these mountainous wilds. For centuries has ht continued to assume a form sometimes of a mile in height, of varied colours ; and whenever this appft* rition talies place, there are few of the inhabitantt of these wild districts who do not anticipate eom terrible evil,
" Roderick CCoimor was the earliest king of the mountains of Maaniturk. In his time war was un- known ; the peaceful flocks were fed without inter- ruption on the mazy surface of these boundless tracts. Beloved was he by all ; the service the people pKid was a service of the heart. Never tHd the wanderer pass his noble castle unre&esbedi Dor did the follower of Christ &il to find in him a patron and a help. He paid neither service nor suit to any ; and the protection his people enjoyed was effectual even agfunst the Saxon invadrav, who had penetrated to all other, even the remotes^ parts of this suffering land,- There was but one greater than he — it was the Monster of the Moim- tain I
" It was on the eve of a splendid day, when the produce of tjie cultivated tracts had been secured — when all within the dominions of Roderitk were
THE MOUNTAINS. 97
assembled at the castle — when the joyousness of plenty and happiness enlivened the coiuitenance of every being — ^that Roderick led his new-married bride in front of the concourse. She was the love- liest of the daughters of Erin. Her dark eye beamed with the sweetness which was inherent in her nature, and as she smiled in recognition of the cordial shouts which greeted her, the beauteous sun shone forth as if in unison with the splendour of her charms. The cup was raised to every lip, as the O'Connor stood forth by her side. At the command of the chief, the harpers struck their in- struments, and, joined by the well-skilled voices in the native songs, the noble pair gave their blessing to the crowding thousands who surrounded the throne of the open avenue.
'* Suddenly there was a stillness — the harpers ceased, as if by a magical command, while every eye was turned upon a tall majestic figure, who, dressed in knightly armour of a brilliant green, a plume of feathers of the same colour nodding oyer his helmet, with a firm and solemn step advanced towards the throne of the O'Connor. The chief arose to receive the stranger, who, having arrived within a few yards, plucked from his hand the gauntlet, and threw it on the ground. The beau- teous bride uttered a piercing scream, and threw herself on the breast of her betrothed.
VOL. II. F
4
98 THE MONSTER OF
*' ' It is enough,' said the stranger, ' I bnvp Iwen wronged. Not llie tears of the fair can wipe off the dishonour.' Unaccoutred as he was, the O'Con- l nor descended, took up the fatal gauntlet, aai, brandishing in his right hand hia shining bladPi offered the other to the stranger.
" ' Let no man offer violence to this knight,' ex- claimed the O'Connor ; ' lie dies who inteifeiwj between us.' The multitude, which had ainwif risen in token of protection to their lord, were gu>1- denly awed by tiie voice of their chief, and every sword waa sheathed.
" ' The wrong thou bast done me,' aiid tlie stranger, ' death can alone repair j thou danat aot refuse my honour a fur contest. I gnva lliee credit for as much.'
•* ' Thou shalt have it.'
" ' That syren fiur whose hand this day enmm thy bridal feast is, as thou knowest, my i^HmwhwI bride — thou hast known the plei^es that bare passed between us.'
" ' Never 1'
" ' Let me whisper to thee, ttten, thy maihw and thy misery. She hath been mine afa«e^.'
"'Liar and braggart)' exclamied the «Uif; and ere the stranger had time to draw, ba im prostrate with the blow from the heavy gmuMtet, and the blade of the O'Connor was sheathed ia hia heart. The stranger threw back his visor j tiie
r^'- ^^
THE MOUNTAINS. 99
(yConnor staggered back a few paces, and fell on the lifeless corse of a murdered brother.
He was borne unconscious to his castle chamber, while the clan, excited by the unexpected issue of the meeting, seized the body of the green knight — ignorant of his rank or name — but attributing to his sudden and unexplained appearance some deep injury to the house of O'Connor, conveyed it to the mountains, and threw his still quivering limbs among the rocks.
" Years rolled on : the beauteous bride of the chief had brought him three sons — finer lads the light of heaven had never shone on. The green knight had been forgotten — his bones had whitened in the sun, on the desert recesses of the mountain cliffs. It was the anniversary of the wedding-day of the O'Connor, and the clans again assembled; revelry and feasting again elated all hearts. In the midst of the shouts, silence once more suddenly occurred. The green knight, accoutred as before, stalked boldly up the avenues formed unconsciously by the terrified people — his vizor down, and the green plume waving in the air. The O'Connor alone quailed not, but descending boldly from his throne, took up the gauntlet which the stranger had cast at his feet, and, as before, offering his hand to the knight, passed through the wonder- stricken crowd.
f2
4
100 THE M0N8TEB OF
*' ' Not here/ said fhe straiiger. ' I woald meet thee if thou hast the courage^ alone, on the mountain, where the blue craig thou neettt over- hangs the precipice : thou hast courage, or tfaoo wert no O'Connor/
*^ ' I pledge myself to meet thee/
'* * Enough/ said the knight, who disappeared witfi ahnost incredible swiftness.
'* The 0*Connor returned to his bride ; she spoke not, but, trembling, caught her partner in her annt. But there was a foreboding in her heart, that could not find utterance.
'* The people were dismissed, and the gorgeous sun was fast falling over the mountains. Just as the O^Connor, having fixed his armour, had received from his attendant the sword which had once before despatched his rival, *Go not,' cried one, who, in breathless haste, seized the arm of the chiefs ' go not to the mountain -^ I have seen with my own eyes the slain knight — green as the moment thy sword pierced his heart — swollen into a monster of immeasurable size/ ^Go not,' said the lady, on whose countenance a terror of an unearthly kind was visible.
'* * My honour is pledged, and I go.*
*^ At that moment, they looked towards the mountain. The form of the green knight was there. His head reached the very top of tl;e
■.v^<»-
THE MOUNTAINS. 101
highest promontory — the wild birds screamed . around him. At the sight, the chief, for the first time, trembled. The lady fell horror-stricken at his feet.
'* ' The yovmg knight/ exclaimed she, * is my son ! Forgive me — I was betrothed to the father, whom thou hast slain. He forsook me — ^you know the rest.'
*' The chief gazed on his beauteous bride for a moment — his cheek blanched with rage — the white lip trembled, as he thrust the sword through her heart. The gigantic figure of the mountain was still there. Casting the body on the ground, he rushed forth to the combat ; the green knight awaited him ; the mountain no longer sustained the monstrous form — he was slight as before.
*' * Thou art come,' said he, ' to meet thy doom. The murderer of my father shall never triumph. Lfong have I waited till the years of manhood came, that I might deal retribution on the cowardly assassin.'
" * Thy guard !' cried the chief.
*' * Know first thy injuries, that thou may'st bite the dust in bitterness. Thy fiuthless wife — she who saw and directed my father'*s murder — it was she who bore me. Thou wast dishonoured ere thy bridal night.*
*' * Thy guard ! ' cried the chief 5 and he fell on
4
102 THE HONBTBB OF
the upraised sword of the knight witfaooft m hkm* '' Thou art avenged P' exelaimed the dying OXSoB- nor.
'' The attendant, who had followed the ehiflf, hastened to the clan ; the war-cry was raiaedy and a thousand armed men rushed forth to the soeos^ burning with determination to revenge the fiiU ii their chief. They had attained the foot of Urn mountain, when the monster again rose befotedieni: even while all were struck with constematioii, At knight descended with five hundred bowmen^ roBhed among the panic-stricken crowd, of which none escaped the sword. Frightful was the slaughter among the inmates of the castle ; the two sons of the chief were among the first who fell. The very morass was tinged with the blood of the slain.
*' Over all, the Monster of the Mountain presided. His form was visible till the English had laid all waste. The green knight, the recreant O^Connor, was the general of Strongbow, and from that hour have the English held dominion over those beau* teous wilds ; from that hour have the noble race, once the proud and manly attendants of the O'Con- nors, sunk to mere wretched cottagers, without liberty or spirit to achieve it ; from that hour has every inhabitant of northern Connemara trembled at the appearance of the Monster of the Mountain, believing that some further ill is to fall on their de- voted heads.
THE MOUNTAINS. 103
*' The explanation of all this/' said the friar, as he regarded with a stem look the terrified distillers, '^ is not difficult ; it is certain that thousands will never be otherwise persuaded than that they have seen some spiritual being of enormous dimensions upon the mountains. Often, indeed, have I re- proved the asserters of the story ; but they were themselves deceived, and had no intention to de- ceive others.
^ It is in one month of the year only that the Monster of the Mountain appears ; that is in Sep- tember, when the sim sets about six in the evening. Should there be a cloudless sky — a circumstance not uncommon at thisseascm — the shadow of the oppo- site rocks is reflected with a peculiar strength of outline on the high moimtain, and, the glare of the Atlantic falling on the sunny parts, presents the exact outline and form of a man in armour. The peculiar greenness of the mountain furnishes the origin of the story. It is by no means wonderful that, to persons little accustomed to examine into the causes of things, and suddenly coming on tiie sight of so peculiar a picture, the approach of night adds to the delusion; and many who were strangers to the country, on reaching the brow of the opposite ridges, have sunk under their appre<- hensions. That the destruction of that once noble pile took place in the time of Strongbow is true .
104 THBnOJU. '
how much of the rest of die tale may be relied oo I know not. I have repeated only the tradition of the country/'
^' Long life to the Monster !'' cried die majoTjai he gulped down another joram of whiskey, ^and thanks to you, fietther, for the tale ; bat it is day, and we have many miles yet to travetse of this river ere we meet a breakfast.*'
The friar bid us a hearty fiurewell, which was accompanied by as hearty a blessing. We took also a cordial leave of the wkUkejf mutmifactmrer$9 and begged to have a drop of the ** bran new*' to fill our pocket bottles.
" Whist," exclaimed the architriclinos, " would you be after drinking the fresh run ! I'll shew you some ten months ould, as mild as mother's milk, without a headache in a hogshead."
He led us on our way till we arrived at the base of the rocks, and, rolling a large stone from the mouth of a well-concealed hole, displayed several large stone jars, out of which he furnished our store, and bade us farewell.
I believe a man may be benighted, and knock at many a park-gate entrance, and find less hospitality and amusement them we experienced at the hands of the lawless distillers of the unparUameniary.*
^ All whiskey which has paid the duty is called parliamentary whiskey.
TRAVERSING A BOG.
105
CHAPTER Vin.
Traversing a Bog — Process of Grmbbling — A Brood of Otters — Castlebar — Wretched State of the Inhabitants — Annual Sub- scriptions — Ludicrous Adventure of Owen — Following a Salmon — Decency on Entering a Town.
I CANNOT tell whether dyspeptic people ever become fishermen, or whether fishermen can ever become dyspeptic ; but it would be as hard a trial as any I can conceive — even to one of the guards who finished at the battle of Waterloo the tender discipline of the Peninsular war-«>to drink whiskey punch all night in a cabin, and set forth at day- break, for the enlivening purpose of traversing a bog, of twenty miles extent, saturated with rain. If the powers of digestion are a little irregular and fastidious, perhaps this would be an occasion to call forth some of those extraordinary antics their de- fective subordination so frequently suggests.
Owen's face looked, if possible, more lengthy than ever; and I thought I could discover the
f5
106 THE MOEMINO CHIIX.
major'B eye somewhat of the golden tinge, wUeh, though in the main rather a prettjr obtoar, is not highly esteemed even by gentlemen from Indite who come to drink Epsom salt water at that plea- sant vortex for invalids — Cheltenham, But I was afraid to venture an observation, folly im- pressed with the conviction that the 7W geefee would form a just rejoinder. I won^ say that I was quite well, or that a good bed, with a nke clean*capped chambermaid, lighting me tiierafeo^ and fumbling about the clothes with an old frying-pan, with holes in the lid, would not have o'ertopped the hopes of the^c^A in the river. But here was nothing but the wild heath, the re- sounding river, now charged to its banks' edge, bursting through the chasms of solid granite, and in the stillness of the dawn roaring through the glens. The mists still covered the tops of the mountains, and showed forth the dreariness and desolation of an unexplored expanse.
Nature has made some little confusion in what philosopher Square calls '* the eternal fitness of things;'' the heat without is by no means in a proper ratio of that within the body ; for, though both the major and myself had taken especial care and used considerable diligence in fortifying the inner man with all the warmth which new whiskey could possibly excite, it is a curious fact in physics.
THE MOBNING CHILL. 107
for which I am wholly incompetent to account, that the exterior man did shiver most intolerably. There was a disinclination to parlance also-<-at other times little to be charged on the major ; and I believe, friends as we were, nothing would have been more easy at that moment than to have con* cocted a very nice quarrel. None of us were quarrelsome, but the discourse was monosyllabic, and our words were chilled; but neither dared confess the discomfort under which we all three laboured.
I thought of nothing but the twenty miles, and continued to occupy myself in ratiocina- tive deductions, arising from the fact that a man had been known to achieve the distance even without once throwing himself horizontally on a wet bog — an inclination, however, which, ever and anon, as- sumed considerable force. Not imfrequently did I persuade myself that I could walk, and sustain the dignity of the ad sidera vtMui, with my eyes shut. Nothing could be seen ; the bog was level ; nor was I roused from the favourable view I had been in- duced to take of this very pernicious fisdlacy but by the practical squash into the morass, which gene* rally invited the other foot to the rescue of the offending member, which it was not then exactly convenient to amputate. There was no inequality of wretchedness, therefore, both feet being well
108 THE MORNINO GHILL.
nturated with the porter-like ovwflonring of the
bog.
As to Owen, I had coooiiFad hopes that he at least would break down, and give me some eolov for following his example. The impertuibalile villain had secured a piece of lighted turf, and^ as I looked behind to observe how he got on, I had Ae mortification of witnessing a oountananoe of Ae utmost complacency, in the principal fisatura of which was stuck a short black pipe, and out of which very principal feature issued hmg vulumes of detestable-looking smoke. There was no chance from him. There was nothing for it but to push on.
The river was swollen to a flood; but, as the rain had now ceased and the fiEdl was rapid, we anticipated a good cast by mid-day. The major grumbled at tlie disappointment, as he had deter- mined to carry into the town the wherewith of a good dinner. I found in this state of the water the roe useless — the fish were scattered by the extended volume of the stream. We were at least three hours too early, as the major ventured to observe after a few casts.
^* It's a glorious morning, however," said he.
« Splendid."
" The fresh morning air is very refreshing.'*
" I dare say it is."
•V^-^'
GRABBLING. 109
^' This is a grand s^iecimen of the fisherman's life. Now, I just observe to you that nothing gives a greater relish to a breakfast than the mountain air — it's perfectly astonishing what it will do for the health."
" And the comfort too."
*' Why, I was thinking that the smallest drop of whiskey might do no great hurt, and help us on- ward."
*This was the point the gallant officer had been aiming at ever since our departure. I could not resist the temptation of assuring him that it was, of all things in the world, the proper thing : the sti- mulus should be kept up when there was no sport to enliven the labours. The major^s draught was not loud but deep ; and there was a manifestation of enterprize alm««t simultaneously engendered.
'* Huzza for the lob-trouts this day ! — the thick water will be off in an hour. It was just after such a day that I grabbled fifty of the best salmon I ever saw — all fresh run from the sea."
*' What is the process of grabbling?''
^' After a fresh flood, the salmon come up in shoals to the falls, and there rest till they are suffi- ciently recovered to make the leap. They are then sulky — will take neither bait nor fly, but stick like logs under the fall. I then quietly take a dozen large cod-hooks, tie them back to back, and, with a
ik
1 10 OBABBUNO.
Stout stick, a strong cord^ and heavy lead siplvr, bt down to the botUmi, every now and Um twitoh to the right, then to the left^ then upwards^ aod inwise, and outwards. Fifty of the gilvary villains fell victims to my industry, till ^be proprietor of the &11 came personally to pay me a visit, and had the audacity to question hoth my right to fish and the fiedmess of the style of it. As toihe ftimessof it^ sud I, all is fiEur in love, war, and fishing; and as to the right, ]rou*ll particularly honour me bj lihe acceptance of this card, where my name and laok are neatly engraved for the satisfaction of all gen- tlemen who may render themselves worthy of my notice. Will you believe tliat the spalpeen refused to fight, and talked something about the law ? I wished him good day — regretted I had mistaken his calling — the mistake being exactly the ccmverse of Hamlet's, as I had conceived a fishmonger uhis a gentleman. I gave him no chance for his law, as I pushed on beyond his district before he had obtained the summons. But the fifty salmon were capital. I distributed them among all the poor cottagers as I passed along. Faith, it was many a day since any of them had seen such a meal, although living on the very banks of the river. — Did you see that rise?"
The intimation was enough. The fish had begun to stir, and the water was now clearing. We were
r,T«^ '
^ i
RIGHT FLY. 1 1 1
within four miles of the town^ which the major re- presented as bad enough at all times, but worse without potice. It was arranged, therefore, that Owen should push forward to apprize the landlord of our coming, and give the necessary orders. He was especially enjoined, if possible, to take with him a salmon, which was to be ready on our arrival. Owen pocketed his black pipe, and, charged by so important a mission, in which his skill as an angler was to be put to the test, with an air of offended dignity at the doubt implied, strutted over the bog, while the major and myself prepared our tackle.
The major^s first throw instantly rose a fish, but he rose short. The same fish rose again at my fly^ still short. Down went the major's rod, and, regardless of the recent rains, he proceeded to seat himself on the grass.
" Now, what fly do the wilful vermin wantP A flood, and a light yellow golden pheasant not do for the epicurean villains?"
We produced the books, and, after a long exami- nation and due balancing of probabilities, we selected a light blue hackle and gray wing. We were right ; the first cast produced a salmon firmly hooked ; he was my prize. In a nunute, the major was {ast linked to another. In the hileurity of the moment, the major hurled up his hat, as his fish steadily pushed up the stream.
i
1 12 FOUL riBHINa.
I was not less ezultiiig ; biitlliemaiiMiitbfeQB<- flict I knew had not yet armed. In doe eonne^iBf fiflb conceived it more agreeable to tmvel doini> wards— a disposition I bad no means of veaMmiqg — and, favoured by the strong current^ had tfaoii|^ proper to adopt the raiboad rate of travellingi I mean that rate expressed in the splendid imhedqlei^ about arriving here and there at such paiticolar hours, but which schedules, and the columns thsy contain, have no further efiect than that of disap- pointing elderly gentlemen who look for a hot dinner at S'SO, and get it cold at 5 '20. My salmon had none of this irregularity ; he pushed downwards in earnest, and not according to any schedule. In doing so — I could not help it, whatever my gallant colleague may say when he reads these pages — he crossed the major's line, whose fish was travelling upwards at the slow coach pace, checked the lines, and, I grieve to say, with such violence as to smash both. The remnants came up without trouble. The major looked at me, and I looked at the
major.
« « « « «
These asterisks express a pause — it was a long one. It is altogether wrong, and very wicked, to ejaculate, — and so is it to write down apostrophes that have immediate reference to a state of misfor- tune not quite applicable to sublunary matters^ but
.^*v^^
FOUL FISHING. 1 13
which exclusively belong to a particular extent of heat hereafter, and, therefore, I refrain. But I must record the fact that my gallant companion in arms did throw down his white hat — that he did stamp upon it, notwithstanding its intrinsic value as a hat — that he did commit devastation on the very small proportion of hair which remained at the back of his head^ regardless of its inestimable beauty — > and that he did then and there declare that I had no right — that it was wholly against the common law of angling, and, as he believed on his soul, against a particular act of parliament — to allow my fish to run down while his was taking the opposite direction I
There was nothing to be said ; I had no excuse to offer ; the fish was pertinacious, and the act of parliament referred to did not extend to him, how- ever applicable to me. That was all I could urge ; but if it had not happened that the major had some respect for me on other accounts, I verily believe our friendship had been from that moment at an end.
" That was the right colour/' I observed, after some time, and looking cautiously at the major as he gazed on the stream in a certain inert state of intellect and bodily function. He looked towards me peeringly, as though he was examining the ex- tent of my grief, expecting, doubtlessly, to observe
1 14 OTTER ANaUNO.
a height of mental angiUBh which equalled or Mr
ceeded his own.
'' It was a tolerable colour, by St. Patrick I" ud he began to mend the disponticm of his faet| I9 thrusting his hand rather enaigetifially into the crown, and using other penmaavea to a reflnnp* tion of its original form. <* You may aay that} it was a tolerable colour."
I like to see a man reoovering fieom a vkdaet passion, the cause of which is irremediable. The indignation evaporates, but a strong pride remainSp which will not allow the possessor to acknowledge that the cause was irremediable. ITie major had been unhappy but for the opportunity of casting aU blame on me j and I ventured, therefore, to hint that the statute to which he had so learnedly referred really applied to himself, as it strictly forbade any person or persons whatever, under a penalty therein- after named, holding, playing, drowning, or follow- ing any fish, whensoever it shall or may happen that another person, &c. The recitation of this act did not convince him ; but it sufficiently soothed him to endure the renovation of the tackle with some cool- ness, although the knots were completed with some jerks, each being accompanied by a consignment direct to inferior regions.
We were presently surprised by a succession of leaps ; four or five sahnon at once cleared the surface.
OTTER ANOUNO. 115
Our surprise and curiosity were soon satisfied ; the nose of an otter was elevated, then another, and another. We were up in a moment; the rifle had been left with Owen. It was a brood.
" Pelt them with stones !" cried the major.
This I did with all imaginable industry, and suc- ceeded in separating the young ones from the parents. The latter had gone down the stream, while the three whelps, unable to sustain them- selves under water for so great a length of time, popped up their heads in exactly the most incon- venient places. The chase now began; as the young ones had started up the stream, we had no difficulty in keeping them in that direction. At length the three perched on a rock, and began to cry with the small voice of a cat ; they were ob- viously in the wrong, and had missed the old ones, who were doubtless not fax off.
The skill of the major was now in requisition ; he had hastily tied to his line all the large salmon- flies he could find, and, at the distance of twenty yards, ere I was informed of his intention, covered the three whelps by a foot; they immediately started, and the migor as immediately drew.
'* Here's one at least,'' exclaimed he.
It was true ; he had one of the otters fast ; but the difficulty of holding him was not trifling. The fight was exactly in the style of a large and heavy
1 16 OTTER ANOUNO.
fish ; first he was down to Use bottom of the pool, then, with the rapidity of ligfatniiig, he rooe at another part where he was least expected. The contest was one of most singnlar dexterity on one party and of strength and agility on tiis other. At length, the smaller of the two fiahermeB b^;an to yield, and, in a few nunutes, he was dragged by main force to the shore. I now es* sitted in the fight, but warQy, as the little ammal bit ferociously at eveiy thing that was pot to* wards him. He died the death of honour; he was stoned to death, and crammed into the creel as the most remarkable trophy of expert angling.
It was hopeless to expect any success, at least within a considerable range of the river, the otters having taken down the stream ; and I was by no means unwilling to dismount the flies^ and go in search of comfort, a very attenuated portion of which had, for the last twenty-four hours, been our lot. In the triumph of his skill, my companion had forgotten the contretemps in which he afiected to believe me so deeply implicated, and we im- proved in good humour and courtesy as we short- ened the distance to Castlebar.
The road was indeed a rough and boggy one ; but, after the difficulties we had encountered by the river side, even this seemed tolerably direct ; every second step did not, as before, give us one foot in the bog.
CASTLEBAR. 11/
At length the turfy smoke of Castlebar met our view, and the exhilaration I immediately felt at the near prospect of food, raiment, and lodging, would not be repressed j strength returned to my previously tottering limbs, and my companion's heavy stump became more energetic.
The gorgeous beauty of the sun reflected on the glassy bosom of the Castlebar Lake, and the pure green of the mountains, regenerated by the late tor- rents, formed a cheering scene, to which the miserable huts we occasionally passed but ill responded. We had deemed that more extreme wretchedness than that we had hitherto seen could nowhere be found ; yet the huts we examined, as we entered the county of Mayo, convinced us that the last and most meagre sustenance might be absent. Here, in- deed, many of the cottagers, if they can be so termed, were without any article of food. Their small plots of ground, which were planted, from the damp nature of the soil had not yet matured the potato, which, in its early state, is watery and unwholesome.
Some of the poor creatures were huddled over the turf-fire, while other members of the family were begging around, even among those destitute as themselves. Starvation was in every counte- nance. There was neither spirit nor life in the eye of tlie forms which appeared at the hut-
118 nu
doors; tiw wife lat mobiStf mnb^ Mf M^ iriiich fotmd no nooiufanent in tlM ■9li«fld)iMfet Tbe Imabaiid lookad gloonulj by tte'lOBd '-ta^M if wutiiigsonw inpeDdiDg Oulbwk.
Tbe state of bimmD cmtnni ««» KAMtS la HuscoDdition is fmrfht indeed. WhOsttHbtaWai an IniMightbjr a socoonon of abwtrtw ptufahlm to tbe veige of haman stanatioti, amiB an IomIh tfian those nrj absentees in sotfaittog fta 111*. anceoftheRigtisb, andinpfOPwtiiigeBbwiilittMs for th« relief of wretcfaedness wUeh tfaenMhw hare caused, Xor should it be fyrgMen, wbSh these appeals are annually made to the 8;fmp«tbies of the English, that on few, I may almost eay on no occasions, have the rents been remitted; so that the enormous aroounts generously awarded by tlioBe subscriptions have literally found tbeir way into the pockets of the landlords, they banng first stripped the peasantry, by a ruinous rental, of all that shauld have resulted to their labours for sustenance, and the liberal contributions of tbe English funoshtng that sustenance.
It is true that the inhabitants of these districts are idle ; it is a common reproach to them. Ood hetp them ! who is there to direct or foster their industrry ? HilUons of uncultivated acres surround their miserable huts, on which the hand of man has never yet been exercised. No leases would be
THEIR EFFECT. 1 19
granted ; there could be no remuneration for the labour requisite in the reclamation ; and thus is a destitute population doomed to view the rank reed covering a soil which would^ imder a kinder destiny, supply all their wants, and create their content and happiness.
Nothing can be more unjust than the system of subscription, by which, from yeeur to yeeur, the un- employed population of Mayo is supported. It is not a subscription for the poor, but for the rich. It is an annual subscription towards the extortionate and monstrous rents which are demanded and ex- acted from the wretched beings who, unknown to other employ, must till the soil at any impost, or starve.
It is not in disregard of the value of freedom that I observe the readiness with which twenty millions of the public money were granted to a maudlin sympathy with the well-fed West Indian slave, while whole districts, in this our home-land, con- tain people hurrying to an early grave by the utter want of food. It is time that something be done. The sight of those peaceful, yet starving faces, which are presented at every hut, would afiect the heart of a stoic : but the stoics who are the lords of tlie soil take good care never to behold them!
On our entrance into Castlebar, and on inquiring
1 90 LUDICROUS ADYENTUBB.
for the inn, we found tliat tbe town wu retlOj in a hubbub. It happened to be market-day, and gronpi ofpersons surrounded us. Atlastwewereaooostod by one of the country people, who seemed mote capable of addressing the strangers tiiaii the nt^ who informed us that our attendant, Owen, was in trouble — in truths at that moment, in duranoe — fivr an offence of rather an extraordinary character. The landlord, who was of the roughest ovder, re- ceived us at the door.
^' If it's your honour's man thafs taken np, be has sent a dozen times to inquire for you, to clear him before the magistrate/'
The major, who had contracted a real friendship for our humble attendant, was on fire.
'* Who is the magistrate that dares to take up my man, without first informing myself? Oh, it's myself will settle the matter without the law at all at all."
I could perceive, without much difficulty, that my friend was in an unlikely mood to become just then a very successful advocate. Leaving him, there- fore, to the pocket-book from which he was select- ing a card, with no very friendly intention towards the magistrate, I proceeded to make further inqui- ries, and learned that our Achates had been exhibit- ing himself in a state that would have even offended the ladies of the Connemara wilds — in fact, that
AN UNENCUMBERED RUN. 121
he had been stopped in a state of entire nudity, running like a madman among all the people coming to market — that he had been seized, covered, and brought before the magistrate, to whom he gave so lame an account of our honours, that he had been consigned to durance till our arrival.
Our astonishment was immeasurable, and could only be appeased by the supposition that Owen's peculiarity of character had at length subsided into absolute madness. We forthwith proceeded to the rescue, the major burning with indignation, and determined to get up a fight with some one on this score. I succeeded, however, in prevailing on him to allow me to be the manager of the business ; and, having sent up my name to the magistrate, we were immediately admitted. His account was that our companion had really been taken as described in the road ; and that the people were fully impressed with the notion that he was deranged — a conviction to which he himself had arrived upon hearing the facts. For our satisfaction, he would send again for him, to enable him to give what explanation he pleased of the matter.
Owen was soon produced. At sight of us he forthwith brightened up.
" Och, and it's all right now, any way ! Your
VOL. II. 6
122 MYSTERY OF
honours liave got tlic salmon ; I left liim to be dressed ; aiid is it myself would go to disa{)pomt your honours of a breakfast along with a few spal- peen market people ! I wonder what divil of a county this, that a man mayn't catch a salmon, l>ecause the river runs by the side of the road. But your honours will spake for me, and explain it, any how, to his nobleness the justice."
I requested permission to ask Owen for his owii version, which being readily granted, the prisoner began : —
" It's clear, your honours will remember ordering me to catch a salmon, and go on before to the inn. Well, bum the rise I'd get, your honour, till I came within half a mile of the town ; there I sees u fair a rise at the nathural as ever my eyes was Uest with. Oh ! be aisy, sis I — is it there you are, and I wanting ye for my master's breafafast? With that, I makes a clane cast, and covered the beauty to an inch. Up he came — away went my winch, and I thought of my sowl he'd niver done runaing till my line was smashed. Into the river I pitches n^ rod — away run the fish, and away run I — and, faith, I'd enough to do to keep up, any way, for the stones and the bogs bothered my speed intarely. At' last he stops ; oh ! sis I, it's my turn now, and with that I goes up towards tdy rod ; off bontts the fish to the otber side the stream. There mm
THE G£NTLE ART. 123
nothing but a swimming or a ducking for it, and, to keep all clane and go dacent into the town like, I pulls oflF my bits of things, and swims over the river to the place where the wild brute had carried my rod. The divil a bit he stand a minute. OflF went the salmon again ; and it was then I had a run for it after the river, so, seeing my rod going doubts tide, and, finding the roeid alongside the river far best for running, to the road I went ; and it's a pity your honours weren't there to see the sport — run salmon, run I, for a good half mile — there I caught my rod 5 and it's a good to the heart to see the way he played. But I soon landed my fish, and what do your honours tliink ? In a fine country like this, a lot of spalpeens, without with your leave, or by your leave, or any politeness at all, seizes hould of me, crams an ould frieze or two over me, and brings me to be put to prison. * Oh !' sis I, * but I'm a free bom Irishman,' sis I ; ^ and there are two rale gin- tlemen that'll see me righted,* sis I ; * and what have I done ?' sis I. — ' Done ?' sis they ; * haven't ye been running stark naked among the people, and them women ?' sis they. — * The divil a woman or man/ sis I, ' did I see at all at all ;' and if your nobleness and honour will give me the book, I'll swear the same on my bible oath this moment. What do they tell his honour, but that there were lots of women coming to market, and his honour believes
OS
V24 THE EXPLANATION.
'em, maybe because I am a catholic. I saw nobody all the time but the rod, and t:hat was ninmng Bwately."
1 a^ured the magistrate of my entire conviclioit that Owen was innocent of any intentional wrong ; and such was, 1 believe, the ardour with which he pmsued the sport, that I did not doubt his declara- tion that he had seen nobody.
The magistral? was pleased to find that the affair was of no furtiier consequence, and ordered Owen to be dischargM, assuring him, however, that his being a Catholic had had nothing whatever to do with his detention or discharge, and in this de- claration I joined ; but the major, seizing the hand of Owen, and in the presence of the magistrate, de- clared his entire approval of the fisherman's whole course of conduct; " and, for myself, I'd follow a salmon into the very palace rather than lose him, any way. So, say nothing of being a trifle deficient in the cut of your surtout."
The major was now about to wax wroth in ^- proval of Owen's conduct; and just as he was fum- bling about for the card, on which was neatly engraved •' Major — , — th regiment," I thrust my arm within his, bowed to the man of authority, and we were at our inn before the gallant ofScer could determine in what way the proper insult ought to be conveyed to a magistrate. Owen was ad-
►.f
r-
THE EXPLANATION.
125
mitted to dine with us off the sahnon which had been the cause of all his distress and degradation. We were indeed weary, but had acquired in our peregrinations a perfect knowledge of what will be reasonably expected in a night up the mountains by the sportsman in Ireland.
196
ACnSSB
CHAPTBR IX.
A Curte against Preserves — Reasons for condemuing them — A Slap at the Peers — Apology and Reconciliation — An Irish Tory — Aftcr-Dinner Argament on Popular Eklacation — Challenge — Preparations for a Meeting — Satisfisctory Arrangement.
'* I'll hold any man a dozen that this country will never prosper. I'll hold any wager, against any man^ that, while all the rest of old Ireland is prospering, this will be the county accursed. WTiat ! I that hold his majesty's commission — ^who have condescended to receive pay quarterly of as bad a set as — but never mind, it's a bad track we're in, and the sooner our marching order is beat the better for all anglers.*'
" What, in the name of Fortune, is the matter, major ?
** The matter ! a set of rent-driving maniacs, that live upon gorse and subscriptions every spring — "
AGAINST PBESERVES. 127
•* Of whom do you speak ?*'
" Speak ! who should spake of or to 'em — "
Tlie major's countenance was swollen with iil- dignation. Owen^s, who accompanied him into the room, was by no means indicative of less, though of more subdued anger.
" Of whom do you speak, major ?'*
" Bring in the matarials — a good way to travel — Owen, some whiskey ; here, gulp down your pas- sion as I do, and let the horror of the place be eternal. Let 'em keep their bogs and their porther colour rivers, and drink 'em ; it's all they have to drink four-fifths of their time. Presarve ! oh, the divil presarve 'em, and keep all honest fishermen away from 'em. No wonder their mountains bring nothing ; no wonder they call out starvation, and are hurried by droves to the grave for want of the food the miserable masters cannot furnish. Will you believe that in this county here, in Mayo — we'd scorn it in the south — the very renters of the weirs would scorn it — all is presarved, and the deuce a fly you'll be allowed to cast? Whiskey, Owen ; keep your temper, man."
Owen kept his temper^ and swallowed the whiskey.
" It's not long since but the whole of these tracts were free as air. The mountain eagle was not more unfettered than the stranger, who, with a rod,
128 THE MAJOR'S LAMENT
made way by the lakes ; nay, it wonld go fintlier; it would be odd, indeed, if the weary fishw did not meet some of the hospitality for which our &thers were celebrated. But nowl The ma- tarials/'
The major was soothing himself by jgottle-^eep potations.
*' Now, every scanty possessor calls himself a manor lord, assumes a royalty, issues an edict, and claims that for himself, or rather for nobody since he can neither fish himself, nor will allow any other — which hitherto had been the only attraction such desert wastes afforded. Presarve ! hadn't they better cry royalty over the broad sea, and tell us that's presarved— K)r over the air, and forbid us to breathe. Presarve ! Heaven's name ! what have they to presarve ? Can these petty bog princes tell us that the fish are their property ? do they score and name them ?"
" Your honour sarved him right," said Owen.
•* Right ! and who would doubt it ! a spalpeen keeper. Keeper ! capital joke in the wilds of Con- nemara — up to your ancles in bog — squash every minute — keeper— Capit — d — n such kei^ping !''
The major emptied the second tumbler.
I now found that, while I had been endeavouring to regain some of the freshness which my night's bivouacking and morning's walk heid a little da-
OVER PRESERVES. 129
maged, my two companions had sallied forth to the lakes, and that, in the exercise of the gentle crafl, they had received a peremptory order to desist. The major's astonishment little qualified him for reasonable explanation, and he had therefore re- turned the intimation that the lakes were a pre- serve, by a polite assurance that the messenger should forthwith proceed to ascertain the exact depth of the pool he was fishing ; and this would, in all human probability, have been the destination of the hapless keeper, but that Owen had stepped in between the threatening combatants.
Owen, indeed, had become the more immediate object of the keeper's rage, and had sustained divers blows before the major's heavy fist settled the affair, and gave, as I prognosticated, good cause for proceedings at law against our party.
I represented to my companion that the con- sequences might be serious ; but it was impossible to make him comprehend any just reason why one man should not, on what he deemed a fair provo- cation, inflict personal chastisement on another. The pretence to preserve waters which had once been free to the world, was such a provocation, and, had it been the master instead of the man, I verily fear the major's want of personal control had been the same.
" What !" exclaimed he, '* presarve in a country
g5
"■'licl, i, ,
"""•"r, 6,
•«i«ne the . "'Iwuaimd
ri *'"■■'" «
MOUNTAIN PRESERVES. 131
not only should all strangers have full permis- sion to amuse themselves, but I would stretch forth the hand of hospitality to encoiurage their visits.
'^ Anglers are never dangerous men. Show me a man devoted to the art, and I will shew you a person whose feelings are well attuned to the exer- cise of the kindlier intercourse of friendship and affection. There would be no danger in showing hospitality to the angler.
" Wbere is now the hospitality of bygone days, when honest landlords held no peerage. What ! a peer ! The empty badge of an enslaved wretch, who sold his birthright for such a mess of pottage as an Irish peerage ! A livery servant is the meanest and most contemptible of men ; I hate the yellow and gold with which their monkey manhood is bedaubed : he is the walking monument of his own baseness and his master's pride. There is but one step lower in humanity : it is the peerage ob- tained by the hireling villain who betrayed his country's independence for so paltry and ignoble a bribe.
" Look at them. Wlio, what are the Pitt Union peers ? Exiles — their domains in the hands of the receivers of the courts ; or, if at home, the despised abettors of their country's ruin. That's a peer — an Irish peer — a Pitt Union Irish peer ! Send for
132 THE APOLOGY.
Bome gold lace, in God'e name, tie it round his hat, and let him stand behind the chaire of honest men. That will be one step at least for their cha- racter. That's my opinion of the peerage ; but I think less of the petty shades of shadows who call themselves proprietors."
The major had run himself out, and fortunately at that moment the servant presented a card. I foresaw the difficulty we were in, guid entreated my companion to allow me to deal with the new comert promising most fervently to do nothing which should uoinpromisL' the major's reputation of cou- rage and dignity. On hia retirement, theFefbr% 1 desired the stranger to be shewn in.
He was a young man, of a somewhat military appearance, and presented himself with the ut- most civility. I was the first to remark that I believed 1 could anticipate what was the cause to which I was indebted for the honour of his visit.
There had been, he feared, some misunderstand- ing on all sides. Nothing could be further from his intention than offering any obstructdon to the fair angler, and his servant had mistaken his in- structions ; but one of our party could not, he thought, be excused in inflicting violence on the poor man, who was, in fact, doing no more than he conceived his instructions had directed.
"•r.v-j
THE APOLOGV. 133
The awkwardness of my situation was apparent. I therefore proceeded to acknowledge that the abstract assault was not to be justified, and that I should be most happy to oflFer to the keeper the reasonable recompense he should demand, and to present to my visitor the apology I thought was due to him.
Just as I had completed these arrangements satisfactorily, the major burst into the room, im- patient to be made acquainted with the subject of our discussion. I introduced him^ and the result was that both the belligerent parties were perfectly
satisfied : Mr. S assuring the major that he
was most welcome to all the angling he could find, under the fullest impression that I had used his authority in the apology I had presented ; and the major accepting most graciously the permission thus given as a full apology for the obstruction he had met with.
It was not my business to undeceive either, both being perfectly satisfied with the conduct of each other; and, indeed, so pleased were the parties, that a warm and^pressing invitation to dinner was on the spot given and accepted.
I congratulated myself on my skill at diplomacy, in having made two persons friends, who might have been very dangerous in hostility. Mr. S took his leave, and in a few minutes, Paddy the
134 THE AFOLOOT.
keeper, was in attendance, ready to ahow oar fao- nours the best pools. I dipped a sovereign into fab handy and left him to stare at the waodroiii Inek which St. Patrick had brought him bjr meanrof a broken head, a matter he at no time would have felt as a great misfortune, and one that noWt with its present concomitant, he would have been too happy to receive daily.
Our host's preparations were of the usual abun- dant order. His cottage was on the banks of Urn lake, which he had so carefully preserved^ and pro* sented a pretty sporting-box. The interior was indeed well supplied with all the means of rendering a secluded life agreeable. I must also observe that the preparations for the repast, to which we were invited, were of more than ordinary elegance ; although the attendance was to be supplied by bare-footed trotters over the bog.
The numerous assembly in the kitchen betokened a rout for the dependants, one running in the way of the other, with the accustomed and ** most admired disorder."
Our reception was cordial. Our host, lumself an Irishman, possessed, I believe, of a patrimony more ancient and respectable than extensive, had figured in the records of hospitality ; and in the course of a few years had managed to dispossess himself of an inheritance of considerable value. He had at
THE APOLOGY. 135
last thrown open his hotue for a year to all comers, determined to place an honourable seal to the de- sultory extravagance, which was slowly but surely impoverishing his means. The end of the year brought the end of the rental ; and his retirement to the lovely spot, which formed an island on the lake, was adopted with the view of recovering by seclusion the lost revenue. But even here his li- beral habits pursued him ; and though he was strict in tlie preservation of the fishing and shooting of the domain he rented, he was always ready to grant permission to any respectable applicants.
He was a tory, — not of the vacillating and un- settled order, who soiQetimes rejoice in one name, and then eschew it for another, but a well-founded, honest, and intolerant tory, — one who, with Sir Charles of honest notoriety, never could comprehend what the rights of the people could mean. He un- derstood the privileges of the order y and the enjoy- ment of patronage ; he knew also the full meaning of the supplies when properly appointed and dis- tributed. But what the newspapers meant by the people and their rights, he could never be made to comprehend ; and the difficulty he had found, while endeavouring to become enlightened on this point, had at last terminated in the very laudable reso- lution, should he ever arrive at the post of prime minister, of shooting the masses like dogs.
THE APOLOGY*
There was not much to hope finont the major^ prudence, when Mr. S— — and his fnend, wall mm- tachoed, and both having the honour to hold her majesty's commission, bowed to each other in the dining-room. But the dinner treated not of war^ the punch had commenced its inspiration^ I congim- tulated myself on all being safe, and passed off, with some adroitness, the observation of my host^ tliat the pest of the country was the Catholie religiany but that the worst of it was that all the people were Catholics, — which Mr. S could by no means account for.
I replied, sotto voce, that it was very odd, and challenged my friend opposite to a tumbler. It was of no use ; the word, the fatal word had caught the major's ear, and at the sudden gurgling which denoted tlie descent of at least a full pint, I was alarmed by the consciousness that the magic word had been effectual.
" It's a Catholic country we're in, sir," said the major.
** And a good country too," said I complacently.
" Good country! — I should like to see the one that's better, and I wouldn't lave this for it."
** The country is a fine country," said our host, " but it is ruined by the religion which seems to overrun it. Look at England ! there the parsons are knowable people — men that decent persons
[' ■•
THE APOLOGY. 13/
may speak to — they are not always stirring up the poverty of the labouring classes to make them dis- satisfied. What is the cas0 here? every rascally vagabond is hand and glove with the priest ; the priest instructs and directs him. What has the priest to do with instruction ? people that have to work should work, and let education alone. It must end in the ruin of any country to be always teach- ing the people ; they are too knowing ah^ady.^'
The major never argued well ; it was by no means his forte. When he did express himself with a view to implanting conviction in the mind of another, it was done rather manually than logically, and the force of his position was rather established by the concussion of the fist and table than by any formula of verbal ratiocination.
" And why by St. Patrick shouldn't the people be instructed by their priests, since they can get no instruction elsewhere ?"
The major made a pause ; his fist was gathered up for the grand climax of the position he was about to establish, which waited only the reply of his opponent.
'* That's the question I ask ?*' added the major with impatience.
Who could answer this question ? It was unfttir in the major to put it. The best reason I ever heard, even at a tory parson dinner, or a public
138 THE APOLOGY,
speechi&ctioa, against the roiscliiefs of educatug the people, was that they might, when serrante, read their master's letters ; and I believe it is on record, that one of our most talented early bisbopE recommended as the safeguard of tho empire, the careful preservation of ignorance among the people, Uiough he li!mself was, at that time, a " mark)- man." It was an unfair question, and there was no answer to it ; hut the friend with raoustacltes declared that it was very unpleasant to have fellows who ought to be digging affecting to know aig thing of books,
" rd hang every priest," said our boat, " that presumed to teach a letter to a peasant."
■' And so would I," said the military friend.
The fist was ready, and down it went; the glasses rung a long and inhannonious peal.
" And the devil a priest you'd either <rf ye hurt, while I bad an arm to defend him."
This was plump in the major.
" You would hardly prevent me," said our host.
" Twenty of ye," said the major; he was de- termined.
" Sir," taii our host, with every indication of suppressed wrath, " after the apolc^ you this morning made to me, I had not expected to meet such rudeness."
" Apology ! — faith and if it had not been for the
THE APOLOGY. * 139
very proper one you presented me with, the devil a dinner I would have shared with you, here or any where !"
*' Apology !''
" Apology r* re-echoed the major.
I was in the exact dilemma I had been fearing. It was useless to explain ; neither would give up the conviction of having received and not given an apology to the other.
The grievances therefore were re-stated; the broken head of the keeper was again declaimed on; while the villany of any man, in a free country, daring to prevent fishing on the open lake, met all the condemnation my friend's vocabulary could furnish.
The confusion of tongues was overwhelming — matter explanatory, condemnatory, and contradic- tory. It was hopeless to interfere ; so the major took the last gulp at his tumbler of punch, pro- ceeded towards the door, bowed with affected calm- ness, and assured Mr. S ho should hear from
him in the morning.
I bowed jnyself out also, resolved to attempt no explanation then, but fully impressed with the hope that I shoiild effectuedly remove all the ani- mosities of the parties in the morning.
I was deceived; with the morning came my friend in the moustaches, who claimed precedence
140 THE APOLOGT.
in tlie message to the major. I assured him that I was perfectly prepared to make all reasonable allowances, if he were similarly disposed. To this I received so imperative a denial, that I became satisfied that nothing but the meeting was in- tended.
Nothing could equal the suavity of the lieu- tenant entrusted with this embassy, after he had obtaiTied my appointment tliat we should be ready on the side of the lake in one hour from that time.
The major was stumping up and down his room, with his hands thrust into the very bottom of hi* pockets. He hardly perceived that I had en- tered; hut my eye fell instantly on certain prepa- rations, which were obviously made in contemplatJon of the probable result of the evening's conversa- tion. On one table a pair of old horse-pistols newly rubbed up ; the balls carefully deposited in an old horn, and the ramrod ready for the charge. On the other side were papers cootaining curious scratches, or marks which the major had deluded himself into a conviction that he had written.
" 1 am sorry " I observed, " to he compelled to say "
" I'm ready, my boy — all right. It's myself will
larrup the lot of 'em. But, there is one thing if
I should fiill ."
THE APOLOGY. 141
"Entrust all to me, our time is short."
"Why, it's a grievous thing to have a boy's random shot through one's liver."
"Wliatever be the event of the day," said I, taking the veteran's hand, " be certain that there are no instructions you may give me that will not to the letter be obeyed. If there be any thing near your heart, I entreat you now to disclose it — per- haps family affairs."
'*I have been upwards of fifty years bandied about this bothering world, and the divil a family affair I ever had."
" No relation to whom I could convey your last wishes ?"
The major snapped his fingers, and assured me he vedued not that simple evolution any living rela- tion.
Still there was something which oppressed him. It was impossible not to observe, from his anxious eye and occasional changes of countenance, that some regret weighed on him. I pressed him to disclose it, and for some time ineffectually ; nor was it till I had made all the necessary prepara- tions for departure to the rendezvous, that he gave way to my importimity.
'*You have pressed me to communicate my distress. I liave a deep and insurmountable dis- tress ; but you cannot help me.''
142 THE APOLOGlf.
" At least I can endearour to alleviate it, if il should concern others."
*' Impossible : my distress is this. I have served through the Peninsular and American war, ob- tained ray rank by work, and never spent an idl* week at borne in fifteen years. I am here reduced, and compelled to accept a paltry half-pay for my services, which has never yet been raised even to the nominal rank I hold. The sum is small, to be sure, and every tiling has its comfort — the smaD- ness of it is some comfort just now. But the dis- tress I feel that a rascally government should pocket the amount at my death, gives me a ds- termination to shoot straight ; — so now, my boy, come on, and we '11 not be the last on the ground."
This being the only regret, I no longer sought the major^s disclosures, but set forth, perfectly satisfied that no man was ever better prepared to meet the worst as far as his worldly afiairs stood.
We reached the ground, and I must do my cosn- rade the justice to say that cooler or more im- perturbable courage was never displayed j nor was it long till the proof was demanded.
A bow from our friend in the moustaches showed that we were really met in earnest ; altjiough I had great difficulty in believing such trivial causes should produce an effect of so serious a cha-
THE APOLOGY. 143
racter to persons so lately in the enjoyment of friendly and hilarious communication.
I stepped aside with the second of our late host, and again demanded whether any thing short of an apology would be satisfactory. An abrupt nega- tive closed that part of the converse. I repeated, therefore, that if extremities must be resorted to, we might well understand the cause of the quarrel.
" There's no difficulty or dispute on the cause," said the lieutenant. " Your friend thought proper to break the head of my friend's keeper. No apo- logy is offered, and it is clear some satisfaction must be had."
The belligerents took their ground. We had placed the pistols in their hands, and were in the act of retiring, that the proper signal might be given by the lieutenant.
" Hurush !" cried twenty voices, issuing from twenty persons, who in a moment jumped over the hedge : — " Hurush, and bind and secure 'em ! Oh, it 's a spalpeen's head that was broken, any way!"
Among the miiltitude, it was by no means diffi- ciilt to distinguish the voice of Owen and the keeper.
" Oh, master dear," cried the latter, as he threw himself at the knees of S with all the genuine
H4 THE APOLOGY.
ebuUitioQ of feeling which is always the charar- teristic of an Irish servant: — "Oh bad luek io Paddy Brady's head ! — and that's my own — it's a whole liead, any way. And, if it isn't, It'e my- self and Paddy Owen will fight it out. Long life to your honouTB, and we are the bojrs for a shindy !"
" Come along, Paddy Brady," cried Owen, as be seized the major's arms, with a full detemunatioo to allow of no combat in which he took no part.
The anxious sincerity of tlie poor fellow who had been the innocent cause of all the mischief, and the cool determination of Owen, were irre- sistibly droll. I met the eye of the lieutenant, who could no longer refrain from a smile. I gave way to a burst of laughter, while Paddy Brady descanted on the fact in language far too rapid for the best reporter to follow : — the upshot of his dissertation being that his head had been most satisfactorily mended by a sovereign ; while he heaped very profuse ill luck on his own destiny that had induced him to complain of a " thrifie of a crack, which was nothing to an Irishman at a patheern."
I looked at the lieutenant.
" Why, if the man is satisfied, I don't see that it is absolutely impossible to arrange," said he, confidentially.
THE APOLOGY.
145
*' Enough.** I held forth my hand — it was frankly taken : the major and S— bowed to each other at our intimation, and the affair termi- nated without the " Apology.**
VOU II
DISASTERS OF CONNEHARA.
CHAPTER X.
A COUNCIL of piscatorial war was BUtnmoned on tlie succeeding morning. We had found disasters enough in Connemara, and some of our esc^>es had not been without interest. The major's grand intention of visiting Ballina was much weakened by the specimen we had already found of pre- serving ; and the full knowledge that one might as well be in Scotland, (where the salmon are marked every succeeding day, and regularly trained to consider themselves no longer as cbosa in action, but as BO many tenants already reduced into abso- lute possession) as in a country where the broad lakes are preserved, induced the major to forego his purpose of further prosecuting the tour of dis- covery into this unsocial tract.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 147
On making inquiries for some mode of convey- ance, I encountered a person of whom I had some> but an indistinct, remembrance. He was attired in respectable black, strutted with a military air, and smiled as he addressed me with all the ease of an old acquaintance.
" Is it your honour I see at last, and well and hearty ? Faith and it does meself good to find you still in Ireland; and, above all, in the splendid country of Connemara. What shall I do for your
honour ? "
»
It was my old friend of the steam-boat. I had fully recalled his features and manner before his address was complete.
" Faith and ye have good right to inquire by what manes I have turned gentleman at last! But it's cold talking in the streets of Castlebar. The wind cuts down the streets like a razor sent off to shave every rascally vagabond not well clothed, as all proper and respectable peojde should be. Why don't the people put on proper clothing for the weather, and accommodate their diet to their necessity ? It is a difficulty not to be got over or explained. But if yoiur honour will accept the comfort of the Black Lion here, I shall be over-plased at the opportunity of thanking you for a past piece of friendship that I owe your honour for. — The whiskey is capital."
h2
NS THE LEGIONER.
I was so far interested in my early Irish friend that I readily complied with Ms wish, and vai Boon supplied with the " clanest throp imaginable."
My inquiries were soon made. The obriom change in the circumstances of the Spatiish Leffioner formed the first matter of question.
" It's the fault of the Irish themselves," said he, " that they don't do well in a country where the wealth only requires to be looked after. What did I get but starvation for my trip ? \Vliat do I get by staying in my native country? Sir, it's roe- self that you see is appointed exciseman to a large district; and, by my soul, I mane to take good care of the duties,"
" Appointed exciseman !" I exclaimed — " why, the last time I had the pleasure of seeing you, it seemed rather your business to avoid any parti- cular intimacy with the officers of the revenue."
" Whisht — you are an Englishman, and a kind one. By St. Patrick, I may trust you well enough. You liave a right to my history, because you may tache your children the way to achieve an excise- manship in Ireland. When I left you at the Va- lentia, the divil a rap I could muster. We went to sea that night with as pretty a cargo of tobacco as you would need to be happy with for a year. It was all carefully stowed when we saw you at Croinwell Fort. Jt was soon got on board, and.
m
THELEGIONER. 149
before daybreak, buried on the shoals at the mouth of the Shannon. We had a night of it, you^il be sure ; but our well* trimmed Kinsale boat mounted like a bird, and weathered the lights bravely. At ' we were again shipwrecked fishermen, and soon sold all the tobacco that was waiting only for our sending. By that gale of wind, which lasted two days, we cleared enough for a month's fine weather. This was a fine living, and I was de- lighted with the change in my condition. Not a gun fired at us, and abundance of whiskey, with a good bedy to be paid for handsomely. No straw dungeon or spokesmanship — both which I tho- roughly despise — as also the honour of serving any imperial and Christian majesties who never pay but in stripes.
" While musing on the chance of the next trip, one of my comrades communicated that there was a chance, if it was well done, of our getting a good order ; but secresy was the word. I was the boy for a secret, so I betook myself to a big house, to which I had been directed, and was shown into a fine library by a lace-coated footman. Faith and I thought my fortune was come at last. ' Oh ! oh ! ' cried I — ^ if one could but get domiciled in such a place as this, the devil a storm Td again venture.^ ^ut there was no such luck for me at that time, so I bowed my best, and I had learned
ISO
THE LAST TttlP.
the bowing well in Spain, and began to conT«il with myself just as the door opened, and a litd bald-headed gentleman, with a pigtail, entered He shut tiie door in a perfectly distioguisha manner, and motioned me to a chair. To be sun I was hardly qualified to sit in the company of tfai likes — but there I sat, on a morocco cliair, wit! the little bald-headed gentleman opposite, for al the world as though we were two privy councillon and the immortal Dan radiug them a lecture.
"*You bflong,' says the gentleman — who fir« helped me to a glass of real good whiskey — ' yoc belong to the Kinsale boat ?'
" * Faith, and it 's myself, your honour, that bai weathered the storm in her that has been blowing all the ships off the seas.'
" ' I know it — you landed your tobacco Uit night.'
"'Oh, murther !' says I. *I'm traosportet now, at any rate — here 's a blow 1 11 never recover. But, then, thinks I, 't is odd before he sends me ti gaol, that he should fill me with whiskey.
" ' You needn't be alarmed.'
*'*Notin thelaate, your honour — sure when you
honour's worshipful self says we landed the totHftco
■ last night, it isn't me tliat says it — and so there'
no splitting any way — and it would n't be mannei
to contradict your honour.'
THE LAST TRIP. 151
" * Well,' says he, * I know your crew well, and intend to employ you/
^' ' Oh,* says I, * it/s all along of the good cha- racter we 've got among the poor people.'
** * Yes, yes — I know the character you liave — it blows now from the south-west — > there will be a gale towards the morning. Do you dare venture out ?'
" * Venture 1 faith we 'U venture any where,'
^^ ' I thought as much. About eighteen miles from the Head, you will discover a schooner, either this or to-morrow night. She will deliver to you some packages, which you must manage in the night to get on board your own vessel, and then run her up high and dry near the sand beach, be- tween the Heads. That^s all you have to do. But there is one thing more — ^if you should be dis- covered, you must never give any name. I'll manage, if you are silent, to see you safe through all difficulty, and will get any penalty mitigated, and ftimish you with the means to pay it ; so you must be secret, and hold out to the last.'
*^ Hereupon, I assured him that there was not the least danger of our breaking faith, while it was so clearly our interest to keep it, and with one tumbler more we parted, the little gentleman him- self seeing me safe to the door.
*' Having got our little vessel repaired, and duly
153 The last trip.
stored with all variety of proriaions, coosistiiig of potatoes and red faerrings, we beat out to aeawaH, with a stitF breeze blowing dead in. W^e comforted ourselves witli the remembrance that we could be shipwrecked at any time, and at any part of the ccast, we should please to take a fancy to, and whm the wrecking came about, we could not be very far from the shore. Indeed, we could run her up hi^ and dry, if there was any thing like a surf,
" All that night wefished very carefully in forty- five fathoms water, and about eighteen miles from the Head. The bait was not particular, as it con- sisted only of a line and hook, and somehow tbe cod-fish took no particular fancy to it. So, that with the exception of the red herrings, we were not overburdened with the Friday's banqnetdng.
" All that night we had the pleasure of being alone, and the next we were visited by the ravenue cutter, towards which we made, and very man- fully solicited some prog. This we knew to be tbe best way of getting rid of her ; for, if a boat at any time begs provisions of her majesty's cutter, or shows any symptoms of the crew being in distress, it is ordained, I suppose, by the government that the helm should be forthwith put up. This was the case on the night in question ; for the crew on board her majesty's craft are kind-hearted crea. tures, and liate to see poor boatmen in distress.
THE LAST TRIP. 153
^' Not three hours after the cutter had parted com- pany, we descried a sail. It was a schooneri bearing down upon us with all seal set. As she passed under our stern, she put her helm hard alee, and sprung up alongside of us in very seaman- like style. A rope was immediately thrown on board of our boat, and, though there was a roughish sea running at the time, we were dead alongside. There was nothing said— in fact, the people could say nothing but French, and that is the same as saying nothing : — * So, on with the packages,' cries I — and one after another — I thought they 'd never end, about three hundred very nice white deal boxes, neatly screwed down, and directed to nobody. We shifted all the ballast, which consisted of sand, put the packages care- fully at the bottom, and covered them well over. The schooner cast off, hauled close to the wind, and was soon out of sight.
'< ' ^^'hat the devil will we do ?' says I to my two comrades in the boat. ' It 's morally impossible to be shipwrecked such a night as this.- We can't reasonably be drowned with a fine beating breeze.'
^' * It would be a scandal and a shame to us ; for the coastguard boat would be sure to come to our assistance in such a night if we were in distress.'
'^ So on we went, fishing with empty hooks, till in
H 5
IM THE CARGO.
the morning tlie cutter again appeared in eigt We cracked on nil sail, and endeavoured to pM under her Bteru. The crew knew we were coq begging, so they put up their helm, and walki away frum us in the most easy manner itni ginable.
" ' It's a thought of my own,' says I ; ' if yil don't agree to it, don't ; but 1 should like to M just for curiodty, what the deuce can be in thai pretty boxes,'
" ' Quite proper,' said both my crew j ' we ou^ to know thf cargo w<;'ve got, for fear of ofiendiii( the law in ignorance.'
" ' Nothing more eeosible ever observed — I knoi the law,' says I — ' magistrates' law — and tbe^ sa; that we liave no right to do the things that's illegal although we don't know it. Therefore we are boun to know it ; so haul the foresheet to windward, ant put the hehn fast down — she'll ride like a duck wliile we obtain the proper information.'
" To this both agreed ; and we were not long Ji getting up a case, or in smashing it. Of all Uii long-necked bottles it was ever my good fbrtun to see whiskey in, these were the longest. Off the went — phiz 1 — one after another, all froth ant bubbahooiam.
" ' Capital whiskey,' says Pathrioh, my comradf
" ' Glorious,' says I ; and a bottle never gave
■'V^'t
THE SHIPWRECK. 1&5
wry face. Oh ! it would have done the hearts of the cutter's crew good to have seen how comfortable we were — ^helm up— dead in upon the land — ^pipes lighted, and a smart breeze. This was a ship- wreck, the likes I never before heard of; and, I believe, a happier crew never approached the lee- shore with the certainty of running on it. It was dead dark. Just as we were debating on the pro- priety of further making ourselves masters of the legal effect of our cargo, smash went the boat's head against a range of rocks. The force of the shock would have roused a dying or a dead man — and it did rouse us ; but we could not get up^ some unaccountable influence held us at the bottom of the boat. But, not knowing myself that the feeling was general, I took the command at once, and gave orders that were imquestionably of the best.
" * Up and be doing, you spalpeens,' says I ; for nothing assists soldiers or sailors, under your com- mand, so much as swearing at and calling them hard names. This I learned in her most christian ma- jesty's most christian army. And so I began in the regular way. * Up with ye, spalpeens, and the devil give life to ye, for a set of short pipe smoking villains, when the vessel's on the rocks. Have ye no fear of death before your eyes ? ' This last I said to terrify them.
156 THE SHIPWRECK.
" Pal Murphy only takes his pipe out of hie mouli for a moment. ' Git up yourself, and see bo< you like it,' says he. * What d'ye botlier abod death ? sure we're only being sliipwrecked, and wh»l else would ye have us do?' says Pat. And on be went smoking, aa if he was in one of the smokj comfortable cabins ashore.
" With that a sea takes the boat in the stem, liito her clane over the reefs, and one more, catchii^ her on the quarter, sent her twenty yards up the sands, and broke right into her.
" ' By St. Fathrick, this is drowning,* says I, ' and not shipwrecking at all.'
" ' Drowning,' says Pat Murphy j ' the pipe's out, so now for a rale move.' But he couldn't move when he tried.
" Another sea washed clane over us. ' Over the bows,' cried I, as soon as the surf fell back ; * over the bows.*
" It was slow work that same. I think I fell ten times in getting forwards ; and as to Pat Murpbj and the boy, if I hadn't given them a shove, they would never have escaped the boat at all. As it was, Pat fell upon his head in the soft sand, and went up to his middle in it, just like a bed of mor- tar. The boy and I pulled him out as well as ve could. As soon as Fat had wiped the sand from his mouth and eyes, he didn't thank us for the
THE SHIPWRECK. 157
trouble we took, but sent us, without the priest's blessing, to the infernal regions for shipwrecking him in sand.
" ' More whiskey with the long necks,' cried Pat. * More whiskey/ cried I. * Whiskey,* said the boy; and just upon that our heads all turned round, and we couldn't, for the soul of us, help the most audacious robbery that ever took place. Twenty fellows, for all the world as if they knew we were there, jumped on board the boat, handed out the cases, slung them across each other's backs, and disappeared in a jiffey. Of course I couldn't guess who they were, but I thought they were very respectable thieves — they did their business so cleverly.
'^ After all was gone, they popped us on hurdles, and carried us off, I coiUdn't imagine where; and I didn't long try to find out, for the effect of the sea water makes one drowsy, and the motion of the wattle sent me fast asleep.
^^ That was our shipwreck. In the morning I woke, and found myself in a comfortable bed, and a doctor and the little old gentleman with the bold head and the pigtail standing over me.
** ^ Poor man,' says the doctor ; ' he may take refreshment now if he likes.'
<' ' What will you take ?' says the kind little gen- tleman, wagging his pigtail.
IfiB THE SHIPWEECK.
" • Oh ! * says I, ' I'm not paiticular — Ul small drop of the stone clane whiskey out of long necks.'
" ' Ah !' says my friend, ' I understand bimi little brotli or gruel, doctor,'
*' * By all means.' says the doctor, and left tnl
" A little whiskey was soon produced, and I Ml felt better.
"' You had a successful voyage," says my fiiei
" ' Capital — only we were robbed of all ^ cargo.'
" ' V'es, those robberies generally happen on tiw oecaEioDs. You need not distress yourself abo it. I ani quite satisfied with your exertions, ai mean to provide for you. Now, what comfortaifa little situation can I get for you ? '
"Comfortable situation, thought I. Wliat if ask for a farm.
" A farm wouldn't do ; it would be a great tern] tation to me, as my kind friend assured me, an would certainly, if it happened to be on the coaa lead me into trouble.
" ' I am afraid,' said he, ' that when once the evil habits of smuggling have been successful, m thing cures them but one method. Your conduc young man,' says he, with all the feeling wm ginable, * has been very irregular, uid you hai really, in the eye of the law, been crimiitti
I
4,
THE EXCISEMAN. 160
There is danger also of yourself, at some un^ happy moment or other, accusmg yourself. I shall, therefore, take the only effectual means to prevent that. You must be silent, for your own sake — and you must cease to smuggle, as your business and profit shall be to prevent it. I have now thoroughly tried your skill — of which you must be silent, or instant dismissal would be the consequence. I have it in my power, through gre^t interest, to recommend young, active, and talented men to the service of the excise. You have all the qualifications which it was my boundeh duty to investigate before I sent any one for the appointment. You are selected.*
'* * An exciseman !' exclaimed I — * I am the happiest man in existence.'
" I was soon rigged out — you see, sir, how im- proved my exterior is since I had the honour of seeing you when dressed in her majesty's most Christian ten pounds' worth. I have money in hand, and am proceeding to the general office for due instalment in my government duties. Sir, I am most happy again to have met you. I am surprised only that you have not made your for- tune. Patronage, sir, is the thing in Ireland. Any man that can get patronage is a made man y but patronage is n't got by going about in the straightforward way that every poor man can go —
160 THE EXCISEMAN.
that will never do — patronage of the kind I enj Bir, is gained by real services — and I am a hh man !"
1 heartily congratulated my companioa on I change of fortune which had befallen him ; and could not help thinking, as I reflected on t man's history and recalled liis remarks on the ft powerful influence of patronage, that in Irelaa as elsewhere, the straightforward service of fa nesty and truth do not always ensure it It is Ii justice, however, to remark that, in this instance, thoroughly believe the government was ne¥ served by a more dauntless and, excusing the err tions of his necessity, b more honest officer. 1 1 lieve he is now in the service.
Ik.
BELFAST.
161
CHAPTER XI.
Belfast — State of Ireland — What is the Remedy? — Poor-law Question — Manufactures at Belfast — Last Evening inlreland — Leave-taking — Claims and Prospects of Ireland — Absentee Landlords and starving Tenants.
The major had again tried the lake during my long absence, and was little successful. His indig- nation had not cooled against the inhabitants of a preserved country, and I could perceive that Owen's spirits gradually declined as his lengthened absence from his sick mother had increased his anxiety for her safety. He had regularly made small remit- tances to her, which had been kindly acknowledged by the priest to whom they were addressed. It was resolved, therefore, that the major and Owen should accompany me to Belfast, and there take the Cork packet.
The next difficulty was the conveyance. A car^ the only alternative, was obtained— the pony having
163 THE POOB,
been long since abandoned ; and, by a foKfi I march, we reached Galway in time for Uie Tiauu ! mail. ,
Our journey will be uninteresting, as we lingcmi ' nowhere, and it is no part of my business to meke any but a piscatory road-book. My readere, thew- fore, ought not to be disappointed if I at once po- ' ceed through the beaten track, without notice rf ' those particulars whicli do not appertain to tl» i sports the country aiTords, Misery, rags, awl ' poverty, however, sUU met the eye ; defonnitj and disease presentt'd themselves ot every po=t; and the pertinacious importunity with which their claims were enforced constituted a severe impnt on our loote change. But this hind of b^^giag, which is perfectly systematic, will be found only in the more populous towns ; wretchedness in the country is more modest, and certainly less dh trusive.
There is no provision for these unhappiest of the unhappy land. What the result of the poor- laws may be I can hardly conjecture. The oppo- sition to such laws, which was so strenuously made by the warmeet friend of his country, astonished many ; — it could not astonish those who had pre- viously contemplated Ireland as she is. What is the establishment of a poor-law to a people who cry for equality of nghts with their fellow subjects?
AND NEW POOR LAWS. 163
While the fundamental injustice remains, upon which has been erected the monstrous edifice of Ireland's accumulated miseries, it is idle to pro- poimd as a panacea that which the very condition of the country can never permit to be practically adopted.
For whom are the poor-laws to provide ? — The English lawgiver at once answers^ — for the aged, the infirm, the destitute, for such as have no means of self-provision. Then take at once into your unions the whole rural population of Ireland ; for their claims to one of these conditions are indis- putable. Nor would it be transgressing the strict bounds of truth to assert, that if the condition of the whole of the peaseuitry were transferred to the rural population of England, every individual com- posing it would demand and would have a right by law to receive the assistance of the parochial provision. The English labourers live, and are sustained by food at least sufficient to preserve healthy life. Whenever want of such food occurs, the law supplies it. The Irish labourers are ever in that state of want : — they do not live — they die — in childhood, in manhood, and in age — die from absolute starvation.
The mockery of poor-laws for Ireland, while nothing is done to remove the real evils which afflict its wretched inhabitants, must be apparent
l&i BELFAST.
whoD we fee that it Is impracticable to estabKdi them on the basis which alooe can ren<ler ibem » bene&t: — 1 mean the power of extending relief to all whose destitution woulJ, unassisted, eod in disease or deatli. That relief must be extemled to the whole rural population, which offen oaij labour for its sustenance—
To the question propounded by the poor-lav commission — " WTiat is the ordinary diet of the labouring clas^^ ? " — Mr. Inglis answers, and answers trulv,
" The diet of those who are io employmoit consists of a scanty meal or two of potatoes, with the addition at times of a little buttermilk : tbe diet of iiie far ffTtater num&er, who are not in em* ployment, consists of as many diy potatoes as sem just to sustain life."
How could an English overseer evade the claim of English labourers who should be thus destitute?
But poor-laws, as well as others, which are esteemed meet for England, are by no means meet for Ireland. The Irish, it seems, must remain not only "aliens in blood, religion, and language," but in those laws also which are to have the etkct of meliorating the condition of the poor 1
But Belfast is no lunger Ireland. The [Mvxi- mity to the Scottish shores is at once perceived i there is a bustle and an activity which declare a
BELFAST. 165
commercial enterprize, unknown in other Irish cities. While Dublin is half untenanted, and while the pretence to grandeur is mocked by the empty rows of houses and the squalid poverty of its listless and idling population, in Belfast every nook seems to boast its occupant, and every occu- pant his employment.
Belfast is a new town, one of the present cen- tury, and speaks in its prosperity a lesson which the Irish landlords do not understand, nor can be taught. The manufactures of linen and cotton goods have rendered the population of this district prosperous and happy ; wages are fairly remune- rating, and the rent of land is much less than in the degraded districts through which I had so lately passed. Other and more remunerating employ- ment, for an increased and increasing population, has been found, than the mere culture of the land — the lowest of all hxmian employment — and the com- petition for the tenure is consequently repressed.
Can any Irish landlord who, once a year for a week or two, visits his domain, and collects the hard earnings of his serfs — earnings wrung from a labour which has scarcely supplied sustenance — pass through the now flourishing town of Belfast, which has no ntperior landlord^ and be blind to the wants from which his own possessions suffer ? Can he doubt that an incrieasing population must have
lot) FAREWELL TO IRELAND.
other employment than the spade and the plou^? or do his poverty apd his extravagance blind bin, not only to the interest of the pining thousands who look in vain to him for assistance, but to his own ? The last evening in Ireland was passed amid real regrets; and, though tiie enlivening sallies of tl» major, and the affectionate attachment of Owen, should have tended to create cheerfulness, I fell that I was leaving a people and a country which had become greatly endeared to rae. To tbe sportsman its free<Iom and wildnesa constitute at- tractions which the more cultivated and prosperous countries present not. It is just to say, that a mote obliging and hospitable people will qq where be found.
The farewell of the major was sincerely respcmded to, as I stepped into the Glasgow packet. Tbe steam was roaring, and the bustle of the coming passengers and luggage was confounding. Amidst the din, however, which all this created, I contrived to make an intelligible promise to visit the north next summer. Whether my gentle readers will be inflicted with my future lucubrations may, perhaps, depend on the degree and amoimt of abuse I may receive for these. One thing is certain — no man may dare to speak the truth of Ireland, who has not first resolved to encounter the unscrupulous wrath of one offended party. It is the boast of one
-Sr"-"^ '
FAREWELL TO IRELAND. 167
individual that he is the ^' best abused man in the world." I shall endeavour to meet whatever may befal my records of the land of mountain and of flood with as becoming an equanimity.
Ireland, fareweU ! As I traverse other moun- tains, and pursue other streams, as I again mingle with the busy throngs of the conquering country, among whom thy woes and thy wrongs are without sympathy, because they are imknown, I will still cherish the kindly feeling thou hast awakened, and seek to remove the prejudices imder which thou hast so long and so unjustly suffered.
The major, as he grasped my hand, burst forth : — " Cruel, indeed, are thy destinies ! Subject to laws, expressly made for thy subjugation, yet affecting to be of equal effect with thy subjugators, in each of thy mouldering towns, the remnants of a past and irrecoverable independence fill the heart of the stranger with pity for thy woes ; the smiling fertility of thy soil mocks only the wretchedness of thy rent-trodden inhabitants ; while the scowling gaol is filled with the victims of statutable ofiences, which statutable crime, in the shape of poverty, begets I The splendid churches, which deform the harmony of thy more modest erections, smile in conscious victory over the soil, and in solemn emptiness re-echo the unregarded service of a powerful clergy — a clergy crying for the enlarge-
168 FAREWELL TO IRELAND.
ment of gorgeous edifices ever empty, and for the ' increase of revenues, already in their abundantt ' fruitful only of litigation and oppression !
" But the cry has gone forth ; the consciousoea of wrongs has been awakened ; and if to the frieml of Ireland — that friend who has braved the stonn of combined, though opposite creeds, the desperate Chartist, and the designing but ccxilly catculatiiig tory, that friend who remains imhurt amidEt tin machinations of parties iu all things else irrecuo- cilable, belonged nothing more than the nifrit of fully ex])!aining tlie injuries under which hU native land groans to his aggrieved eountryvaai, be would still claim and receive the gratitude of Ireland, and ultimately of England.
" Thy interests are the eame ; thy wel&re and peace are the safeguards of those of thy sister, the dominant land ; and even while I write — rebelHiHi, stalking forth in its most hateful character, based <m the assertion of do principle, and excused by no otherwise remediable wrong — thy children have proved how valuable is their friendship, how price- less the influence which has sustwned thy obe- dience!"
I responded to the major's apostrophe with equal ardour.
Ireland, farewell ! In future times I will agun visit thy shores — in future times, when justice to thy claims hath been extorted from the grasp of
FAREWELL. 169
an inconsiderate or oppressive legislature, when equal laws shall be administered by equal magis- trates, and the foul distinction, of which religion unjustly bears the opprobrium, is no more !
But thy prosperity may be ensured ; employ- ment to thy numerous children wiU, with equal laws, again revisit thy prolific mountains and plains; mines yet undiscovered will change thy now sterile promontories into sources of wealth ; and in the renewed exertions of the artificer will thy importance among nations be established. Long, indeed, has a direction of thy energies, to objects worthy of their powers, been overborne by the cries of the selfish landlord, or more injurious dissensions of religion ! That direction will return under a mild and conciliatory government ; and the reproach of poverty shall no longer be the general one in the mouths of those governors from whom it is alone derivable.
But, even as thou art, Ireland, thy wildness and thy beauties have touched me j and, when I behold the aristocratic display which every where covers England, I cannot but exclaim, *^ I love the land of mountain and of flood !"
VOL. II.
170 SCOTCH BTBAMm.
CHAPTER Xn.
Scotch StMun Picket — Scenery of Afgyl«eliir> — Hw pfii- Rock of DmnlMutoQ^-Tbe Fatal llaniMli O i w umli lapMi tioDB of Hotel Keepers — Inverary Castle — Diagraeefol deeef tion practised on the Eoglish Sportsman — ScmndaJoas duxfei at the Inns — Preserves without Ghune — A Scotch faindhfltf* and his Steward going Snacks — Scene at a Highland Idd— Loch Fyne — A Night on the Lake — Herring Fiahing— A Whale— A Steamer—Accident to a Herring Boat.
The Scotch packets are worthy imitation in their construction. Our passengers were a motiey as- sembly of merchants — American and Irish— of dealers of all sorts, and a sulky Scotch captun, who presided at dinner, and troubled himself litde beyond his personal conveniences, and never opened his mouth but for the laudable purpose of cram- ming it.
The dinner was good, though the execrable cook cut off all the fins of the turbot, because he hap- pened to be rather large !
The ear soon becomes reconciled to the silveiy
SCOTCH STEAMER. 1/1
intonation of the brogue ; there is something of euphony in it, which at once pleases even a fasti* dious stickler for the purity of language. But the sharp and peering tones of the low Scottish is productive of any thing rather than a pleasurable impression.
I was somewhat surprised to find that travel did so little for the removal of the native enunciation. Here were persons conversing shrewdly of their sojourns in London, in New York, and elsewhere, but who spoke of their peregrinations in a dialect which would lead to a belief that they had never moved from their native mountains.
The passage, on the whole, was an agreeable one ; as, in about four hours, we entered the beau- teous Clyde. The mists hung on the rocks that bounded the speckled bay, amid which might be observed numberless packets threading their way in every direction. What a contrast with the southern shores of Ireland ! There, no steam- packet, hardly a vessel of any kind, appears, un- less by misadventure.
The scenery here, in all other respects, is equally ruthless. The rocky shores of Argyteshire differ not, except in less of splendour, from those of Ire- land ; masses of mountains, as there, alone arrest the eye. Yet was the Clyde crowded by vessels, indicating wealth, employment, and happiness.
l2
A
172 TUB OLTDK.
As the Clyde uarrows, its shores appear stmliM will) habitations, apparently of very recent tm atruction, aud generally in a good style of arebfi tf'clure. These continue to attract the attectiai till the celi^brated rock of Dumbarton appears, anj with which is associated all the reminiscences (^ Scotland's days of independence. It stands ^nxdt perpendicularly from the stream, and is fortified by rows of guns. It is now a military dep6t, aoi contains fifteen hundred stand of arms. i
Impervious as it appears, it was once scaled The leader of tliis dangerous exploit was Crawforf of Jordan Hill, who, in the reign of Queen Mary (in whose possession it then was), under coi"er d the night, liad advanced, withouc disturbing tfas guards, to the basis of the rock, and had planted his ladders, which, from the unmenBe height, could only be made to reach from point to point, ai the projections of the rock were guned. In the ad* vance, one of his men was seized with epilepsy :— his falling would have disturbed the guards, and caused instant discovery ; he was, therefore, latJud securely to the ladder, while the rest ascended to their desperate, but ultimately successful, enter' prize. The fort was taken, and the epileptic ie> moved unhurt to the ground 1
The passage up the Clyde awakens a thousand refiections. The warlike weapons of a brave pec^
THE FATAL BEQUEST. 1/3
now converted into the loom and the ploughshare ; the proud domes, which industrious commerce has raised, now cover those wastes which once were the scenes of battle and of blood.
There stands the fatal bequest — the mansion of the Blantyres. The history of it is short, and is in the memory of all. Lord Blantyre had been bequeathed £40,000 to build a mansion suited to the dignity of the family. It was planned and partly proceeded in by Sir J. Wyattville; but, when half completed, it was discovered that nearly double the amount would be required to finish it. Disappointment at the delay, and other causes, induced Lord Blantyre to visit Brussels. He arrived at that then turbulent city the day before the revolution, and, on the first outbreak of popular violence, his attention being aroused by the firing, he looked out of the window of his hotel to seek the cause : — a shot, that moment fired by one of the insurgents, passed through his head, and he fell lifeless on the floor of his own drawing-room.
The increase of bustle on the shores, and the continued passing of vessels on all hands, as the river graduaUy contracts, denote our approach to the sea-port of the beauteous Clyde. Forests of masts, stretching upwards from the enormous hulls which bear the names of all the great commercial cities of the world, excite our surprise. So far
17^ GREENOCK.
from the emporium of commerce, England — to little assisted by Boil or climate — situated among dangerous and narrow Beas — yet the ports d Greenock and Glasgow hava won themselves an importance liardly surpassed by the inhabitants uf more favoured lands.
The hissing of tlie steam and the shoute of the tailors denote that the vessel is at its desttnatioo ; and, amid the detestable nuisance of a hundred porters and as many hotel-touters, one is ehouldiered and hurried and bothered on to the quay uf Greenock.
I would strongly advise all travellers who^ fiv the first time, visit the ports of ScotiancI, to cut aside all that politeness which they may have acquired in regarding the attentions of the pMfik in other lands. Here we must push maofiilly to make any way at all, and the perseverance c^ tin hosts of vagabonds who surround the luggage it irrepressible.
By dint of hard fighting, however, the hotel i$ at last achieved ; and, on the first civil inquiry cms makes as to what can be had in the way of refnah- ment, twenty per cent, on the ordinary charges is at once very honestly added to the biU, becauM ye are bonnie English. This may seem an impudent practice; but it must not, however, be doubted | as I took the liberty of comparing my own Inll
LOCH FYNB. 175
with that of a Scotch gentleman, who had, in the next room, precisely the same accommodation as myself. I remonstrated with the landlord, who, after failing to convince me that his charges were quite regular^ had at last the impertinence to ob- serve that he kept his hotel for Scotch gentlemen, and, if English people came, they must pay English prices.
I have noted, and shall as I proceed make many remarks on the charges of innkeepers, for two reasons:— -one, because impositions of that kind really disturb and annoy persons whose pursmt is amusement ; — ^next^ that it is only on the particular route, generally frequented by the English, that these imposts prevail.
If, however, one is disposed to grumble at the demands of landlords, the smile of content returns on discovering the charges of steam-travelling. From Greenock to Inverary (upwards of one hun- dred miles), for half-a-crown 1 This invitation was not to be resisted, and, at nine the following morn- ing, I was punctually on board the Argyle ; and, in about two hours afterwards, dashing through the Kyles of Bute.
The entrance to Loch Fyne is not engaging, though the beautiful islands of Bute and Arran are highly interesting. But as no sport beyond the slaughter of a seagull, or the occasional hook-
176 tNTB&AKT.
ing a cod or conger, would repay tlie vin^ I niMtd them vitbout repiniiig,
Ab we approached the entrfuice of Tarfaati; Ar. eeenery assumed a nigged and wildly iaifilnfn to- peaiance ; nor was it enlivened by the hoair tag which, as we passed up the lake, obaciued the pum promontories till our sodden prozimi^occaiiOQedu involuntary shudder. Nothing, howeTer,caii be me safe than the navigation of this beautifbl laka.
As we approached our destination the stm (nob through the fog, and presented the eardJkoiue of the Duke of Argyle, and the little town, if I may so dignify it, of Inverary.
The Duke's castle is a pitiable attempt at the grand, and reminds one of those cockney pre-
INVERARY. J 77
tences at castle-building which impoverish the merchants who deal in oyster-shells, and may be seen on every road leading out of London. The style is altogether so dissonant with the grandeur of the scenery amid which it is placed, that at first sight it is difficult to make any chari- table allowance for the bad taste of its architect, and a sort of irrepressible quarrel with him is mentally begotten. In a few minutes, however, our displeasure is removed as we nm alongside the little quay of Inverary.
The arrival of the packet was soon noised about the town, and the collection of the whole inhabi- tants on the quay was a matter of a moment. There was little choice : two inns were presented ; the one fronting the lake, and setting forth all the attractive appearance of the fashionable watering- places on the banks of the Thames ; its numerous windows and altogether cockney style of architec- ture would have induced the traveller to imagine he was still within steam range of the bills of mortality. But the discordant din of the locusts who seized the luggage — a wheelbarrow, car, or cart, being a matter wholly beyond the arrange- ments of the landlords in whose employ these screamers were — soon recalled one to a conscious- ness of the locale. One ragged villain seized a small box — another, a bag — ^a third, a fishing-rod —
15
178 INVBEABT,
a fimrth, m deik— «iid to GO, tQl I found in mftnii about seven porten, each dignified bj tba basgnih eion that he was entMed to a spedfie and aspante fee for the important servioea he landared mfsanj^ ing the trifling burden about one hvndrad yaidi. The demands were all made, and flloqaenl^y •► feiced at the door of the inn ; and, to escape fisai the general oonfurion, I desired the waiter to psy what was proper and discharge the partiea, TUi he did by pving them half-a-crown lor a servios that would have been^ to an English porter, ampir repaid by sixpence*
Immense display was made at the inn. Much bowing and curtseying and bother before I could get into any room fit for a reasonable creature who was worthy of the dignity of such Scotch attention. That, indeed^ was dirty enough ; but still it was a room, and that is something where the extent (tf the town is complained of as a great evil by the proprietor of the soil. Mine, indeed, wai not the first-rate hotel; it ranked, among the variety of two, as second best ; but both were the property of the Duke of Argyle, as indeed are all the houses of this town ; and it had long since been determined, I presume, by his agent, to allow no other, in order to secure the inordinate rents which were demanded and received. The traveller, therefore, has no al* temative ; it is useless to complain ; and though.
INVERARY. 179
through the autumn (at which period my imlucky star led me to Inverary), it frequently happens that the guests are compelled to sleep over a blacks smith's shop, and sometimes in their own carriages, yet a direct veto has been put upon any increase in the number of hotels.
The last few years have made a perfect revolu- tion in the village of Inverary — a revolution which has not been favoured by the short-sighted policy of the representative of the proprietor. The tour of Scotland has become essential to the education of all classes ; and although I had hit on this route by perfect accident, I found that I had the penalty to pay of following after the foolish, the extrava- gant, and the money-glorious citizens of other lands.
Nothing can be more disgusting than the com* bined determination of the inhabitants of a town to fleece the unhappy strangers who may be led in their innocence to visit their precincts ; but in the highest degree is this conspiracy to be execrated, when it is found that the lords of the soil are the abettors. It is and may still be said that the town is large enough for the proprietor, and that he does not wish that it should be larger. The de- mand for accommodation, however, outstrips the supply, and it is impossible to be secure of even a night's lodging at Inverary, as the duAe does not
H
IW THE INNS.
ehooee to allow more building. It ts trae that he has erected in front of the lake about sixty bot^ OD the very wall of his park ; so that no outlet, except upon tlie strand, is pcnnitted. Tliese hula are hut of one story and one door ; the ivnts are immoderately high, but the acconunodation fuited only to Scottish habits ; and, among them, delicscy does not stand pre-eminent — the open strand of the lake affording the common receptacle of e\ers impurity, without baslifuhiess deposited.
Ijodgtngs may sometimes be had by application duly made some year before, and by submission to the grossest extortion in the way of rent. The inhabitants have but one idea — it is a useful one, well carried out, and it is but fiur to say that they do carry it out — that of stripping the touring English fools who in myriads flock to their pet^ and uucleansed town.
It has been decided by Her Majesty's Court of Queen's Bench, that, to say of an inn, " he who stays there must have a long purse," is no libel. I may, therefore^as I really wish to afford useful information to my successors in the tour of the highlands — duly premise that ac ample supply of coin is the first requisite ; as the Clarendon is tolerably modest, when compared not only with the inns of Inverary, but all that have been erected into such on the line called the popular tour.
THE INNS. 181
Time was that one could travel through the high-^ lands and enjoy the lowly accommodation which the modest halting-houses presented, and escape with a charge in a degree commensurate with the accommodation afforded. Now, indeed, every such hostelry has been metamorphosed into an inn of pretence ; with a gentleman waiter, duly en- sconced in a black suit, to lay before you dirty tablecloths, steel forks, and execrable stuff, digni- fied by the appellation of dinner. This is per- formed, too, with the conscious air of one bestowing a benefit ; while the landlord awaits to receive your thanks for the kind interest he has taken in your welfare — in permitting you to be housed at all.
The truth is, that the inns on the highland tour, which have been very recently erected, and let at enormous rents, cure now the only places where a rest- ing-place may be found. All who travel must stop at them ; and, though it frequently happens that par- ties of ladies are compelled to sleep in what is called the coffee-room, and on chairs, and sometimes even in their own carrisiges, the influx of tourists is still so great that the stranger is at the mercy of the landlord, who would by no means tolerate any remonstrance as to the unreasonableness of the charges. The enormous rents demanded by the landed proprietors, whose houses these all are.
IS2 INNS.
contribute greatly to keep ap and encounge Ha syBteni of extortion wiiicli will be universally too- plained of in a ScottJBb tour.
There is no remedy for this, but to avoid tbr place. And why should it be sought, when thi search brings one among persons whose only <^>j«cl is fleecing — whose only welcome is bought Bt ■ price of so unequal amount; while the spleiKy highlands of Ireland, whose inhabitants would fiock to serve the stranger, and where moderation in ill demands will be found, are still neglected or tm- known ? The gorgeous e<juipBged which 1 ban beheld daahing up the mountains from luTefsiy, burdened with the wealthiest of the wesltby ■» of England, whose lavish expense enriches oaly tti grasping landlord, but scatters no genial good to the poor, would, had their course been directed vf the still mcHe magnificent mountains of Keny, Connemara, or Clare, have been the means ol saving many a starving family, whose real dis- tresses and privations remain unknown to tbe rast of the world,
I have, however, now to speak of Scotland. It is not the country for a sportsman. The land* lords here, indeed, are too canme to pomit it; and it has long lived on a reputation that, I tnist, every year will contribute to dissipate.
I found at the inn Lord F , Ct^ptaio D- ,,,,
GAME OF SCOTLAND. 183
of the Guards, and Captain F , all good sports- men and true. They had, however^ just returned from where they had been induced, by the repre- sentations of the steward, to purchase the shooting over a considerable estate. Their expressions of disgust at the paltry imposition practised on them need not be repeated. The sum was one hundred pounds; the terms of invitation contained also assurances that the red deer were abundant. Not one found they ; as, I believe, they had disap- peared from the estate in question about the same time that the elk took his leave. A few and very few grouse rewarded a fortnight^s toil, and reim- bursed them for their one hundred pounds. But they had the pleasure of residing, during their short sojourn, at a small inn belonging to the same proprietor, whose landlord had not forgotten that they were persons capable of paying well for moun- tain mutton, since they had so liberally disbursed for a few grouse.
I believe nearly every estate that can bear a long advertisement is now let in this way for the season, and the continued succession of hirers is really marvellous.
On one half of the estates thus let there is not, and in the memory of man never was, any game. Yet, in the highlands of Scotland, to be seen with a gun is an offence against the aristocracy, which
184 OAME OF SCOTLAND.
they will by no means pardon. In no country in tfc« world — not even tbe civilixed tracts of England- is game more strictly preserved than here ; asd it | is well to preserve it, if it be not desired that il i should become altogether extinct. But tlie sttid guard is not appointed for the generous purpoK, ' as in otiiftr countries, of aS'ording sport to lie ' friends of the proprietor ; true to the national cha- racter, it is looked on only as a source of gain, ukI a mode of booing the wealthy English out of their money. In one instance, so gross was the imposi- tion, and so utterly void of truth was tlie repre- sentation of the existence of game, that the deluded gentleman, who had absolutely paid two hundred pounds for the season's shooting, very properl; called the proprietor to account, and distincdy told him that he should consider him answerable tat the deception under which he sufiered. The answer he received was of a character befitting the trans- action ; — a part of the money was returned, but with an assurance from the lord of the soil that the deputation of the manor was always placed in hii steward's hands, and never directly or remotely interfered in by himself; and it could, aa he ob- served, be hardly reasonable that the proprietor should be answerable for the acts of the steward.
The delicate ignorance of the acts of the deputy, although the proceeds had doubtless found their
A SPORTSMAN. 185
way into the pocket of the master without inquiry, was very admirable, and excused the latter from any very personal responsibUity.
There is no absence of novelty, however, in In- verary ; nor was a subject of mirth long wanting. The dinner, which, in Inverary, is a sort of table d'koiej at which persons of all classes must meet in the long common room, introduced a new sports* man. His dress was of the completest order, and must necessarily have been constructed in the im* mediate neighbourhood of Bond Street : — a striped shooting-jacket, of very expensive and delicate texture 5 a velvet waistcoat, covered with pockets, in each of which was deposited something guarded by gold chains of several varieties ; gaiters, assimi* lating with the coat ; and the whole surmounted by a broad-brimmed and low-crowned hat. As he entered the room he beat down several spaniels, which, much to the annoyance of the waiters, were desirous of introducing themselves to the general acquaint€mce of the company.
" Waiter, what is my bill ?" said the gentleman, with an air of apparent nonchalance.
" See, sir," said the silken-hosed knight of the napkin.
" No sport to-day, sir," said the captain — whose perfect good humour, rough though gentle- manly exterior, and bland manners, at once threw aside all ceremony.
IBS TAVERN BILL.
" Fired at fiAeen seagulls from the lake, but never hit one, 'pon my honour."
'* That was surprising, indeed,'^ said the captais-
" Out of practice," returned he — '* rather out vl practice since I have been in Scotland, aiid mj dogi •eem to have forgotten any thing relating to gana Upon my honour I found them worrying the fowl* at the doors of the cottagers."
" The bill, sir," said the waiter, with an off-hawl dash that betrayed the consciousness of a ooming storm.
The seagull sportsman ran over the items, aid it waa uot difficult to perceive, by ttie sudden eloo> gation of the countenance, that he had been tika aback.
" Forty-seven pounds, ten — for three wed>^ it's impossible ! — I didn't pay half so much at Brighton. — Forty.Beven pounds, ten — waiter?"
" That is the bill, sir ;"— a» that very importaBt personage slammed the door, the ninse was twke ae great as any reasonable necessity demanded, and I felt half inclined to chastise the fellow fer the impertinence ; but I reflected that there was no alternative, and I resumed my observation of the equipped stranger.
Dinner was served, and be joined the party witii an apparent determination to take things eaailj.
TAVBEN BILL. 187
This is a very good determination, and generally lasts till the dinner is over ; after which, the full tide of unpleasing reflection is apt to recur, and the stimulus of two tumblers of Scotch whiskey- pimch excited the indignation which might have slim[ibered under a more temperate regimen.
** A glass of wine," said Lord F.
^* Certainly, my lord."
^^ A glass of wine," said the captain.
And glasses of wine and whiskey-punch over- came the young gentleman. He became commu- nicative of matters that he had heretofore held in secrecy,
** It's very well to talk of glasses of wine — sir, your good health — but not quite so easy to pay forty-seven pounds, ten — I give you my honour that I never would have visited so iniquitous a coimtry, had I not been grossly deceived. What could I want in Scotland ?"
^^ I understood you came to shoot."
^^ Why that's the most provoking part of the forty-seven pounds bill — Shoot? I had better con» tinned black birds than black cocks. There was a talk, at Margate, of the glorious shooting of Scot- land. I hired a carriage, set off with my horses, and tooled the whole way at a tolerable cost. One of my horses dead on the road ; the other, some Scotch dealer knows more of than I — as he was
188 THE SPORTSMAN.
stolen a fortnight aft^r he was turned out. But these disappointmeiits were nothing, as I presen my dogs and my gun; and the glorious hops' killing black cocks, like sparrows, kept up i spirits.'*
" I suppose you killed a great many," I < served, with much modpsty.
" You shall hear — I sprang ashore, detenu^ to begin inmiediately the glorious sport wliich R so long excited me. Ordering, therefore, a h4 snack, I sallied forth towards the muirs, and beg hunting the gorse right and left, I thought ] see tiiat my ammunition was all right, ajid wi that view i sent off both barrels, tipon my I nour, one would have supposed I wa^ in the pi serves of some English park. Up came from evs quarter brawny fellows, armed with bludgeoi hallooing in their unintelligible Scotcli stuff. I first thought it was impossible they sliould hi the audacity to address me — me, wlio had fooi all the way from London at so immeasurable cost, for the sole purpose of shooting on the barr moors. 1 was soon relieved — the first was a buU ing farmer, who very peremptorily demanded i name and residence, and assured me that I shot have the pleasure of a sunmions the next day have the honour of appearing before a set of P magistrates ; while the others declared their inte
THE SPORTSMEN. 189
ti(ii) of very quietly walking me off the moors.— I remonstrated,"
" You had reason, and I trust you subdued them," said the captain.
" I simply asked where the deuce I was to shoot. They assured me ttiis was Scotland, and that there was not a mountain open for any gentleman to shoot, notwithstanding the appalling distance I had tooled down for that especial purpose ! And see the event — my horses are gone — my carriage will be sold for the standing-room. I have had nothing but the quay sport at a poor seagull or two. 1 have, upon my honour, a most detestable headache, and a tavern bill of for^-seven pounds, ten."
The disappointment was, however, well shared by the party. Some, in addition to the tooling down, had paid a hundred pounds for their loss of time.
The resolutions solemnly arrived at by all parties never again to be entrapped by Scottish shooting were general ; each protesting that he would eschew every thing that was Scoteh thenceforward, except the whiskey, and (it was a provision of my owd] the fishing.
The lugubrious countenances of the party, as they each for himself recounted the deceptions under which he had been entrapped, wore however
190 THE SPOETSMEN,
suddenly lighted up by the arrival of the ajcoid steamer. There were hosts of young gentlemai landiug, especially careful of their dogs and gun* cases, and aU meditating destruction dire to tbr grouse, at which they would not be permitted cvai to look, or anticipating sacks of game from eetsts which were productive only in the monej they had paid for the indulgence of walking over their bsf- renness ! It was impossible to resist joining in the loud laughter commenced by the young gentl^nisn of the Bond Street 8hooting>jacket ; and I fear the strangen, as they deposited their guns and gan orders for the care of their dogs, must have thowfat they had been thrown aniidst a party toon hifauiooi than polite.
" It's some cmnfort that we are not alone in Hit swindle," said the captun.
" And that's the only comfort," replied he of Hie shooting-jacket. " I'd double my bill to see the same faces aft«r their return ftom the mountains."
My stay was long enough to find that the prog> nostjcatioos of my companions were verified. The grouse- shooterB who returned brtjught with tliem most of their ammunition, which perliaps was tlis chief thing they had preserved in tlieir tour.
It was evening. The autmnn sun shed his golden rays on the motionless lake, from whence arose the varied reflections surpassing all that art can effect.
LOCH FTNB. 191
I hate fine writing, or I would give a growing pic- ture of the evening on Xjoch Fyne. But, ae tint finest writing — a detestable thing in itself — would do no justice to the scene, I shall content myself with Betting forth the tacts ; — that there were at least three hundred veaaels, of amall tonnage, giit> tering in the calm twilight, and all preparing for the night's herring- fishing. It is impossible to conceive a more charming scene than the autumn evening on Loch Fyne. The variety of tinges which the overhanging woods present — the trans- lucent lake, ^Kitted with innumerable sails — and the silvery eclu^ which carries, from boat to boat, and from the boat to the shore, every word tbat is uttered — all contribute, if one could forget a tavern bill, to realize the highest notions which the most romantic traveller may have formed.
INVERARV-LOCB FYNE.
192 A NIGHT ON LOCH FTKB,
At the suggestioii of the captain wb proriUt bottle of whiskey, and in a £bw "»ftfnwiti we mm on the lake, and making way to die neamt heniflg* boat. The reception we met was cordial.
'' I'm thinking ye'U nae stand the canU ilk neght, maesters — it's awful cold ftlie wAman, draing th' nets. But ye maun ha'e the fieak aad ye're welcome, ony way/*
We were soon on board — the g^Unious tmf tn of the cabin smothering everybody and every flaag with smoke, while the little vessel was under ssiL One side the lake presented a black and impene- trable mass, that shed o'er the waters the imagined darkness of Erebus ; while, on the Inverary side, which was tipped with the rays of the now rising moon, all looked life. But the appearance of the moon was unfavourable.
" There'll be nae herring maze the neght," said one. " The de'ils will swim too low."
We now hailed another vessel which passed us on the other tack. Our inquiries were answered by information that we were all wrong — that the herrings were up the lake — a discovery which had been made by an immense flight of seagulls and gannet in that direction. In a moment our helm was up, and we glided smoothly before the wind.
This movement conveyed the signal to all the rest of the fleet, as it appeared that the least
SHOOTING NETS. 193
alteration of the course ia one vessel immediately attracted attention, and all followed. The breeze freshened, and, the moon being obscured by a heavy cloud, the men began to cheer up and look for a good night.
At length the screaming of the wild fowl ap- prized us that we were among the shoal. The boat's head was brought to the wind, and the first buoy discharged. This is an enormous skin, filled with air and tarred, and sustains about ten yards of net. As the boat dropped astern, the men cleared out the nets, well leaded, attached to suc- cessive buoys ; from whence the sust^ning cord may be easily lowered, so aa to allow the net to sink deep or to be drawn to the surface at pleasure. Four hundred yards of net, about eight feet in depth, were now let out, and the boat moored to the last buoy, with her head to the wind.
We soon found ourselves surrounded by other boats, till, at last, as far as the eye could trace over the lake, the surface was covered with the herring smacks. The nets being out, the fire was cleared, and we descended to the cabin. Little or no care need be taken of the boats, the whole of Loch F^ne being free from shallows or rocks, and the depth from five to seventy or eighty fathoms.
Those who have never enjoyed the repast of the Loch F^ne fisherman know nothing of the per-
VOL. II. K
194 THE REPAST.
fbction of eating. It is ^ fhe npast^'* u it nens varies^ and is the universal one of the whdb fleet Oatmeal cakes, made and baked on the toif fiie, and herrings, fresh from the lake, and oooked wUk yet the beautiful corruscations of every hue aiefieih on the changing scales. I believe Dr. Mtehenw knew nothing of the herring. The jonmey to hoA Fyne will be amply repaid by the splendoar of the feast it presents.
It was time for the first haul. The buoy hma% first drawn in, the net is gentiy raised to the side of the vessel, and shaken as it is brought in. It will surprise many who are unacquainted with net- fishing to learn that so simple a process is e£Fectual in capturing so timid a fish as the herring. As the net came in, hundreds of these writhing creatures were found sticking in the meshes. The whole process was to shake them out, and the first haul produced about six hundred. How the communi- cation is made I cannot imagine ; but the moment we commenced the haul, every other crew whose boats surrounded us commenced the same opera- tion. The last net, however, did not come well in.
" Hale on — dinna ye ken the deil coal-fish?"
And dash went the net from the hand of the hauler.
We entreated that the monster might be sectired.
fishermen's sonq. 195
" It's nae for the poorful brute we care for — ^hale on — there'll nae be a hale mesh i'th'net !"
My friend, the captain, seized the bottom line, and, by one effort, an enormous animal was secured. It was the coal-fish, which usually follows the her- ring up and down the lake ; and, I believe, seldom leaves it. They are the terror of the herring fisher- men, as they sometimes attack the nets when full of herrings, in shoals, and do infinite damage.
The second shoot having been duly made, and our large hook-lines out, baited each with a brace of fish, we again descended into the cabin. The oatmeal cakes were ready, the herrings on the turf, and our bottle of whiskey tapped. It was a night — the two boatmen began their highland jig, while Rob, the net-haler, performed the piper's duty in a masterly manner. The only tedious part of the exhibition was the continual repetition of the same words* They were these, denuded only of the broad dialect in which they were uttered by the " haler."
Tie night — 'tis night, and the siUery moon
Cries up to the boys of the deep ; Tis night — *ti8 night, and the Seraphine^ soon
Shall see us spring up from our sleep. Ck>me, up with the sails, and the nets prepare ;
Tis night, and the wide-rippled lake, Exhanstless of wealth, invites the fall share
Of the Seraphine*s glorious take,
* The oame of the YesaeL
k2
THE BOAT
Fr:
Umrhat
IwaII tspph- car wmati to tlie last, ti-* lom. St... cQr g«ocn>Qi frieod.
Our revei* were internipted anly by the occa- siooallT necessaiy attention to the deep sea-lines, which ever and anon afforded us either a hake or coal-fish. Little interest, however, was taken in their capture by the boatmen, on wIkhd the whiskej had so effectually done its woi^ that it was impoi- sible to stop the endless repetition — " Tis ne^ght 'tis neeght."
The dancers had now become nuxe sluggish* in their jig, and betrayed some symptoms of drowsi- ness, a feeling which was gently subduing the energies of all the party, when the ciy of terror aroused us — it was a cry that seemed to have been echoed from the rocks over every part of the lake. Id an instant we were on deck. The hallooings of
A SURPRISE. 197
the crews of the countless boats that surrounded us conveyed to me no specific knowledge of the danger, till the captain of our boat exclaimed —
" For the luve of Gaed, mon, cast oflF the hawser ! as ye guard your leeves, up with the sail !"
It was the work of a moment. The nets were cast off, and the little bark dashing through the lake in a contrary direction. There was no time for parley. — ** Aboot with the boat, for the luve of your souls."
At that moment a sound struck my ear, which at once betrayed the whole source of danger : — it was that of a waterfall dashing into a still basin. It was close under our bows as we tacked ; and, had our boat mis-stayed, we had been inevitably lost, as our course was direct upon the enormous back of the whale, from whose spouting the extra- ordinary sound had arisen, and spread so much alarm among the fleet.
Although the Inverary fishermen are on the whole a courageous class of men, it is strange that they have never yet had resolution sufiicient to attack the whales which regularly infest Loch Fyne. It is strcmge also that, as if by some ar- rangement, the number never exceeds three, which are always in the lake, and vary their position only as the shoals of herrings come up or descend the lake. The danger arising from their visits is great ;
198 LASE XIST.
Bs, should the;, in pursuit of their prej, eras i long line of nets, in all probability- tbe^ would cri size or finmder the boats. Tbe deetructiiMi of i the Dcte would be the ioentoble conseqneocv of I visit. I
On this ocra$ioD the whale had aaf^j pal amid tbe wboW fleet, not withoiat eKcitiog tbe Ol extmra^iaot demooGtratioiM of alarm smoi^ i crews. We were soon off bis txsck, faaTiiw W made acquaintance with his ooutBe; and, ha«| recovered our nets, we proeeeded to nake ll second haul, it woulJ liat-e been a very proda tive one, but that from having been allowed to v main too long down, tbe conger eels and coal-fil had been exceedingly buEy in the process of decani rating the heads, which remained in rows, 5tickti to the meshes.
As Uie morning advanced a thick mi^ am which utterly obscured all objects, but seemed I a^ist in the conveyance of the sounds of tl»e fishe men hailing each other with the view of keepii clear. The roar uf tbe steam-packet was mx mingled with the anxious shouts of tbe envelope fleet. Danger was everywhere. So deceptive ai sounds on lakes such as Loch Fyne, bounded I immense masses of rocks, that it was impossible I discern fiom what quarter we might expect to me this terror of the peaceful waters. Sometimes ■
STEAM VESSEL. 199
deed, from the apparent increase of the roar of the paddles, we put our bark round ; and, ere her s^s could 611, the helm was again down, as a new echo assailed us.
I confess I have no greater horror in skiing than tliat of meeting one of these heartless and destruc- tive conveniences. In my anxiety all on board shared. At length there was a cessation of the steamer's roar, and a cry of distress, which soon convinced us that some unlucky boat had fallen in her way. We were not long in ascertaining that this was the fact. The steamer had run foul of an open herring-boat ; and the crew, consisting of fitther and son, were drowned.
On our arrival at the quay, which we effected about seven, a scene of excitement was presented that I shall ill describe. There were congregated many hundreds of the fishermen ; their wives and children all burning with a deep feeling of vengeance towards the captain of the steam-boat, who had been taken into custody preparatory to the inquiry. I know not by what means their indignaUon was kept under control, but the Scotch are not famed for momentary ebullitions. The cool and calculating characteristic by which they have been so long die- ' tinguished from their neighbours, the Irish, was on this occasion remarkably displayed. But I could learn from our own companions who bad joined the
200 THE DROWNED BOATXAN.
throng, that the detennioation seemed to be geusd that the steam-boat should no kmger infest At lakes: that, if ample justice were not done bf At law for what they called the murder of the rw|tai father and scm, some means would be sdoptodtif either scuttling the steamer or of mtm^jttg l^ adrift — a threat which might have been euij accomplished.
The sun had now become master of the mk^ and every small boat of the fleet was in requisidaa to drag for the lost boatmen. Fishermen are gene- rally superstitious, and the Scotch are by no means exempt from the feeling. All the usual employ- ments were abandoned till the bodies should be found ; and, I believe, not one of the whole com- munity would have dared the lake, if he had not first taken his part in the search for the rehiains of his comrades.
The part of the lake on which the accident had occurred was about three miles wide, and, I believe^ about seventy fathoms in depth ; the bottom ine- gular and rocky. The tide at the time was re- ceding; so that, to an ordinary observer, the chances would be remote of ever hitting upon Uie bodies. All grappling-hooks, well loaded with the net-leads, were strung together, so that they would sweep a line of half a mile.
Their eflForts were successful, on the first day, in
THE DROWNED BOATMAN. 201
the recovery of the body of the father. Day after day, however, might these poor people be seen tra- versing the lake, from daylight till the darkness of evening stopped their labours, again to be renewed by the returning morning. The melancholy in- quiries of the loitering fishermen who had taken their turn at the grapplings, watching from the shore the labours of those engaged, in anxious hope of their success, evinced a cordial feeling of sorrow at the misfortune of the lost youth ; and when, after a course of uninterrupted search of many days, the saturated remains were discovered, the assemblage at the funeral showed that real at- tachment and genuine sympathy must be sought among the habitations of the poor alone !
The captain of the steamer heid already gone through the examination which was necessarily in- stituted. His witnesses, who were chiefly com- posed of his own crew, gave so good an account of the accident that he was at once released. I have not learned whether he resumed the command of the vessel ; but, taking the circumstance only as it appears, real regret may be felt that the vessel should have been allowed on such a morning, espe- cially when it was well known that there were at least five hundred fishing-boats scattered over the lake, to have attempted her voyage. I do not pre- tend to pass any judgment on the conduct of the
KB
30-2
SCOTCH CAM:ri.ATION.
k.-&ptaiii or tlie ctpw. but it was impoesifak ■Qtl> fc«i tliat two uooffeoding indix-idoals had sacrificed to tjie " atiri tarra fama." Perhaps, however, this feeling may be impugned, and in (ila^gow anotlier mode of calculation mny be Kiloptfd : W'hat are Uie lives of a few gslimnca tt) tlie a<^qulrement of a few pounds in the cuispe' titiou of two steam-boats?
THE HUIR LOCHS. 203
CHAPTER XIII.
The Muir Lochs, Inverary — Varieties of Trout — Civility of a Scotch Farmer — A Clever Trick — A Day*8 Fishing on Loch Fyne — Meeting with an Old Mendicant.
The Muir Lochs are five miles from Inverary, through a wild and barren chain of mountains, in the bell of which rise seven lakes. The nearest point to which a car can bring the fisherman, is the foot of the hill near the farm. Thence begins a rugged ascent, along the pass effected by the rapid stream which descends from the lakes.
On arrival at the summit of the mountain, which at once overlooks the lakes above and the splendid Loch Fyne below, the magnificent variety of the scene will amply repay the labours of the climber. The deep blue of the sea, contrasted with the sil- very lightness of the fresh waters — the latter so many hundred feet above the former — the variety of hue which the autumn had spread over the expan- sive heather, and the few dots that represented
•Ktbi
"» Hi IWrei,
«. I,
rfo
THE HUIR LOCHS. 205
the day's sport. It was mj only attempt ; and I meDtion these pools, rather because the aiigler who may visit Inverary is very unlikely to hear of them at all, so little are they regarded. There are very inviting spots for encampment ; and, in the sum- mer, a night jrassed amidst this scenery would not be deficient in amusement.
Weary and cold, as the evening set in, I very gladly availed myself of the kitchen fire of a farmer who resides at the bottom of the mountains, the spot at which I had directed my car should take me up. Nothing e4)uld be more civil than the in- mates, who pressed roe to sit in their parlour, where there was no fire ; being, in their estimation, a much more dignified way of passing the time than in resuscitating the animal heat beside the kitchen range. I declined any change, however, of that kind, well satisfied to sink all my dignity in the real comfort of the blaze. I could not but feel that the intention was civil, and, as the parties ap- peared far too respectable to allow me to make any pecuniary offer to themselves, on leaving the house in search of my voiturier, I put a shilling into the hand of the shoeless ancilla, who trotted about in great apparent awe and discomfort during my stay.
Just as I had found the car, and was preparing for departure, I perceived the damsel pursuing us
206 THB GENEROUS GIFT.
in great haste. I stopped for her nicwsifln ; it mi to return the shilling, aoooidiiig to iha dirBCtioMsf her mistress, and also to deliyer me a request fifM her that I would accept a turicej* ^duch die hsd that morning killed.
I was really overwhdmed by the civility, wlodil could not decline, as it was apparently so foj much an object with both Ae mistreH and Hie maid, for what reason I could not divine, that I should not slight the kindness. I tfaerefoie pn- sented my best acknowledgments, accompanied bj a request that, as they would send to market od the following day, it might be left at my lodgings at Inverary. I insisted on the servant accepting a couple of shillings for herself, which slie did.
If, thought I, as I rumbled homeward in the car, I should ever have the misfortune to write a book for the revenge of mine enemies, I will do full justice to the liberality and kindness of the Scottish fieuiner. X^'^ho talks of the Scotch as selfish, in- sincere, and inhospitable ? Who exclaims against the thrifty and saving cunning of the northern mountaineers ? Nothing can be more unjust. Not content with the common hospitality I asked, I am sent away with gifts of value.
How charming is the unsophisticated life of the hospitable farmer of the mountains ! little knows he of the deceits of society and the world. The
THE GENEROUS GIFT. 207
boundless hills and rich vales supply him abun- dantly, aod to spare. Surely, if we should travel tlirough the world, this life of innocence, with the means to dispense kindness to others, and the heart to do so, would be the one of all others the angler, at least, would prefer. I became reflective, and had serious thoughts of turning Scotch farmer, and passing the rest of my days among men so simple, virtuous, and, therefore, happy.
Meanwhile, however, I had no intention of avail- ing myself of the friendly present so generously made, and thought of little the whole way home- ward but the mode in which I should best show that I was not unmindful or ungrateful. A pre- sent of some English production, not easily pro- curable in Scotland, was determined on.
The morning brought the maid with the turkey ; she had come as usual to market, but my kind friends had not forgotten the turkey. I desired she might be introduced with her burden.
" Uf ye plase, I hae brought the tourkay, wi missus' complements, and hopes ye'll leek it"
I was really so overcome by the attention, that I feared my message of thanks might lose something in the hands of the messenger. I therefore pre- sented her with a shilling for her trouble, fmd re- quested she would be seated, while I, by letter, sent back my acknowledgments.
a08 THE OENEROUa GIFT.
Some people oompoee a letter of tfaanke emBj^ I acknowledge it is by no means mj toKte^ a cir- cumstance which may arise fiom the hmg of any necessity for exercising the art. I was time^ therefore, in domg justice to mj fnnBup towards these respectable people, who had so dioih terestedly selected me as the object of their regnd and bounty. But at length I did finidi it^ aai sealed it with care, in order that my reaped mi^ be therein manifested. Among other things in the note, I had certainly hinted that such an m- stance of kindness should not be forgotten, and I trusted that, in any little present I should have the pleasure of forwarding to them, they would not imagine that I could for a moment consider that I had discharged myself of the obligation which their kindness had thrown on me.
I put the letter in the hands of the girl with satisfaction, resolving that, on the moment of her departure, I would write to Glasgow to direct some English bit of manufacture should be forthwith for- warded to me. I sat down, therefore, for this purpose ; but the girl did not move. I intimated that my note would explain all I wished to say to her mistress.
** The bit note is naething ; if ye plase, Musrus told I that the tourkay waur five shillen, and I waumt to gang wi'oot the money nae gait, and I
LINE FISHING. 209
waumt to leave it wi'oot the money ony way ; sae ye'll just gi me the five shillen."
My hypothesis and its ramified superstructure were at once shivered to atoms. I was the victim of as clever a trick as Scotch wit could have de- vised. I considered only a moment, requested to see my note again, put it behind the fire, gave the girl her five shillings, mentally consigning both her and her mistress to the acquaintance of a person of warmer temperament even than myself.
The girl departed smiling at the receipt of five shillings ; she had reason, for a tougher old cock turkey never put in danger the tooth of man. On inquiry I found the price of a good turkey was about three shillings and sixpence. I had paid eight, and had exhausted iny ingenuity in the elegance of the phrases by which I had endeavoured to express my gratitude for being permitted to enjoy so great an honour.
But the charms of Loch Fyne soon dissipated all chagrin ; and the hearty laugh of the captain, who had prepared a boat for our day^s fishing, was a fair remuneration for the tough turkey. Our in- quiries had been wholly unsuccessful as to line- fishing. There was but one boat on the upper part of the lake so employed, and the crew were old soldiers, one with a wooden leg. All effective hands were in continual employ in the herring
210 THE LOCH HEAD.
fishii^, and the whole lake is entirely uninoleEUi thot^h crowded b; cod of an enormoua siM, Bit fish of erorjr dcBcriptioD, including the halibat,u>J last, not least, the interminable oouger.
Our surprise was greetly excited by tfae fact that, in the whole town of Inverary, no sea-tadtk, suited to the purpose of deep fishing;, cotdd \f Ibund ; all epOTtsmen, therefore, who visit tiii lake, must reinember well to supply- tbemahK. Luckily, ( had with me tny Irish apparatus, 1o Scottish lake fishermen utterly unknown.
From the continual supply of small cod, whiting, haddock, and br^n, which the two old soldim fiirojslied, 1 was led to suspect that Loch FJrDe b a breeding lake ; and, on inquiry, I found that tlv oiilv moile adopted by them was the long line b inur fathoms, willi small whiting hooks, muai^ which abound at low water, for bait. "Hie mal water of the lake is from seventy to eighty fathoHHi, and it was determined to adopt the old plan, with large cod-hooks, mounted on wire, and baited with herrings, the natural prey of all the iatga kinds of fish, sunk in forty fathoms.
All things being prepared, my new acquaintanoe and myself set forth, much to the amuBement of the Inverary fishermen, who had not the most n- mote idea that we could possibly meet with any success, the style of tackle being to them whoUj
THE LOCH HEAD. 211
unprecedented. We learned, however, from them that there was one part of the lake which none of them dared attempt with the herring nets, even when the shoals were so crowded on that sf)Ot, that tons might be secured but for the congregation of the " veepers — the deil o' coongers." The truth is, that, whenever this spot has been attempted bjr the herring fisliennen, the larger sorts of fiah, especially the congers, have attacked the nets, and been guilty of irremediable mischief to the adven- turers.
The spot to which I allude is called " the heed o' th' Loch," to which all Inverary fishennen point with horror. Whenever it is discovered, by the flight of the gulls, and other signs, that the shoals have arrived at that gulph, a feeling of pity for them is loudly and generally expressed : " Pmr deils 1 they're in th' leeon's mooth — there '11 ne'er be a scurrack free."
" To the heed o' the loch !" cried I. It was the place for war, such as we intended ; and, having supplied ourselves with abundance of herrings from the boats, set forth on as calm and lovely a morn- ing as the climate of Italy could produce ; there was no ruffle on the glassy lake, in which were perfectly reflected the bold promontories and mas- sive rocks by which it is on each side bounded.
Having crossed the mouth of the rivers Aray and
212 DDNDABVB GAMXC.
Shica, we paned the beautifid paint wliidi bm the boandary of Shira bay. Heie the kk» m coa* aiderably nantmer, but^ as T i wMigS*^^ mw^ **i*ff for, in trying the depth, within one hondnd jitk of the wefltem shore, we could find nobottoBi|eNi with one hundred and fifty fiitlioma.
We were led to the discovery of tlua go^bfi somewhat untoward accident. Determined locflh mence in the deeps, we had let out our low bi; to the buoy, which was a ooik of conaideraUs Mi^ there were at least one hundred yards of di^ cord, sufficient to weigh the stone, which had been made a sinker. To our astonishment it dis8^ peared ; we rowed, therefore, nearer in shore, as- sured that our second buoy, at the other end of the line, would find land, and secure the draught One hundred and fifty yards were let out on the second buoy, and, to our astonishment and mor- tifi(!ation, disappeared in the same placid man- ner, and made no sign. ITiere were fifty IkxJo^ and five hundred yards of stout and well^tretched cord at one fell swoop demolished.
This accident compelled us to make the shore, in order to set up new apparatus. The old castle of Dundarve was glittering in the sun, while the humble hut which was attached to its base well contrasted with the decayed grandeur which io feudal times, when mountain savages were king& had enveloped it.
DUNDARVE CASTLE. 213
The inviting shelter was soon achieved ; and, as we drew up our boat between the jutting rocks, we were accosted by an old and ragged mendi- cant.
" Ye'U nae deceive th' northerns ; I'm thunkin ye'll leetle gain by the s€dlor's jackets. Coom awa, coom awaj ye're gentles, ony way; sae help a puir aud mon wi' yer o'erplus."
The captain invited him to share with us; an offer which the solemn old man seemed rather to take as a right than accept as a favour. Walking solemnly, therefore, to the boat, he forthwith loaded himself with our baskets, bottles, and provisions, and strutted up towards the farmer's hut which ad- joined the castle.
An old woman, who could neither speak nor un- derstand one word of English, grumbled over the fire ; our self-elected companion, therefore, was useful in explaining our wants. They were simple enough — boiled potatoes ; but these the old lady was very unwilling to afford, unless she could be assured of prompt payment; this made matters clear at once, and removed all delicacy. The cap- tain threw down a couple of shillings, seized the pot, filled it from the ** bum," crammed in the Irish fruit, and lighted his hookah. My attention was more directed to the old lady, who, with equal promptitude, seized the siller, and, without any ex-
214 THE GAELIC POET.
pressiou of thanks, darted a few sleni loob it It captain, and disappeared.
Our meal was a hasty one, but not without bo- rings, the greatest luxury of the deep ; ami, on l» production of the stone bottle, which the ictr- thought of my military friend Imd provided, ll» old woman returned, and, witli her, the p^. He was at home in a moment, nor required t «• cond invite to the stoup.
The old lady looked daggerj> at us all; fS, guessing the cause of the mischief, I hftipM her a. cup of the unsophisticated. Sunshine im- mediateJy sprung up in her couuteuance, atti with it a volley of Gaelic, that threatened to (mt- whelm all future communicatioii with each other. It was at length, however, subdued by the pip^< who Btayed the torrent by a sudden squeak ol hii execrable bellows ; the old beggar laughed at the manoeuvre with great heartiness, while the sub- ject of the joke gulped down heavy draughts d raw whiskey, amid a subdued grumble, which ap- peared to be directed to nobody.
" Ye'll nae trouble wi' her," said the tuner. " She's daft, puir body, and will ne'er ken hetml ; and her brother, there, mustjustgetthebitandsup that will keep her frae starvin, puir body. But ye'll heat the history fra' him o* this noble build- ing, tbat naebody dare live in; and its awfii'
THE GAELIC POET.
215
to thunk hoo ony puir craters can hae the courage to bide sae close, V the dreary winter."
The captain laid down his hookah, and handed to the aged mendicant the stoup.
" Your story of the castle ; come, a draught will give you fire."
" Your honours will hae the history faithfully frae me."
" Well, leave thy damnable faces, and begin," cried the captaiiii. " Piper, you must help him by an auncient accompaniment— -a second Homer."
'' Hoomer ! I dinna ken wha's Hoomer ; but ye maun remimber, sir, that ye hae before ye the legeetimat discendant o' the immortal Ossian."
** Then tak your stoup, and begin," cried the captain.
He took his stoup — it was a vigorous one ; he began, but in so vile a dialect, that I cannot hope to imitate it. The translation is as follows.
DUNDABVB CASTLG.
CHAPTER XIV.
The Old HeDdioDt'i SCorj — L«gaiid ot Dandkrre Cutle.
The wild blast blew from the broad lake, the sea- birds Bcreamed, and the wolves howled in answer to the long and echoing strain from the baton's horn, as he stopped at the gates of Duodarve. It was midnight ; and even the Eolitar; guard slum- bered at his post. At the sound he staggered to the portculliB, and fell in terror before the feet of his lord.
DUNDAEVB CASTLE. 217
The baron entered, and with him five forms wrapped in monkish cloaks, which ill concealed the delicate and beauteous beinge they covered. A long train of highland followers brought up the cavalcade, and entered the precincts of the castle.
And the baron led the etraogers to the grand re- fectory, which at his nod was in a blaze of light ; the monkish cowls were laid aside, and the fairy forms of the lovely daughters of Breadal, whose surpassing beauty had been the theme of the poet's song, rivalled the splendour of the goi^;eous hall; but each was absorbed in grief, and, on abandoning the cowl, covered her &st-falling tears in her snowy palms,
"Have I done well?" said a youthful leader of the clan, who now presented liimself before the chief.
" Thou hast accomplished all, and thy reward shall be worthy thy courage. Choose among the captives," answered the stem chief,
" I choose not^" said the youth ; " it is no re- ward to me."
** Take gold, then," eeid the chief. A smile of deep contempt stole over the features of the youth, as he regarded the baron.
" Gold is no reward to me. My chieftain's love is all," said he.
DUNDARVE CASTLE. 219
and the sisters were left to bewail their sudden and merciless captivity.
They had been seized at midnight, covered with the convent dresses, and borne swift as the wind from their father's halls. The castle^ which boasted a thousand inmates, bold and resolute clansmen, had been in a moment surprised, and the fair treasures ruthlessly borne off, ere a guard was pre- pared to stop the invaders.
The baron of Dundarve was a proud, bold, but cruel and merciless tyrant. ^ The possessions of his fathers had been dissipated in his youth, and he had sought to repair his shattered fortunes by an alliance with the house of Breadal. The offer was despised. Revenge absorbed his soul, and we have seen how fatally he had gratified it.
But there was one who thought not of revenge in the part he had taken in the completion of the baron^s plans — one who had watched and even assisted the Dundarve in the accomplishment of the midnight outrage, yet from no hostile motive. It was the youthful kinsman of the chief, who had lumself escorted the sisters, and held off with a powerful hand the attacks of the lawless band by which they had been surrounded. But his heart bled for the victims — as whose would not, beholding their beauty, their innocence, their unmerited dis-
l2
930 LEGEND OP
tnss ! It w&s Ronald, the knightly
Dundaire.
The portcuUb was drawn up as the cIsk ^ Breadal surrounded the waJIs : no summoiBWMii- swerpd froin within but by the sliafts of thebo*- men planted on every 6t«p, and dischargioff 4* afTOws through the crosses. There might le the frantic father and the maddened brother rf fl» beauteous captives in their anguish couitiagdd^ in search of revei^e.
Tlie baron beheld the warlike preparations of li foes with smiles. " DunJarve was Iiis grave," 1» said, " and should be that of thousands." WTA ' the din of battle raged without, and the ftirioo chiefs of both parties were directing the wartit, the sobbing sisters, sustained on each other's bosom noticed not the supplication of Ronald, who vu at their feet imploring the pardon be sea reel t (iaifd to hope. One feir-haired girl deigned to cast her weeping eyes on the penitent soldier, but Bgais withdrew them as in self-reproach.
"Hear ray prayers, my vows 1" exclaimed the knight. " My devotion to the lovely Ellen has been my fault, fraught only with apparent mischief. Without my aid had this violence been done by ruder hands — I hoped to save the lovely sisters of Breadal.
" My prayers were unavailing, my chief was im-
DUNDARVE CASTLE. 221
placable. Hear me, therefore, I beseech ye, and cast not off so lightly the assistance you need. Be patient and calm, obey Dundarve, nor seek resist- ance to his orders. My secret service shall be given to the apparent foe ; on the first occasion that offers the castle shall be their's ; the fair daughters of their house again in triumphant purity shall cheer their noble halls.'*
It was the light-haired Ellen who answered for the rest; it was she alone who smiled in con- fidence and approval. The alarm was sudden : at that moment the old halls rung with the blows dealt on the embattlements. The voice of Dun- darve was heard. Ronald hastened to the conflict.
The sight was terrific ; fires blazed within a hun- dred yards of the castle- walls, while the distant hills gave token of the gathering people by the blazing responses on every eminence. Dundarve had set the watch and retired. Ronald had the outward post. Silence was again restored, as the besiegers quietly encamped themselves in eager ex- pectation of returning light, by which their attacks might be more certainly directed.
" Fair beings of misfortune I" cried Ronald, as he walked the wall of watch. " May sleep yet visit those tender eyelids, and the conscious- ness of innocence inspire the rest your spirits need!"
HEOaxo OF
^Bn«U. "Cm the fiuthfe* Bcmld&Ktt IM kk Hide Vgunst the iDJnivd ?"
"Kbiw; to you my sword is sbMtfaedl'ai
^InaM, ud jaax enme im »«pia^Tit, I not
tM> dnU b; du^ito^ love be ymtr's. I wfl ■
loBgv vilbMd snaoc,** ^^^-nrnnd the BiwU
•■TlwcMlWnyoiit^l But bnrare the ifaifB
of m snddeo omkogfaL The de«peiatioo af6» DdDdsrve womld conaign to destruction all thai <t bold dear- To yoai watch, and with the rotniK daylight toti shall find the portals open."
The chief deputed, while Ronald hetook fain- self to prayer in tfaankfnliieaB for the bright h$f- pines which now seeoied borstii^ txt his hcna. Ae be nee from the attitode of prayer be u^ the scowling coontNunce of Duodarve^ who, m^ lessly seizing him by the throa^ tlusatened in- stant Tendance oa the treacheiy he bad am- beoid.
A fearful stru^e ensued, but the slight form d the youthful kinmnan at length gave way in the grasp of the chief, and was by him procipHated over the battlements.
" There lie and bite the dust ! — thy plans are known, aod never to be realized. Tell the Breadil
DUNDAEVB CABTLB. 223
thai, and also that further eearch for his daughters shall be vain — they perish with the fate of the castle !"
Fury was in bis eye as he dashed down the steps of the turret, ioflamed now to madness by the dis- covery of a rival.
Silent was the watch ; no creature stirred that night within the walls, save Dundarve and seven chosen pioneers ; they were selected from the ram- parts for their secret instructions, but none knew the purposes of the chief. No cry was heard, not even the moaning of the lovely captives ; but, at the coming daylight, Dundarve was on the ram- parts, and the seven pioneers lay stretched along the private entrance to the hall, each stabbed to the heart, and buried in the silence of death. Horror struck the vassals as they passed the etill bleeding bodies,
" They were traitors," said Dundarve ; " see tlieir reward."
Meanwhile the hosts of the Breadal advanced, and all the archers of the castie were ready to re- ceive the attack. Furious it was, and death- dealing ; the desperate Dundarve made a furious sally, and was met by the sword of Ronald, his youthful kinsman, whose blade pierced his heart. A smile quivered on the features of the dying laird as he exclaimed ;^" You are too late — thy hopes can never be fulfilled !"
BH X.EGE3CO or
I wtmam,
Nonewne Omn. Wm ■■■■ In"
andw nans cf Ae througfa the 1»D>. Vain w«s the ann:Ii of ka^M for the dmogfaton of their diief; csinvnetfew- ■aj»DC««of djring minioos tbat tfaej kwv mt Ik hiding-place. Id d»|nir the cxdle «« pfm k plunler. Amid Uw flunes still <}«] P~-U i^; amid the crash of vails he still cried out the bbk of his beloved.
Then fell the gorgeous pile of Oundarre, TV four walk that now reroaJD irere ail that tsr Breadal'e fury left. In despair the couqoenn retreated ; while the chie^ whose stvrtnr for tlv loss of his daughters was not to be repressed, soaa fell under its power.
Still that wretched one there was who never idl the castle of Dundarre — od the site of tlm hot be dwelt — with his own hands removing stone bv stone tu madness, hoping still the restoratioD of tlv sisters. Remonstrance was in vain. Years rolled on, and still the pious work proceeded — the de- votee was Ronald. Never spake he but once to man from that hour— the hour of ^e jall of Dud- darve — but unwearying still plied his hopeless task.
DUNDARVE CASTLE. 225
There might be seen the grey-headed hermit of the ruined castle, delving and working midst the heaps of stones, till at length the fishermen who frequented then the lake took pity on his labour, and resolved to aid him.
It was forty years from the great battle of Dun- darve, when this band joined the labours of the silent recluse. Their young and lusty arms soon accomplished the apparent purpose of the weak old man, and opened the passage which still exists to what was once the lower hall. He struck his hand against the massive wall. The blow returned a hollow echo, at which the tottering old man fell back aghast I
For the first time for forty years he spoke : — '* Murderer that I am," said he, '**tis here, 'tis here, and ere the castle fell I found it not P
With one blow of the axe the wall gave way 5 that blow was followed by a hundred from the youthful hands who aided him. As the slight building fell, each stone was carefully removed at the direction of the trembling hermit.
" It is enough/* he cried, as the last mass gave way, and discovered five skeletons built between the walls ! He fell on his face before them and expired.
Execrable villains who met the fate deserved ! The seven pioneers had faithfully performed the
l5
22G DUNDAHVE CASTLE.
orders of their chief. They had entombed th* lovely sistere by a new-built wall, and their » crecy had been Becured by their death !
Not a Bailor who passes Dundarve but gins a the winds a sigh for the late of the lovely sistw and the hennit of the hut. Peace be to tbeo! but never let man iahobit the accursed spot wtiA holds the reninante of the hatelViI pile !
" Well dune, old Homer 1" said the captwn, , " another stoup, and then for the wall."
" Y'e'U nae gang to see 't ?"
" See it ! why not ?"
■' Bewar ! ye are youthful yet, and ken nae tbe danger ; your heart may remember too lang to death o' the lovely slsterB o' Breadal," said the mendicant.
" I might remember them more fatally if they were alive, and half as beautiful as your stwr t«lls," said the captain.
The double wall is there ; how much of the storr else belongs to the castle of Dundarve I know not.
INN AT CAIRNDOW.
227
CHAPTER XV.
Sport on Loch Fyne — Abondance of Fish — Long Liaes, Huoks, and Bait — Immense Turbot — The Cobbler Whale — The Inn at Cairndow — Celebration of a Wedding — Table of Fish caught — The Wedding Dance — Completion of the Ceremony — Retam to the Loch — Great Success with the Lines — Enormous Hali- but— Pier of Inverary — Disposition of the Spoil — Scotch Envy and Knavery.
The autumn sun still shed his powerful rays on the glassy lake, as we pushed off from the shore, our former disappointments forgotten, in the hope of the evening sport at the ** heed o* the loch.'* It required only an hour's pull from Dundarve, ere we were opposite the little inn of Cairndow, a neat place, where tolerable accommodation may be had for the deep sea fisherman. •
The bay which the river forms at the termina- tion of this enormous lake, which is at least seventy- five miles from the sea, is not more than a mile broad, but of a depth almost incredible ; so that.
THK LOCH HEAD.
«
ID sorae parts, Uiat bed of the clianrw! which cennt- k-ss ages have forced by the ever-flowing riven, eighty fathoms found no bottom. This we hie* to be the resting-place of all the larger aad mow predatory fish ; it is a spot, too, undisturbed eitb« by nets or lines. With the former, the numenui herring- fishers dare not attempt it for the reason already given, and tiie Scotch have no notioD of long-line fishing.
No sooner had we found a bank at the CaimJow side of the channel, of about forty fathoms Uibe we resolved to take the chance of our long line, and fix ourselves for the night.
As, perhaps, in the world, there is not to be found a spot so crowded with fish of every descrip- tion, or presenting, from the narrowness of the bay, such entire safety, I shall make no apolce; in describing particularly the kind of tackle which made us masters of a greater variety of marine mon- sters than I ever, before or since, saw congregated. Perhaps we were fortunate in the days and the nights that we devoted to the " heed of tlie loch;" and that the herrings, as they frequently do, had found the extreme verge of the lake. It is known that the largest of every kind of sea-fish pursue the herring, while the smaller kinds dare not ven- ture to join the company of Patagonian aristocrats.
The congregation of fish, on this occasion, may
TACKLE. 229
have been accidental ; but I can insure to any true sportsman continual success throughout the year in this bay, if he will go through the labour of taking from every second hook an enormous con- ger; while very fair accommodation may be had within half a mile of the very ground he is fishing. But he must thus proceed*
Two long lines, made of stout cord— they must be thoroughly wetted and stretched before used, else they twist and bother all the hooks ; when ready, attach a common line of about sixty or seventy fathoms to each end, and to each of 'those a good sized buoy of cork. Then select on the beach a pair of good-looking stones, ten pounds each, and fasten them well at the end of the long line : at every yard and half, a good iron swivel ; these may be had, rudely made, at any wireworker's. It is a simple but^ with a hole, into which is inserted a common catch, but so inserted that it will turn easily. The best hooks are the largest pike-hooks, on doubly or trebly twisted wire. On each hook put a slice of fresh herring ; care being taken to insert the barbs two or three times through the bait, to prevent the congers from deliberately adjourning from one to the other, till they have in perfect free- dom devoured the whole. On some of the hooks the bait should be small ; on some, half a herring. Sink one end of the line in the channel itself, and
Jw THE RESULT.
the Other stretched towards the shallow water; \t tliis be well done, at the head of Loch Fyne, i^ the result will be somewbat astonisliiog to llit uo- icitiated lover of sea-sport.
We prepared two of these lines, and, fiwn ll» calmness of the evening, had no difficulty in ati- ing them what the fishermen call flat. Mufli ^ pends, perliaps, on the mode of laying these line; tliej ahoidd be carefully wound on a long boaid, « that, as the boat is gently rowed onwards, th* lia is as gently passed out, always keeping it stiaiglii.
Having then taken our own station at some dii- tance from the buoys, we set out our liand-liaM. Success immediately followed, but it was ili-omeDed. One of the fiercest congers, of about forty pouixb, come to the surface. It was imposgible to hold him, so violent in contortion and fierce in manner of carrying out the resistance his strength enabM him to make. Nothing, however, but the old sys- tem of stunning him by a blow from a loaded stick, properly called a bonneter, reduced him to submis- sion.
While the captain and myself were thus em- ployed, our little attendant cried out that he was afraidhehadgota"mickleane." We all assisted to haul. I felt it was not a conger, by the slu^ish- ness of his efforts — the captfun was ready with tiie hook — I need not say that the suspense was great,
AN ALARM. 231
as we occasionally had to ^* take a turn fw hand- in*' — that is, make the line fast to the thwart of the boat, till it should please the monster to swim upwards.
On his appearance we were struck with astonish- ment— it was a turbot, of so enormous a size that, I believe, had we been successful in capturing him, the skeleton would have formed a worthy present to the directors of the British Museum. But who shall paint our disappointment ! — though the land- ing-hook was fairly inserted into the thickest part of the monster's body, with one writhe he twisted the handle from the iron, broke the line, and in a very composed manner descended to his usual haunts.
This mortification, however, was soon forgotten in the continued action of hauling in cod-fish, hake, conger-eels, and flat-fish of every description, with which the boat^s bottom was covered in about two hours.
Suddenly all was quiet — not an intimation of a bite — the captain lighted his hookah, but our Scotchman was anxious.
" They'll be nae gude — ye see the ripples — it's nae for us to bide at anchor — the wee bautie will nae stand, and ye dinna unmuir."
" Why, what, in the name of darkness, is this floating towards us ?*' said the captain.
aOB A WEDDING.
" ril nac liaud wi'ye," sayB the Scotch Iwy— " ye'll be Jnin, cmy way" — and, looking dagger* at the captain and me, he proceeded to cast off the boat from the mooriDgs.
We were in danger ; for, at that moment, i
splash was heard that startled us all it was tbr
mischievous cobbler, I beheve ; one of the most dangerous of the class of small whales which infel the narrow deeps of all the sea lochs of Scotland. We were soon on shore, and heartily eongiatulatai ourselves that we had left a wide berth for the gambols of so unsociable an angler.
Having drawn our boat up the beach, we pro- ceeded to the little inn at Cairndow, which is situ- ated on the ridge of the lake, and just out of tide'c way. It is a plain farm-house, but with two or three well furnished rooms, which, on the occasion of our visit, were all lighted up, and from them issued exclamations of a joyous character.
We could find no one to attend to its. In the kitchen, all was hurry and confusion ; while num^ rous bowls of whiskey-punch seemed to eng;ross all incomers and outgoers.
It was useless to wait for an invitation, and we pushed in uninvited — guided only by the shouts of the dancers and wliine of the bagpipe. 1 cannot describe the scene — it was the celebration of a wedding, to which, it would appear, all classes
A WEDDING. 233
liad been called. Many apparently respectable persons were associated in the dance with the most ragged people even these mountains could pro- duce. Girls, dressed in the most fantastic man- ner — ribands, of all gaudy colours, flying in pro- fusion from their long locks — their faces flushed with punch and dancing. Others in their ordi- nary dresses — some from the blacksmith^s shop, who had long since abjured ablutions of any kind ; a great proportion of the girls and women shoeless, yet all shouting and *^ flinging," as though at one fell swoop every distinction of birth or place or beauty had vanished.
On our entrance — our attire of the roughest — we were immediately greeted with hearty wel- comes ; the bowl was in requisition, and we soon discovered that the only way to establish our quar- ters was to wave all ceremony, and dash at once into the hilarity of the party.
The bride was handed to the captain, who, with- out further ceremony, proceeded to give token of his approval of the bridegroom's choice by a hearty smack. She then fell to my lot; and, though I performed the duty by immemorial custom en- joined, I cannot say that I admired the broad mouth and yellow hair so unequivocally as my comrade.
While the dancing was going on, the captain
234 A DAY'S SPORT.
hii\-ing formed one of the noisiest of the shonUn, I stole out to examine our basket, and to selecl some safe spot for the preservation of the content*. 1 record this evenings fisiiing, because it wi!5, i doubt not, be long remembered by the wortity hostess of Caimdow,
33 C«d Fiih, of from G to 36 tb*. e*cb.
25 Cooger EeU, of all tiie*. ^^H
30 Whiting. ^^H
10 hntia. ^^H|
1 Torbol. ^n
T Skate. 6 Hike.
This was a day's fishing of two persons, in 8 small open boat, in a narrow arm of Loch FVDe— unattended, except by a lad to assist in the baiting — yet it will appear strange that, at the inn of Caimdow, there was not a fish of any sort to be had but the herring ; and, if the imikeepers at In- verary (only eight miles off) had c^ered any sum for a supply, it could not have been procured.
The surprise expressed at our success sufficiently proved the ignorance of the Scottish line fishennen; and though, on many occasions afterwards, we re- turned similarly loaded, so indoule are fishermeo, that, I believe, at this moment, none but the old system is pursued, and that nothing beyond a few whiting and small codlings are to be found in the Inverary market.
WEDDING DANCE. 235
On my return to the dancing I found that the company, generally, had not been idle. Many bad finished their labours for the evening, and lay ex- tended along the sides of the room ; the more temperate, however, or the more hardy, were still dancing with all the wildnesa of unnatural joy. The poor bride had been kissed by every body, and deluged with whiskey ; the bridegroom had effectually deadened all anticipations of a happy or unhappy future, and, though he still kept his legs, had lost the power of making a straight line from the table to the mouth.
In this state of things, the piper, who it appears on all these occasions is constituted master of the ceremonies, gave a very inharmonious signal — a wild scream followed — the sleeping were awakened and joined in the cry — the bride made a dash at the door — off went bridegroom, and all that had the power of locomotion, in pursuit, while the piper led the van.
The scene was altogether of a droll kind : -^ bonnetless girls, old men with sticks, shoeless old women, running, as though frantic, up the rocky road ; while the silence and the darkness of night contributed highly to enhance the effect,
I believe this state of things lasted half an hour, during which time we may have run a mile, when, at another signal from the piper, all came to a
236 WEDDING DANCE.
sudden halt. We found the bride had bi-eu atiwte! at the door of her fethur, who, after some cemoMt. got up. opeoed the door, and handed round std glares of raw whiskey and oatmeal cake— he «J sometliing in Gaelic, at which there was a rewwi shout — the bridegroom then seized his ladj and danced onward, as did all the party at that sigmL still accompanied by the piper's noisy drone.
It appeared that tlie father had finally mm- mended liis daughter to the bridegroom's firtun care, and we were now hastening to the completiffli of the cefLMronies as far as related to the numtroie attendants on the happy couple. A low hut. covered witli furze and surrounded by stone walk, was the spot of the future residence of the pair- At its door another halt was made. Two oH women came oul to receive tlio mistress of Uk mansion — again the form of the whiskey and oat- meal cakes was gone through. The bride was conducted into the cottage, and, after some diffi- culty, the bridegroom was permitted to follow
the door was shut and barred — on which the piper again played up, and the shouting and sineing of the wild highlanders continued to keep the inmates from thfir slumbers.
The return of the par^ to the inn was a matter of difficulty — many fell by the way, but the piper was still stanch — and though, I believe, I had
RETURN TO THE LAKE. 237
seen him drink at least ten glasses of raw whiskey, he appeared so well adapted hy long experience to sustain the labours of his interesting profession that he faltered little.
He who has never seen the morning break amidst such scenery as that around Loch Fyne can hardly understand the charms which impel the sportsman's labour — above all, a &ir autumn morning, pre- senting the dark and massive mountains, whose outline is described in the glassy expanse of the wide lake which contains the unexplored lines of the thrifty fisherman, now hafltening to secure the prey which his ingenuity and care have certainly entrapped. A cup of coffee, a luxury at other night-fishings unknown, was here to be had ; and, thus refreshed, we again embarked,
" It 's a bad sign," said my companion, " the buoys are together ; it is clear we have had bad company at them. I'll hold a wager that nothing under eighty pounds could move both stones along the rugged bottom of this lake — we shall be well to find any thing remaining."
We approached the first buoy in silent appre- hension — it was easily secured, but the stone was not so easily weighed. On every hook was the head of a fish for the first fifteen baits — some cod, some congers, even the savage skate had been rob- bed of half his bodily endowments — but now came
338 INVEBART PIER.
the tug of war: — the depth of the line was* that it was impossible to gues3 what asimal bad to oontend with. It proved to be a hulibut so eDormous a size that we dared not atten^ take biiD ioto our frail boat. For some time, hi ever, we held him — long ejiough, indeed, to com aa the probability of our beiog capsized — vib at length, a desperate plunge of the ungorerM monster relieved U3 from all further concern oa account : he had snapped the thick wire (^ doable book, by which he had been detained.
On the rest of the lines we found, altemab cod. skate, conger, and occasional heads only — proper bodies of all which had undoubtedly ser but for one meal to the rapacious halibut, who 1 providentially not quite reversed our position ' catching us in our attempt to secure him.
By six in the morning, by the help of our ■ sail and oars, we had arrived at the pier of li rary. Numberless herring-boats were around all bringing their produce of their night's toi their established market. Our little bark, the o inconsiderable of the busy fleet, alone created surprise and admiration of the townfolk and saJi The enormous animals we had captured, now p on the pier in several heaps, were the subject close inspection and wonder, even to those who been bom on the banks of the lake, and had 81 their whole lives on its broad waters.
THE REVENGE. 239
«
We had some trouble in procuring wheelbarrows, which at last, however, the inn afforded ; and my good friend, the captain, having been longer in Inverary than myself, kindly undertook the dis- position of the spoil. Some were presented to the inns — the several landlords of which expressed great gratitude for so novel a supply : the rest were distributed, I believe, with all regard to the necessities of the receivers. Their gratitude was overflowing — and the two strange gentlemen bid fair to become favourites with the untravelled in- habitants of Inverary.
I regret to be compelled to record that our suc- cessful exertions were not by all similarly esteemed. Incensed at our accomplishment of that which they had neither the skill nor industry to achieve, some of the Inverary boys, with a want of moral philo- sophy, which, I hope, is not a general charac- teristic among them, stole all our tackle that night, and cut adrift our little boat. I believe my friend said something condemnatory of Scottish tricks on the discovery ; but I refrain from re- cording his observations, satisfied that the most disinterested and moral people in the world could hardly be blamed, nationally, for the want of ^' feelosophy*' among some fishermen of Inverary.
THE KITBB ARAT.
LOCB iVK.
CHAPTER XVI.
The Riier Amy — Instinct of Fish — Spawning — Ddcent to Lod Awe — DestnictiTe Nature of Pike— Vilbge of Cladidi— SpoR oo Loch Ave— The Execrable Pihe — labod of Innuhail — B«- maipi of ■ Monwter7 — A Venerable Fubemuu) — '■ The Mod- tter of the Deep."
But out rods remained unto us, and there was some employ for them offered in the river Aray, which at about a mile from the town &lls into the lake. The natural beauty of this stream has not been much enhanced by the work of planting
THE RIVER ARAT. 24i.
through the park of the Duke of Argyle ; the banks are now, unluckily for the angler, so very regular, and the bed of the river itself so much reduced to order, that there is scarcely a resting-place for a salmon.
We found but one fish between the castle and the water&U, where the interposition of art ends. A rustic bridge has been constructed over the fall, from which may be observed the efforts of the fish to throw themselves up the rocks into the stream above. In half an hour we saw at least twenty, out of which only one succeeded, the rest falling backward with great violence on the rocks, and thence into the boiling bay beneath.
The instinct of this creature has puzzled philo- sophers, and, among the rest, even Sir Humphry Davy; and the notions he had formed of their impulses do not naturally, I think, arise from a careful and extensive observation. It is quite certain that the salmon has other inducements to ascend streams than the purpose of depositing spawn, or of attending the females busied in the work of procreation.
This river is supplied with fish freshly run from the sea, even in the earliest months of spring. I at- tribute the purpose to that grand and potent impulse among all animals — the search after food ; the jroung fry, not only of salmon but trout, beginning
VOL. II. M
S42 BooNomr OF
to vmfy, coDstitiitos a gieat povtka of the moil^ while the pnmnon of imbaate is wt «^f olmcnu, but wantixj the higfaeflt admialioi^ fcU has 80 tegiilatod tlie eoonoiny of tins bMt aai aiii prolific inhabitant of the waten. It is art* that a nhnon, which suooeaafoUy aitivasslkr spawning ground, will deposit one winKiii c£^ If there sodsted no enemiee to oiiedk Ihb sw whehning increase of the jouig^^ tiie imnvedl become putrid with ammal matter^ and the vUbb^ the ^'Auncient Mariner*' become realised. Ik destruction, however, of the destroyers tiwoiaelfcs by the art of man, the assistance of wild biids tad the otter, have no direct tendency to lessen the nun^ hers of salmon, since they capture only those whicht if left at large, would materially thin the progenj.
I believe the melt of the male, which has alwajt been considered necessary to the vivification of th ova, is never so employed, that the whole of the system of generation among fishes, which has ben with so much faith accepted, is founded in delusion, and that the impulse by which the males follow the females at the time of spawning is the purpose of securing the eggs for food which she is about to de- posit.
At Qalway, I had from the fishing house of Mr. Keogh, which is on the body of the river, frequent opportunities of observing the fierce combats of the
THE GENUS SALMO. 243
male and female : they are easily distinguishable, and, from the violence of the female, and the de- termination to dig her bed without the interven- tion of the male, the latter being an exceedingly cowardly fish, and always yielding, I can have no doubt but that the former regards the latter as an enemy ; but it is a fact beyond all dispute, that, at this season of the year, both salmon and trout (whose habits are entirely similar) seem to be de- ranged on the subject of the roe.
I threw among the shallows a quantity of the peas which I had preserved as a bait, and I was struck with the extraordinary swiftness both of sight and purpose exhibited among the combatants. The preserved bait was now the only mode of capturing either salmon or white trout. Nor is it unworthy of remark, that males and females indiscriminately seized with equal avidity the spawn of another of the same kind, while the latter were in the very act of depositing their own.
Above the waterfall I found the river generally shallow, and so entirely wooded, that it was almost impossible to throw a fly on its surface. This, however, was no hindrance to the bait, but my dis- appointment arose not from the difficultyof catching fish, but from the bad quality of the prey. The river Ar^y is filled with small trout, of from six to twelve ounces each. Not a fly, worm, or bait of
MS
244 raw ow UMmA
any Idnd^ can be ■"Htiitted to tiw
adoplioii of a aaliiian^ but tfaqr teka
Weary of inmiQlaliiv fliaae littla wnldws «li^
from their eMceriye mmben^ara aeee«ari^«fi
bad qnality, I pot 191117 tockk^ and detanawdH
purnie the load to Lodi Amm^ m ^Mamrr of !■
milei.
Dreaiy, indeed, after kaKvn^tiie pneineli of tti dtdce^ groundty is the waj that leada to tti bratedlake; andlhadeooiediflioiill^in ing the mx nules op hill, laden aa I was with mj haversack and tackle. But, upon reaching theeoa- nence, which seemed for an hour ever to evade nj pursuit, *' hills over hills arising^y" I felt that mj toil was amply rewarded.
At that moment, the sun, which had hitherto been obsciured, burst fortti in full majesty, and engoldened the whole scene, the magnificent Gn- achan, whose conical tops were distinctly marked in the sparkling lake, which itself, of appaientfy boundless extent, was studded with beautiful is- lands, the foliage of which presented every variety of hue.
The descent to Loch Awe is as rapid as the Id- verary side is painful in ascent ; and, as the enor- mous Cruachan discloses its abrupt and massive base, the picture is complete. In this spot we aie told Burke once stood in ecstacy ; it is still called
LOCH AWE. 345
Burke's view, and I can believe that he uttered the pruse which to any but a traveller would seem ex- travagant.
This was once of all lakes the most abundant in sea trout and salmon ; it still deserves a high cha- racter, but alas I the destructive pike have now obtained such mastery, that a few years will sur- render this splendid expanse of-water entirely to bis domination.
Fatal, indeed, was the hour when that destruc- tive creature was fint introduced into the fair waters of the mountains. Sir Watkin hath de- parted to the tomb of his ftithers ; he bad many virtues ; their effects, however, were transitory as his own life. One crime committed he, which will obscure all his good qualities, and wipe from the remembrance of posterity the kindness of his heart, and the generosity of his nature — he put pike into the lake of Bala!
About two miles' from Loch Awe, 1 observed tumbling along the hollow which bounded the road a lively stream. Falling into such a lake, who could be mistaken P It was autumn ; this was a breeding stream, and I lost little time in making my way to its craggy banks. My success with the salmon-roe waa instant; in every curl I found a sea trout, though in so rapid and rocky a stream it was difficult to land them. I bad, however, the
246 CLADICH INN.
good fortune in about an hour to secure a dozen- as many as I coijdd conveniently carry-— they weighed from one to three pounds each, in hig^ condition, having passed from Loch Etive into Loch Awe, and thence into the stream without loitering. This is easily ascertained by the colour. If the sea trout has been ten days ip fresh water, his back and sides assume a brown tinge, the silvery whiteness of his sides departs. I have not unfrequently found them very nearly approaching the dark tinge of the common lake trout.
A few houses on the bank of Loch Awe are here dignified with the name of Cladich Village, which boasts a little inn. I had soon made my ar- rangements for a bed and a boat in the morn- ing, resolved to give this celebrated spot a fidr trial.
My boatman was with me before dawn ; be was a courtly boatman, and had met many fresh tra- vellers^ and not a few inexperienced anglers, whose want of success, however, had not on some occa* sions checked their liberality. He was laden also with fly-books, the virtues of the contents being the theme of his exclamatory admiration; but I withstood all his attacks, experience having long since taught me the necessity of refusing to be robbed imder pretence of fly-selling. I was per- fectly satisfied that if the yellow golden pheasant's
A DAY ON LOCH AWE. 247
wing, or the blue wing with red hackle, woijdd not do, the glories of Loch Awe had departed.
The first streaks of morning were tinging the sudden interruptions of the vast mountains which close in the lake as we pushed from the shore. My anticipations were lively, and a fresh breeze from the westward increased them.
I was ready by the time we had reached the course off the island of Innishail— a few casts con- vinced me that still there was sport to be found on the lake — and a fine salmon was the reward of my skill. The surprise of the boatman was great ; he assured me that he had known that summer from twenty to thirty gentlemen daily thrashing with untiring industry the courses round the island without success. ^' But," said he, perceiving that there was no chance of selling his flies, *' although you have had the good luck to start so well, the loch's nae longer Lioch Awe.'' He was right ; two hours' unwearied application brought but a trout or two of indifferent size, and the sport of the day was over.
It struck me as strange that, though it is known that the lake is crowded with pike, no attempt is ever made to capture them. The Scotch believe them to be some pernicious creature like the snake, and refuse to have either peace or war with them. I was, however, determined to try the swivel, and
248 INNISHAIL.
for that purpoBe cut up one of the sea trout into a very tolerable-looking small fish, with which I baited my wire tackle.
The apparatus was perfectly novel to my at- tendant, as was also the eflfect produced by it The usual plan of trailing was adopted, and three pike of from ten to twelve pounds were easily cap- tured. I was now thoroughly convinced that Loch Awe is no longer worthy the sojourn of the fly fisher. All my hopes had vanished, and I looked upon the lovely expanse so beauteously formed by Nature for far nobler purposes as a receptacle for the cockney's game — the execrable pike.
We landed at Innishail — once the seat of leant* ing and religion — and why now no longer deemed worthy to be inhabited I know not. The remains of a once noble monastery gave an air of gran- deur to the lovely spot.
On the tomb of some noble knight did we spread our little repast. The same sun shone on us that had cheered the inhabitants of the beauteous isle. I grieved for a moment that I had not one rood of ground there whereon to raise my hut, and in quiet pass the small remain of life within me.
The luxuriant shrubs and purely green carpet which covered the island, the warm and glowing sun, all contributed to invite one to linger on the beautiful island of Innishail. I coijdd not divest
INNISHAIL. 249
my mind of the happy scenes the past inhabitants of so lovely a retreat must have enjoyed, surrounded by a lake, then, doubtless, abounding in fish of every description.
What painful feelings arise as one views the remnants only of departed greatness — the massive stones strewed over the remains of what once con- stituted the great and courageous of this renowned land ! The scream of the wild bird alone mingles now with the howling winds that force their way unchecked through the roofless walls, in which once resoimded the joyousness of the banquet and the shouts of victory !
I could almost imagine that the breeze^s murmur had again given way to the full and swelling tone of the organ. The shadows from the still percep- tible tombs furnished data on which the mind could carry out all the details of a long line of pious monks entering the oratory; the craggy masses served to form even their features, and I could hear the deep and long-protracted prayer of the venerable prior.
*^ What !^' exclaimed a being, who suddenly stood before me ; ** are ye nae for the hunting o' the monster of the deep ; behold ! a' the monks are in procession, and ye nae gang on wi' em."
The hoary fisherman who pronounced these words fell in with my ideas. His dress was of the
M 5
250 INNISUAIL.
roebuck skin, and round hit waist might be ob- served the flask, the horn, and the dirk; in his right hand he sustained a rod of enormous di* mensions, rudely, though firmly bound; his linfe was of the stoutest catgut ; and his hook of thick iron, which the gaudiest feathers, roughly tied roimd the shank, little obscured.
Startled by this appearance, and transfixed by the penetrating glance of the stranger, I could not reply. He resumed—
*^ See the rise o' the lake ; behold the ripple of the monster — my cast will cover him."
At that moment came forth the full peal of the organ and the choir -— enchantment was in the sound. I arose, and offered my hand to the stranger, which he disdained.
*^ Never, till the monster be secured, tak I the hand of friendship ; but I will accept your aid," said he.
I looked towards the lake — a salmon of enormous size was chasing the trout, even to the verge of the lake. I examined my tackle. '* See here," cried I, to my strange companion ; '^ behold the subtle art with which that fly is strung."
The stranger was lost in astonishment ; he viewed the tackle carefully, and then returned it with a shake of the head.
" It is a wonderful," cried he ; *' but ye dar nae try a cast wi' him."
INNISHAIL. 251
^ I dare it,'' returned I ; and in an instant was in the boat, and pulling towards the great circle the monster had, by a recent rise, created.
My cast was true, and with the wind — the fly was gone, ere a moment elapsed ; I recovered my rod ; and was fixed firmly either in the monster's jaws, or on an immoveable rock. I turned to my companion — ^he was pale and trembling.
*' To the shore," cried he ; " ye dar nae baud the monster o' the lake."
** As my tackle will,^ quoth I ; and a sudden splash disclosed that the creature was fast.
We reached the shore, the prey following us easily ; a hundred yards were out, and as easily drawn in. Again the peal of the organ struck my ear, and I felt that my name was pronounced amid the prayers which were chanted in unison.
The monster swam slowly seaward. I followed to the very verge of the lake, and stretched over the rock to give the utmost tether. My villanous companion, seizing that moment,^ precipitated me from the ledge.
The shouts of laughter which followed this treachery convinced me I was deluded. I held by the rod, nevertheless, till I found, by the slackened line, that the fish approached me.
Horror overcame me. A creature of the serpent kind was he, with red and fiery eyes, more bril-
A
232 INNI8HAIL.
liant than the sun itself-^ their radiance showed the danger by which I was surrounded.
I reached the shore, and abandoned the rod at last. The savage creature even touched mj heel as I crawled from the lake, — it was the last efibrt of which I was capable.
The old fisherman still laughed as I gasped tor breath. I resolved, however, that as soon as I had recovered sufficient strength, to seize him by the tliroat, and devote him to the mercies of the monster, whose jaws I had by a miracle escaped.
The laugh of the many voices I had before heard was now joined to that fiend-like grin : I could no longer contain my fury, but, rising from the ground, I approached with cautious step the hoary fisherman. Suddenly I seized him by the throat ; but my strength was unequal to the con- test. I succeeded, however, in dragging him to the verge of the lake — ^to the very precipice whence he had cast me— in vain.
The villain made a stand — I could no further move.
" I'm thinking, sir, " cried he, " that the evening*s getting on, and we*ll nae be at the Cla- dich afore dark and ye dinna coom noo.'*
I felt a hand upon my collar still — it was my boatman's; there was no monster, no precipice, nor had I suffered the treacherous immersion ;
INNI8HAIL.
253
but the mmdc and the laugh continued ; they pro- ceeded from a small party of tourists, who had made the old walls of the monastery their encamp- ment, and had brought with them their guitars.
The strains were pleasing in reality, but how imlike the grandeur of that strain, into which they had been converted by the influence of the un- bounded imagination sleep had created !
■*-'■ .»
254 THE LAST OF
CHAPTER XVII.
The Last of the M*Gregon, a Tale of the Highlands.
In the early part of the seventeenth centoiy, when the roe was the abundant game of this ahnost unbeaten track, the ancient lairds, the Mac- gregors, the proprietors of the district, invited all to partake the pleasures of the chase. Their hospitality was unbounded as their means; and, though the plain and unpretending mansion, which had been the home of their forefathers and their own, spoke not of the possession of vast wealth, their general boimty made it notorious. The laird of that day was declining in years ; but his hopes and his good spirits were upheld by the noble bear- ing of his only son, whose deeds of prowess were not only generally acknowledged, but had been made the themes of the bards, who then flourished in the highlands.
The fame of the house of McGregor, and the
THE M^OREOORS. 255
hospitality which was always associated with it, had attracted the presence of a noble youth, who, for political purposes, connected with the restora- ticm of James, had visited Scotland. He was the eldest son of the house of Lamont, and in direct succession to the family honours of his race ; yet, the better to conceal his purposes, he had adopted the habit of a sportsman, and in that character entered the country of the MH3regors.
It was on the banks of the river Awe, which forms the outlet of the enormous lake, whose waters it conducts to the sea-loch Etive, and thence into the ocean, and by whose side the monstrous Cruachan terminates, that the two youths, so well calculated by nobility, both of station and mind, to have be- come friends, first met. The freedom of the young McGregor at once induced the more ceremonious foreigner to throw aside reserve ; and an invitation from the former to cross the lake, and share the preparations of the humble hostelry on the other side, was soon given and accepted.
On their arrival the mountain fare soon graced the lowly board; the broiled roe and the salmon were spread before them in an abundance that would now be deemed excessive, while the sports- men drank to each other in goblets filled with the mountain whiskey.
Lamont begged permission to pledge his new
256 TH£ LAST OF
acquantance in a toast^-it was a congenial one^ the b^pfttneas and independence of the Scottish It was lec^Ted with beoxning acknowledge Its and protestations of r^ard to the stranger, who had, in his turn, to thank the highland chief fer a similar compliment to his own country. In doing so he adverted to the fact that the con- tinoance of a friendly feeling between the two countries was an advantage which Scotland had abeady acknowledged in her grateful remembrance of the asylum her sovereign had met.
*' Curse on a sovereign who would betray his people," said M'Gregor ; *' on him who would have again deluged this land in blood, yet scarcely dry from the rivers poured from the veins of our fathers, those noble-minded men, who, far from the gor- geous palaces of a priestly misrule, uttered their prayers in the desert, with their swords still drawn for action !''
** They were deceived," returned the stranger. ** No thought of injuring them existed ever in the breast of their sovereign ; their independence had been acknowledged — ratified. It was hard, indeed, tliat he, who hail permitted to the Scotch tlie en- tire enjoyment of their religious freedom, should not be suffered to regulate his own conscience ; but I fear the curse is ratlier that the powerful in religion, as in other matters, seek to com|>el tlie
THE MCGREGORS. 257
weak ; no sooner had your own independence been established, than you were foremost in the destruc- tion of the independence of others/'
*^ Sir/' said McGregor, '* I knew that king, and fought under his standard.^'
*• Frcnn your observation I thought you knew him not,*' returned Lamont, with an appearance of indignation.
" I knew him, sir,'' continued McGregor, '* and the baseness with which he sought to deliver over a too trusting people to the accursed powers of a foreign priesthood ; and, by the same token, know I also his minion, in what garb soever he may in- fest these lands.^
Both rose. Lamont regarded the heated youth with a smile ; but at length remarked that he was certainly a stranger, and could demand of right no satisfaction for so vile an imputation.
" Yet," said he, " if, indeed, you be a M'Gregor, there is no doubt but that you are brave; you dare not offer insult, and shield yourself by home and numbers/'
'* There is my arm, and here my rapier/' said he.
*' Both are there, and both, I doubt not, ready for action ; but you have followers — e'en now I heard the cheers of the huntsmen'^s carousaL It is not usual to attack a single- handed stranger ;
358 THB LAST OF
in Franoe we sii£Rer him to call on us un-
** One toast he&ue I go/' returned M'Gregor. ** Death and infiuny to all who would aid in re- storing the pojash coward to the throne !"
<< Of whom bdiold me one^*' said Lamcmt.
The cup^ which had scarcely reached the lips of the Scottish chief, was hurled in the face of the cool and erect stranger.
*^ Thisy" said he, *' was hardly needed. It bad been enough to have delivered your toast. I had not drunk it — that cause had been sufficient to a truly brave and honest man. Farewell !" and La- mont covered himself with his rough cloak, bowed to the MKjregor, and gained the entrance to the hostelry.
" Coward !*' said McGregor, " can nothing rouse thee ? be grateful, then, for this ;" and a blow fell on the still unmoved countenance of Lamont.
" It is a blow," said he, calmly ; '* you are heated, and know not the extent of provocation you have lavished on me. Once more, fare-
He depcLrted towards the lake, and was soon lost in the dark windings of the rude road towards In- verary.
MHjregor returned to the hostelry, and thought no more of, as he thought, his base-bom compa-
THE MCGREGORS. 259
nion ; he bade his BportBroen good night, and pro* ceeded homeward.
As he passed the turn which led from the edge of the lake on which the inn was situated, there stood before him the erect figure of the stranger.
'* Sir,'' said Lamont, ** you have dealt me a Mow— the only blow our house did ever yet sus- taiiv even for a moment ; that moment only has taught me the justice of the demand I now make. You behold before you Lament — ^no stranger to your family ; amid your myrmidons, you have sought to take advantage of my being unattended. The word you gave at parting now receive ; we are not backward in the return of civilities. Coward 1^ and with the last word fell on the cheek of McGregor the handle of the stranger^s sword.
The conflict was instant and severe. But the cool determination of Lament was now his preser- vation ; a violent and unskilful pass of McGregor was gently put aside, while the blade of his anta- gonist passed through the infuriated heart of the chieftain.
Alone, unfriended, and unacquainted with the country, Lament knew he had no chance of safety but in instant flight ; a road, such as it then was, lay before him — but whither it led he knew not. The clansmen of the fallen chief would speedily be in pursuit, and the hope of escape was small ; but
A
360 THE LAST OF
he fled instinctively, hastened by the hallooings of the aroused clansmen, whose voices he distincdy heard^ as if in pursuit. His youthful energy fur- nished speed — nor ravines nor rude walls presented obstructions, as he directed his rapid way towards a light, which now served as his directing star.
Breathless he arrived at the portal of a low but extensive pile; he had but power to ring the porter *s heavy bell, and sunk in exhaustion. The summons was quickly answered : with the domestic came also a tall and aged man, whose silveiy locks hung down over his shoulders ; his countenance was benignant, and his accents bore comfort to the panting stranger.
'^ One word, " said Lamont ; *' I will trust you ; give me protection."
** Thou hast it — enter;" as he said this, the venerable man assisted the stranger into the haU. '^ Let your domestic retire," said Lamont. At a motion he was gone. *' Thou art honourable, and hast spent a youth in honour — thou wilt not, canst not, now di^raoe thy life. I claim protection at thy hands. I am pursued for no crime, but for the performance of an act of justice. Shall I have thy aid ?*'
" Never," returned the venerable man, '* was my protection sought in vain ; thou hast it, be thy terror what it may."
THE MCGREGORS. 261
As he said this, Lamont shed a tear on the old man's hand, which had been extended towards him in solenm assurance of the sincerity of his pro- mise.
*^ From a villain have I received a blow," gasped the stranger.
" If of gentle blood, thou hast avenged it ?** said the old man.
'« I bore it."
" That was well," replied the elder.
" Sir," said the stranger, '* view me. I am of noble blood ; from a long line of ancestry hath it descended without alloy. I have borne in your country the vile name of coward — I have received a base humiliating blow.'*
'^Thou hast avenged it?" eagerly demanded the host.
'' I have 1 fSedrly and honourably avenged it,'^ replied the stranger, ^' no more."
'^ That, too, is well. I have promised thee pro- tection — it is thine ; but hark ! thy pursuers are at the very gate ; be sure thou art safe — not a hand dare here be lifted but at my command. Thou hast done well — I befriend thee." So saying, the venerable man proceeded to the gate, at which numerous voices were now clamouring for en- trance.
Lamont drew his dagger from the belt, deter-
262 THE LAST OF
mined to sell his life at as dear a rate as exertion and courage could exact; and taking his stand behind the ponderous door, which, at the parting of the old man, was left half open, uttered one prayer to his Maker.
He was startled by the voices which filled the ball. The lamentations, curses, and threats, which accompanied the entrance of the highlanders, dis- missed from his mind all hope of safety, even in de- fiance of the assurance he had received. But who shall paint his horror when the corpse of the slain McGregor was laid at length on the table of the hall, surrounded by a hundred armed kinsmen, commingling their execrations with their laments, their threats with their prayers !
The venerable host fell on the body of his son — for such it was — and poured forth tears of anguish over the blighted hopes of his race. Inflamed and maddened with vengeance, yet the dense crowd that filled the hall were for a moment silent, in respect to the father's grief.
As he arose from the body, each kinsman bran- dished his claymore.
'' Death to the murderer !*' cried one. " Deatli to the murderer V echoed all ; their claymores were crossed^ and each in turn placed his hand on the prostrate corpse, in token of the vow he had made.
THE MCGREGORS. 263
Suddenly the fiEither started — entreated their for- bearance in pursuit till he should be ready to ac- company them.
'^ We forbear no moment," exclaimed the chief of the clan ; '^ while yet the murderer lives each second is a reproach to the McGregors. He is here — ^in this very house — the halls of the murdered son of the M'Gregor ; we lost not sight of the fugi- tive. The gates were opened even as we ap- proached the brow of the hill which descends to the grounds of the McGregor's home. Death to the murderer V
Each hand was ready with the uplifted claymore, and all pressed towards the inner apartment, where the intended victim, now fully prepared to meet his end, stood bravely awaiting the unequal con- flict.
*^ Back V* cried the venerable cliief ; ** what vil- lain dare enter the apartment of the McGregor un- bidden? I swear, on the honour of my name, that the first who attempts to advance one step towards that room dies the death of a traitor to his laird !"
With an energy and boldness which age seldom possesses, these words were accompanied by a power- ful attack on the foremost of the clan, from whom the chief wrested the claymore, and threw himself
964 THE LAST OF
in an attitude of oppoation and defiance to the whdeanaj.
*' Tliere lies the murdered son of my love, the mKCCBBor of my fortunes, and the hope of my house. Yet think not I am yet too old to govern, or that, in lapse of time, I have forgotten the respect due to the bead of the M'Crregors. Your a£EectioD and devotion are not overlooked, nor do I forget diat I am surrounded by those who would sa- crifice their own lives for the preservation of
* 99
mine.
** All ! all 1*^ the clan siraultfineously exclaimed.
•• I know it," replied he ; " then also respect mine honour. You that would guard my life, trebly guard mine honour — life without it were worse than death. Rest but one hour from the pursuit of your just revenge ; mine honour will be satis- fied, and your leal be^more apparent. The McGre- gor conunands."
Every clajrmore was instantly within its sheath, but the desire of vengeance was not appeased. The M'Gregor fastened the door hastily which led to the inner apartment, wherein L#amont had been the anxious auditor of all that had passed.
" Youth," said he, *' thy life be accursed ; may'st thou one day know the heart's burst thou hast caused to me ! Wretched be thy life — that life which I had promised to preserve. Follow me ;
THE MCGREGORS. 265
chou art safe — if from the pangs thy own con-< science shall inflict/'
Struck with so unexpected an address, Lamont uttered not a word, but hurried after the aged man, who led the way to the back outlets of the scat- tered pile. Seizing a light, they proceeded unmo* lested to the stables. With a firm hand the old man threw halters over the heads of his bravest steeds, and, motioning his heart-stricken compa- nion to follow, daslied on the way at fullest speeQ.
The clatter of the horses' hoofs alone broke the stillness of the night ; but their way was freed from obscurity by the numberless lights, which, blazing on every hill, denoted a sudden assembly of the clan of McGregor,
Less than an hour's ride brought them to the shelving banks of Loch Fyne. Lamont uttered no word, buried in the affliction he had caused to a mind so noble as that of his.leadi|'s.
A boat was hailed, one of the horses driven by the hurried hand of the chief into the lake, till he had reached the vessel's side^ Lamont followed, and leaped on board; the chief made fast the halter to the stem, and gave command to cross. It was a voyage soon effected, and Lamont placed on the back of the steed.
'* Now stay not, for halt or bait, as you value
VOL. n. N
I
266 THE LAST OF
my honour, or your own life. Pursue that road till you arrive at Tarbert ; you will then be free from the danger of pursuit. Stay not, however, till you have reached either England, or your na- tive land ; and God be with you ! May religion teach you repentance ; the blow thou hast given to me is death !"
Lament essayed to speak, but could not ; before he could master the sudden and overpowering emo- tions of his soul, the chieftain had departed, and the boat again under sail for the opposite shore.
Years passed, and the wild and varied mountains of the McGregor no longer bore that chieftain's name. A decisive blow in favour of royalty had been struck; ruthless mercenaries seized the an- cient hall, and, with a prodigal hand, laid waste the ample stores of the Highland estate ; the land was parcelled and allotted.
Few of the clan remained on the broad domain, and those, the poorest of the blood, were content to hide themselves in caves and woods, to escape the common fate of their fellows. No form of trial, not even a moments pause to utter to their Maker the last repentant prayer, had they ; while the few stunted oaks, which braved the Highland storms, and still stood erect on the road-side, had been con- verted into the gibbet, from whence himg the mu- tilated corpses of the brave McGregor's clan ; while
THE MCGREGORS. 267
on evexy door of the scattered building might be read^ under the pompous arms of royalty —
" REWARDE.
" The broade landes of McGregor Kilchrenan, and ane thousand pundes sterlinge rewarde, to hym quo bryngyth y* hede of y* Chiefe Duncan, deade or alyve.
** Donne onder our honde and seale at Glasgowe,
*' Chaeles R."
It was not long after this proscription that a band of horsemen were seen dragging a venerable man to the quarters of the detachment of the army, which had been fixed as the outpost of the grand encampment.
His dress was that of a common herdsman ; he was shoeless and bare-headed, and protected only from the keen blasts of the mountain by the silvery locks which blew over and concealed his features. He was tall, and, though the weight of seventy years was on his shoulders^ still erect.
'* You deceive not us," said one of the troopers, as he alighted at the station, '^ You are the McGregor ; and upon the first tree thou'lt hang, be thy answer yea or nay."
** The McGregor !" shouted all the troopers in ecstacy. \* The reward is our's. Up with him to the tree — the head, alive or dead, we care not. To the tree with the false and bloody traitor !"
N 2
268 THE LAST OF
" Keep his features clear ; they're worth a thou- sand/' said another.
The old man stood erect, but uttered nothing. A smile of deep contempt stole over his face, as each trooper crowded to examine carefully, and be assured it was the prize they had so long and dili- gently sought.
The cry that the chief was at last taken soon summoned the whole detachment; nor were the preparations many or prolix designed to suspend him to the nearest tree. The ruiEans seemed as though some common happiness had been difl\ised amongst them alL Each face glowed with delight, and the huzzas, as they threw the rope round the aged man's neck, resounded from the hills.
'' Hold !" at this instant exclaimed a voice, on which obedience hung.
There was an instant halt ; each cap was lowered in profound respect, as an officer, obviously of some rank, rode into the throng. The leader of the band stepped forth, and explained, in hurried terms, that tlieir labours were at an end : they had suc- ceeded in the capture of the recusant chieftain, and were then bearing him to execution.
" You do not well," said the commander. " I know not what injustice may have been, without my knowledge, perpetrated here. What proof have you that this is the M'Gregor ?"
THE M'GREGORS. 269
*' He denies it not," replied the serjeant j '* and, indeed, so close were our instructions, that we could not be deceived."
** I know not that j some worn and grief*stricken parent, mourning the loss of his child, may have taught him to accept your haste as the happiest relief from his deep and cureless regrets. Cast o£F the rope, and let him stand before me.'*
The troops retired to form a lane, as the officer dismounted, and advanced towards the still un- yielding prisoner. Their eyes met ; those of the old man quailed not; he met tiie more youthful glance of the commander without emotion.
Tliere was a pause j the officer drew aside with his hand the long and silvery locks which some- what obscured the furrowed brow, started invo- luntarily a single step, but as instantly recovered his self-possession.
'* Behold, my men," cried he, " of how deep a sin ye were on the very brink ! If ye have souls, be thankful that they are not stained with innocent blood. One instant more, and ye had inflicted death on the most honourable, brave, and best of men. This the M'Gregor ! You know not the chief. I knew him well. This is a false and trai- torous knave ! Fall to your prayers to Heaven, who hath so mercifully delivered ye from the sin of your own rashness. Unbind the aged man ; lead
ii'iveil tlii'ir liopos — as none ili the loyal energy of the comma prowess the war had been succ therefore, at their ill luck, th their sereial quarters, vrhile ceded to hia own tent the aerge now freed ftam the ropes b] previously bound.
" My life is safe <" exclun he clasped his hands towards 1
" If I had fifty lives they in securing your's j" and the i the neck of the veteran, and 1 tears. " The devotion of mj would that, by such a sacrifice, this accursed hand, in a ok reshnees, hath deprived thee that I am by accident the com poet. I chose these quarters.
THE M'GBEGORS. 271
inherit the lands of the McGregor have been first to desert, then to betray me. Even now the blood- hounds are on the track, and the deception by which you have for the moment saved me will soon be removed. I would not die the hangman's death.''
" Nor shall, while strength is in this arm/' ex- claimed Lamont.
In a few minutes the old man, in the cloak of a trooper, and armed as an ordinary soldier of the royalists, was on his road to Dumbarton.
The general (for such was Lamont) was known> and every challenge of the outposted guards brought with it fresh horses, and offers of assistance to facilitate the despatch which he was supposed to be personally conveying to the sovereign. The embarkation was as rapid as their ride, and a few days saw the chieftain and Lamont safely landed at Havre.
The sudden desertion of the general soon be- trayed the truth that the chief had escaped under cover of his authority. He was struck from the list of royal officers, and proclaimed a traitor and a rebel ; but the honourable discharge of his debt to the McGregor was accomplished; and, lest any thing should be wanting to its completion, the Count Lamont devoted himself to the happiness of the exiled and childless father. His last days were
272
THE LAST OF THE M^OREGORS.
%penX in the enjoyment of every comfort wealth could procure; and, above all, his regrets were aoodwdy his pairing ^irit watched, by him whose hand had so nnfortunately inflicted the blow.
BETURN TO INVBRARY.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Return to iDTerary — Sea-FiahiDg — Loch Qoil — Loch Long — Tarbart— The Bluk Loch Lomond— Taking ■ Sketch— A New Friend — The Diatrict Schoolmeater — Eimraion on the Lake — Iilaod of iDTerogUa — Rnini of the Fartreti — Its History.
Under somewhat of disappoiotment I left Loch Awe, and retraced my gteps to Inverary.
On my arrival at the inn, which I reached in the evening, I again met the captain, who had been very successful in sea-fishing since my departure. So delighted was he with the success which the
Ml liiicumjiiui it'll by till? drav sickness and continual dangi structions of tiie sport, as e endlesa excitement uf long H banish from the mind all ] gentle angle and the rippling
In the morning I again j the steam -boat, and set fair] sea — Loch Long. There is a the autumn, awaits the pack( conveys the passengers to L Loch Long, whence another ; t« Glasgow.
Haring, however, arrived procured there a good sailing men, proceeded down Loch < Loch Long.
The scenery around these
LOCH LONG. 276
Loch Long. Although we were tolerably success- ful in capturing whiting, haddock, and small cod, the great inducement to the leviathans of the sea this lake wants — the herring. It is remarkable that^ though formerly as constantly the resort of the shoals as Loch Fyne, for some years past they have wholly deserted this lake.
The sail up Loch Long Mrith a £Giir breeze^ how- ever^ amply repaid the disappointment in sport. We were fortunate in having a fine day, and as fortunate in having the wind fair. Had it been otherwise, there had been little chance of more than a cabin shelter on the side of the lake.
Towards the evening we reached a village at the head of the lake, and, with the assistance of one of the boatmen as a guide, reached Tarbert, on Loch Lomond, after a walk of six miles^ amid mountains of the most stupendous character.
The Black Loch Lomond has been the theme of the poef s song. To the admiration generally given to its waters I cannot as a sportsman respond. Although it possesses all the scenic beauties which have been so largely attributed to it, the absence of good fishing on so fine an expanse of water originates regret not to be subdued.
From the inn at Tarbert I found difficulty in ob- taining information as to the chance of any sport. It does not appear that, among the imrecorded
276 LOCH LOMOND.
numbers who have visited this spot, there have been any determined fishermen; so that little beyond the crude attempts of the cottagers who inhabit the ridges of the lakes has been done to ascertain the contents of the magnificent Loch Lomond.
There is, perhaps^ also, another cause why the lake is utterly neglected by the angler — its proxi- mity to the sea lakes, Long and Fyne ; as also the facility with which sea-fish is procured from the Clyde at Dumbarton — into which place, by the river Leven, the lake falls ; these causes have contributed greatly to depreciate the value of pike and perch.
There was no hope of filling my basket, but it had been easy to have filled the small folio, which was my resource in case of such disappointment, with sketches.
Having selected what I had deemed a favourable spot for the purpose of catching the sombre effect of the lake, I was accosted by an elderly person, whose appearance was of no ordinary kind. To the nether garments of the last century he had very judiciously appended a fashionable blue cloak, with a cap of the same colour. These so little consorted with the worn appearance of the old gentleman's visage, and the little attention which he appeared to have paid to the inner wardrobe, that it was difiicult at the first glance to decide
LOCH LOMOND. 277
whether my new acquaintance was indeed a gen- tleman or a gentleman's clothes-bearer.
I was not long deceived. His accent, though Scottish, was that of the higher class ; and^ from the direct mode in which he fell, without ceremony, in medias reSy I could easily discern that there were some subjects on which he had long been considered an authority. The frequent quotations which he used were apposite, and showed at least considerable industry in treasuring up those little scraps of little meaning which we find so greatly in use among the petty practitioners in what are called the learned professions, who hope to achieve a character for learning by the frequency of their use.
As I proceeded with my sketch, I found that he knew something of the art ; I did not therefore refuse his invitation to step into his house while he should make preparations for visiting one of the islands on the lake.
I now became informed of the real station of my new friend. He was the district schoolmaster — had been the correspondent of Lord Brougham in many matters of statistics^ — and, as he said^ had been the first to propose the scheme of the Reform Bill, which that eminent man first introduced to the notice of parliament.
I was certainly surprised at the knowledge which he evinced on such matters ; the more so when I
378 LOCH LOMOKB.
viewed the isolated spot <m which he had q«t fifty yean of his life, cut off fixxn all interooune hut that witii the lowest of the Sootliah peaaantiy. But his good spirits had not flagged— his books had been his rasouiee-i-and the moantain sir, joined with the temperance of a peaceful life, had estafaUshed a constitution which gave no sign of decay even in its seventieth year.
Such a cmnpaninnship in my solitary ramUe through the wilds of Lomond was indeed a good fiutune, of which I was fully sensible ; and I set forth with him, determined to make the excursioii of the lake, in high expectation that liis knowledge of* the most interesting spots and their peculiar histories would materially forward my purpose in the visit.
Our embarkation was easy — two men, in a slight boat, were soon prepared. There is no sail used on Loch Lomond ; the height of the moun- tains on either side is so great that squalls of such sudden power sometimes fisdl on the water as to render it difficult for small boats to keep the sur- fietce. My tackle was in order, but it was not easy to obtain bait.
On our arrival at the small island of Inveruglas, which is about three miles above Tarbert, I, for the first time since the commencement of my tour, had recourse to the old and undignified process of
1- •_
LOCH LOMOND. 279
watching a quill float, having carefully hid myself behind a projection. It would have been a matter for laughter, had any of the cockney tourists wit- nessed my humiliating position ; verifying, doubt- less, the rude, and, as I contend, unjust, defini- tion of Dr. Johnson, about a stick and a worm, the particulars of which it is, as a devotee to the angle, my wish fully to forget.
The object of my degradation was soon achieved, and a dozen small perch were the produce of an hour's industry. These were quickly appended to corks, and set a hundred yards distance around the island. This accomplished, we directed the boat- men to spread our cloth on the grass, on which the banquet I had ordered from the inn at Tarbert was laid.
As I threw myself on the sward, the ruins of what had once been an extensive fortress arrested my attention. It was situated above a waterfall, in a hollow formed by the abrupt termination of two mountains, the site of which appeared to have been well chosen, as from neither side was it assail- able, while the building itself commanded the en- trance to the ravine.
Struck by so interesting a ruin, I was impatient in my inquiries as to its fortunes, and expressed my hope that my companion knew something more of them than could be gleaned from books.
280
LOCH LOMOND.
'* You have done me only justioey" said my friend. ^ I have, indeed, devoted much time to research in the history and fortunes of those ruined turrets ; and, anticipating your inquiries, I have brought with me the notes, which will enable me to follow, in their order, a series of the most bloody events that ever yet occupied the pages of fiction. No fiction could equal the reality of the circimistances which aie connected with that mouldering pile — the sun still shines in its pristine beauty — the landscape smiles — and nature still is benignant nature around it — as if unconscious of the violence done to her laws."
With these words he drew from his ample pocket the manuscript, and commenced the history of In- versnaid Fort
THE LAIRD OF DRUMMONDERNOCH. 281
CHAPTER XIX.
The Laird of Drummoodernoch, a Story of the Last of the Clan M'Gregor.
The possessions of the clan Grigor, or, as their descendants, of whom I am one, were indifferently called, Gregor and McGregor, extended, westward of Inversnaid Fort, over the measureless mountains of Breadal and Cruachan. After the proscription of their chief, nmny reclaimed their rights, and soon became numerous and powerful.
The boundaries were ill defined, and the occu- pation of hunting in that age constituted the almost entire amusement of the clans. At that time it was also an employment of profit. The jealousy of the proprietors was proportionate with the value of the deer ; and deep and incurable was the insult that one chief offered to another in tres- passing from his own to the domain of his neigh- bour.
Unconscious — as youth generally is — of any
2B2 THS LAIRD OF DRUJOf ONDBRNOCH.
tmooB conaequenoes in the pursuit of pleasuiei some of the younger branches of the M'DonaldB, connected by hlood with the M^Gr^ors, had as- sembled at Glenco for the day's sport They were not the highest of the clan, but they were entitled to a greater share of respect than it will be fbimd they experienced.
In foUowing the roebuck, they had trespassed oa the royal grounds of Glenartney, on the borders d Lodi Achray, of which Dnunmond was the keeper and laird under the crown. They were surrounded by the serfs of Drummondemoch, and brought be- fore that officer of the king. Here their conduct was contemptuous, which so inflamed the anger of Drummond, that he ordered the youths instantly to be ear-cropped, a cruelty which was subsequently in cold blood inflicted by his serfs on the youths of McDonald.
There was one of them who, while undergoing the disgusting barbarity, smiled in derision on Dnunmond, and assured him that the small quan- tity of blood which trickled from the side of his head, whence the ears had that moment been cut, was only the spring head of some splendid rivers of the same colour, which should shortly flow through the valleys. The threat was then treated with ridicule, and the youths thus mutilated were conducted to the line of the royal domain and dismissed.
THE LAIBD OF DBUMMOKDEBNOCH. 283
Their misfortune was not of a character to allay the thirst for revenge ; and Ronald McDonald, who had made the threat even in the very teeth of the Dnimmondy first claimed a halt for the purpose of invoking vengeance and determining the means of its accomplishment. They each to the other gave the sacred pledge — never to seek other objects — never while life lasted to them to forego the pur- pose of revenge on the Drummond.
The joyous arrival of Queen Anne of Denmark, to whom the king (James) was most anxious to afford all token of hospitality, put the best exer- tions of the rangers of the royal forests in requisi- tion. The demands of the court were difficult to satisfy, and Drummond, desirous of evincing his loyalty and duty in person, headed the parties to whom was entrusted the labour of providing deer for the royal table.
The huntsman's horn sounded cheerfully through the extensive woods, as the imperious laird first spurred his steed onward. Attended only by his page, he followed the signal thus given, till he had almost joined the numerous troop.
The horn again sounded, and Drummond per- ceived by the direction of the blast that he had mistaken the turn. Fearing lest he should delay the band, who had received orders to await his ar- rival, he spurred forward his gallant steed, while
9B4 THE LAIED OF DRUUf ONDEBKOCH.
•gain the honu sounded ; the points whence the sbriU clangor proceeded were opposite, and be knew not which pass to adopt
Deqpatching, therefore, his pages in the one dirsGtioDy he lescdved himself to follow that which appeared to be the one leading to the nearest di?i- sion of the troop. He dashed into the thicket, the oecasiopal blasts which «ioouraged him appearing still nearer. One wind nMne and he was with tiiem — it was the last he ever heard — that bhst was his knell.
From the thicket sprang six youths, strong and well accoutred. The foremost was Ronald, who with one blow struck Drummond from his horse, and, the rest immediately following up the attack, the unhappy laird was rendered utterly helpless. From the pouch of each was drawn a knife that had never before severed flesh, preserved with a re- ligious awe for the performance of one act of deep and satiating revenge.
The unhappy laird supplicated in accents of the most piteous kind for mercy at the hands of the McDonalds.
*'What!" cried Ronald, "cry you for mercy to us whose ears you yourself have cropped ? Be- hold, we have no ears ! Cry, therefore, for mercy to others \* and thus saying he slashed the throat of Drummond with his maiden blade.
THE LAIRD OF DBUMMONDEBNOOH. 285
The rest, anxious to fulfil their vow, and to per- form a part in the terrific tragedy, soon completed the work thus savagely begun, and the trunk of the laird of Drummondemoch lay headless on the sward.
A savage cry of victory was raised as the youths mounted their steeds, which were tethered to the neighbouring trees, and a long and rude blast of the horn noted their fleet departure from the scene of blood : — Ronald himself the foremost, and bear- ing before him the head of the murdered laird in ecstacy.
llieir rapid flight soon brought them to the do- main of the Stewart of Ardvorlich, and, reaching the banks of Loch Earn, on which the noble mansion stood, they bounded swiftly to the portals. The gates were boldly assailed, and the huntsmen, as they appeared, found a ready admission. Each having given orders that his steed might re- main in readiness, hastily dismounted, and was conducted to the banqueting-hall of the Stew- arts.
As was the custom — and a revered one it is — in those days of genuine hospitality, the lady of the mansion first made her appearance to the traveller. The wife of the Stewart exhibited all the amiable attention for which our noble Scottish dames were justly celebrated ; herself directing the servants of
386 THB LAIBD OF DRUHMONDERNOCH.
the vast hall to dispose the viands, and by her own exertions endeavouring to supply tlie absence of the host.
As sheaddressed Ronald, her eye fell on his side &oe — it was earless— a moment served to examine the rest) who all exhibited the same defect She started with apprehension — ^her hand was arrested in the office she was performing — she was coir- •dous that she was in the presence of enemies, for she was the sister of the murdered Drum- mond.
A smile passed from Ronald to his companion?. as he perceived the terror of the lady of Ardvor- lich.
" Be not," said he, " surprised ; my comrades and myself had once the misfortune to be but poorly treated on your kinsman's domain ; but you will make amends. The hospitality of the Stew- arts is undoubted."
'* You will deem the humble fare I can com- mand my best eflFort in the absence of my laird," replied the lady.
There was a coldness in her manner as she withdrew from the hall, that sufficiently indicated that the guests were no welcome ones to Ardvor- lich. But Ronald, whose high spirits had not left him since the achievement of his revenge, ac- companied the departure of the hostess with a
THE LAIRD OF DBUMMONDEBNOCH. 287
hearty laugh, in which all joined with equal cor- diality.
At length the porter appeared, bearing the enormous oaten loaf, and the coarse and flavourless cheese— the common fare of every tramper. These were placed on the board with ceremony, and the tankard in the midst.
*'Why, where the devil/* exclaimed Ronald, ^^ is the Rhenish ? where the haunch ? and, above all, where the boar's head ?"
The porter bowed, and declared the mansion in the absence of the laird furnished none of these.
" Enough/' cried Ronald. " I '11 supply them for your lady. She may know that travellers do not always go so well provided — you may de- part."
The porter with a distant respect withdrew; while Ronald, locking the door, proceeded to un- cover the bloody head of Drummond. Having placed it in the centre of the board, each took the tankard.
" This is hard/' said one, bowing to the ghastly head, whose glazed eyes were not yet closed: — ** this is hard, that so distinguished a guest should be so scurvily received— a health 1"
*^ A health !" cried the next, as he bowed with assumed gravity to the head.
But," said Ronald, *' shall it be reported that,
((
Tm IJORD OF DRUMMONDERKOCH.
Aongh Oe Slewaifs lady was inho^staUe, we MgWtfid tfie re^ieti due to the kdrd of Dram- lawlniMidi ! For shame! — we cannot depait for- gcCful of our duty to so great a warrior.'*
With this he cianuned between the bloodless lips of the coarse &re which had been presented
Eonald then went to the poller's hall, and sdi- cited the presence of the lady of the manrion, that he might personally retom his tiianks.
Heased at their contemplated departure, the laiy soon appeared, and was received with mock civility by RoDald, who, taking her hand, led her towards the great hall table«
** Madam,** said Ronald, " you have been igno- rant of the rank of one of vour visitors, or vou had not furnished us so poorly. The fare you have provided is unworthy the noble laird, who claims a better welcome and a more refined repast — he will himself show vou how ill he takes vour viands — for behold" — and he drew back the handkerchief which had hitherto concealed the head — •* it sticks in the very mouth of the Drummond !'*
'' Great God ! mv brother !"
She could articulate no more, but feU lifeless on the floor of the* hall ; while Ronald, having seized the head, was soon with his companions at utmost speed on the road to their kinsmen the McGregors,
THE LAIRD OF DRUMMONDERNOCH. 289
They halted not till they had reached the chapel of Balghuidder, where the earless troop were hailed by shouts of congratulation on the success of their enterprize.
On their entering the holy building, the numerous kinsmen who had collected at this spot preceded Ronald/ who bore the head to the altar. There, each having placed his hand upon the hair, swore to defend the youths who had thus achieved a just revenge with Uberty and life.
So atrocious an outrage and so openly perpe- trated on the officer of king could not pass even then, when each chief was a despotic lawgiver to his clans without notice. The Colquhoun of Luss, on the banks of this very lake, a small village which adjoins the lands of Tarbert and Alexander of Glenstrae, received from the sovereign himself letters of extermination by fire and sword of the McGregors ; for upon them fell the wrath of the Drummonds, their kinsmen, the McDonalds having been deemed too weak and mean, unassisted by the more powerful clan, to havQ undertaken the bloody enterprize.
How dangerous is the first step in injustice 1 with what frightful consequences is it fraught ! Power, in whomsoever placed, should be carefully wielded, or the very blow which is intended for an enemy recoils on the giver !
VOL. II. o
290 THB LJURD OF DRUMMONDEBKOCH.
The furious executors of the king'^s power lost no time m waging war with the MKJregors; but their courage and skill in war bafBed all the efforts of their enemies, and the death of Drummond re- mained unavenged.
At length overtures were made by Glenstrae for an amicable arrangement, and terms of peace were offered, which the leader of the McGregors deemed honourable. He was invited to meet the chief- tains on the banks of the Leven at the end of the lake, and with peaceful views he had selected two hundred only of his followers, who accompanieil him to the place of treaty.
Armed with the letters of the king, the laird of Luss deemed no means unlawful or against ho- nour which should effect the extermination of the McGregors. The scheme, therefore, was arranged to attack them unprepared, and leave no vestige of their name on the banks of Loch Lomond. Security in the plan was ensured. Even the youth of Dum- barton College, in those fearful times the place of education for the chieftains* sons, had to the number of eighty assembled to behold the treacherous slaughter which was resolved on, should the McGregors join the rendezvous.
llie M'Gregors did arrive ; but so well prepared, tliat they left two hundred of the name of Col- quhoun on the field dead, and, having imprisoned the
THE LAIBD OF DRUMMONDERNOCH. 291
unfortunate children in a bam on the plain of Leven, even while victory was acknowledged to the McGregors, that infatuated clan, stung with the treachery which had been practised on them, sought an ignoble vengeance in the immolation of innocent victims. They set fire to the bam, and buried the helpless youths in the flames !
'* This is the history of our bloody deeds. ITie consolation I have, as a descendant from the line of the McGregors, is, that the injustice began not with us. The consequences, however, were de- served. In admitting that, however, I cannot but despise the folly which induced the sovereign to continue the war of extermination.
" 111 was the procession ; for there was one — even before the eyes of the king himself — that completed our ruin.
'^ The widows of the slain, each mounted on a gay palfrey, and suspending the bloody shirts of their slain husbands, passed before the king. In the exasperation of the moment he sent forth his fiat* The combination of clans effected that under the royal authority, which no separate power could have achieved.
" Ruthless, indeed, were the slaughters of the un- happy McGregors. Long lingered they in cave& and woods, and bloody were their acts of ven-
o 2
nil iiioiv tlian those hamU suppb pursued me and mine heavily njually on the descendants oJ from whose first injustice then have flowed. But I am on my i die on it !"
In that fort fell the last of the there, with but a few fi^owers, united clans ; fifteen slew he wi more, and crowned the heap w Peace to this spot ! it is still rei of the brave !*
* Th^ principdfuta of thefnr«going{ tory. I believe there are •ome circutnM* hcts which hBTE not yet ■ppurcd, anil t altered ihe veTiion of (Ac /Mf ^ fAr ^^<;(
COBBLES MOUNTAIN.
CHAPTER XX.
Rot am to Tirbert — Inferiority at Pika in MoaDtam I^kei — Loch Lomond — Hob Hoy's C»vb — Loch Arkill — The Siltnon Roe— Melhod of Curing it— Spirit of Imposition on Tiavellert
— Loch Vennoi^hsr— Fall at Miltown_G randeur of the Scenery
— A Venerable Fiiherman — Hia History — Happineis of • Country Life — Cone) as ion.
On the conclusion of my elderly friend's narra- tive, I hint«d that our lines were probably fraught with some substantial proof that Loch Lomond was unworthily neglected. Our boatmen had long since resigned themselves to sleep, and required considerable clearness of explanation before they
294 LOKOND PIKE.
could be made to comprehend their inherent powers of locomotion.
Our voyage round the island was soon performed. Some of our trimmers had utterly disappeared ; but the few we discovered were well laden. Pike of from six to twelve pounds — ^five of which having safely got on board, we set off for Tarbert, where we arrjf ed about seven in the evening. Our cargo was valueless ; even the cottagers thought the pike nae guid; and the contempt with which they ap- peared to be regarded by all classes on the bauks of Lomond, induced me to order one to be cooked at the inn. My friend, the venerable schoolmaster, was my companion ; but I regret that truth com- pels me to observe that the pike of this loch are worthy the contempt they meet.
It should be noted by the angler that this fish is never found in perfection in mountain lakes ; the springs which supply them are ordinarily of a cold and uncongenial kind ; and although the increase in such situations is great, yet all the specimens I have seen of the pike of the Scottish Highlands bear out the observation.
In speaking of Loch Lomond, I should perhaps only reiterate the praises of the many tourists who have visited its waters. It is impossible to convey any adequate idea of the bold variety of the mag- nificent mountains by which it is enclosed. The
THE BLUE BELT. 295
shore is dotted with handsome erections, which convey the idea of the utmost refinement amid the wildest of nature's scenes. But, notwithstanding this, the disappointment to the angler is great ; it seems indeed to him a desert vast but void. Nor will the sportsman of other propensities than those of the angle be more cheered, when he finds that every rock has its keeper j and it would be as well to take a morning's shooting at the ducks on the pools of St. James's Park, as to attempt the murder of a single black cock on the mountains of Loch Lo- mond.
Bidding, therefore, farewell to my elderly com- panion at Tarbert, I again engaged my boatmen to take me a few miles up the lake, to Bob Boy*s Cave, determined to land there, and proceed to Loch Catrine, or, as it appears indifferently called, Ketturin, or Catterine.
It is, I believe, a matter of record, that Loch Lo- mond lake has given perfect indications of any con- vulsion of the terrestrial form. It is celebrated for its blue belt, a kind of rainbow, which is ever deemed a certain forerunner of a storm. It is said, also, that without the least perceivable perturbation of the atmosphere, Loch Lomond will suddenly assume an agitation of surface dangerous to the small boats which are used in the villages on its banks. There is no doubt that the celebrated earthquake of 1775
■ iivi- of Koh Roy, tlie last ol tlie M'Gregors, Tliere is, but that this was one of hi! war of extemuDation, whicl the annihilation of the horde, for security, as the approac commanded from the entran and the impaasable mountaina is little to invite minute inves and damp cave, which must into a residence by the direst Havii^ landed at Inversne low the cave of Rob Roy, I boatmen, at an enormous ral porter of my small basket, ai ordinary means of conveyance Loch Catrine is infested, I ' small lakes which I should ne way.
THE ROE. 297
the larger lake, Chon^ and in thU^ which is a c(»i- tdnuation of the river Forth, I took two sahnon, full of roe. Although the season was getting late, and the salmon would be considered no longer the lawful spoil to the fair sportsman, I confess I prized them greatly, not for any inviting qualities they possessed for the table, but for the inestimable spawn they contained. On my arrival at a small hut, I halted with my attendant, and, having taken both the roes from the fish, I proceeded thus to cure them.*
The full roes were placed in a large basin of water. The particles were carefully separated, and the blood thoroughly washed from them. Having, after the cleansing, carefully drained the roe through a cloth, I put about two pounds of com- mon salt upon them, working the salt well in by the hand. I then tied the whole in a cloth, and suspended it in the air while the preparations for my refreshment were making. In two hours I tied the mass up in a handkerchief, and placed it in my basket. The next day I potted it carefully down .
This proved, on the ensuing season, some of the finest roe-bait I have ever possessed. My motive for giving this receipt here is, that whenever any of my fraternity may become equally fortunate in the capture of the fish in this state, they will be
* I give this second receipt to meet the exigency of the moment.
o5
90B THE PEASANTRY.
enabled at once to convert that^ which is generally considered valueless, to the source of future sue-
There is little to observe, in making the short tour of Lfoch Catrine and the Trosacks, of the character of the peasantry. They have become so wholly changed from the continual visits of strangers, who, throughout the autumn, pour into the resting- places, called inns, in swarms, that they no longer present the most remote characteristic of the bold and daring Higlilanders of old. The spirit of imposition has become general among them, and every feeling, hope, and wish, seem now concen- trated in the one overpowering purpose of making the visits of strangers supply the necessity of for- mer industry.
I found that the humble mode of travelling 1 had adopted did but ill accord with the expectations of even the peasantry, and they appeared to regard my occupation with the extremest contempt. But the wild beauties of Loch Vennachar, which alter not with the change of the peasantry, who are here and there scattered along its banks, soon dissipateii the chagrin, which the inciviUty the humble tra- veller is likely to meet might otherwise have oc- casioned.
1 had not the means of trying my fortune on tlii? lake ; the wind was against me, and I could by no
MILTOWN f ALL. 299
eflfort throw £Eir enough to command the depth, where the best fish are generally found, and there was no boat. I hastened, therefore, onward to- wards its outlet, which is a fine river, and I doubt not in the season abundant in salmon.
I paused at the celebrated fall at Miltown to contemplate the solemn grandeur of the scene. The light- wooded mountains, amongst which Ben Ledi appeared supereminent, cast their sombre shadows on the cascade, while the roar of its waters contributed to inspire a solitary tourist with a reverential awe. So stupendous indeed was the fall, and so deafening the roar of the foaming waters, that I had scarcely perceived I was no longer alone, till I had heard the mild salutation of a brother of the angle.
Before me stood an aged fisherman, with a rudely constructed rod. His worn and deeply- lined countenance disclosed the many winters that had, midst this bleak and barren scenery, passed over his silvery head. He bowed, as I looked to- ward him, in so engaging a manner, that I at once threw off all reserve, and sought to enlist him in conversation. This was not difficult, for, to my surprise, I found that he spoke excellent English, and his accent was not that of an uneducated per- son. He had been unsuccessful at the fall ; the wind, indeed, had become easterly, and there was
800 THE BECLU8E
a coldness in the air which augured any thing but a favourable cast ; and, with the exception of a few trout, which I readily took with the salmcHi- roe, my attempts were fruitless as his own.
He proposed that I should follow the stream to his home, which I very readily did, impressed with the conviction that there must exist circumstances in the character and life of the isolated angler worth recording.
It was a mile down the stream where we halted at the door of a small but neat cottage ; the hand that opened it was that of an aged female, whose dress and general appearance manifested acquain- tance with better and more refined accommodation ; but it was cheering to observe the deep attachment that appeared to exist between the aged couple — the smile of happiness with which they met, and the cheering comfort which pervaded the interior of the humble edifice.
Dried salmon, bacon, and potatoes, were soon before us. It was not the food, but the manner in which it was prepared, the delicacy with which it was offered, and the mutual efforts of my host and hostess, that enhanced the enjoyment.
The tiu-f fire heaped, and the cold easterly wind excluded, the long clay pipe and the toddy glsiss were produced. I could refrain no longer, but en- treated that my inquiries might be ascribed to a
OF THE WILDS. 801
better motive than mere impertinence, when I de- clared that I had felt an inexpressible desire to be made acquainted with the circumstances which had caused an Englishman and his lady, for such she manifestly was, to select so wild a spot for their residence.
^^ My inducements to reside here were simple in themselves,*^ said he, '^ cmd easily explained. I receive his majesty's allowance of half-pay as a lieutenant of the —^ regiment, which was reduced in 1816. After twenty-five years* active service, I was ill prepared for other occupation than that of arms and wild sports ; and, perhaps, I have much to blame myself for. I had no disposition to be subject to the degradation of inferior employment, or the taunts, * the sliugs and arrows,' which are levelled at comparative poverty.
" Yet seventy pounds per annum, which is the amount of half-pay, may, under some circum- stances, become wealth. I have endeavoured to make it so, and I think not unsuccessfully. I am not without the means of subsistence ; and I am, without the intermission of a day, fully employed in a manner alone congenial to my views of enjoy- ment and liberty. I am a professed angler; as such have I lived, I trust, without offence to any ; and I pray only that my life may be suffered to terminate in the same peaceful pursuit.
'. , j of ihosf wliimi 1 was bound tc
jj y active orai>loyiiieiil, y.-t, no sck>
' I a small income become mine, t
in the choice of my future life.
hsppinesB, Iiow well I have su
estimated by those who have h
and mind of her, whose hand
' employed in the furtherance o:
He looked towards the egei
I inner room, was busily preperi
I " But," said I, " have you 1
I fered from no busy remembrat
I where, doubtless, you and yt
must necessarily have been hij
" I thought," replied he, "
I feared them — yet have the;
If, while I have resorted t
' during the Iteavy snows of
■^■4 mountains remain for weeks t
HIS PHILOSOPHY. 303
leas by the calumny and petty invention of the envious crowd, who, though not equal in other re- spects, are ever superior in the art of subtle inven- tions to pain and injure. Of the successful com- petitor I thought, and I shuddered at the nervous disquietude which shook his frame, and ultimately conducted him to an early grave. I thought, too, of the mortification of that inferior mind, placed in competition with powers which it never could reach — ^Isaw the venom gradually insinuate itself into the heart of the unsuccessful — I beheld the degradation at which he had arrived, and I was disgusted with the compound of weakness, envy, and falsehood, which led to the same early end.
^* What, I asked myself, is life, that men should so dishonour their natural feelings to preserve sta- tion in it ? Truly such life is worse than worth- less— ^it must be a curse 1 It is the picture of that man who spent his whole fortune, to the uttermost doit, in raising a fortification to preserve it 1 the expense of the walls had swallowed the intrinsic worth they were intended to preserve.
*' Here calmly and peacefully glide the days. I have my day for exercise and useful sport ; for,^' said he, as he pointed to rows of dried salmon sus- pended from the wall, " you observe that my time can hardly have been ill spent which supplies this store of food. I have my books after the day's
304 THE ANGLER'S PHILOSOPHY.
&tigue — my cheerful turf fire; I envy no man, for here are none to envy. I contemplate daily, in their grandest development, the works of my Creator, and I look to Him in confidence, in admi- ration, and in gratitude.
^* These feelings teach me that I am no longer one of the misled and mistaken world — as that is called where contention, inordinate wealth, and squalid poverty, are all mingled together, and amongst which nature never appears! But the sepcuration is only painful because I look with pity on the gross errors of my fellow men. It has been said that population is too great; and, behold, millions of deserts and uncultivated voids appear. It has been said that men are starving, while all the other animal creations of a beneficent God are rejoicing in abundance. The very insect is sup* plied, and maintains his liberty against the strongest oppressor.
'^ To man hath been entrusted the possession of powers which his own rashness and ignorance per- vert. Society is wide from the pure doctrines of nature and philosophy. If I have not more wisely adhered to them, at least I have achieved a portion of that happiness of which human existence is abundantly capable ; nor fear I any change while the enjoyment of that existence is innocent, and wliile I fully and reverently trust in the divine
THE ANGLER'S PHILOSOPHY. 305
order which I see in all things, save the folly of man, universally predomincmt/'
I know not whether the cheerful pipe^ the glass of whiskey toddy, the blazing turf fire, and the cheerful assent which was given by the kind partner of the aged fisherman to all he advanced, influenced me, but I must record the admission I made — it was this — that peace, health, and angling, were superior to strife, calumny, and an early grave.
I took leave of my host and hostess with heart- felt respect, and was soon on my road, by the pass of Aberfoil to Glasgow.
" To what," said I, as I left the hospitable cot, ** am I thus laboriously hastening, as I leave thes^ rapid streams, these broad and boundless lakes, these mountains trackless, and these fruitful vales. Alas ! to the strife, perhaps to poverty, but cer- tainly to an early grave !"
My resolution is not strong as my conviction, or my cottage had adjoined that of the philosopher of the Miltown Fall.
THE END.
LONDON : F. 8H0BERL, JUM., PRIIfTBR, 51, RUPBRT BTRBBT, BATKARKBT.
Vol. I., pace 192, line 27, for '• i Vol. II.,p*g» 76, Iiile38,bafare*'
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