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PREFACE.
PREFACE.
I have been so often and persuasively asked to republish A Little Tour in Ireland , which I wrote as “an Oxonian,” many years ago, at the request of my beloved friend and companion, John Leech, and of which only one edition has been issued, and that long since exhausted; I have been so severely upbraided for “keeping his splendid illustrations locked up in a box, and raising the price of the few copies which come into the market, to thrice the original cost;” I have been so fully certified, not
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At last, we rejoined the party, and found them talking the silliest rubbish conceivable, and apparently enjoying the nastiest coffee I ever remember to have drunk. That night, and at the witching hour, when men and women tell each other everything, (in the strictest confidence), they in their dormitories, and we in our smoke-rooms, I revealed my misery to my friend Frank C————, who happened happily to be staying with me. Frank has Irish blood in his veins, and his first impulse was to have “a cr
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F ORTHWITH, I put myself into active training, and got into splendid condition for doing “justice to Ireland.” I read Moore's Melodies; I played Nora Creina upon the flute, not perhaps with that rapidity which is usual outside the Peepshows, but with much more expression; I discoursed with reapers; I tried to pronounce Drogheda, till I was nearly black in the face; I drank whiskey-punch (subsequently discovered to be Hollands); I ate Irish stew (a dish never heard of in that country) and I bough
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I begin to fear that my unhappy tendencies to this kind of fierce, but fugitive attachment, have not been at all improved by communion with Mr. Thomas Moore, and I tremble to find myself listening complacently to the fickle philosophies of Marmontel,—“ Quand on na pas ce que ion aime, il faut aimer ce que l'on a. ” “The Rows” of Chester are very picturesque and quaint, but do not make a favourable impression upon a giant with a new hat, and, being on the upper side of six feet, I was glad to lea
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Why do the porters wear velvet hunting caps? Frank would keep inquiring, “where the hounds met” (it was a broiling day early in August), “why they didn't have top boots?” &c., &c., &c. The museum is a very interesting one; and our cicerone in the cap pointed out the harp of Brian Boroimhe—that “Bryan the Brave,” who was so devoted to threshing the Danes and music; the enormous antlers of an Irish elk, which placed upon wheels would make a glorious outside car, the passeng
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And never shall I forget how painfully drear that pedestal seemed, when the statue, descending, took her Papa's arm (Oh, that her beloved Governor were mine also!), and was gone from our gaze, like a beautiful star. The view from the hill of Killiney is one of the loveliest in this land of loveliness. Seated among the purple and golden flowers, you look over its rocks and trees upon the noble Bay of Dublin with its waters “bickering in the noontide blaze,” and the stately ships gliding to and fr
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We were so fortunate as to reach the Porto-Bello Gardens just in time for “ The Siege and Capture of Delhi .” We had both of us formed most erroneous impressions on the subject, and it was a grand opportunity for ascertaining truth. If the representation was correct, and there seems no reason to mistrust it, as “no expense had been spared,” it is high time for the English people to be told that the accounts which have appeared in their newspapers (the graphic, glowing descriptions of Mr. William
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Missing this fashionable Christian exercise, I amused myself by attiring a portly, closeshaven priest—who sat opposite to me, and who had a face which would have represented anybody with the aid of a clever costumier —in all sorts of imaginary head-dresses, dowagers' turbans, Grenadiers' caps, Gampian bonnets, beadles' hats, &c., and endeavoured to fancy the feelings of his flock, if they were to see him in reality, as I in thought. Passing through county Meath, we were again reminded of
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No, whatever may be the wrongs of Ireland no lover of the picturesque and beautiful would wish to see her re-dressed (so far as the ladies are concerned—the gentlemen might be improved); no one would desire to see her peasant girls in the tawdry bonnets and brass-eyed boots, which stultify the faces and cripple the feet of the daughters of our English labourers. As to the origin of these Claddagh people, I am not sufficiently “up” in ethnology, to state with analytical exactness the details of t
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I receive this statement cum grano salis (always appropriate to bacon), as I do Phil Purcel's, that “there was in Ireland an old breed of swine, which is now nearly extinct, except in some remote parts of the country, where they are still useful in the hunting season , if dogs happen to be scarce;” 1 and (with all deference to the lady). Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall's, “an acquaintance of ours taught one to point , and the animal found game as correctly as a pointer . He gave tongue , too, after his
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CHAPTER V. THE FAMINE.
CHAPTER V. THE FAMINE.
A S schoolboys, to whom “next half” begins to-morrow—sailors on the eve of a voyage—invalids, expecting a physician, who, they know, will prescribe an unwelcome diet—yea, even as criminals before execution,—amplify their meals, and, from their dreary expectations, educe a keener relish,—so we, awfully anticipating the cuisine of Connamara, made a mighty dinner at Galway. It was brought to us, moreover, by a dear old waiter, who evidently had a proud delight in feeding us, as though he were some
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W E left Galway for Clifden at 9.30 next morning. The public conveyance is a large-paper edition of the outside car, with an elevated seat for the driver. There is one place to be avoided on some of these vehicles, that nearest to the horses on the off-side, on account of the iron bar of the drag, which operates from time to time very disagreeably on the back and shoulders of the contiguous traveller. The scenery gradually increases in interest. First we have trees, farms, houses, and the quiet
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Some of the gateways, too, would have been very imposing, if most of their principal ornaments had not been mutilated or missing. Our favourite among the more perfect specimens, was adorned with a stone pine-apple on one pillar, and a Swede turnip or pumpkin on the other; and had a rich effect. Most of the field-gates have massive pillars of stone, and would render the inclosures most secure, if there were not, now and then, easy apertures through the turf-dykes, which form the fence hard by, su
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As to the people, there is little difference, so far as appearance is concerned, between Paddy in England and Paddy at home; the same flaccidity of hat; the same amplitude of shirt-collar, which would cut his ears off if it were severely starched; the same dress coat of frieze; drab breeches (aisy at the knees), grey-stockings, and brogues. The same in aspect, but in action how different! In England, he will rise with the sun, reap under its burning heat until it sets, and dance in the barn at m
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The miserable huts of the peasantry, seen by the feeble light which comes through the doorway and smoke-hole (to talk about chimneys would be an insult to architecture) give one the idea, not so much that the pigs have got into the parlour, but that the family have migrated to the sty. An unpaved clay floor below, a roof of straw and weeds, dank, soaked, and rotting, overhead, a miserable bed in the corner, an iron pot over a peat fire, are the principal items of the property. Before the door is
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We lunched at “ The Recess ,” a pleasant little inn (with a cheerful landlady and civil waitress), but somewhat damp withal; for Ireland is “the Niobe of nations,” 1 and, as the beautiful bride of the Atlantic, ofttimes weeps in her western home, when her husband is at low water, or subject to lunar influence. But there is no time for metaphor or meteorology, the cutler having already scooped the interior from the heads of both the lobsters, and it being quite necessary to propose some saving cl
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Gracious Heavens, what were we to see! We were on Irish ground; the stillness and the solitude, so wildly broken, encouraged all our superstitious fancies; and everything we had read or heard of Bogies, Banshees, Kelpies, and Co., came back to our astonised souls. Were we, really, to witness something supernatural at last, something, which, when we got home, should make the teeth of our neighbours chatter, and cause the hair to stand up on our relations' heads? Perhaps, we were to contemplate th
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T HE scenery on leaving Clifden is for a time bleak and monotonous, but soon becomes varied and beautiful. You pass, by Streamstown and Ballinakill , through the pleasant village with its pretty cottages, fuchsia-hedges, and general look of neatness and comfort, which it owes to Mr. Ellis, an English resident, and who, (so it was told to me, as our friend Herodotus hath it) is much respected, although a Quaker, by the Roman Catholics around. Between this place and Kylemore , you enter upon one o
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Hurrying back, I was just in time to meet the conquering hero as he came ashore; and I am quite sure that neither Julius Cæsar, nor any other human being, ever landed with greater dignity. Had he been coming to weigh after winning “the Liverpool,” or into the Pavilion at Lords' after an innings of five hundred, he could not have looked more happy and glorious, and I felt it a privilege to strew the path he trod upon with three bits of heather and my pocket-handkerchief. There was an amusing litt
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W E left Kyle-more next morning about 8.30,—the Irishman calling to us from his window, “to give his love to the Bishop of London, and to ask him what he fancied for the Chester Cup,”—travelling on an outside car,—the most pleasant mode of conveyance for two persons, as you are thus perfectly independent, can stop when and where you please, have plenty of room, and can converse agreeably. Frank looked wistfully back at the lake, like the pointer sent home at luncheon, or the hunter you have ridd
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But the dreariness of the scene was soon delightfully relieved by numbers of the peasantry, on their way to the Fair, or Pattern as it is called, being held on the festival of some Patron Saint, at Leenane ; and the striking colours of their picturesque costume, red, white, and blue, came out most effectively against the sombre darkness of the back-ground. Boats, too, were crossing the water; and a soldier in uniform, coming over in one of them, glowed on the gloomy lake, like a bed of scarlet g
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Up came the astonished waiter, and surveying the wreck with a sorrowful countenance, exclaimed, “By the powers, your onner, its Meary's looking-glass you've been and ruinated intirely!—and how will she kape herself nate and daysint?” subsequently explaining to us, that this vessel, filled with clear spring water, had served, prior to its dissolution, as the mirror of the pretty housemaid. I had my doubts as to the tale of a tub; but Frank, at all events, thought it his duty to have an interview
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Here and there, in mid-stream, are beacons of an original pattern. The cormorants flew heavily away before us, but the heron moved not from the sighing sedge,—still and grey as the stone on which he stood,—nor seemed to note the seething waters, which swelled around him as the steamer passed. Ay, and how touchingly that silent bird, with his keen gaze, steadfastly fixed, and his every thought concentrated, upon one object reminded me (if, for a moment, I may assimilate the Queen of my soul to a
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THE BELLE OF THE SHANNON. 1
THE BELLE OF THE SHANNON. 1
“He'll forget her to-morrow morning,” said Frank to his neighbour, in a pretended whisper, which all could hear, “and it's better so, poor fellow, for the girl's ridiculously fond of me, and I've got no end of her hair in my pocket.” Of course, there were plenty of fools to giggle; but I never could see any wit in lies. I am quite positive, that, when we parted, she returned my regretful gaze, and U NDOUBTEDLY, there is solace for the forlorn in the pleasant city of Limerick . Justly celebrated
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Limerick is divided into three parts, the Irish town, the English town, and Newtown Perry (so called after Mr. Sexton Perry , who commenced it); and these are connected by bridges, of which the old Thomond, hard by King Johns Castle, and the new Wellesley, said to have cost 85,000 L., are interesting. The eccentricities of the workmen must have added materially to the costliness of the latter structure, inasmuch as they seem to have been Odd Fellows as well as very Free Masons, who, instead of c
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T HERE are words which, although unnoticed in the delightful treatises of the Dean of Westminster 1 (may his fame increase!) have a strange power upon the heart,—words which can ring for us, listening by the brookside, and in arbours and meadow-haunts once more, the joy-bells of a former mirth, or toll above past sorrows and buried hopes their muffled and mournful peal. Breathes there, for instance, a man with soul so dead, who can hear of a primrose bank, or a cowslip-ball, or a roly-poly puddi
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At the entrance to the Gap , the scene was a most lively and attractive one. Here the cars are sent back, as the journey through the Pass must be made on ponies or afoot, and there was quite a merry little congress of visitors, guides, cars, and steeds. At length, the procession started, and a very picturesque one,— voici! The Gap of Dunloe is a wild ravine, a defile through the mountains (on the right are the Reeks , and on the left the Tomies, Glena, and the Purple Mountain ), which, rising on
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Here, before a glowing fire, a fresh-caught salmon, cut into steaks, was broiling on arbutus skivers; and the founder of the feast, an Irish gentleman, whom we brought from the shore in our boat, hospitably invited us to postpone our luncheon until his guests arrived. Hungry, and anxious to proceed, we declined his courteous offer; but we should not have done so, had we been aware that he was awaiting the delightful party from Tralee . Alas, just as we had commenced our repast, and the boat so p
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Thither, to our grim despair, went forth the Belles from Tralee; and, by the bones of St. Lumbago of Sciatica, I could have plunged into the flood, and followed in their lee, had I not been cognisant of a certain “alacrity in sinking,” which prevents the simultaneous removal of both my legs from the bottom. What would I not have given, to have changed places with the coxswain! I should have felt proud and happy as he who steered the immortal Seven at Henley, or as Edgar the Peaceable, when, keep
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H APPY and expectant, as two young cricketers, who, having made no “end of a score” in their first innings, go forth a-gain to the wicket, we started next morning in the currus militarius , or Car of Miles, for another joyous day at Killarney . Stopping at the entrance of the town, we went into the Cathedral (R.C.), a very handsome edifice of beautiful proportions, in the severe, Early-English style. The carving in stone over the high altar, in the Chapel of the Sacrament, and especially in the
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THE BOOTS AT THE EAGLE. AN EXTRAVAGANZA, IN TWO ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONAL
THE BOOTS AT THE EAGLE. AN EXTRAVAGANZA, IN TWO ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONAL
Frank and the Boots....
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ACT I.
ACT I.
The scene, like the hero, is laid in bed. The room is strewed with wearing apparel in great disorder. The appearance of the candle suggests the probability of its having been extinguished by a blow from a clothes-brush. Soft music from the Somnambula which changes to “Who's dat Knocking at the Door?” Frank, (awaking) Who's there? Boots . Sure, your 'onour, it's Boots. Frank. Well, what do you want? Boots. Plaze, yer 'onour, man's brought yer a hagle. Frank. Who sent him? How much does he want fo
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ACT II.
ACT II.
Scene, as before. Frank, (aroused by renewed knocking) Now then! what the deuce is up? Boots . There's another man, yer 'onour, wants to sell you a hagle. Frank . Oh, hang it! Tell him I've got one, and ask the gentleman in Number Twenty whether he would like to buy it. Boots. (Returning after a putative intervieiv with No. 20.) Plaze, yer 'onour, the gintleman's bin and bought him, and I was to give his best love to yer 'onour, and his hagle's waiting in the passage, to fight yer 'onour's hagle
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The little town of Kenmare is very pleasantly and healthfully placed. Mr. Frazer says that the bay, by which it stands, is the most beautiful in all Ireland, but we did not see enough of it to corroborate this grand eulogium. With the exception of the handsome Suspension Bridge, neat Church, and National Schools, the buildings are mean and miserable. To judge from the size of the Post-Office and “Bridewell,” there is very little correspondence or crime. At the broken windows of “the Female Indus
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The vestments of these juveniles again attracted our notice, reminding us— for some of them must have been about as cool as Cupid, and suggesting that impatience, with regard to apparel, which characterised of old even the Kings of Ireland. Henry Castide , selected on account of his knowledge of the language to teach and Anglicise four Irish Kings, who had sworn allegiance to Richard, relates in a conversation with Froissart , that these royal personages “had another custom, which I knew to be c
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Reaching the summit, we pass through a tunnel, hewn in the solid rock (why do we use this adjective always, as though rocks were ordinarily in a state of fusion?), and leave county Kerry for Cork . G RADUATES and undergraduates (O my brothers, how gladly shall I meet you once again, when the long vacation is past!), did you ever dine, as I have dined, with an elderly Don, severe in deportment and of boundless lore, who happened to be at once the author of a great treatise on “ the Verbs in [Gree
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But the Irish waiter is, notwithstanding, a capital fellow, good-tempered, prompt, colloquial, large-hearted. I say “large-hearted” because he will undertake to serve any conceivable number of persons, and “colloquial,” remembering that, when a neighbour, at a table d'hôte , mildly expressed his conviction, that one waiter was insufficient to satisfy the emergencies of seventeen persons, the individual referred to immediately exclaimed from the other end of the apartment, but with all good humou
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M OUNTED on the Cork car next morning, we passed the estuaries of Bantry Bay , where, the tide being out, the heron stood, lone and aristocratic, and the curlew ran nimbly among the dank seaweed. By the roadside, the goats, tied in pairs, and cruelly hoppled, tumbled over the embankments as we passed. We went by the picturesque old ruins of Carriginass , and by various sights and scenes, until we reached the Pass of Keimaneigh , a defile through the mountains, the appropriate refuge of the Rocki
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(I may add bene curandâ , as the bacon that is to be cannot possibly hear), and so serenely dignified in its complete repose, so “mildly majestical,” that one almost expected to see a point-lace nightcap, and fair girls fanning away the flies! He looked as happy as Gryllus , that companion of Ulysses , who, being transformed into a pig by Circe , and, being subsequently offered redintegration, preferred the swinish estate; huge and handsome as the famous boar, who ate the Reverend Mr. Haydn , af
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Progressing, we come to the Constabulary Barracks, where a couple of constables, with such moustaches as would make a young Cornet groan, are polishing up their carbines. Our London police are well-favoured in appearance, but if the Irish constables were to take their place, there would not be a single female-servant, to be “warranted heart-whole,” in the great Metropolis, and the very name of Meat-safe would become a by-word and a laughing-stock. In the river hard by, a girl, standing ankle-dee
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“E—LIZ—ER—BUTH!” “BESS, YOU YOUNG ———!”
“E—LIZ—ER—BUTH!” “BESS, YOU YOUNG ———!”
epithet too suggestive of the kennel for readers of polite literature. Of course we went to see the old Cove of Cork , who, in a spirit of loyalty, but to the great disappointment of facetious visitors, has changed his name to Queenstown . We travelled by rail to Passage , and thence by steamer. What shall I say of this glorious haven, “ Statio bene fida carinis ,” twelve miles from city to sea? What a refreshment and gladness must it be to the weary sailor, to come from his lone voyage on “the
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See, they are leaving the battlements,—first the Etonian, then his sister, and then Mamma. O, wily Paterfamilias! Suddenly remembering that he “has left his stick” (he has, and purposely), he steps briskly back, and, stooping for his cane,—salutes the rock! He, at all events, won't “kiss, and tell!” But everybody kisses it. The noisy old girl, whom we met yesterday at the table d'hôte , and who preferred steel to silver, as a medium for the transmission of food, reached the summit of the tower v
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