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 TOUR 
 
 IN 
 
 ENGLAND, IRELAND, AND FRANCE, 
 
 IN THE YEARS 1828 & 1829; 
 
 WITH REMARKS ON 
 
 THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE INHABITANTS, 
 
 AND ANECDOTES OF DISTINGUISHED 
 
 PUBLIC CHARACTERS. 
 
 IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 
 
 BY 
 A GERMAN PRINCE. 
 
 -* 
 
 VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 EFFINGHAM WILSON, ROYAL EXCHANGE. 
 1832.
 
 PRINTED BY RICHARD TAYLOR, 
 BED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.
 
 Stad 
 Ante 
 
 o* 
 
 11 
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 THE following work being the genuine ex- 
 pression of the thoughts and feelings excited 
 by this country in the mind of a foreigner, 
 whose station, education, and intelligence 
 seem to promise no common degree of ap- 
 titude for the difficult task of appreciating 
 England, it has been thought worth while 
 to give it to the English public. The Trans- 
 lator is perfectly aware that the author has 
 been led, or has fallen, into some errors 
 both of fact and inference. These he has 
 not thought it expedient to correct. Every 
 candid traveller will pronounce such errors 
 inevitable ; for from what class in any coun- 
 try is perfectly accurate and impartial in- 
 formation to be obtained? And in a country 
 so divided by party and sectarian hostilities 
 and prejudices as England, how must this
 
 VI TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. 
 
 difficulty be increased ! The book is there- 
 fore given unaltered ; except that some few 
 omissions have been made of facts and 
 anecdotes, either familiar to us, though new 
 to Germans, or trivial in themselves. 
 
 Opinions have been retained throughout, 
 without the least attempt at change or co- 
 louring. That on some important subjects 
 they are not those of the mass of English- 
 men, will, it is presumed, astonish no re- 
 flecting man. They bear strong marks of 
 that individuality which characterizes modes 
 of thinking in Germany, where men are 
 no more accustomed to claim the right of 
 thinking for others, than to renounce that 
 of thinking for themselves. This charac- 
 teristic of the German mind stands in strong 
 contrast to the sectarian division of opinion 
 in England. The sentiments of the author 
 are therefore to be regarded simply as his 
 own, and not as a sample of those of any 
 sect or class in Germany : still less are they 
 proposed for adoption or imitation here. 
 The opinion he pronounces on French and
 
 TRANSLATOR 8 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 German philosophy is, for example, by no 
 means in accordance with the popular sen- 
 timent of his country. 
 
 The Letters, as will be seen from the Pre- 
 face, were published as the work of a deceased 
 person. They have excited great attention 
 in Germany ; and rumour has ascribed them 
 to Prince Piickler-Muskau, a subject of 
 Prussia, who is known to have travelled in 
 England and Ireland about the period at 
 which these Letters were written. He has 
 even been mentioned as the author in the 
 Berlin newspapers. As, how r ever, he has not 
 thought fit to accept the authorship, we 
 have no right to fix it upon him ; though 
 the public voice of Germany has perhaps 
 sufficiently established his claim to it. At 
 all events, the Letters contain allusions to 
 his rank, which fully justify us in ascribing 
 them to a German Prince. They likewise 
 furnish internal evidence of his being a man 
 not only accustomed to the society of his 
 equals, but conversant with the world under 
 various aspects, and with literature and art:
 
 viii TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 of fertile imagination; of unfettered and in- 
 trepid understanding; and accustomed to 
 consider every subject in a large, tolerant, 
 and original manner. 
 
 The author of the ' Brief e eines Verstorbe- 
 nen,' be he who he may, has had the honour 
 and happiness of drawing forth a critique 
 from the pen of Gothe. None but those 
 incapable of estimating the unapproachable 
 literary merits of that illustrious man, will 
 be surprised that the Translator should be 
 desirous of giving the authority of so poten- 
 tial a voice to the book which it has been 
 his difficult task to render into English. 
 
 The following extracts from Gothe's ar- 
 ticle in the Berliner Jahrbuch will do more 
 to recommend the work than all that could 
 be added here: 
 
 " The writer appears a perfect and experienced 
 man of the world, endowed with talents, and with 
 a quick apprehension ; formed by a varied social 
 existence, by travel and extensive connections; 
 likewise a thorough, liberal-minded German, versed 
 in literature and art. 
 * * * * "He is also a good companion
 
 TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. IX 
 
 even in not the best company, and yet without ever 
 losing his own dignity. ***** 
 "Descriptions of natural scenery form the chief 
 part of the Letters ; but of these materials he 
 avails himself with admirable skill. England, 
 Wales, and especially Ireland, are drawn in a 
 masterly manner. We can hardly believe but 
 that he wrote the description with the object 
 immediately before his eyes. As he carefully 
 committed to paper the events of every day at 
 its close, the impressions are most distinct and 
 lively. His vivacity and quick sense of enjoyment 
 enable him to depict the most monotonous scenery 
 with perfect individual variety. It is only from 
 his pictorial talent that the ruined abbeys and 
 castles, the bare rocks and scarcely pervious 
 moors of Ireland, become remarkable or endurable : 
 poverty and careless gaiety, opulence and absur- 
 dity, would repel us at every step. The hunting- 
 parties, the drinking-bouts, which succeed each 
 other in an unbroken series, are tolerable because 
 he can tolerate them. We feel, as with a beloved 
 travelling companion, that we cannot bear to leave 
 him, even where the surrounding circumstances are 
 least inviting; for he has the art of amusing and 
 exhilarating himself and us. Before it sets, the 
 sun once more breaks through the parted clouds, 
 and gives to our astonished view an unexpected 
 world of light and shadow, colour and contrast. 
 
 "His remarks on natural scenery, which he views 
 with the eye of an artist, and his successive and 
 a5
 
 x TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE, 
 
 yet cursive description of his route, are truly ad- 
 mirable. 
 
 "After leading us as patient companions of his 
 pilgrimage, he introduces us into distinguished 
 society. He visits the famous O'Connell in his 
 remote and scarcely accessible residence, and 
 works out the picture which we had formed to 
 ourselves from previous descriptions of this won- 
 derful man. He next attends popular meetings, and 
 hears speeches from O'Connell, Shiel, and other 
 remarkable persons. He takes the interest of a 
 man of humanity and sense in the great question 
 which agitates Ireland j but has too clear an in- 
 sight into all the complicated considerations it 
 involves to be carried away by exaggerated hopes. 
 ******* * * 
 ****** *** 
 
 " The great charm, however, which attaches 
 us to his side, consists in the moral mani- 
 festations of his nature which run through the 
 book ; his clear understanding and simple natu- 
 ral manners render him highly interesting. We 
 are agreeably affected by the sight of a right- 
 minded and kind-hearted man, who describes with 
 charming frankness the conflict between will and 
 accomplishment. 
 
 "We represent him to ourselves as of dignified 
 and prepossessing exterior. He knows how in- 
 stantly to place himself on an equality with high 
 and low, and to be welcome to all. That he ex- 
 cites the attention of women is natural enough,
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. ix 
 
 he attracts and is attracted; but his experience 
 of the world enables him to terminate any little 
 affaires du coeur without violence or indecorum. 
 
 "The journey was undertaken very recently, and 
 brings us the latest, intelligence from the countries 
 which he viewed with an acute, clear, and com- 
 prehensive eye. He gradually affords us a clue to 
 his own character. We see before us a finely con- 
 stituted being, endowed with great capacity; born 
 to great external advantages and felicities; but in 
 whom a lively spirit of enterprise is not united to 
 constancy and perseverance ; whence he experi- 
 ences frequent failure and disappointment. But 
 this very defect gives him that peculiar genial 
 aimlessness, which to the reader is the charm of 
 his travels. ******* 
 ********* 
 
 " His descriptions are equally good in the va- 
 rious regions for which talents of such different 
 kinds are required. The wildest and the loveliest 
 scenes of nature ; buildings, and works of art ; 
 incidents of every kind ; individual character and 
 social groups, are all treated with the same clear 
 perception, the same easy unaffected grace. * 
 ********* 
 
 "The peculiarities of English manners and 
 habits are drawn vividly and distinctly, and with- 
 out exaggeration. We acquire a lively idea of 
 that wonderful combination, that luxuriant growth, 
 of that insular life which is based in boundless 
 wealth and civil freedom, in universal monotony
 
 xii TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 and manifold diversity; formal and capricious, 
 active and torpid, energetic and dull, comfortable 
 and tedious, the envy and the derision of the 
 world. 
 
 " Like other unprejudiced travellers of modern 
 times, our author is not very much enchanted with 
 the English form of existence : his cordial and 
 sincere admiration are often accompanied by un- 
 sparing censure. ****** 
 * * **** * ** 
 
 "He is by no means inclined to favour the 
 faults and weaknesses of the English; and in these 
 cases he has the greatest and best among them 
 those whose reputation is universal on his 
 side." GOTHE.
 
 PREFACE OF THE EDITOR. 
 
 THE Letters which we now lay before the public 
 have this peculiarity, that, with very few and un- 
 important exceptions, they were actually written 
 at the moment as they appear in these pages. 
 
 It may, therefore, easily be imagined that they 
 were written without the most distant view to 
 publicity. The writer, however, is now numbered 
 with the departed. Many scruples are thus re- 
 moved : and as his Letters contain not only many 
 interesting details, but more especially internal 
 evidence of a real individuality ; as they are writ- 
 ten with no less uncoloured freedom than perfect 
 impartiality, we thought that these elements are 
 not so abundant in our literature as to render such 
 a work a superfluity. 
 
 It was, I must confess, an infelicity which at- 
 tended the deceased author during life, that he 
 set about every thing in a manner different from 
 that pursued by other men j from which cause 
 few things succeeded with him. Many of his ac- 
 quaintances thought that he affected originality.
 
 XIV EDITOR S PREFACE. 
 
 In that they did him injustice. No man was ever 
 more sincere and genuine in his singularities ; 
 none, perhaps, had less the appearance of being 
 so. No man was more natural, in cases where 
 everybody thought they saw design. 
 
 This untoward fate still, in a certain degree, 
 pursues the appearance of his Letters. Various 
 circumstances, which cannot be explained here, 
 compel us, contrary to all usage, to begin with the 
 last two volumes, which the public must accept 
 as the first. Should these meet with approbation, 
 we hope soon to be able to publish that preceding 
 sequel which will be found no less independent 
 than these. For the convenience of the reader, 
 we have annexed a short table of contents, as well 
 as occasional notes, ad modum Minellii , for which 
 we beg pardon and indulgence. 
 
 B , October 30, 1829.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Departure from London Cheltenham English com- 
 fort Mineral waters Promenades Sources of the 
 Thames Lackington Hill The village in the wood 
 Ancient Roman villa Tea^gardejj- Avenues Mas- 
 ter of the Ceremonies Field of Tewksbury Wor- 
 cester Cathedral King John TheTemplar Prince 
 Arthur's tomb Enjoyments of travelling Picture in 
 the mist Vale of Llangollen Churchyard, and view 
 from it Mountain breakfast Celebrated ladies 
 Visit to them Lofty mountains Comparison with 
 those of Silesia The road The stone bishop The 
 indefatigable Jest and Earnest German titles Ger- 
 man placemen German nobles Romances Feudal 
 opinions English domestic architecture Penrhyn 
 Castle The slate quarry Operations there Re- 
 flections of a pious soul of Sandomir, or Sandomich 
 Conversions Missions Extracts from Berlin 
 journals 1 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Bangor Welsh driving Lake of Llanberris Fish- 
 hunting dogs Storm Shelter in the old castle 
 Hut, and its inhabitants Ascent of Snowdon
 
 :vi CONTENDS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Mountain poney and sheep Veiled summit and 
 my double Libation Rocky path View Region of 
 birds of prey Return on the lake Caernarvon Castle 
 Edward's birth King's stratagem Origin of the 
 English motto Contrast in the ruins EagleTower 
 Sea-bath Billiard table Weather and eating The 
 Hebe of Caernarvon Extracts from the "Lammszei- 
 tung." Intolerance of Berlin saints Church and 
 King sole guides of faith Duties of rich and poor 
 contrasted Promenade round Bangor Bath at Ban- 
 gor Beaumaris The castle Craig y don Menai 
 Straits Chain-bridge over the sea 65 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Plague of flies Project for a park Plas Newydd 
 Cromlechs Druid's cottage New kaleidescope 
 Journey into the interior of the mountains Un- 
 worthy views of Providence Protestant Jesuits 
 Destinies of man Cars Lake of Idwal Path at the 
 foot of Trivaen Welsh guide Wearisome ascent 
 Rose-coloured light Valley of rocks The eagle 
 "The bad pass." Bog Capel Cerig Valley of 
 Gwynant Elysium Dinas Emrys Merlin's rock 
 Dangers Pleasant inn at Beddgelert The blind 
 harper and his blind dog The Devil's bridge Tan 
 y Bwlch Beautiful park Gigantic dam Tremadoc 
 Reminiscences of sand, dirt, and father-land Eve- 
 ning fancies Crumbs of philosophy Possessor of 
 Penrhyn Castle Road over Penman Mawr Conway 
 Castle, with fifty-two towers " Contentment " villa 
 The Queen's closet Hooke and his forty-one sons 
 Gothic mania Truly respectable Englishman 
 Fashion-hunting , 95
 
 CONTENTS. Xvii 
 
 Page. 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 Vie de chateau' Cathedral at St. Asaph Tabernacle 
 True faith Denbigh Castle Meeting of harpers 
 Romantic valley Pretty Fanny Her dairy and 
 aviary Paradise of fowls Ride through romantic 
 country Short stay at Craig y Don Newspaper 
 article Irish dinner Happy condition of the middle 
 classes Opinions on England The Isle of Anglesea 
 Paris mines Copper smelting New invention 
 Holyhead Light-house Terrific rocks Sea-birds 
 Hanging bridge Stormy passage to Ireland First 
 impression of the country Dublin Exhibition of 
 fruit and flowers Walk in the city Sight-seeing 
 Palace of the Lord-lieutenant, and modern Gothic 
 chapel University My cicerone Organ of the Ar- 
 mada Archimedes' burning-glass Portraits of Swift 
 and Burke Battle of Navarino Phoenix Park Cha- 
 racteristics of the people Lady B . The mean- 
 ing of "character" in England The Liffey W 
 
 Park Charming entrance "The Three Rocks" 
 Beautiful view Irish peasant-women Wooden Ca- 
 puchin The dandy Comfortable arrangements for 
 the English aristocracy Country visit First in- 
 terview with Lady M . Unfortunate end of a 
 
 ride Further particulars concerning the Muse of 
 Ireland... .. 140 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 Ride on horseback into the county Wicklow Bray 
 Student's equipment English piety Kilruddery 
 Glen of the Downs Summer-house Vale of Durwan
 
 xviii CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 The giant The Devil's glen Kiihleborn Rural 
 repast in Rosanna The tourists Avondale, an Eden 
 by moonlight Avocalnn The Meeting of the Waters 
 Castle Howard Beautiful portrait of Mary Stuart 
 Bally Arthur The ha-ha My horse at blind-man's 
 buff Shelton Abbey The negro porter Loss of my 
 pocket-book What is a gentleman ? Valley of Glen- 
 malure Lead mines Military road The sun behind 
 black masses of clouds The seven churches Myste- 
 rious tower without an entrance The black lake of 
 St. Kevin The giant Fian M'Cumhal The ena- 
 moured princess Her tragical end and the saint's ex- 
 cessive rigour Irish toilet Walter Scott and Moore 
 in the mouth of a peasant Morass and Will-o'-the 
 wisp A night upon straw Hedge of mist First 
 peep of sun over the lake and valley of Luggelaw 
 
 Romantic solitude The statue of rock P Park 
 
 Intolerance, cant, and abuse of the Sunday Sugar- 
 loaf Rich country Repose by the brook Lord 
 Byron 179 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 Donnybrook fair The lovers Powerscourt TheDargle 
 and The Lover's Leap The waterfall Galopade, with 
 the guide behind me Inn at Bray Sketch of English 
 manners Grand Duke of S W . Advan- 
 tages of a humble mode of travelling Activity of 
 beggars Kingston Construction of the harbour 
 Machinery The spectre ship Tasteless and appro- 
 priate monument in honour of George the Fourth 
 Fine road to Dublin Catholic Association English 
 horse-riders and admirable clowns The dance of 
 polypi 203
 
 CONTENTS. XIX 
 
 Page. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 The young parson Journey with him to the West 
 
 Connaught Singular country Visit at Capt.B 's 
 
 Life of a true Irishman They are not over-fastidi- 
 ous Divine service in Tuam Service of the Church 
 of England Galway races Resemblance of the Irish 
 people to savages The town of Galway Want of 
 books there The race Accident of a rider Indif- 
 ference of the public The fair African Athenry, a 
 bathing-place, like a Polish village King John's castle 
 The abbey Popular escort Whiskey Castle 
 Hackett The fairy queen She carries off a lover 
 Splendid sunset Definition of ' Good temper' 
 Cong Irish wit The Pigeon-hole Subterranean 
 river Meg Merrilies Illuminated cavern Enchant- 
 ed trout Lough Corrib, with its three hundred and 
 sixty-five islands The monastery Irish mode of 
 burial Hearty kindness of the old captain 219 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 ' Hors d'oeuvre ' German character Adventure with a 
 gipsey How we acquire a soul State of the Irish 
 peasantry Stupid rage of an Orangeman Beautiful 
 park and disposition of water Picture gallery at 
 M B . St. Peter with a scarlet wig, by Rubens 
 Winter landscape, by Ruysdaal Magnificent Asiatic 
 Jew, by Rembrandt Irish hunters Departure by the 
 postman's cart The obliging Irishman Desert coun- 
 try Poverty and light-heartedness of the people 
 Sure revelation "The Cross-bones" The punch- 
 bowl Lord Gort's park Desire of my horses to stay 
 there Irish posting Its characteristics 252
 
 XX CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 , LETTER IX. 
 
 Limerick Antique character of that city Catholics 
 and Protestants Deputation, and offer of the Order 
 of the Liberator O'Connell's cousin Cathedral I 
 am taken for a son of Napoleon I substitute my 
 valet and make my retreat Conversation in the stage 
 The Shannon Its magnificent size New sort of 
 industry of a beggar in Lisdowel Twelve rainbows 
 in a day Killarney Voyage on the lake in a storm 
 The dandy and the manufacturer Some danger of 
 drowning Innisfallen island O'Donaghue's white 
 horse His history and apparition The old boatman 
 and his adventure Journal des Modes of the infernal 
 regions Mucruss Abbey The large yew-tree In- 
 fluence of the Catholic priests O'Sullivan's water- 
 fallYoung Sontag The wager Ross Castle Two 
 Englishman 'de trop' Bad taste of quizzing The 
 Knight of the Gap The "madman's rock." Brandon 
 Castle A bugleman The eagle's nest Coleman's 
 leap The dinner Fresh salmon broiled on arbutus 
 sticks Voyage back Melancholy thoughts Chris- 
 tening with whisky Julia Island Journey to Ken- 
 mare Shillelah battle Ride to Glengariff by night 
 Extraordinary road The intelligent poney Beau- 
 tiful bay of Glengariff Colonel W 's park, a model 
 
 Family of the possessor Lord B 's hunting- 
 seat Bad weather Rocks, storm and apparition 
 of 281 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 Kenmare Irish messenger Road to Derrinane 
 Bridge of the Black Water Chaos Terrific coast- 
 Perplexities Aid from a smuggler Mountain pass at
 
 CONTENTS. XXI 
 
 Page. 
 
 night Derrinane Abbey O'Connell the great Agita- 
 tor ; Father L'Estrange, his confessor O'Connell as 
 chieftain giving law to his subjects His intolerance 
 in matters of religion Departure from Derrinane 
 Danish forts Leave-taking Irish modes of convey- 
 ance Amiable character of the lower Irish Example 
 of it Sorrows of Werther Opinion of it Faust 
 The innkeeper's daughter at Kenmare Hungry Hill 
 and its majestic waterfall O'Rourke's eagle The 
 modern Ganymede Seals under my window Their 
 love for music English family worship Theological 
 discussion on the deluge, the day of judgement, and 
 the Apocalypse Extraordinary beauties and advan- 
 tages of this spot 320
 
 LETTERS 
 
 ENGLAND AND IRELAND. 
 
 LETTER I.* 
 
 Cheltenham, July 12, 1828. 
 
 MY DEAR JULIA t, 
 
 I LEFT London at two o'clock in the morning, 
 very ill and out of spirits ; in harmony with the 
 weather, which was perfectly t a 1'Anglaise '. It 
 
 * In the original this letter is numbered XXV, the cause 
 of which may be seen in the Preface. TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 
 
 f This name is feigned, as we are not authorized to give 
 the real one. We have also thought it expedient to dis- 
 guise some initials and circumstances connected with family 
 and social relations. EDITOR'S NOTE. 
 
 I The words or phrases distinguished by single inverted 
 commas are such as occur in the original in any language 
 other than German. They have been retained not from any 
 admiration for the practice of interlarding a language with 
 foreign words, but from a desire to give the most faithful 
 representation of the Author's style. TRANSL, 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 DEPARTURE FROM LONDON. 
 
 blew a hurricane, and rained waterspouts. About 
 eight o'clock, however, the sky cleared. I had 
 been lulled into a gentle slumber by the rapid 
 and easy roll of the carriage ; all nature shone 
 with an emerald brightness, and a delicious fra- 
 grance poured in at the open windows from every 
 field and flower j and your care-worn, melancholy 
 friend was again, in a few moments, the light- 
 hearted child rejoicing in the beautiful world, and 
 in its mighty and merciful Creator. Travelling in 
 England is, indeed, most delightful. Could I but 
 witness your pleasure in it ! Could I but feel my 
 own doubled by your participation ! It rained 
 occasionally through the day, but I was little in- 
 commoded by this in a close carriage, and found 
 the air mild and balmy. The former part of the 
 country through which our road lay, teemed with 
 all the luxuriant vegetation of the most beautiful 
 park; the next presented boundless corn-fields 
 without hedges, a rarity in England ; and the 
 last nearly resembled the rich plains of Lombardy. 
 I passed many large parks, which, however, 
 weather being uncertain, and time limited, I left 
 unvisited. It is not easy, after my long park and 
 garden chase through half England, to find any 
 thing new of this kind. In Cirencester I visited 
 a beautiful gothic church of great antiquity, with
 
 CHELTENHAM. 3 
 
 windows of coloured glass in pretty good preser- 
 vation, and curious grotesque carvings. It is a 
 grievous pity that the gothic churches in En- 
 gland, without exception, are defaced by tasteless 
 modern gravestones and monuments. 
 
 Late in the evening I reached Cheltenham, an 
 extremely pretty watering-place, of an elegance no- 
 where to be found on the continent . Even the splen- 
 did gas-lights and the new villa-looking houses, 
 each surrounded by its little flower-garden, put the 
 mind into a cheerful and agreeable tone. I arrived, 
 too, just in the hour when the contest between the 
 light of day and the artificial illumination produces 
 a peculiar and, to me, pleasing effect. As I entered 
 the inn, which I might almost call magnificent, 
 and ascended the snow-white stone staircase, orna- 
 mented with a gilt bronze railing, and trod on fresh 
 and brilliant carpets, lighted by two servants to my 
 room, I gave myself up, f con amore', to the feel- 
 ing of f comfort' which can be found in perfection 
 nowhere but in England. In this point of view, it 
 is a country completely made for a misanthrope 
 like myself; since all that is unconnected with 
 social life, all that a man can procure with money, 
 is excellent and perfect in its kind; arid he may 
 enjoy it isolated, without any other human being 
 troubling himself about him. 
 B2
 
 4> CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 A larger mass of varied and manifold enjoy- 
 ments may certainly be found in England than 
 it is possible to procure with us. Not in vain 
 have wise institutions long prevailed here. What 
 especially soothes and gladdens the philanthropist 
 is the spectacle of the superior comfort and more 
 elevated condition in the scale of existence uni- 
 versally prevailing. What with us are called 
 luxuries, are here looked upon as necessaries, and 
 are diffused over all classes. Hence arise, even 
 in the smallest and most ordinary details, an en- 
 deavour after elegance, an elaborate finish and 
 neatness; in a word, a successful combination of 
 the beautiful with the useful, which is entirely un- 
 known to our lower classes. 
 
 You remember the description I sent you, copied 
 from the newspapers of the dreadful distress pre- 
 vailing at Birmingham, and other manufacturing 
 towns. The distress, in truth, consisted in this; 
 that the people, instead of having three or four 
 meals a day, with tea, cold meat, bread and butter, 
 beef- steaks or roast meat, were now obliged to 
 content themselves with two, consisting only of 
 meat and potatoes. It was, however, just harvest- 
 time, and the want of labourers in the fields so 
 great, that the farmers gave almost any wages. 
 Nevertheless, I was assured that the mechanics
 
 CHELTENHAM WATERS. 5 
 
 would rather destroy all the machinery and ac- 
 tually starve, than take a sickle in their hands, or 
 bind a sheaf : so intractable and obstinate are the 
 English common people rendered by their univer- 
 sal comfort, and the certainty of obtaining em- 
 ployment if they vigorously seek it. From what I 
 have now told you, you may imagine what deduc 
 tions you ought to make from newspaper articles. 
 
 July 13th. 
 
 This morning I visited some of the public 
 walks, which fell short of my expectations j and 
 drank the waters, which have some resemblance 
 to those of Carlsbad. I found them very heating. 
 The doctors here say, as ours do, that they must 
 be drunk early in the morning, or they lose a great 
 part of their efficacy. The joke is, however, that 
 here, early begins exactly where with us it ends, 
 namely, at ten o'clock. 
 
 The weather is unfortunately not favourable] 
 cold and stormy, after a continuance of heat 
 pretty long for England. For travelling, how- 
 ever, it is not bad j at least I find myself in far 
 better spirits than in London, and am in great 
 delight at the anticipation of the beautiful scenery 
 of Wales, towards which I am now bending my 
 course.
 
 6 SOURCES OF THE THAMES. 
 
 I entreat you to be with me, at least in thought, 
 and let our spirits journey together over sea and 
 land, look down from the summits of mountains, 
 and enjoy the sweet repose of valleys : for I doubt 
 not that spirits, in forms as infinitely various 
 as infinity itself is boundless, rejoice, throughout 
 all worlds, in the beauty of God's magnificent 
 creation. 
 
 I will first lead you to the seven sources of 
 the Thames, which rises two or three miles from 
 Cheltenham. I set out on this excursion in ' a Fly' 
 (a kind of small landau, drawn by one horse), on 
 the top of which I sat, that I might enjoy the beau- 
 tiful prospect from the highest station. 
 
 After a long ascent, you come to some solitary 
 grassy hills; on the top of these, under the shade 
 of two or three alders, is a little group of plashy 
 springs, which trickle away, forming, as far as 
 the eye can follow them, an insignificant brook. 
 Such is the modest infancy of the proud Thames. 
 I felt a tide of poetry come over my mind, 
 as I thought, how, but a few hours ago and 
 but a few miles hence, I had seen these same 
 waters covered with a thousand vessels; how this 
 glorious stream, in its short course, bears on its 
 bosom more ships, more treasures, and more 
 human beings, than any of its colossal brethren;
 
 LACKINTON HILL. 7 
 
 how the capital of the world lies on its banks, 
 and by her omnipotent commerce may be almost 
 said to rule the four quarters of the globe. 
 With reverential admiration I looked down on 
 the gushing drops, and compared them, one while 
 with Napoleon, who, obscurely born in Ajaccio, 
 in a few years made all the thrones of the earth 
 tremble; then with the avalanche, which, loosen- 
 ed from its bed under the foot of a sparrow, in 
 five minutes buries a village; then with Roth- 
 schild, whose father sold ribbons, and without 
 whose assistance no power in Europe seems now 
 able to carry on war. 
 
 My driver, who was at the same time an accre- 
 dited Cheltenham cicerone, took me from this 
 spot to a high hill called Lackinton Hill, from 
 which there is a celebrated view, with the ap- 
 pendage of a pleasant inn for the accommo- 
 dation of visitors. Hidden under a bower of 
 roses*, my eye commanded an extent of seventy 
 English miles; a rich plain studded with towns 
 and villages, among which the cathedral of Glou- 
 cester is the most striking and stately object. Be- 
 hind it rose two ridges, the Malvern Hills and 
 
 * It is one of thegreatest beauties of English landscape, that 
 during the whole winter almost every house is adorned with 
 the luxuriant blossoms and garlands of the monthly rose.
 
 8 ROMAN ROAD. 
 
 above them the Welsh mountains. Beautiful as 
 was all around me, the distant blue mountains, 
 bathed in air, awoke in me only an intense longing 
 after home. How gladly should I have flown to 
 your side with the aid of Fortunatus's cap ! 
 
 Up to this time black clouds had chased each 
 other across the heavens; just as I turned away 
 from the prospect the sun provokingly broke forth : 
 it lighted me through a beautiful beech- wood to 
 the charming seat of Mr. Todd, who has built a 
 smiling village in the midst of the leafy shade, con- 
 sisting of straw-roofed cottages and pretty moss 
 houses. In the centre of a green level turf stands 
 a noble lime-tree, surrounded by three tiers of 
 benches for as many generations. Not far distant, 
 on the withered trunk of a tree, is a sun-dial, and 
 on the edge of the hill overlooking the valley, a 
 rural seat, sheltered by a little arched roof covered 
 with heather, and its sides tastefully interwoven 
 with roots. On holidays it is often covered with 
 evergreens and flowers, and lighted at evening 
 with gay lamps. In the neighbouring park, which 
 has many distinguishing beauties, are the ruins of 
 a Roman villa: they were accidentally discovered 
 about eight years ago by the sudden sinking in of 
 a tree. Some baths are still in good preservation, 
 as are also two tessellated floors; they are how-
 
 ENGLISH TEA-GARDEN. 9 
 
 ever of rather coarse workmanship, and bear no 
 comparison with those discovered at Pompeii. The 
 walls are in part covered with red and blue stucco 
 two inches thick, and the brick pipes for convey- 
 ing heat are of a quality and durability now un- 
 equalled. About three quarters of a mile further 
 on, the Roman road is distinctly to be traced, and 
 a portion of it is indeed in actual use : it is to be 
 distinguished from the English road chiefly by 
 its running, like a north-German ' chausse'e/ in a 
 perfectly straight line. It is to be hoped, however, 
 that the taste of the Romans was too good to allow 
 them to inclose their roads between two endless 
 rows of Lornbardy poplars, and thus inflict a two- 
 fold torture of monotony on the unfortunate tra- 
 veller. How different from an English road, which 
 winds around the hills in soft and graceful sweeps, 
 avoiding deep valleys or reverend trees, instead 
 of following the one inveterate idea of a straight 
 line, at a sixfold cost, through thick and thin, over 
 hill and valley. 
 
 On my return to Cheltenham I passed through 
 a large village, where I visited for the first time 
 what is here called a tea-garden. The ingenuity 
 with which a small space is made to contain a 
 hundred little niches, benches, and picturesque, 
 nay, often romantic seats, is quite extraordinary, 
 B 5
 
 10 ENGLISH PLANTING. 
 
 and forms a curious contrast with the phlegm of 
 the gaily dressed multitude who rather garnish 
 j than animate the scene. 
 
 As it was rather early when I reached the town, 
 I took advantage of the beautiful evening to visit 
 more of the mineral waters, and I found that in 
 the morning I had stumbled on the least important. 
 These establishments are extremely splendid, or- 
 namented with marble decorations, and still more 
 with flowers, green-houses, and pretty plantations. 
 As soon as a thing is the fashion in England it 
 becomes the subject of enormous speculation. This 
 is to such a degree the case here, that the value of 
 an acre of land in the neighbourhood of the town 
 has risen within fifteen years from forty to a thou- 
 sand guineas. The gardens and grounds which 
 are destined to be places of public resort and 
 amusement, are here, and I think rightly, laid out 
 in a totally different style from the gardens and 
 parks of private gentlemen. Broadand shady walks, 
 and distinct open spaces, are rather to be aimed 
 at than picturesque views, or a large and land- 
 scape-like whole. Their manner of planting shady 
 walks pleases me. A strip of ground about five 
 feet wide, on each side the way, is dug and thickly 
 planted with a mixture of various trees and shrubs. 
 The most flourishing trees are afterwards left to
 
 MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES. 11 
 
 grow, and the others are kept down by the shears 
 as irregular underwood. Between this and the 
 top of the high trees the prospect is as it were set 
 in a beautiful frame ; the whole is fuller and more 
 luxuriant ; and wherever the country is uninterest- 
 ing, it may be shut out by merely suffering the 
 underwood to grow. 
 
 Worcester, July 14th. 
 
 Yesterday, ' entre la poire et le fromage/ I re- 
 ceived the twice -declined visit of the master of the 
 ceremonies, the gentleman who does the honour 
 of the baths, and exercises a considerable authority 
 over the company of an English watering-place, 
 in virtue of which he welcomes strangers with 
 most anti-English officiousness and pomposity, 
 and manifests great care and zeal for their enter- 
 tainment. An Englishman invested with such a 
 character has mauvaisjeu, and vividly recalls the 
 ass in the fable, who tried to imitate the caresses 
 of the lapdog. I could not get rid of my visitor 
 till he had swallowed some bottles of claret with 
 me, and devoured all the dessert the house afforded. 
 At length he took his leave, first extorting from 
 me a promise that I would honour the ball of the 
 following evening with my presence. However, 
 I had so little inclination for company and new
 
 12 WORCESTER CATHEDRAL. 
 
 acquaintances, that I made ( faux bond/ and left 
 Cheltenham early in the morning. 
 
 The country continued most lovely; the near 
 ground full of soft meadows and deep green clumps 
 of trees, the horizon bounded by the mountains, 
 which at every mile grew in magnitude and distinct- 
 ness of outline. At almost every stage I passed 
 a considerable town, which was never without its 
 towering gothic church. The situation of Tewks- 
 bury struck me as peculiarly delightful. Nothing 
 can be more tranquil, more pastoral ; and yet all 
 these blooming plains were bloody battle-fields in 
 the times of the countless civil wars of England, 
 whence they retain the names, now so inappro- 
 priate, of Bloody Field, Field of Bones, &c. 
 
 Worcester, where I am now writing, the chief 
 city of the county, has nothing remarkable except 
 its magnificent cathedral; the windows contain but 
 small remains of ancient painted glass : to these, 
 new has been added, which is very little inferior 
 either in softness or brilliancy to the old. In the 
 middle of the nave King John is buried : his 
 effigy in stone reposes on the tomb ; the oldest 
 monument of an English king which Great Bri- 
 tain contains. The tomb was opened some years 
 ago, when the skeleton was found in good pre-
 
 TOMB OF A TEMPLAR. 13 
 
 servation, and in precisely the same dress as that 
 represented in the statue : as soon as it came 
 in contact with the air, the materials of which it 
 was composed crumbled into dust ; the sword was 
 entirely consumed by rust, and only its handle 
 remained. 
 
 Another very interesting monument is that of a 
 Templar, of the year 1220, with this Norman in- 
 scription : " Ici gist syr guilleaume de harcourt 
 fys robert de harcourt, et de Isabel de cam vile." 
 The figure of the knight (whose costume, by-the- 
 by, is totally different from that of Count BriihPs 
 Templar at Berlin*) is an admirable piece of sculp- 
 ture, and reposes with an ease and * abandon ' 
 which would do no discredit to antique art : his 
 dress consists of boots or stockings (whichever 
 you choose to call them) of mail, and golden spurs; 
 the knee is naked ; above the knee is again covered 
 with mail, which so completely incloses the whole 
 body, and even head, that only the face is visible. 
 Over this shirt of mail is a long red mantle, fall- 
 ing in folds below the calf ; and over this a black 
 baldrick, from which hangs a sword in a red scab- 
 bard : the left arm supports a narrow pointed shield 
 
 * Count Briihl is Inspector of Theatres at Berlin, and in 
 virtue of that office exercises surveillance over the costumes, 
 on the correctness of which he piques himself. TRANSL.
 
 14, PRINCE ARTHUR S TOMB. 
 
 bearing the family arms, and not the cross of the 
 Temple : this is found only on the tomb. The 
 whole figure is, as you perceive, painted, and the 
 colours are from time to time renewed. 
 
 As the greatest of all curiosities, strangers are 
 shown Prince Arthur's tomb, the intricate stone 
 tracery of which is really like the most exquisite 
 carvings in wood or ivory. On one side of the 
 chapel are fine rows of small figures, one above 
 another. The order is as follows : on the low- 
 est row the abbesses j above them bishops ; above 
 them kings ; then saints j and at the top of all, 
 angels. ' Quantamoi, qui ne suis encore ni saint, 
 ni ange, souffrez que je vous quitte pour mon 
 diner.' 
 
 Llangollen, July 15th. 
 
 If I had the honour to be the wandering Jew 
 (who of course must have money ad libitum), I 
 should most certainly spend the greatest part of 
 my immortality on the high road, and specially in 
 England. * 'Tis so delightful ' for a man of my 
 opinions and character. In the first place, no 
 human being troubles or constrains me. Where- 
 ever I pay well, I am the first person (always an 
 agreeable feeling for the lordly sons of men), and 
 meet with none but smiling faces and obliging 
 people, full of zeal to serve me. Continued mo-
 
 PLEASURES OF TRAVELLING. 15 
 
 tion, without fatigue, keeps the body in health, 
 and the rapidly succeeding changes in beautiful, 
 free nature, have the same strengthening influence 
 on the mind. I must confess that I am partly of 
 Dr. Johnson's opinion : he maintained that the 
 greatest human felicity was to drive rapidly over 
 an English road in a good postchaise, with a 
 pretty woman by one's side. 
 
 It is one of the most agreeable sensations in the 
 world to me to roll along in a comfortable carriage, 
 and to stretch myself out at my ease while my eye 
 feasts on the ever-changing pictures. As they 
 pass, they awaken fancies serious and gay, tragic 
 and comic ; and I find an intense pleasure in 
 filling up the sketches thus presented to my eye. 
 What strange fantastic shapes often start up with 
 the rapidity of lightning, and flit before my mind 
 like figures in the clouds. Then if my fancy 
 droops her wings, I read and sleep in my carriage. 
 I am little troubled with my baggage, which from 
 long practice is so well arranged that I can get 
 at every thing I want in a moment, without tor- 
 menting my servants. Sometimes, when the 
 weather is fine and the country beautiful, I walk 
 for miles together ; in short, I can desire no more 
 perfect freedom than I enjoy here. Lastly, it is 
 no slight pleasure that I can close the day by
 
 16 LANDSCAPE IN THE HEAVENS. 
 
 devoting a tranquil hour to conversing with the 
 friend of my heart on all that has passed before 
 me. 
 
 But to return to my narrative. I travelled all 
 night after witnessing an extraordinary sport of 
 nature in the clouds. From the top of a hill I saw 
 what appeared to me a gigantic range of black 
 mountains, and at its foot a boundless lake : it was 
 long before I could persuade myself that it was only 
 an illusion created by mist and cloud. The sky 
 above was of an uniform light gray j upon it lay 
 a coal-black mass of clouds thrown together in the 
 form of the wildest mountains, the upper edge of 
 which shaped itself into a bold and abrupt outline, 
 while the lower was trans- sected by a horizontal 
 line of mist. This wo re the appearance of a bound- 
 less extent of silvery water ; and, as the green 
 foreground of sunny wooded plains which lay 
 beneath my feet was immediately bounded by it, 
 the illusion was indeed complete. As I descended 
 the hill, step by step, the magic picture faded 
 from before my eyes. 
 
 The most beautiful reality, however, awaited 
 me this morning in Wales. The vision of clouds 
 seemed to have been the harbinger of the magni- 
 ficence of the vale of Llangollen, a spot which, 
 in my opinion, far surpasses all the beauties of
 
 VALE OF LLANGOLLEN. 17 
 
 the Rhine-land, and has, moreover, a character 
 quite its own, from the unusual forms of the 
 peaked tops and rugged declivities of its moun- 
 tains. The Dee, a rapid stream, winds through 
 the green valley in a thousand fantastic bendings 
 overhung with thick underwood. On each side, 
 high mountains rise abruptly from the plain, 
 and are crowned with antique ruins, modern 
 country-houses, manufactories, whose towering 
 chimneys send out columns of thick smoke, or 
 with grotesque groups of upright rocks. The ve- 
 getation is everywhere rich, and hill and vale are 
 filled with lofty trees, whose varied hues add so 
 infinitely to the beauty and picturesque effect of a 
 landscape. In the midst of this luxuriant nature, 
 arises, with a grandeur heightened by contrast, 
 a single long, black, bare range of mountains, 
 clothed only with thick, dark heather, and from 
 time to time skirting the high road. This mag- 
 nificent road, which from London to Holyhead, a 
 distance of two hundred miles*, is as even as a 
 * parquet,' here runs along the side of the left 
 range of mountains, at about their middle eleva- 
 tion and following all their windings ; so that in 
 
 * Where the contrary is not specified, the reader will al- 
 ways understand English miles, four and a half of which go 
 to a German mile. EDITOR.
 
 18 VALE OP LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 riding along at a brisk trot or gallop, the traveller 
 is presented at every minute with a completely 
 new prospect ; and without changing his position, 
 overlooks the valley now before him, now behind, 
 now at his side. On one side is an aqueduct of 
 twenty-five slender arches, a work which would 
 have done honour to Rome. Through this a se- 
 cond river is led over the valley and across the 
 Dee, at an elevation of a hundred and twenty feet 
 above the bed of the natural stream. A few miles 
 further on, the little town of Llangollen offers a 
 delightful resting-place, and is deservedly much 
 resorted to. 
 
 There is a beautiful view from the churchyard 
 near the inn: here I climbed upon a tomb, and 
 stood for half an hour enjoying with deep and 
 grateful delight the beauties so richly spread be- 
 fore me. Immediately below me bloomed a ter- 
 s . raced garden, filled with vine, honeysuckle, rose, 
 and a hundred gay flowers, which descended to 
 the very edge of the foaming stream. On the 
 right hand, my eye followed the crisped waves 
 in their restless murmuring course through the 
 overhanging thicket; before me rose two lines of 
 wood, divided by a strip of meadow-land filled 
 with grazing cattle; and high above all, rose the 
 bare conical peak of a mountain crowned by the
 
 BREAKFAST. 19 
 
 ruins of the old Welsh castle Dinas Bran, or the 
 Crow's Fortress. On the left, the stone houses of 
 the town lie scattered along the valley; the river 
 forms a considerable waterfall near the picturesque 
 bridge, while three colossal rocks rise immediately 
 behind it like giant guards, and shut out all the 
 more distant wonders of this enchanting region. 
 
 Permit me now to turn to some less refined and 
 romantic, but not less real, enjoyments of sense 
 to my own room; where my appetite, enormously 
 sharpened by the mountain air, was most agreeably 
 invited by the aspect of the smoking coffee, fresh 
 Guinea-fowls' eggs, deep yellow mountain butter, 
 thick cream, f toasted muffins ' (a delicate sort of 
 cake eaten hot with butter), and lastly, two red 
 spotted trout just caught; all placed on a snow- 
 white table-cloth of Irish damask ; a breakfast 
 which Walter Scott's heroes in f the highlands ' 
 might have been thankful to receive at the hands 
 of that great painter of human necessities. f Je 
 devore deja un ceuf.' Adieu. 
 
 Bangor. Evening. 
 
 The rain, which with short intervals accom- 
 panied me from London, remained constant to me 
 today; but the weather seems now inclined to 
 change for the better. I have all sorts of things 
 to tell you, and a very interesting day to recount.
 
 20 LADIES OF LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 Before I left Llangollen I recollected the two 
 celebrated ladies who have inhabited this valley 
 for more than half a century, and of whom I had 
 heard once as a child, and again recently in Lon- 
 don. You have doubtless heard your father talk 
 of them; e si non, voila leur histoire/ Fifty-six 
 years ago, two young, pretty and fashionable 
 ladies, Lady Eleanor Butler, and the daughter of 
 the late Lord Ponsonby, took it in their heads to 
 hate men, to love only each other, and to live 
 from that hour in some remote hermitage. The 
 resolution was immediately executed; and from 
 that time neither lady has ever passed a night out 
 of their cottage. On the other hand, no one who 
 is presentable travels in Wales unprovided with 
 an introduction to them. It is affirmed that the 
 ' scandal ' .of the great world interests them as 
 much as when they lived in it; and that their 
 curiosity to know what passes has preserved all 
 its freshness. I had compliments to deliver to 
 them from several ladies, but I had neglected to 
 furnish myself with a letter. I therefore sent my 
 card, determined if they declined my visit, as I 
 was led to fear, to storm the cottage. Here, as 
 elsewhere, however, in England, a title easily 
 opened the door, and I immediately received a 
 gracious invitation to a second breakfast. Pass-
 
 LADIES OF LLANGOLLEN. 21 
 
 ing along a charming road, through a trim and 
 pretty pleasure-ground, in a quarter of an hour I 
 reached a small but tasteful gothic cottage, situated 
 directly opposite to Dinas Bran, various glimpses 
 of which were visible through openings cut in the 
 trees. I alighted, and was received at the door 
 by the two ladies. Fortunately I was already 
 prepared by hearsay for their peculiarities; I 
 might otherwise have found it difficult to repress 
 some expression of astonishment. Imagine two 
 ladies, the eldest of whom, Lady Eleanor, a short 
 robust woman, begins to feel her years a little, 
 being now eighty- three ; the other, a tall and 
 imposing person, esteems herself still youthful, 
 being only seventy-four. Both wore their still 
 abundant hair combed straight back and powdered, 
 a round man's hat, a man's cravat and waistcoat, 
 but in the place of f inexpressibles*,' a short pet- 
 ticoat and boots : the whole covered by a coat of 
 blue cloth, of a cut quite peculiar, a sort of 
 middle term between a man's coat and a lady's 
 riding-habit. Over this, Lady Eleanor wore, first, 
 the grand cordon of the order of St. Louis across 
 
 * Inexpressibles is the name which this article of dress has 
 received in England, where, " in good society," a woman 
 sometimes leaves her husband and children and runs off with 
 her lover, but is always too decorous to be able to endure the 
 sound of the word breeches. EDITOR.
 
 22 LADIES OF LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 her shoulder; secondly, the same order around 
 her neck; thirdly, the small cross of the same in 
 her button-hole, and, ' pour comble de gloire,' a 
 golden lily of nearly the natural size, as a star, 
 all, as she said, presents of the Bourbon family. 
 So far the whole effect was somewhat ludicrous. 
 But now, you must imagine both ladies with that 
 agreeable 'aisance,' that air of the world of the 
 ' ancien regime,' courteous and entertaining, with- 
 out the slightest affectation ; speaking French as 
 well as any Englishwoman of my acquaintance ; 
 and above all, with that essentially polite, uncon- 
 strained, and simply cheerful manner of the good 
 society of that day, which, in our serious hard- 
 working age of business, appears to be going to 
 utter decay. I was really affected with a melan- 
 choly sort of pleasure in contemplating it in the 
 persons of the amiable old ladies who are among 
 the last of its living representatives ; nor could I 
 witness without lively sympathy the unremitting, 
 natural and affectionate attention with which the 
 younger treated her somewhat infirmer friend, and 
 anticipated all her wants. The charm of such 
 actions lies chiefly in the manner in which they 
 are performed, in things which appear small and 
 insignificant, but which are never lost upon a 
 susceptible heart.
 
 LADIES OF LLANGOLLEN. 23 
 
 I began by saying that I esteemed myself for- 
 tunate in being permitted to deliver to the fair 
 recluses the compliments with which I was 
 charged by my grandfather, who had had the 
 honour of visiting them fifty years ago. Their 
 beauty indeed they had lost, but not their memory : 
 they remembered the C C very well, imme- 
 diately produced an old memorial of him, and 
 expressed their wonder that so young a man was 
 dead already. Not only the venerable ladies, but 
 their house, was full of interest ; indeed it con- 
 tained some real treasures. There is scarcely a 
 remarkable person of the last half century who 
 has not sent them a portrait or some curiosity or 
 antique as a token of lemembrance. The collec- 
 tion of these, a well furnished library, a delightful 
 situation, an equable, tranquil life, and perfect 
 friendship and union, these have been their pos- 
 sessions j and if we may judge by their robust 
 old age and their cheerful temper, they have not 
 chosen amiss. 
 
 I had made my visit to them in a tremendous 
 rain, which continued undiminished as I proceeded 
 on my journey past the ruins of an abbey, and 
 then by the palace of Owen Glendower, a person- 
 age whom you must remember from my Shak- 
 spearian readings at M . The variety of the
 
 24 CHARACTERISTICS OP WELSH MOUNTAINS. 
 
 scenery is extraordinary; sometimes you are hem- 
 med in by a chaotic heap of mountains, of every 
 form; in a few minutes you have so extensive a 
 view before you that you could almost believe 
 yourself in a level country: the scene shifts again, 
 and you are in a road inclosed and overshadowed 
 by wood. Further on, the stream turns a peaceful 
 mill, and immediately after rushes foaming over 
 masses of rock, and forms a magnificent waterfall. 
 But the vale of Llangollen is only the proem 
 to the true epopea, the high mountain district. 
 After quitting the waterfall and riding for about 
 half an hour through a nearly level country, all at 
 once, a little beyond the inn at Cernioge Maur, 
 you ener the holy of holies. Huge black rocks 
 form a sublime amphitheatre, and their jagged and 
 rent peaks seem to float in the clouds. Below, 
 at a depth of eight hundred feet of perpendicular 
 rock, the mountain torrent forces its difficult way, 
 leaping headlong from chasm to chasm. Before 
 me lay mountains rising one above another in 
 endless perspective. I was so enchanted that I 
 exclaimed aloud with delight. And in the midst 
 of such scenery it is impossible to say enough in 
 praise of the road, which, avoiding every great 
 inequality of surface, allows the traveller to enjoy 
 at his ease all the 'belles horreurs' of this moun-
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF WELSH MOUNTAINS. 25 
 
 tain region. Wherever it is not protected by 
 the rocks, it is fenced by low walls; at equal 
 distances are niches neatly walled in, in which 
 are deposited the stones for mending the roads ; 
 this has a much better effect than the open heaps 
 by the sides of our roads. 
 
 The mountain region of Wales has a very pe- 
 culiar character, which it is difficult to compare 
 with any other. Its height is about that of the 
 Riesengebirg, but it is infinitely grander in form, 
 richer in striking and picturesquely grouped peaks. 
 The vegetation is more varied in plants, though 
 there is less wood, and it contains rivers and 
 lakes, in which the Riesengebirg is quite deficient. 
 On the other hand, it wants the majestic, imper- 
 vious forests of the abode of Rubezahl*; and in 
 some places cultivation has already occupied the 
 middl^ ground in a manner which would harmo- 
 nize better with the beautiful than with the sub- 
 lime. The road from Capel Cerig to within a few 
 miles of Bangor is, however, wild and rugged as 
 can be desired; and broad masses of red and yel- 
 low heath flowers, ferns, and other plants which 
 do not bloom in our severe climate, clothe the 
 rocks and replace the trees which do not flourish 
 
 A mountain spirit. See Musaus's Popular Tales. 
 TRANSL. 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 26 STYLE OF BUILDING. 
 
 at such an elevation. But the most striking va- 
 riety of the picture is produced by the strange, 
 wild and colossal forms of the mountains them- 
 selves: some of them are much more like clouds 
 than solid masses. The peak of Trivaen is sur- 
 mounted by such extraordinary basaltic pillars, 
 that travellers can hardly be persuaded they are 
 not men : they are only mountain spirits keeping 
 the everlasting station to which Merlin condemned 
 them. 
 
 I was struck with the good taste which had 
 rendered all the houses along the high-road so 
 perfectly in keeping with the scenery : they are 
 built of rough stone of a reddish colour, roofed 
 with slate, in a heavy, simple style of architecture, 
 and inclosed by iron gates, the gratings of which 
 are so disposed as to represent the intersecting 
 rays of two suns. The post-boy pointed out to 
 me the remains of a Druidical castle, into which, 
 as my guide-book informed me, Caractacus retired 
 after his defeat at Caer Caredoc. The Welsh 
 language sounds like the cawing of rooks. Almost 
 all their names begin with C, pronounced with a 
 guttural explosion which no foreign organs can 
 imitate. The ruin is converted into two or three 
 habitable huts, nor are the boundaries of the ori- 
 ginal building even distinguishable.
 
 BEGGARS. 27 
 
 A more remarkable object is a rock a little 
 further on, in the form of a bishop with crozier and 
 mitre, as if he had just started from the caverns 
 of the mountain to preach Christianity to the 
 heathen. Whence comes it that when Nature 
 plays these sportive tricks, the effect is almost 
 always sublime; when Art seeks to imitate them, 
 it is invariably ludicrous ? 
 
 A minor 'tormento' in this region is the mul- 
 titude of children, who start up and vanish again 
 like gnomes ; they pursue the carriage, begging 
 with inconceivable pertinacity. Wearied by their 
 importunity, I had made a positive determination 
 not to give anything to anybody ; a single devia- 
 tion from which rule insures your never being rid 
 of them for a moment. However, one little girl 
 vanquished all my resolutions by her perseverance: 
 she ran at least a German mile, up hill and down 
 dale, at a brisk trot, sometimes gaining upon me 
 a little by a foot-path, but never losing sight of 
 me for a minute. She ran by the side of the 
 carriage, uttering the same ceaseless plaintive 
 wail, like the cry of a sea-mew, which at length 
 became so intolerable to me that I surrendered, 
 and purchased my deliverance from my untireable 
 pursuer at the price of a shilling. The boding 
 tone had however taken such possession of my 
 c2
 
 28 ACCIDENTAL MEETING. 
 
 ear, that I could not get rid of it for the whole 
 day. 
 
 August 16th. 
 
 I have slept admirably, and am now sitting at 
 the window of an inn on the sea- shore, and enjoy- 
 ing the sight of the ships cleaving the transparent 
 waters in every direction. On the landward rises 
 a castle built of black marble, surrounded by an- 
 cient oaks. 
 
 As I am very comfortably housed, I shall make 
 this inn my head- quarters, and begin my excur- 
 sions by this castle. I found here, very unex- 
 pectedly, an amusing countryman. You know 
 
 the clever A , who is so thin, and yet exhibits 
 
 such magnificent calves ; so elegantly dressed, 
 and yet so frugal ; so good-natured, and yet so 
 sarcastic; so English, and yet so German. Well, 
 
 this same A ate a second breakfast with me, 
 
 without any visible diminution of appetite from 
 the former one ; and, in return, regaled me with 
 the most diverting conversation. He came from 
 S , concerning which he told me as follows. 
 
 JEST AND EARNEST. 
 
 You know, my dear friend, that in Vienna, 
 every man who can eat a roast fowl, and (N.B.) 
 pay for it, receives the title of Euer Gnaden (Your
 
 JEST AND EARNEST. 29 
 
 -Grace). In S *, on the other hand, every 
 
 man who has a whole coat is called, in dubio, 
 Herr Rath (Counsellor); or still better, Herr 
 Geheimer Rath (Privy Counsellor). They do 
 not trouble themselves with the distinctions be- 
 tween an actual and a nominal Rath; a half,, 
 .(that is a pensioned,) or a whole, (that is a full- 
 ayed,) and a payless Rath, a titular nullity. 
 The attributes and functions of this mysterious 
 Counsellorship are wonderfully various. In the 
 first place comes the invalid statesman in the 
 Resident, who, from respect for his declining 
 years, and as a reward for living over half a cen- 
 tury, has been invested with the yellow griffin ; 
 or a provincial chief president, more remarkable 
 for his prepossessions in his own behalf than for 
 his public labours, whom his services on occasion 
 of the visit of some foreign sovereign have raised 
 to honours and to orders. Here we find the 
 vigorous prop of the finances ; or that c rara avis,' 
 a man of influence near the throne, yet as full of 
 modesty as of merit : there a vegetating Excel- 
 lenz, who knows no other occupation than that of 
 going from house to house dishing up antiquated 
 jokes and jeux de mots, which for half a century 
 have enjoyed the uninterrupted privilege of de- 
 * By S , the author apparently means Berlin. THANSL.
 
 30 VARIETIES OF THE GERMAN RATH. 
 
 lighting l la crme de la bonne societe ' in the 
 capital. Next we see it in the person of one who 
 is equally delightful as man and as poet, and who 
 has never trodden any but the straight forward 
 path. A little further we recognise it in the 
 form of a less brilliant but more comprehensive 
 genius, which, although consecrated to Themis, 
 has an acute eye for the glories of the theatrical, 
 as well as the celestial stars. This Proteus then 
 transforms itself into a Cameralist, celebrated for 
 his breed of sheep and his political ceconomy, 
 who manures his fields j then into a physician, 
 who performs a similar good office on the church- 
 yard. It is also to be found in the invincible 
 Landwehr; nay even the post*, the lottery, &c., 
 cannot exist without it. The court- philosopher, 
 and court-theologian, all shake hands as Geheime 
 Riithe ; for so they are, have been, or shall be 
 hereafter : in short, no nation under the sun is 
 more richly provided with counsel, and truly of 
 the most privy kind ; for such is the modesty of 
 these countless counsellors, that many of them 
 
 * In every nation the post ought to be extra-post. Many 
 people indeed regret that the greater part of the State- 
 machine is not driven by it. This might give it a jog, and 
 put an end to the halt which it has made for half a cen- 
 tury. EDITOR.
 
 GERMAN TITLES. 31 
 
 keep their talents buried in the most profound 
 secrecy. 
 
 It is, however, a real pleasure to see with what 
 unconstrained and touching ( bonhommie ' they 
 bandy titles and compliments, each exalting the 
 other, and awaiting in return a grateful recipro- 
 city of good offices. 
 
 The various adjuncts and applications of the 
 poor word geboren (born) must doubtless for ever 
 remain a mystical enigma to all foreigners who en- 
 deavour to acquire the German language. Without 
 plunging deeper into this labyrinth, I will only 
 mention for their information, that with us the 
 meanest beggar will no longer condescend to be 
 merely geboren; that Edelgeboren* (nobly born) 
 begins to be a sensible affront to the lower order 
 of official persons j and Wohlgeboren (well born) 
 no less so to the higher, but not noble function- 
 aries. For my part, I am very careful to write to 
 my tailor, " Hochwohlgeborner Herr" (High- 
 well-born Sir). He was moreover a very distin- 
 guished man, a descendant of our old friend 
 Robinson Crusoe, who has attained to historic 
 importance by the daring and inimitable cut of 
 
 * The English reader must be told, what to him will sound 
 strangely enough, that " Wohlgeboren " is a higher title than 
 " Edelgeboren." TRAXSL.
 
 32 GERMAN TITLES. 
 
 uniforms : he was therefore deserving, at the least, 
 of an order of merit*. 
 
 That no restraint may be imposed on this arbi- 
 trary distribution and assumption of titles, matters 
 nre so favourably arranged, that with all this avi- 
 dity for rank, there exists no real and fixed order 
 of rank, either determined by the court, or by birth, 
 or grounded on opinion and custom so general 
 and rooted in the nation as to have nearly the force 
 of law. Sometimes it is birth, oftener place; some- 
 times merit, sometimes favour, sometimes irresist- 
 ible impudence, which seizes precedence wherever 
 accident or circumstances offer it. This gives oc- 
 casion to many strange anomalies which an old 
 nobleman like myself, a Baron von Tunderden- 
 dronk,^" qui ne sauroit compter le nombre de ses 
 
 anes," (as general P said,) cannot understand. 
 
 Complaints, affronts, and anxieties are therefore 
 endless in society. There is only a certain lively 
 and excellent old lady, who has the sole and proper 
 art of maintaining the first place almost every- 
 where, and under all circumstances. She unites 
 
 * I am acquainted with other qualities of this 'artiste/ which 
 would do honour to many of the 'industrieF noblemen of our 
 time. For instance, he sends in his bill only once in five 
 years, and is the most magnanimous of creditors. ' Avis aux 
 lecteurs.'
 
 PRECEDENCE IN GERMANY. 33 
 
 -great talents with remarkable bodily strength and 
 bravery ; and by means of these mingled advan- 
 tages, sometimes by wit, sometimes by unimagin- 
 able rudeness ; sometimes, when nothing else will 
 do, by a hearty push, she takes and maintains pre- 
 cedency at court and on all gala occasions. I 
 know from good authority that Countess Kacke- 
 lack, at one of our courts (for you know we have 
 many,) felt herself slighted and aggrieved by a 
 certain court party; and by the advice of her friend 
 the Starost von Piickling addressed a petition di- 
 rectly to our upright and equitable ruler, praying 
 that her place might be officially determined. It 
 was allotted immediately after that of the Princess 
 Bona, who (for once, on account of the services of 
 her late husband,) is in possession of the first. The 
 Grand- Marshal (Grossivurdentrager, Grand-dig- 
 nity-bearer) Prince Weise brought her the order, 
 and added, "But, my dear Countess, you must yield 
 precedence to Baroness Stolz, for with your slender 
 person what can you do against her? a single blow 
 from her elbow lames you for ever. Do therefore 
 let her go first; for you know even the police is 
 afraid of her since the famous challenge she put 
 forth some years ago." 
 
 Every thing must yield to force; and this shows. 
 c 5
 
 34- PRECEDENCE IN ENGLAND. 
 
 how difficult it is to secure precedence to mere 
 merit without universal and declared rules : merit 
 is so relative. If a minister or a general is a great 
 man, who can deny that the best of cooks, the 
 loveliest of opera-dancers, has great merit ? merit 
 which, as history teaches us, monarchs and states 
 have recognised and honoured. 
 
 In England, where antiquity of title gives pre- 
 cedence (be it remarked, by-the-by, the safest and 
 best adapted to a monarchy*), the great Field 
 Marshal and Prime Minister Wellington must 
 yield precedence to the little Duke of St. Albans, 
 (who is known, indeed, but not very illustrious,) 
 because the latter is an older Duke; that is to say, 
 the services of his progenitress Nell Gwynn, an 
 actress and mistress of Charles II., are of more 
 ancient date than those of the Duke of Wellington, 
 and consequently entitle her descendant to all the 
 rights of precedence over the great general. 
 
 In our capital it is otherwise. We are gene- 
 rally too well accustomed to bad eating to estimate 
 very highly the merits of a good cook, and are of 
 
 * N.B. When the nobility is fitly constituted ; that is to 
 say, when it is a true national nobility, such as England in 
 part possesses, or such as Gravell well describes in his "Re- 
 gent." EDITOR.
 
 GERMAN PLACE-HOLDERS. 35 
 
 late universally become so virtuous that nobody 
 has a mistress. As to rewarding merit, that is a 
 thing which does not often come under contem- 
 plation*. 
 
 What really and mainly gives rank and con- 
 sideration here, is to be a servant of the state or 
 of the court, f n'importe lequel et comment.' 
 " Beati possidentes." The good old German pro- 
 verb applies here, " When God gives a place, he 
 gives brains to fill it." The Bureaucracy has 
 taken the place of the Aristocracy, and will perhaps 
 soon become equally hereditary. Even now the 
 Government itself cannot dismiss any of its ( em- 
 ployes ' without regular trial and judgement : every 
 man regards his place as his most stable property, 
 and it is not to be wondered at that place-holders 
 laud this state of things to the skies. Strange, 
 that, nevertheless, all states which have a free con- 
 stitution, all, in which it is a recognised principle 
 that the nation, and not any privileged class, not 
 
 * My departed friend doubtless means to apply this to a 
 certain class of functionaries, who, for good reasons, love 
 nothing so well as mediocrity; for if I guess the scene 
 aright, nowhere is merit more nobly honoured in the high- 
 est places. Of this the whole nation recently saw a most 
 gratifying example in the affectionate respect paid to a revered 
 statesman, whose merits are as exalted as his station. If 
 there is a man who doubts of the former, it can be no other 
 than himself. EDITOR.
 
 36 STATE OF THE OLD GERMAN NOBILITY. 
 
 even that of its official servants, is the main ob- 
 ject, follow a totally opposite system*. 
 
 The middle classes are, in another way, happy 
 in their disregarded state : they enjoy their compe- 
 tence ( con amore,' and, as the salt of life, they in- 
 dulge themselves now and then with a lawsuit, for 
 which the ministers of justice afford them every 
 possible facility. The merchant, whether Christian 
 or prae-Christian, finds his account in this and, 
 if he knows how to come at it, useful patronage. 
 
 Indeed to have a great deal of money is almost 
 as good as to be a ivirklicher Geheimerath (actual 
 privy counsellor) f ; and rich bankers who keep a 
 good table are reckoned among the privileged 
 classes, and not unfrequently for these high deserts 
 elevated to nobility. 
 
 * If I were not certain that ray friend wrote this passage 
 in the year 1827, I should take it to be a reminiscence of 
 President Jackson's first speech. The President proposes 
 that all the public officers of the United States (with very 
 few exceptions) be changed every fifth year. " Eheu, jam sa- 
 tis!" What would our Regierungs Rathe (Government coun- 
 sellors) say to such a scheme ? Entire general commissions 
 broken up, in the fullest sense of the word, at a blow ! For 
 who knows whether, at the end of five years, they would be 
 thought worth the money they cost, and renewed at all ? 
 EDITOR. 
 
 f Privy counsellors who have any functions, are distin- 
 guished from those who have none, by the addition to their 
 title of wirMicher (real, actual). TBANSL.
 
 STATE OF THE OLD GERMAN NOBILITY. 37 
 
 In this manner, all manage to get something; 
 the unfortunate nobles, especially those of ancient 
 date, are the only people with whom it goes hard. 
 Without money, without any land of which he has 
 the free disposal, his titles affording an example of 
 infinite multiplication, and his hereditary estates of 
 infinite division; without any share in the legis- 
 lation, long stripped of his ancient endowments 
 and benefices*, unnecessarily and unfairly annoyed 
 by the authorities, his ill-supported claims often 
 bringing upon him not only ridicule and con- 
 tempt, but hostility and persecution, the German 
 nobleman has, as member of a Corporation,, lost all 
 dignity and importance in the eyes of the people, 
 and he retains scarcely any other distinction than 
 that of serving as the only stuff out of which to 
 make chamberlains and lords-in-waiting, in the re- 
 
 * The intention of this law was noble and liberal, though 
 it cut the knot rather roughly. But how_has it been executed? 
 A book might be written, ought to be written, on this subject. 
 The execution of this business is precisely in the style of a 
 certain Herr von Wanze, who, in the disguise of a farmer, 
 taught the opulent peasant Pharao at Kirmesse 1 . "You put 
 down your money," said he, "and I deal the cards right and 
 left. What falls to the left I win; what falls to the right 
 you lose." EDITOR. 
 
 A village festival. TRANSL.
 
 38 ROMANCES OF M. AND MADAME DE LA M F . 
 
 spective courts of the capital; doubtless always 
 a most enviable lot. 
 
 This last truth is duly known to many; and a 
 great deal of talent has been displayed thereupon 
 by a celebrated authoress, who was some time ago 
 engaged in a sort of amicable rivalry with her 
 husband on the field of romance, a contest which 
 used to produce two or three works of that nature, 
 consisting of as many volumes each, every Leipsig 
 fair, to the great joy of the public. The most ex- 
 traordinary part of the story is, that the works 
 of the husband were characterized by the over- 
 flowing tenderness of a female pen; those of the 
 wife, on the contrary, by a somewhat unwieldy 
 quantity of masculine knowledge; a lead which 
 even the alchemical hand of an amiable and ac- 
 complished prince could not turn to gold. The 
 works of both, especially the former, have outlived 
 their vogue; and the graceful and child-like simpli- 
 city of the Northern heroes, who tilted at each 
 other with tenderness, looked on their slain friend 
 with clear blue eyes, and imprinted upon his lips 
 the kiss of peace; nay, even their wondrous steeds, 
 who galloped over precipitous crags and swam 
 after their lords through seas, have been forced, 
 spite of all their marvellous gifts, to give way to 
 Waiter Scott's unbreeched Highlanders.
 
 ROMANCES OF MAPAME PE LA M F . 39 
 
 The poetical young lords of the chamber and 
 the learned tea-parties of the noble lady, had long 
 before been deserted as somewhat insipid. In 
 such a tea-party did Ahasverus, (as we read in the 
 memoirs of the Devil,) after his long and restless 
 wanderings, first find repose, and sink into a re- 
 freshing sleep. Since that time, the thick volumes 
 of the distinguished authoress have dwindled to 
 small tales, pretty ephemera, which live but a 
 day indeed, but are well requited by the honour 
 of circulating exclusively in courts and ante- cham- 
 bers, among princes, ladies in waiting, and maids 
 of honour, lords of the chamber, equerries and 
 grooms of the chambers (for nothing within the 
 precincts of a court is to be treated lightly). 
 Haunted rooms were lately introduced ; but the 
 ghosts were so dull and fades, so like white- 
 washed boards, f avec un bel air de famille, 5 that 
 the utmost they could do was to make one think 
 of a cold shudder, never to excite one. The most 
 piquant of all these stories was unquestionably 
 that which ( persiffloit ' the society of the capital, 
 in which poor Viola played a very suspicious part, 
 and a fashionable lady was introduced, who sold 
 her for a large sum to an illustrious person. This 
 story was justly called moral, for it excited in every 
 person of good feeling who read it, detestation of
 
 4-0 ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 
 
 calumny and of hasty condemnations. The ill- 
 natured, however, were delighted with it for other 
 reasons; and so in one way or other it was not with- 
 out value. It might fairly be called a masterpiece 
 when compared with the "tales of the middle ages," 
 full of virtue and distress, of Christianity and in- 
 decency, of Italianism and Germanism, which the 
 necessities of journal and almanack-literature call 
 into existence by myriads, and of which we may 
 say with Schiller, " When people are gorged 
 with vice, set virtue on the table." These do not 
 reach either the one or the other; but, from the 
 beginning to the end, one suffers the moral f pen- 
 dant ' of a so-called medical cure by nausea. After 
 enduring all sorts of allusions, the whole thing 
 burns in the pan, and so far from being fit to bring 
 to table, the unfortunate reader is for a long time 
 disgusted with all food whatsoever*. 
 
 But to return to the learned and amiable lady 
 of whom we were just speaking. At the time I 
 was in those regions, a strange swarm of insects 
 
 * It is but fair, however, to say that the exceptions to this 
 description are many. When, for instance, Gothe does not 
 disdain to send forth " a man of forty " among the minors ; 
 when. Tieck takes pity upon us, and gives us a real genuine 
 " Novelle; " when L. Schefer moves our heart and spirit by 
 his wild lightnings; Kruse makes a criminal trial graceful 
 and attractive; or some Therese, Friederike, &c. reveals the
 
 FEUDAL OPINIONS; 4*1 
 
 sported in the wintry sun of her courtly and 
 literary celebrity, in the great world ycleped a 
 coterie, which, I believe, establishes it as a 
 principle (who has not principles now-a-days ?), 
 that nobles have really and truly a different sort 
 of blood in their veins from that of other men; 
 and that if a common tree can be ennobled at all, 
 it can be only by the process of grafting; for in- 
 stance, by the insertion of some illegitimate scion 
 of a noble stock. They teach that this nobility 
 should remain, before all things, pure and distinct; 
 it must dishonour itself neither by trade nor by 
 any speculations of public utility, which latter 
 offence has lately been denounced as the cause of 
 the decay of the nobility of the land by a certain 
 Frau von Tonne in a very voluminous work. To 
 dabble a little in authorship and artistship is law- 
 ful (even for money, nay for burghers' money), 
 seeing that artists* occupy a sort of middle region 
 
 otherwise impenetrable mysteries of the female heart (not to 
 mention the varied merits of our other best tale- writers); it 
 is evident that there are workmen who could supply excellent 
 and perfect wares, if the whole manufacture were not spoiled 
 by the established machinery. EDITOR. 
 
 * It is only in English that the word artist is absurdly 
 restricted to painters, sculptors, and engravers. An artist 
 iSj in the German sense, a man who cultivates the fine arts, 
 poetry, painting, music, &c. TRANSL.
 
 42 FEUDAL OPINIONS. 
 
 between the noble and the bourgeois. A constitu- 
 tional high nobility and a representative govern- 
 ment are by no means to the taste of this party ; 
 from the very natural reason that, under any such 
 terrible system, men, the date of whose nobility is 
 known to nobody but themselves, and whose en- 
 cumbered estates are split up into portions of mi- 
 croscopic invisibility, would be condemned to the 
 horror of being compelled to take their seat in the 
 chamber of commons (where else?). Who can 
 blame them, therefore, for preferring the chambers 
 of princes, especially if they can lord it there ? 
 Which heaven forfend ! It is to be hoped they 
 will remain merely titular, and not actual privy 
 counsellors and lords of the bedchamber. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 I could bear no longer to sit still in my room, 
 while the castle opposite to my windows tempted 
 
 me forth. As soon therefore as A had taken 
 
 his departure, I procured a mountain pony and 
 rode out in high spirits. This remarkable edifice 
 was built by the proprietor of the slate quarries 
 situated about three miles distant, which bring 
 him a yearly income of 40,000/. He has laid out 
 a park in the most delightful situation on the sea-
 
 SAXON ARCHITECTURE. 43 
 
 shore ; and has pursued the strange but admirably 
 executed idea of erecting every building within its 
 inclosure in the old Saxon style of architecture. 
 The English falsely ascribe the invention of this 
 style to the Anglo-Saxons : it had its rise in the 
 time of the emperors of Saxon line : it is quite 
 certain that none of the numerous Saxon remains 
 are to be traced to an earlier date. The high wall, 
 which surrounds the park in a circuit of at least 
 a German mile, has a very singular appearance ; 
 pointed masses of slate three or four feet high, and 
 of irregular shape, are built upright into the top of 
 the wall. At every entrance a fortress-like gate 
 with a portcullis frowns on the intruder, no inapt 
 symbol, by-the-by, of the illiberality of the present 
 race of Englishmen, who shut their parks and 
 gardens more closely than we do our sitting- 
 rooms. The favoured visitor must then cross a 
 drawbridge before he passes the gateway of the 
 imposing castle. The black marble of the island 
 of Anglesea, rudely hewn, harmonizes admirably 
 with the majestic character of the surrounding 
 scenery. The pure Saxon style is preserved in 
 the minutest details, even in the servants' rooms 
 and the meanest parts of the building. In the 
 eating-hall I found an imitation of the castle of 
 William the Conqueror at Rochester, which I
 
 44 ENGLISH DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 formerly described to you. What could then be 
 accomplished only by a mighty monarch, is now 
 executed, as a plaything, only with increased 
 size, magnificence and expense, by a simple 
 country- gentleman, whose father very likely sold 
 cheeses. So do times change ! 
 
 The ground-plan of the building (which the 
 architect had the politeness to show me) gave 
 occasion to certain domestic details, which I am 
 glad to be able to communicate to you ; because 
 nearly all large English country-houses are con- 
 structed on the same plan ; and because in this, as 
 in many other things, the nice perception of the 
 useful and commodious, the exquisite adaptation 
 of means to ends which distinguishes the English, 
 are conspicuous. The servants never wait in the 
 ante-room, here called the hall, which, like the 
 overture of an opera, is designed to express the 
 character of the whole : it is generally decorated 
 with statues or pictures, and, like the elegant 
 staircase and the various apartments, is appro- 
 priated to the use of the family and guests, who 
 have the good taste rather to wait on themselves 
 than have an attendant spirit always at their heels. 
 The servants live in a large room in a remote part 
 of the house, generally on the ground-floor, where 
 all, male and female, eat together, and where the
 
 ENGLISH DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE. 45 
 
 bells of the whole house are placed. They are sus- 
 pended in a row on the wall, numbered so that it 
 is immediately seen in what room any one has 
 rung : a sort of pendulum* is attached to each, 
 which continues to vibrate for ten minutes after 
 the sound has ceased to remind the sluggish of 
 their duty. 
 
 The females of the establishment have also a 
 large common room, in which, when they have 
 nothing else to do, they sew, knit, and spinf : close 
 to this is a closet for washing the glass and 
 china, which comes \vithin their province. Each of 
 them, as well as of the man- servants, has her se- 
 parate bed-chamber in the highest story. Only 
 the ' housekeeper ' and the * butler ' have distinct 
 apartments below. Immediately adjoining that of 
 the housekeeper, is a room where coffee is made, 
 and the store-room containing everything requi- 
 site for breakfast, which important meal, in En- 
 gland, belongs specially to her department. On 
 
 * This pendulum may be used by acute servants as a sort 
 of thermometer or hygrometer of the patience of their re- 
 spective masters and mistresses. EDITOR. 
 
 t Knitting is one of the conditions of female existence in 
 Germany, which may account for this unwitting misrepre- 
 sentation of the author. TRANSL.
 
 46 SLATE QUARRY. 
 
 the other side of the building is the washing esta- 
 blishment, with a small court-yard attached : it 
 consists of three rooms ; the first for washing, the 
 second for ironing, the third, which Is considerably 
 loftier and heated by steam, for drying the linen 
 in bad weather. Near the butler's room is his 
 pantry, a spacious fire-proof room, with closets on 
 every side for the reception of the plate, which he 
 cleans here, and the glass and china used at din- 
 ner, which must be delivered back into his custody 
 as soon as it is washed by the women. All these 
 arrangements are executed with the greatest punc- 
 tuality. A locked staircase leads from the pantry 
 into the beer and wine cellar, which is likewise 
 under the butler's jurisdiction. 
 
 I followed a very romantic road, which led me 
 through the park, and then along the bank of a 
 beautifully wooded mountain stream, and in about 
 an hour arrived at the slate quarry, which lies in 
 the midst of the mountains, six miles from the 
 castle. From what I have already told you, you 
 may imagine what a vast work this is. Five or 
 six high terraces of great extent rise one above 
 another on the side of the mountain ; along these 
 swarm men, machines, trains of an hundred 
 waggons attached together and rolling rapidly
 
 SLATE QUARRV. 47 
 
 along the iron railways, cranes drawing up heavy 
 loads, water- courses, &c. It took me a consider- 
 able time to give even a hasty glance at this busy 
 and complicated scene. In order to reach a remote 
 part of the works, where they were then blasting 
 rocks with gunpowder, a process which I had 
 a great desire to see, I was obliged to lie down 
 in one of the little iron waggons which serve for 
 the conveyance of the slate, and are drawn by 
 means of a windlass through a gallery hewn in the 
 solid rock, only four feet in height, four hundred 
 paces in length, and pitch dark. It is a most 
 disagreeable sensation to be dragged through this 
 narrow passage at full speed, and in Egyptian 
 darkness, after having had ample opportunity 
 of seeing at the entrance the thousand abrupt 
 jagged projections by which one is surrounded. 
 Few strangers make the experiment, spite of the 
 tranquillizing assurances of the guide who rides 
 before. It is impossible to get rid of the idea that 
 if one came in contact with any of these salient 
 points, one would, in all probability, make one's 
 egress without a head. After passing through 
 this gallery, I had to walk along a path at the 
 edge of the precipice, only two feet wide, and with- 
 out any railing or defence ; then to pass through
 
 48 SLATE QUARRY. 
 
 a second low cavern, when I reached the fearfully 
 magnificent scene of operations. 
 
 It was like a subterranean world ! Above the 
 blasted walls of slate, smooth as a mirror and se- 
 veral hundred feet high, scarcely enough of the 
 blue heaven was visible to enable me to distinguish 
 mid-day from twilight. The ground on which we 
 stood was likewise blasted rock; just in the middle 
 was a deep cleft six or eight feet wide. Some 
 children of the workmen were amusing themselves 
 in leaping across this chasm for a few pence. The 
 perpendicular sides were hung with men, who 
 looked like dark birds, striking the rock with 
 their long picks, and throwing down masses of slate 
 which fell with a sharp and clattering sound. 
 But on a sudden the whole mountain seemed to 
 totter, loud cries of warning re-echoed from va- 
 rious points, the mine was sprung. A large 
 mass of rock loosened itself slowly and majesti- 
 cally from above, fell down with a mighty plunge, 
 and while dust and splinters darkened the air 
 like smoke, the thunder rang around in wild 
 echoes. These operations, which are of almost 
 daily necessity in one part or other of the quarry, 
 are so dangerous, that, according to the statement 
 of the overseer himself, they calculate on an
 
 SLATE QUARRY NUMBER OF ACCIDENTS. 49 
 
 average of an hundred and fifty men wounded, 
 and seven or eight killed in a year. An hospital, 
 exclusively devoted to the workmen on this pro- 
 perty, receives the wounded. On my way I had 
 met, without being aware of it, the body of one 
 who had fallen the day before yesterday; f car c'est 
 comme un champ de bataille.' The people who 
 escorted it were so smartly dressed and so deco- 
 rated with flowers, that I took the procession for 
 a wedding j and was shocked when, in answer to 
 my inquiry for the bridegroom, one of the attend- 
 ants pointed in silence to the coffin which followed 
 at some distance. The overseer assured me that 
 half these accidents were owing to the indifference 
 of the men, who are too careless to remove in time, 
 and to a sufficient distance, though at every ex- 
 plosion they have full warning given them. The 
 slate invariably splits in sharp- edged flakes, so 
 that an inconsiderable piece thrown to a great 
 distance is often sufficient to cut a man's hand, 
 leg, or even head, clean off. On one occasion this 
 last frightful accident, as I was assured, actually 
 happened. 
 
 As we ourselves were not far enough from the 
 ' foyer,' I instantly obeyed the signal, and turned 
 on the left through the infernal gallery, to inspect
 
 50 SLATE-CUTTING. 
 
 the more peaceful operations : these are extremely 
 varied and interesting. Paper cannot be out more 
 neatly and rapidly than slates are here ; and no 
 deal board can split more easily and delicately 
 than the blocks which the workmen with one single 
 stroke of the mallet divide into slices from three to 
 four feet in breadth, as thin as the thinnest paste- 
 board. The rough blocks come from the region 
 I have just described, down Parisian f montagnes 
 russes' to the stone-hewers; and, as in those, the 
 downward impetus of the loaded waggons sends 
 them up again when empty. The iron railways 
 are not here, as they commonly are, concave, but 
 convex, and the waggon wheels correspond. 
 
 July 17th. 
 
 The day has passed in rest, writing, and read- 
 ing; so that it affords few materials. But before I 
 go to bed I must indulge the delightful habit of 
 chatting with you. I was just thinking of home, 
 and our honoured friend L , who is now tra- 
 velling, and has sent me a whole volume of his 
 former lucubrations. Shall I send you a speci- 
 men ? 
 
 Listen then.
 
 tf REFLECTIONS OF A PIOUS SOUL OF SANDOMIR." 51 
 
 " REFLECTIONS OF A PIOUS SOUL OF SANDOMIR, 
 OR SANDOMICH *. 
 
 "1. On occasion of the quantity of Schnapps 
 drunk at my expense by the Saxon postillions. 
 
 " How much better in all respects is our coun- 
 try than any other ! Really one witnesses strange 
 things ! For instance, it is certainly an extra- 
 ordinary circumstance, and yet after repeated 
 experience I cannot doubt it, that when the 
 horses here are tired and lazy, (which alas ! is too 
 often the case,) the postillion has only to drink 
 Schnapps, to render them brisk and active. The 
 xvisdom of Nature and her hidden powers are un- 
 fathomable ! The above-mentioned phenomenon 
 may perhaps be elucidated by the well-known 
 fact, that wine begins to ferment in the cask when 
 the vine blossoms f. At the last stage before Tor- 
 gau, my companion Count S , Lieutenant of 
 
 * The inhabitants themselves cannot perfectly decide which 
 termination is the right*. 
 
 f N.B. Not to forget to ask our learned Professor Blinde- 
 mann what he thinks of this illustration. 
 
 a This is a joke which will be understood only by those 
 who are acquainted with the peculiarities of the Berlin dialect. 
 The inhabitants continually confound verbs which govern the 
 dative mir (to me), with those which require the accusative 
 mich (me) ; for which they are much laughed at by the rest 
 of Germany. The first syllable of course alludes to the sandy 
 plain in which Berlin stands. TRANSL. 
 
 D2
 
 52 SPECIAL INTERPOSITIONS. 
 
 the Guards, from Potsdam, upon whom the light of 
 Grace hath not yet broken, and who consequently 
 is unduly moved by worldly things, was so angry 
 with the postillion that he shook his stick at him, 
 and called him a Saxon dog. e O Lord ! no, sir,' 
 answered the fellow stupidly; f there you 're mis- 
 taken we have been Prussian dogs these ten years 
 and more.' This is a plain proof that the people 
 here are entirely destitute of that high civilization 
 which prevails among us. 
 
 "2. On occasion of my being nearly drowned 
 in the Elbe, near Torgau. 
 
 " Certain it is, that we ought not to venture into 
 the water till we can swim, as a Grecian sage hath 
 very justly remarked. I was so imprudent as to 
 bathe yesterday without having acquired this art, 
 (for I ever kept myself far aloof from all revolu- 
 tionary gymnastics and exercises of that sort,) and 
 being seized with cramp in the calf of my leg and 
 consequently -somewhat frightened, I should per- 
 haps now be among the dead,had it not been for a 
 man whom Heaven led in this direction, exactly at 
 this time, for my preservation. Can I be blind to 
 such repeated proofs of special interposition in my 
 favour ? The whole Elbe is, nevertheless, become 
 rather disagreeable to me. I strive with this as a 
 blameable feeling, since we ought to recollect how
 
 DOUBTS CONCERNING THE JEWS. 53 
 
 useful this river is to many of our fellow-crea- 
 tures*. The remark has I believe been made be- 
 fore, but it nevertheless is not the less worthy of 
 attention, that wherever we find a large city, we 
 almost invariably find a great river by the side of 
 it ; so wisely, so graciously has a kind Providence 
 arranged all things for our good, though we men 
 acknowledge it but too seldom ! O how thank- 
 ful do I always feel when I think rightly on this ! 
 I, who moreover have so much more cause than 
 numbers of my brethren to be thankful for the 
 manifold bodily and mental advantages I enjoy. 
 May I never forget them ! Amen. 
 
 " 3. On occasion of my being forced to pay 
 Abraham the Jew my twice prolonged bill, 
 with ( alterum tantum' 
 
 " I have been sorely disquieted by the doubt, 
 whether the Jews are really to remain to the end 
 of the world ; and, in spite of the curse which lies 
 upon them, scattered and oppressed as they are on 
 earth, to continue for ever to cheatus so astonish- 
 ingly as they do. 
 
 f ' Yet is not this very doubt a sin ? since we are 
 
 * Among others, to the Commissioners of the Elbe Na- 
 vigation, who have just made such a noble end of their la- 
 bours, and have all received Orders for the same. I wonder 
 whether Providence will also bestow an Order on me ?
 
 54 BIBLE SOCIETIES. 
 
 assured in many holy books that this will certainly 
 be the case. Besides, the conversion of these mis- 
 guided wretches is now proceeding from our coun- 
 try, whence the greatest light formerly went forth. 
 But alas ! here a new fearful doubt besets me : 
 Will all the inhabitants of the earth ever be called 
 Christians ? It is indeed so declared : but in the 
 course of my learned studies I lately met with a 
 calculation which, to my horror, showed me that 
 out of eight hundred millions of souls on the earth, 
 only two hundred millions are called by the true 
 name. Let us hope, however, that the worthy and 
 admirable Bible Societies will do their part, and 
 not weary. The English cannot be truly in earn- 
 est in this matter, seeing that as yet they have 
 hardly made a convert in India. It is probable 
 that they, as usual, have only political ends in 
 view*. I read lately that a Hindoo audaciously 
 
 * To add a word in earnest : I would ask, Who does not 
 honour the humane motives which gave rise to the Bible and 
 Missionary Societies ? But are these, even were they not 
 subject, as unfortunately too often happens, to the most 
 scandalous abuses, the right means to the end ? The result 
 in almost every case teaches us the direct contrary. It 
 ought to be considered that God sent Christianity as the 
 second covenant; ihe. first was based entirely upon earthly 
 interests and despotic power. 
 
 If I did not fear to appear to treat the matter too lightly, 
 I should almost be inclined to say that we ought to begin by
 
 ENGLISH IN INDIA. 55 
 
 answered a missionary who was trying to convert 
 him, f I shall not suffer myself to be converted to 
 Christianity byyou, till you consent to he converted 
 to the religion of Brama by me. I believe in the 
 truth of my religion, as you believe in the truth of 
 yours : and what is right for one, is fair for the 
 other. Some fables and abuses may perhaps have 
 
 converting savages into Jews, before we attempt to make 
 them Christians. This would also harmonize in apeculiar way 
 with that powerful lever, commercial interest. Men would 
 be civilized much more quickly by the business of buying and 
 selling, than by Paul's Epistles to the Corinthians. 
 
 This might also serve as an index or guide ; and the con- 
 formity of such a course with the laws of nature would be 
 proved by repeated experience, wherever the same process 
 were to be gone through. To try to make men Christians 
 who are in so low a state of civilization as the almost merely 
 animal inhabitants of parts of Africa, appears to me nearly 
 as unreasonable as to send teachers of European languages 
 to the apes. To this stage of human culture two things are 
 applicable, self-interest, and force beneficently employed : 
 and in this point of view, even conversions by the sword are 
 not so injudicious and absurd as those by Bible Societies ; 
 always provided, that they are accomplished without un- 
 necessary cruelty, and undertaken from truly benevolent 
 motives*. (It is assumed, be it observed, that we have a 
 
 8 It cannot be denied that the most efficient attempts at 
 conversion, and those which left the most permanent con- 
 sequences, were those of Charlemagne, and of the Spaniards 
 in South America. It was only a pity that the Spaniards 
 forced their own idolatry upon men who were, in act, better 
 Christians than themselves.
 
 56 MISSIONS. 
 
 crept into both, but they are of the same family.' 
 What dreadful views ! I myself, who, I say it 
 without vain-glory, persuaded an old Jew, whose 
 trade had fallen off. to be baptised, (for which I 
 still allow him a pension,) sought also to contribute 
 my mite by the spiritual change of a real Indian, 
 who after many wonderful adventures had been 
 driven into our hyperborean regions, where the 
 
 Tocation and a right to endeavour to raise people to our stage 
 of civilization without any will of theirs ; but this we shall 
 not discuss here.) 
 
 The other method, namely, to work upon savages by their 
 own present and obvious interest, can be accomplished only 
 by trade, and appears the most just and mild of all ; but it 
 must also be accompanied by a certain degree of compulsion 
 and constraint, to produce any rapid and permanent results. 
 The worst effect of the attempts to hasten on the univer- 
 sality of Christianity is doubtless this; that as soon as the 
 savages come in collision with Christians, they must perceive 
 that the latter, whether governments, corporations, or in- 
 dividuals, while they preach benevolence, do in fact, in al- 
 most every case, act hostilelyboth to each other and to them. 
 Their simple understandings, which are not rectified by 
 higher culture, can in no way reconcile this contradiction. 
 And as they, like children, take in little of a new faith but 
 the mythos, it is not much to be wondered at if the 
 liberals or freethinkers among them exclaim, "Fable for 
 fable, murder for murder, slave-dealing for slave-dealing, 
 where is the difference ?" Had the Christian powers really 
 abolished the slave-trade, and destroyed the nests of robbers 
 which, to the shame of Europe, still exist on the coast of
 
 RESULT OF THE CONVERSION OF A JEW. 57 
 
 Herrnhuters had long, though vainly, laboured at 
 his conversion. He heard me very patiently ; and, 
 to say the truth, I was so carried away by the 
 momentous nature of the circumstance, that I 
 wondered at my own eloquence. But what was 
 the result ? he smiled at me, took my gift, shook 
 his head like a Chinese idol, and left me without 
 an answer. 
 
 Africa ; had England, instead of sending one solitary tra- 
 veller after another (men who made themselves ridiculous 
 and contemptible by displaying their Anglo-Christian arro- 
 gance, without the means of supporting it), to be assassinated 
 by the natives, or to die of the climate, sent into the interior 
 an expedition fitted to command respect, and seasoned by a 
 previous residence on the coast ; had this expedition been 
 so constituted as, by its dignity and by beneficent compul- 
 sion, to give a more humane character to trade ; and had it 
 sought to remove all obstacles to this object, even were it 
 sometimes by force of arms, it is indubitable that a great 
 part of Africa would at this moment be infinitely more 
 civilized, than it will be by centuries of missions and Bible 
 importations. Some may ask, ' A 1 quoi bon tout cela?' others, 
 What right we have to meddle in other people's affairs? The 
 answer to these questions would lead us too far. For my 
 own part, I confess I so far agree with the Jesuits, that I 
 acknowledge that a noble end, that is, a project calculated 
 or the greatest possible advantage of others, and united with 
 the power of carrying it into effect, sanctifies all appropriate 
 means which are, in the same sense, noble ; so far at least 
 as open force is concerned ; for deceit, treachery, and dis- 
 honesty can in no case lead to good. EDITOB. 
 05
 
 58 REMARKABLE WARNING. 
 
 " P.S. I have just heard, to my inexpressible 
 horror, that the Jew I converted is dead ; and being 
 seized on his death- bed by pangs of conscience 
 ( would any body think it possible?), turned 
 Jew again. 
 
 " 4. On returning from Madame It 's funeral. 
 
 "A most remarkable incident occurred here a 
 few days ago. About ten years since, a pretty 
 and, what is far more important, a pious young 
 woman served in a confectioner's shop. Although 
 exposed by her sweet occupation to many tempta- 
 tions, (for all young men who frequent confec- 
 tioners' shops have not my morals,) she would 
 listen to no one ; and found all her pleasure in 
 godliness. She never missed a prayer-meeting at 
 
 President S 's, or at any other house where 
 
 she could gain admittance ; and above all, went to 
 church at least once every Sunday. One Sunday 
 however, (it was St. Martin's day if I mistake not,) 
 she forgot her duty and staid at home, busied with 
 worldly attire. Then did the Tempter draw near 
 in the form of a young man, to whom she had 
 long been secretly attached. It seems probable 
 that on that fatal day he made great advances in 
 her favour, since they were shortly after married. 
 At first they lived very happily, and had several 
 children. By degrees she exhibited a sensible fall-
 
 AWFUL JUDGEMENT. 59 
 
 ing off in piety, in consequence of the cares and 
 distractions of married life. The unhappy woman 
 appeared greatly attached to her duties as wife 
 and mother, and henceforth preferred them to the 
 comfort of prayer- meetings and pious readings. 
 But the consequences of her carnal-mindedness 
 soon appeared: her husband was assailed by 
 numerous and, as I am assured, otherwise un- 
 deserved misfortunes ; some of her children died; 
 the whole family fell into poverty ; and the bus- 
 band, at length, into the deepest melancholy. 
 Last Sunday, exactly on the tenth anniversary of 
 that fatal Sunday on which the misguided girl did 
 not go to church, her husband in a paroxysm of 
 madness horribly murdered himself and his wife. 
 Here may be seen that the Divine wrath if slow, 
 is so much the more sure. I refrain from all severe 
 animadversions; but he who is not rendered se- 
 rious by this warning, who does not see how sin- 
 ful and dangerous it is to neglect, even for once, 
 regular attendance at church, is truly an object of 
 my pity. He can be made wise only by his own 
 suffering ; and well is it for him if he become so 
 in time ! 
 
 "5. On my last disappointment at D . 
 
 " I am very unfortunate in love, a circumstance 
 which it is difficult to understand 5 but it is never-
 
 60 DELICATE DELIBERATIONS. 
 
 theless true that another of my best-laid plans has 
 miscarried ! 
 
 " For a long time I had loved Miss M with 
 
 all the fire of my impetuous character. I did not 
 venture to declare it ; but my eyes, which I fixed 
 upon her for hours with languishing tenderness, 
 spoke too plainly not to be understood. Never- 
 theless, I had never been able to win aught but a 
 scornful smile from my adored fair; when an im- 
 portant epoch, viz. her eighteenth birthday, ar- 
 rived. I determined now to lay storm to her heart 
 by some distinguished act of gallantry, which I 
 could do with the greater propriety, and without 
 any stings of conscience, since I never entertain 
 any but the most virtuous designs. I now medi- 
 tated long what to choose ; roses, and all sorts 
 of botanical presents, as fruit and the like, are so 
 common-place ; dress would not do, for that 
 would have looked like an insinuation that I 
 thought her vain ; still less could I offer her any- 
 thing costly, which would have appeared an indi- 
 rect accusation of a mercenary spirit : I dared not 
 choose a pious hymn-book, or other godly work, 
 lest I should sinfully profane what is holy by using 
 it with an earthly aim ; no, it must be something 
 tender, and containing a delicate allusion to our 
 situation. Suddenly, like a flash of lightning in
 
 INGENIOUS DISCLOSURE. 61 
 
 a dark night, the thought occurred to me that the 
 season of fresh herrings was at hand. The word 
 electrified me, and, with the wonted rapidity of my 
 conceptions, I instantly saw the meaning which 
 lay hidden. I immediately sent an estafette to 
 Berlin, where, as is well known, every thing new 
 is to be had, in order if possible to get the above- 
 mentioned creatures of the Lord before the annual 
 advertisement of them appeared in the two blot- 
 ting-paper journals of that city. Everything suc- 
 ceeded according to my wishes : ere many days 
 had elapsed, a couple lay before me. I had them 
 laid upon some leaves of artificial c forget-me-not* 
 instead of parsley, and once more reflected upon 
 all that their mute language (I mean the herrings ') 
 could convey. 
 
 " It would perhaps appear too far-fetched were I 
 to urge how herring resembles hymen; these words 
 having clearly an etymological relation, since both 
 begin with a great H*, and a little n occurs in 
 both. But there was one circumstance which spoke 
 plainer, viz. that they were a couple, the principal 
 point of view from which they were to be regarded. 
 The blue colour, which reminds us of heaven, 
 signified our mutual gentleness and meekness 5 
 
 * In German all substantives begin with a capital letter. 
 
 TRANSL.
 
 62 UNEXPECTED RESULT. 
 
 and the strong salt wherewith they were salted, 
 the acuteness of our understandings and our attic 
 wit. The unfading leaves cried aloud, 'Forget me 
 not ! ' and at the same time clearly alluded to that 
 never-fading delight we should find in each other ! 
 But in my opinion the crown of the whole was the 
 pretty play of words which is in the name itself 
 herring here-ring. It was impossible for me 
 to declare my love and my honourable intentions 
 more plainly, and at the same time more delicately 
 (in every sense of the word, for new herrings are 
 a great delicacy in Prussia and Saxony) . To make 
 all doubly sure, however, I laid on them a beau- 
 tiful rose, painted and cut out of Chinese rice- 
 paper, in the leaves of which I concealed with a 
 trembling hand the first effort of my youthful muse, 
 in which I expressed all these tender and delicate 
 ideas. 
 
 ff Who could believe that all would be in vain ! 
 The mother answered me in plain prose, briefly 
 and carelessly, that her daughter was very sorry 
 that she had always had an idiosyncratical anti- 
 pathy to herrings ; so strong indeed, that she had 
 not been able to sit out the last play of the cele- 
 brated Wilibald Alexis, having accidently heard 
 that his real name was Hering. She therefore sent
 
 EXTRACTS FROM BERLIN JOURNALS. 63 
 
 me back my fish, and the accompanying poetry; 
 with many thanks for my good intentions. 
 
 (t Happily, godliness consoles a spirit truly 
 possessed by it for everything; but I was obliged 
 to read the Bible two hours before I recovered my 
 accustomed patience and composure. I read for 
 my edification the history of Jonas ; and although 
 the whale which swallowed him was so very large, 
 it continually disappeared in my fancy before the 
 luckless herrings. 
 
 " In my anger (which alas ! I have not yet com- 
 pletely comquered) I must now censure some things 
 in the two blotting-paper periodicals above men- 
 tioned. They ought not only to strive after a 
 more correct orthography in their advertisements, 
 but to pay some attention to the sense. In a col- 
 lection of national curiosities made by a Berlin 
 friend of mine, I find two of the above-named 
 newspapers, containing the two following notices 
 of deaths inserted by the same unfortunate father; 
 and an old advertisement of a concert. 
 
 " 1 . ( This day the Lord, on his journey through 
 Tettow, took to himself my youngest son Fritz, 
 with his teeth.' 
 
 " 2. (A month later.) ' This day the Lord again 
 took to himself my daughter Agnes to eternal 
 blessedness.'
 
 64? CONCLUSION. 
 
 "3. ' On Monday a concert will be given at the 
 theatre. The receipts are to serve as the basis of 
 a fund destined for the support of our countrymen 
 who fell in defence of their country/ 
 
 " Now I ask anybody whether this is not making 
 death ludicrous, certainly a grievous sin, even 
 when done unintentionally." 
 
 So far, friend L . 
 
 But the night grows pale, already the morning 
 dawns. I must say therefore, like Moore, It is 
 day therefore good night. I send you this long 
 letter, which an acquaintance takes to London to- 
 morrow morning, through our embassy; and with 
 it a hearty kiss, which I hope the P custom- 
 house will suffer to pass undisputed. 
 
 Your faithful L .
 
 DEPARTURE FROM BANGOR. 65 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Caernarvon, July 19th, 1828. 
 MY BELOVED FRIEND, 
 
 I AM now returned, dog-tired, from ascending 
 Snowdon, the highest mountain in England, Scot- 
 land, and Wales j which indeed is not saying 
 much. Excuse me till morning, when I will 
 give you a faithful relation of my ( fata/ Mean- 
 time, good night. 
 
 July 20th. 
 As soon as I had committed the packet for you 
 
 to Mr. S , with the strongest injunctions to 
 
 care, I left Bangor as quickly as four post-horses 
 could convey me. On the way I visited some iron- 
 foundries, which, however, I shall spare you, as 
 I observed nothing new in them. I was rather 
 unwell when I arrived at the inn at Caernarvon, 
 where a most beautiful girl with long black hair, 
 the daughter of the absent host, did the honours 
 with great grace and sweetness. The following 
 morning at 9 o'clock I set out in tolerable weather 
 on a ' char-a-banc,' drawn by two horses of the
 
 66 WELSH DRIVING. 
 
 country. My driver was a little boy, who did not 
 understand a word of English. He drove like 
 mad, ' en train de chasse,' over the narrow cross- 
 roads of this rocky country. All my shouts and 
 expostulations were vain, or seemed to be inter- 
 preted by him in the very contrary sense from 
 what I intended ; so that we went nine miles 
 from the lake of Llanberis in less than half an 
 hour, over stock and stone : I do not understand 
 how the horses and carriage bore it. By the 
 fishermen's huts which lie scattered along the 
 shore, I found a gentler mode of conveyance, a 
 pretty little boat, in which I embarked with two 
 robust mountaineers. Snowdon now lay before 
 as, but unfortunately had, as the country-people 
 say, put on his night-cap, while the lower moun- 
 tains around gleamed in the brightest sunshine. 
 It is not more than about four thousand feet 
 high, but has a very imposing aspect, in conse- 
 quence of its immediate rise from the shore of 
 the lake; whereas most other mountains of the 
 same class spring from a base of considerable 
 elevation. From the point where we embarked, 
 to the little inn at the foot of Snowdon, the lake 
 is three miles over ; and as the wind was very 
 high, our voyage was rough and tedious. The 
 water of the lake is black as ink ; the mountains
 
 LLANBERIS HOLY WELL. 67 
 
 bare "and strewed with rock, and only varied by 
 occasional small green glens : here and there are 
 a few stunted trees, but the general aspect is wild 
 and desert. Not far from the small church of 
 Llanberis is the so-called Holy Well, inhabited 
 by a solitary trout of enormous size, which has for 
 centuries been exhibited to strangers. Frequently, 
 however, he will not be tempted from his hiding- 
 place; and the country-people think it an unlucky 
 omen if he appears immediately. As I am an 
 enemy of all oracles, I did not visit it. My com- 
 panions also told me a history of a wondrous 
 amazon of gigantic strength, who long led a wild 
 masculine sort of life here ; and described to me 
 certain enormous bees, which the Welsh admire 
 and venerate so much that they think them na- 
 tives of Paradise. Excellent salmon are caught 
 here : the manner of catching them is strange ; 
 they are hunted by small dogs trained to the 
 sport, who drag them out of the mud into which 
 they occasionally creep. 
 
 As soon as I arrived at the inn I secured a 
 4 pony' (a small mountain horse,) and a guide, 
 and hastened to set out, in hope that the threat- 
 ening clouds would break about noon. Unfor- 
 tunately, the very contrary happened; it grew 
 darker and darker, and before I had climbed half
 
 68 ASCENT OP SNOWDON. 
 
 an hour, followed by my guide leading the pony, 
 one uniform mantle enshrouded hill and valley ; 
 and a heavy rain, against which my umbrella did 
 not long protect me, beat upon us. We at length 
 took refuge in the ruins of an old castle ; and 
 after I had laboriously climbed a decayed wind- 
 ing staircase, I reached the remains of a balcony, 
 where I found shelter under a dense mass of ivy. 
 Everything around me wore an air of profound 
 gloom ; the crumbling walls, the wind which 
 moaned plaintively through their fissures, the 
 monotonous dropping of the rain, and the disa- 
 greeable termination of my hopes, conspired to 
 throw me into a melancholy frame of mind. I 
 thought with a sigh, how nothing, not even the 
 smallest trifle, falls out as I wish it ; how all 
 that I undertake looks ill-timed and eccentric as 
 soon as /undertake it; so that everywhere, as here, 
 what others accomplish in light and sunshine, I 
 must toil through in storm and rain. Impatiently 
 I left the old walls, and once more climbed the 
 mountain . The weather was, however, now so ter- 
 rible, and the increasing storm so dangerous even, 
 that we were once more compelled to seek shelter 
 in a miserable ruinous hut. The inside was filled 
 with smoke, in the midst of which sat an old 
 woman spinning in silence, while some half-nake
 
 STORM. 69 
 
 children lay on the ground, gnawing dry crusts 
 of bread. The whole family seemed hardly con- 
 scious of my entrance; at least they made no 
 pause or change in their occupations. For a 
 moment the children stared stupidly and incuri- 
 ously at me, and then relapsed into the apathy 
 of wretchedness. I seated myself on the round 
 table, the only piece of furniture in the house, and 
 once more gave audience to my thoughts, which 
 were not the most exhilarating. Meanwhile, as 
 the storm raged more furiously, my guide earnestly 
 advised me to turn back. This would doubtless 
 have been the most reasonable course, particularly 
 as we had not yet ascended a third way up the 
 mountain. But as I had long resolved to drink 
 your health, dear Julia, on the summit of Snow- 
 don, in Champagne, and had brought a bottle with 
 me from Caernarvon for that express purpose, it 
 seemed to me of ill omen to give it up. With 
 the cheerfulness which a firm determination and 
 fixed purpose, whether in great things or small, 
 never fails to impart, I said, laughing, to my 
 guide, "If it were to rain stones instead of water, 
 I would not turn back till I had been at the top 
 of Snowdon." I made the poor old woman a 
 little present, which she received with apathy. 
 The road was become extremely difficult ; it lay
 
 70 SUMMIT OF SNOWDON. 
 
 over loose and smooth stones washed by the rain, 
 or over very slippery turf. I admired how my 
 active sturdy little beast, shod as he was with 
 smooth English shoes, could step so securely for- 
 ward on such a road. 
 
 Meanwhile it soon became so piercingly cold, 
 that, drenched as I was by the rain, I could keep 
 my seat no longer. I am so out of practice in 
 climbing, that I was sometimes nearly over- 
 powered by weariness ; but as the Knight in the 
 Romance of old Spiess was cheered by the sound 
 of the bells of the twelve sleeping virgins, so I 
 was continually exhorted to perseverance by the 
 "mcij ma" of the mountain sheep, who were 
 feeding in hundreds on the thin herbage around 
 me. I thought of our pet lamb at home, and 
 stepped vigorously onward, till at the end of an 
 hour I had recovered from my fatigue, and felt 
 fresher than at setting out. I was not compen- 
 sated for my sufferings by the view, for, shrouded 
 as I was in clouds, I could hardly see twenty 
 paces before me. In this mysterious e clair ob- 
 scur ' I reached the wished-for summit, the way 
 to which lies over a narrow irregular wall of 
 rocks. A pile of stones, in the centre of which 
 is a wooden pillar, marks the highest point. 
 
 I thought I met my wraith, as a young man
 
 SECOND-SIGHT. 71 
 
 emerged from the mist who precisely resembled 
 me, that is to say what I was when I wandered 
 over the Swiss Alps sixteen years ago. He had, 
 like myself, a light knapsack on his back, a sturdy 
 staff in his hand, and a substantial dress, which 
 may be called the classical costume of mountain 
 travellers, contrasting as strongly with my Lon- 
 don boots, stiff cravat, and tight frock-coat, as 
 the youthful freshness of his face with the yellow, 
 city hue of mine. He looked like the young son 
 of Nature j I like the e ci-devant jeune homrne.' 
 He had ascended the mountain from the other 
 side, and, without stopping, asked me eagerly 
 how far it v/as to the inn and what sort of road 
 it was. As soon as I had given him the informa- 
 tion he desired, he bounded away over the rocks, 
 singing carelessly, and soon disappeared from my 
 sight. I scratched my name near a thousand 
 others on a block of stone, took out the drinking- 
 horn which my host had lent me, and ordered the 
 guide to draw the cork of my bottle of Champagne. 
 It must have contained an unusual portion of fixed 
 air, for the cork flew higher than the top of the 
 pillar by which we stood; and you may therefore, 
 without imitating Munchhausen, assert, that when 
 I drank your health on the 17th of July, 1828 
 the cork of the Champagne bottle flew four thou 
 
 * 1 
 
 i
 
 72 LIBATION. 
 
 sand feet above the level of the sea. I filled 
 the horn to the foaming brim, and shouted with 
 stentor voice into the dim obscure, Long life to 
 Julia ! with nine times nine (in the English style) . 
 Three times I emptied the cup ; and thirsty and 
 exhausted as I was, never did I relish Champagne 
 more. After my libation was completed, the 
 prayers I sent up were not words, but profound 
 emotions ; the most fervent amongst which w T as 
 the wish, that it might be Heaven's will to grant 
 happiness on earth to you, and then, ' if possible,' 
 to me; and see, a pretty lamb sprang forth from 
 the cloudy veil, and the mist opened and rolled 
 away, and before us lay the earth suddenly gilded 
 by a momentary gleam of sunshine. But in a 
 minute the curtain fell again, an emblem of my 
 destiny: the beautiful and the desirable the 
 gilded earth appear now and then like delusive 
 meteors before me : as soon as I seek to grasp 
 them, they vanish like dreams. 
 
 As there was no hope that the weather would 
 become permanently clear in these elevated re- 
 gions, we resolved to return. I found myself so 
 strengthened, that I not only felt no trace of weari- 
 ness, but experienced a feeling unknown for years, 
 in which walking and running, so far from being 
 irksome, are in themselves a source of elastic en-
 
 IMPERVIOUS CLOUDS. 73 
 
 joyment. I sprang, therefore, like my youthful 
 double, so rapidly over the rocks and down the 
 wet rushy slopes, that in a few minutes I accom- 
 plished a portion of the way which it had taken me 
 an hour and a half to ascend. I emerged at length 
 from the interminable cloud ; and if the prospect 
 were less magnificent than from the summit, it 
 still afforded me great delight. I was still about 
 seven hundred feet above the level of the sea, 
 which lay in boundless extent before me. The 
 Island of Anglesea reposed on its bosom; and 
 in the mountain-gorges, which intersected each 
 other in every direction, I counted above twenty 
 small lakes; some dark, some so brightly illumined 
 by the sun that the eye could scarcely bear to 
 rest upon their mirror-like surface. Meanwhile 
 the guide had overtaken me ; but as I could now 
 perfectly distinguish the f terrain/ the evening 
 was beautiful, and I felt no fatigue, I let him and 
 his clever little horse return home by the straight 
 road, and determined to take my solitary way 
 across the most striking points ; ' et bien m'en 
 prit/ for since I was in Switzerland I remember 
 no more delicious walk. I followed a defile along 
 the wild pass of Llanberis, celebrated in the wars 
 between the English and the Welsh, and where 
 the latter, under their great prince Llewellyn, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 WELSH SHEEP. 
 
 often contemplated the destruction of their fo- 
 reign invaders, perhaps from the very spot where 
 I then stood. 
 
 The jagged walls of rock which in many places 
 sank perpendicularly to the pass, are a good ex- 
 ercise for heads subject to giddiness. I gradually 
 ascended many considerable peaks of the same 
 kind, and found only an enjoyment the more in 
 the slight shudder which my perilous station ex- 
 cited. " L'emotion du danger plait a 1'homme," 
 says Madame de Stael. 
 
 My solitude was not complete. The mountain 
 sheep which I have already mentioned, much 
 smaller than the ordinary breeds, wild and agile 
 as the chamois, often bounded before me like roes, 
 and in their flight leaped down crags and preci- 
 pices where it would not have been easy for any 
 one to follow them. The wool of these sheep is 
 as remarkable for coarseness, as their flesh for 
 tenderness and delicacy. The London 'gour- 
 mands ' set a high value upon it, and maintain 
 that a man who has not eaten roast mutton from 
 Snowdon has no conception of the ideal in that 
 kind. 
 
 I came almost into collision with a large bird 
 of prey, which hovering slowly with out- spread 
 wings, had fixed its eyes so intently on something
 
 DESCENT FROM SNOWDON. 75 
 
 beneath^ and had so little calculated on making 
 ray acquaintance in this impracticable path, that 
 I could almost have seized him with my hands 
 before he perceived me. He darted away with 
 the velocity of an arrow, but did not for a moment 
 lose sight of the object of his eager pursuit ; and 
 I saw him for a long time like a point, poised in 
 the blue aether, till the sun sank behind the sur- 
 rounding mountains. 
 
 I now endeavoured to reach the hut at which 
 I had before stopped, in as straight a line as 
 possible. Not far from it a girl was milking 
 her cow, which afforded me a refreshing draught. 
 Here too I found my guide, and thankfully availed 
 myself of his services during the rest of my way, 
 wrapt in my cloak, and resting most luxuriously 
 on my sure-footed 'poney.' After returning to 
 my inn and changing my clothes, I set out afresh 
 and embarked on the lake, now splendidly bur- 
 nished with the glow of evening. The air was 
 become mild and soft j fish leaped sportively 
 from the water, and herons wheeled their grace- 
 ful flight around the sedgy shores ', while here 
 and there a fire gleamed upon the mountains, and 
 the heavy thunder of blasted rocks resounded from 
 the distant quarries. 
 
 Long had the moon's sickle stood aloft in the 
 
 E2
 
 76 CAERNARVON CASTLE. 
 
 deep blue heavens, when the dark-locked Hebe 
 welcomed me back to Caernarvon. 
 
 July 21st. 
 
 I was still somewhat fatigued by my yesterday's 
 expedition, and contented myself with a walk to 
 the celebrated castle built by Edward I. the con- 
 queror of Wales, and destroyed by Cromwell. It 
 is one of the most magnificent ruins in England. 
 The only thing to regret is, that it stands so near 
 to the town, and not in solitary grandeur amid 
 the mountains. The outer walls, although in 
 ruins, still form an unbroken line, inclosing 
 nearly three acres of ground. The interior space, 
 overgrown with grass and filled with rubbish 
 and with thistles, is nearly eight hundred paces 
 long. It is surrounded by seven slender but 
 strong towers, of different forms and sizes. One 
 of them may still be ascended, and I climbed 
 by a crumbling staircase of a hundred and forty 
 steps to its platform, whence I enjoyed a magni- 
 ficent view over sea, mountain, and town. On 
 descending, my guide showed me the remains of 
 a vaulted chamber, in which, according to tradi- 
 tion, Edward II., the first prince of Wales, was 
 born. The Welsh, in consequence of the oppres- 
 sions of English governors in the earlier times of
 
 ORIGIN OP THE PRINCE OF WALEs's MOTTO. 77 
 
 partial and momentary conquest, had declared to 
 the king that they would obey none but a prince 
 of their own nation. Edward therefore sent for 
 his wife Eleanor in the depth of winter that she 
 might lie-in in Caernarvon castle. She bore a 
 son ; upon which the king summoned the nobles 
 and chiefs of the land, and asked them solemnly 
 whether they would submit to the rule of a prince 
 who was born in Wales, and could not speak a 
 word of English. On their giving a joyful and 
 surprised assent, he presented to them his new- 
 born son, exclaiming in broken Welsh, Eich 
 dyn I i. e. " This is your man 1 " which has been 
 corrupted into the present motto of the English 
 arms, Ich Dien. \ 
 
 Over the great gate still stands the statue of 
 Edward, with a crown on his head and a drawn 
 dagger in his right hand, as if after six centuries 
 he were still guarding the crumbling walls of his 
 castle. He might justly have broken out into in- 
 dignant complaint at the desecration I witnessed. 
 In the midst of these majestic ruins, a camel 
 and some monkeys in red jackets were perform- 
 ing their antics, while a ragged multitude stood 
 shouting and laughing around, unconscious of the 
 wretched contrast which they formed with these 
 solemn remains of past ages.
 
 78 ENGLISH MACHINERY. 
 
 The tower in which the prince was born is 
 called the Eagle Tower ; not from that circum- 
 stance, but from four colossal eagles which 
 crowned its pinnacles, one of which is still 
 remaining. It is believed to be Roman, for 
 Caernarvon stands on the site of the ancient 
 Segontium, which .... But I am wandering too 
 far, and am in the high road to fall into the tone 
 of a tour-writer by profession, who thinks him- 
 self privileged to bore if he does but instruct, 
 although his information is generally the result 
 of a weary search through road-books and local 
 descriptions. ' Je n'ai pas cette pretension, vous le 
 savez, je laisse errer ma plume,' heedless whither 
 it leads me. 
 
 The Marquis of Anglesea has lately established 
 a sea-bath here, which is supplied by a steam- 
 engine, and very elegantly fitted up. I availed 
 myself of it on my way back from the Castle, 
 and observed in the entertaining- room a billiard- 
 table of metal set in stone. It is impossible to 
 desire one more accurate ; whether the steam- 
 engine performed the office of marking, I forgot 
 to ask. This is by no means impossible, in a 
 country in which somebody has gravely proposed 
 to establish steam-waiters in coffee-houses, and 
 in which affairs would go on much the same if a
 
 EFFECT OF SCOTT's NOVELS ON THE APPETITE. 79 
 
 forty-horse-power steam-engine sat upon the 
 throne 
 
 Dear Julia, a traveller must be allowed to 
 speak often and much of weather and of eating. 
 The Novels of the Illustrious, erst Unknown, or 
 the Illustrious Unknown, derive no inconsiderable 
 part of their attractions from the masterly pictures 
 of this kind they contain. Whose mouth does 
 not water when he sees Dalgetty, the soldier 
 of fortune, display at the table a prowess even 
 greater than in the fight ? I am really not in 
 joke when I assure you that when I have lost my 
 appetite, I often read an hour or two in the works 
 of the Great Unknown, and find it completely 
 restored. Today I wanted no stimulus of this 
 or any kind. It was sufficient to see the most 
 excellent fresh fish and the far-famed ' mountain 
 mutton' smoking on the table, to induce me to 
 fall on them with ravenous hunger; for a sea-bath 
 and the ascent of Snowdon have a yet greater in- 
 fluence on the stomach than Walter Scott. My 
 dark-locked maiden, who, as I was the only guest 
 in the house, waited on me herself, was at length 
 impatient of my reiterated attacks on the mutton; 
 and said somewhat sullenly that I did nothing but 
 eat, except when I was rambling about. She was 
 of a much more ethereal nature, and in the short
 
 80 INTOLERANCE OF BERLIN JSAINTS. 
 
 time I had been here had read through half my 
 portable Novel library. Every time I saw her she 
 presented me with a newly devoured volume, and 
 begged so earnestly for another, that I must have 
 had a hard heart to refuse her. 
 
 July 22nd. 
 
 A large packet has been sent after me today 
 from Bangor. I vainly searched it for tidings 
 from you; but could not refrain from laughing 
 
 heartily over a letter from L , who writes to 
 
 me in despair at the scrape he is in. He tells 
 me that he suffered his "Reflections" (the be- 
 ginning of which I sent you,) to be printed in 
 fragments, and a certain party which feels itself 
 too sore not to be over- sensitive, e y a entendu 
 malice.' They have inserted a furious article 
 against him in The Lamb's Journal; and poor 
 
 L , who knows the people he has to deal with, 
 
 is afraid that he will certainly be rejected at his 
 examination. As this Philippic is not long, and 
 is very characteristic of our times, and as I have 
 a holiday today, I shall transcribe it with some 
 abridgments.
 
 BERLIN SAINTS. 81 
 
 " On the REFLECTIONS of a pious Soul of Sando- 
 mir: A Discourse by Herr von Frommel, 
 Adjutant of his Highness the Prince of 
 
 . Pronounced in the Nobility's pious 
 
 Conventicle for both sexes, at A , 
 
 No. 33, Zion Street, May 4th, 1828. 
 (Reprinted separately, from the Collection 
 for true Christians.) 
 
 "High and high- well-born *, pious brethren 
 and sisters ! Truly is it said there be many wolves 
 in sheep's clothing ! The Author of these Reflec- 
 tions is doubtless the wearer of such a sheep- 
 skin. It is not difficult to discover that under 
 the mask of godliness, and of a simplicity ap- 
 proaching to silliness, are heard the hissings of that 
 same mischievous serpent who seduced our pious 
 mother Eve, who has since incessantly vented his 
 venom upon our holy Religion, and still labours to 
 overthrow the throne and the altar. But we, my 
 brethren, will not resemble our, alas ! too credu- 
 lous Mother, but will exterminate the satellites 
 of the Devil wherever we find them, with fire 
 and sword. 
 
 " Yes, my friends, you know and are certain that 
 
 the Devil is, and lives; not as the unbelieving 
 
 herd say, in us, as the demon of anger, of vanity, 
 
 Hoch und hochwohlgeboren. THANSL, 
 
 E 5
 
 82 MEEKNESS AND CHARITY. 
 
 of hatred, of sin; no, bodily he" roams over the 
 earth, like a roaring lion, with goat's horns and 
 a long tail and pestilential stench, wherever he 
 chooses to show himself. He who does not thus 
 believe in the Devil, has no true religion. But 
 wherefore do I urge this? We are no reasoners 
 no worldly-wise : here are none but simple lambs, 
 one flock under one shepherd. 
 
 "A warning is, however, necessary; and there- 
 fore I now give the alarm. We have as yet seen 
 only fragments of these poisonous " Reflections," 
 and know not how far the author means to go ; 
 but they are aimed at us ; of that there is no doubt ; 
 and, God be praised ! we find already enough fully 
 to justify our denouncing him as an Atheist. Is 
 it not obvious that he jests at Providence and 
 its omnipotence ? We hope, we pray, therefore, 
 confidently and earnestly, that Omnipotence will 
 speedily avenge itself, and give this presumptuous 
 soul a foretaste of what awaits him in the ever- 
 lasting flames. And may the all-merciful God 
 do this promptly and fearfully, that no innocent 
 lamb of our flock may be led astray by that un- 
 clean one. Certainly, my friends, a fiend, a vam- 
 pire, an atheist wrote these words. Nothing is 
 sacred to him. He attacks not alone the Creator 
 but even the Redeemer of the world.
 
 DANGER AND SIN OF INTOLERANCE. 83 
 
 " Oh my brethren and sisters ! horrible we may 
 reckon upon it assuredly horrible will be the lot 
 of such an one at the last day ! when the dead 
 shall arise in the body, and his carnal ear shall 
 regain its hearing, only to listen to the thunders 
 of the trumpets which announce to him his eternal 
 damnation ! There will be no pity ! There will 
 be weeping and gnashing of teeth ! And let us 
 follow that example, and be inexorable towards 
 him, as will be that eternal sentence. 
 
 " We could scarcely have believed that after all 
 our Christian labours in our so truly I say it 
 with pride Christian city, in which everything is 
 done to destroy the poison of toleration and of 
 mad confidence in our own judgement, men could 
 be found amongst us, who would dare, unrestrained 
 by all authority, to go their own way in search of 
 truth j these freethinkers and heathens spring 
 up only because the constituted authorities (even 
 our otherwise so active Censorship at their head) 
 are far too indulgent towards the greatest of 
 all crimes, unbelief. It would perhaps have been 
 expedient and beneficial to introduce a moderate 
 Inquisition, together with the new prayer-book, 
 for the defence of true believers, those genuine 
 Christians, those sole predestined favourites of 
 God, who believe whatever their King and their
 
 84- CHURCH AND KING SOLE GUIDES OF FAITH. 
 
 Church enjoin, without hesitation or examina- 
 tion. Only such can have any real value for Church 
 or State. Away then with all others ! Be they 
 damned for ever ! like all the unbaptized children 
 of Jews and Heathens. Oh could we but for ever 
 expunge from our annals that disgraceful period 
 in which a philosopher (and not merely an ideo- 
 logical but a practical philosopher) sat on a 
 German throne, and, my Christian brethren, 
 would you believe it ? received the name of the 
 Great ! The mildest that we, converted to the 
 grace of godliness with tears of blood, can now 
 say of him is, the Lord be merciful to his poor 
 soul ! Long however must the pious and their 
 sacred legion struggle, before the seed which this 
 great (!!!) man sowed will be wholly trodden 
 down; before the last trace of that miserable 
 Reason which he fostered will be entirely eradi- 
 cated. Nevertheless, despair not, my Christian 
 brethren; to such holy zeal as ours nothing is 
 impossible, and this world's rewards await you in 
 various forms here, from those exalted sources 
 from which we daily draw ; and hereafter yet 
 greater glories in the Palace of the Lord. Only 
 beware of reasoning, in every shape : believe not 
 upon your own inquiry but as it is prescribed to 
 you; and above all, beware of Toleration ! Love
 
 DUTIES OF RICH AND POOR CONTRASTED. 85 
 
 your Redeemer not only above all, but solely and 
 alone. But he who is not for him is against him, 
 and upon such have no mercy. Persecute them 
 without intermission. And if this cannot be done 
 openly, undermine him with calumnies, with secret 
 detraction; yea, shun not the rankest lies, provided 
 you can disseminate them with security to your- 
 selves ; for remember that the end sanctifies all 
 means. Ah, were we but in such a frame of 
 mind as never to wax cool in our zeal ! It is 
 only because we are hike-warm, that philoso- 
 phers have dared to preach that virtue of heathens, 
 toleration. We have seen to what it brought us 
 when the delirious raving about freedom seized 
 the mob, and universal anarchy threatened to over- 
 throw the throne, the church, our old nobility, 
 and everything venerable. Therefore away with 
 every thought of mischievous tolerance towards 
 those who think otherwise ! Christ indeed has 
 said, " Bless those who curse you : " and further, 
 " If any man strike you on one cheek, offer 
 him the other also." But upon this subject 
 I have my own thoughts. Passages of this sort 
 ought certainly to be differently understood; 
 for how could they be reconciled with the indis- 
 pensable laws of our station ? Does not the ho- 
 nour of our rank, and of our uniform, command
 
 86 EARTHLY REWARDS FOR THE GODLY. 
 
 us instantly and without hesitation, to strike again 
 a man who should dare to lay hands upon us ? 
 Yes, I know not whether even I, the favourite of 
 my prince, should dare to show myself at court 
 or in the highest places, after publicly receiving a 
 slap on the face. It is therefore highly probable 
 that our Saviour intended these words to be taken 
 with one limitation, that is, for the common 
 people, in whom it is unquestionably meritorious 
 when struck on one cheek, instead of giving way 
 to wrath and bitterness, to offer the other. Let 
 it be remembered also, that when Christ became 
 man, he sought out not only a noble, but a royal 
 race. And who knows whether the disciples were 
 really of such mean extraction as they are repre- 
 sented, and not perhaps men of old Jewish fami- 
 lies of high descent ? the matter is wrapt in so 
 much historical darkness. And doth not Christ 
 say, "My coming is not to bring peace, but 
 rather the sword"? These two passages would 
 seem to contradict each other, if we did not un- 
 derstand that patience is enjoined to one class 
 and warfare to the other. For is not that the 
 primitive destination of the nobility? formerly 
 with the sword, now with the pen and the word. 
 For this cause, my brethren and sisters, strive 
 against the unbelieving. Gird on the sword of the
 
 PROGRESS OF CONVERSION. 87 
 
 times, and strive for the Lord with the Bible and 
 Jacob Bbhmen, with the Chamberlain's Key and 
 the Field Marshal's Baton, with the Prayer-book 
 and the Surplice. Believe me, my dear friends, 
 soon shall we earn the fruits of our holy zeal; soon 
 shall we begin to stand on the brazen floor. 
 
 " People yield more and more to our secret 
 influence and strong union : the powerful support 
 which we give to all our fellow-labourers when 
 their labours in the vineyard deserve it ; the many 
 favours from exalted sources, of which we are the 
 sharers ; above all, the inexorable piety we are 
 known to possess, hold even the most daring 
 within bounds, and prostrate the timid in shoals 
 at our feet. 
 
 " But whenever an Antichrist dares to attack us, 
 (and whoever dares to do so is one,) I exhort you 
 again, watch, strive, destroy, and rest not till 
 your victim is fallen. It is all for Charity's sake, 
 the last effort for a poor erring mortal, to force 
 him, if possible, to acknowledge Christ. Amen. 
 
 "It will perhaps be agreeable to this noble con- 
 gregation in Christ, and moving to their hearts, 
 if I hereby communicate to them, that we have 
 been so happy in the course of the present month 
 as to bring seven and a half condemned souls to 
 the true faith, which has cost us not more than
 
 $8 WALKS HOUND CAERNARVON. 
 
 a hundred reichsthalers. As we are obliged to 
 keep a worldly account of these matters, we have 
 agreed to reckon children under twelve years of 
 age as half souls. And may Heaven in like 
 manner bless our further pious efforts, and the 
 disinterested zeal with which the unconverted are 
 drawn to the lap of Jesus. Auien," 
 
 I had read thus far when the little Eliza appear- 
 ed with my breakfast, and with an arch good-na- 
 ture bid me good morning (f after my long sleep." 
 She had just been to church, had all the con- 
 sciousness of being well-dressed, and was waiting 
 upon a foreigner ; three things which greatly in- 
 cline women to be tender-hearted. She accord- 
 ingly seemed almost embarrassed when I inquired 
 about my departure early the following morning ; 
 but was soon consoled when I promised to leave 
 her my travelling library, and to bring her a fresh 
 assortment of books in a week. 
 
 After dinner I went, under her guidance, to 
 visit the walks around the town. One of these is 
 most romantically placed on a large rock. We 
 saw from hence Snowdon, in almost transparent 
 clearness, undiinmed by a single cloud j and I 
 could not restrain some feelings of vexation at 
 having so exactly missed the right day.
 
 PRIMITIVE BATHING. 89 
 
 After this pastoral walk, ' tender mutton' 
 closed a day of which I am sorry to have nothing 
 more interesting to record. 
 
 But I now recollect a somewhat singular in- 
 cident which my host told me today. On the 
 night of the 5th of August, 1820, the boat which 
 crosses a ferry at this place was lost, arid out of 
 twenty-six persons only one man was saved. 
 Exactly thirty-seven years before, the same dis- 
 aster had occurred, and out of sixty-nine persons 
 only one survived. What renders the coincidence 
 the more perfect is, that on both occasions the 
 name of the sole survivor was Hugh Williams. 
 
 Bangor, July 22nd. 
 
 Bangor is also a bathing place ; that is, every 
 body may jump into the sea who likes it. The 
 artificial arrangements for the purpose are reduced 
 to the private tub-establishment of one old woman, 
 who lives in a wretched hovel on the shore; and 
 if an order is given an hour before, heats the sea- 
 water in pots and kettles on her hearth, and 
 proceeds 'sans fagon', to undress and afterwards 
 to rub down and dress again any stranger who 
 may come unprovided with a servant. I entered 
 her hut accidentally, and after I had taken a bath 
 of this sort, f pour la rarite du fait', I hired a
 
 90 BANGOR CASTLE. 
 
 boat to take me across the arm of the sea which 
 divides Wales from the Island of Anglesea. Here 
 is another castle built by Edward I., and destroyed 
 by Cromwell j it was originally even of greater 
 extent than that at Caernarvon, and covered five 
 acres of ground; but the ruins are less picturesque, 
 in consequence of its having lost all its towers. 
 To see it thoroughly one must walk along the 
 narrow and lofty walls, which are wholly unpro- 
 tected. The boy who keeps the keys ran along 
 like a squirrel; but the barber of the town, who 
 offered his services as guide when I landed, left 
 me in the lurch at the first step. The ruin stands 
 in the park of a Mr. Bulkley: with singular bad 
 taste he has made a tennis-court within its in- 
 closure. His house commands a very celebrated 
 view. It is, however, far surpassed by one I met 
 with about a mile and a half further on, from a 
 simple and elegant cottage called Craig y Don. 
 This is a true gem, one of those blessed spots 
 which leave nothing to wish. It lies bet ween thickly 
 wooded rocks close to the sea : not too large, but 
 adorned like a boudoir, surrounded by the greenest 
 turf, and by the blended beauty of flowers of all 
 colours ; the whole house, with its thatched roof 
 and verandah tapestried with China roses and 
 blue convolvuluses, forms a picture which, inclosed
 
 CRAIG ? DON. 91 
 
 as it is between wood and rock, forms the most 
 indescribably beautiful contrast with the sublime 
 scenery around it. Labyrinthine footpaths wind 
 in all directions through the cool and shady 
 thicket, subdividing into many and exquisite 
 fragments the rich treasures of landscape beauty 
 afforded by the situation. Beneath and in front 
 lies the deep blue sea, whose surf beats against 
 the sharp pointed rocks upon which I stood; while 
 further away on its smooth mirror a hundred 
 fishing-boats and other vessels glided to and fro. 
 Among them I descried the cutter of the proprietor 
 of Craig y Don lying at anchor, and two steam- 
 boats, one of which, far in the distance, left a 
 long line of smoke, the other, close to shore, 
 sent up a slender column of white vapour. On 
 the right, a deep bay stretches into the land, 
 studded with little islands of every character and 
 form ; some clothed with brushwood, others bare 
 and almost polished by the waves ; some covered 
 with little huts, others crowned with upright 
 tower-like rocks. On turning again toward the 
 strait, and following its gradual contraction, my 
 eye rested with amazement on that stupendous 
 chain-bridge which closes the prospect; that 
 giant work which is justly called the eighth won- 
 der of the world, and which, bidding defiance to na-
 
 92 MENAI BRIDGE. 
 
 ture, has united two portions of land which she had 
 severed by the ocean. I shall have an opportunity 
 hereafter of describing it more nearly; from this 
 point it looks as if spiders had woven it in the 
 air. 
 
 After I had satisfied myself with gazing at this 
 romantic specimen of human power and skill, I 
 turned to one of the greatest and most varied 
 works of nature ; the entire range of the Welsh 
 mountains, which rises immediately from the 
 water, distinct and near enough clearly to dis- 
 cern woods, villages, and valleys, and stretches 
 along an extent of ten miles. The mountains 
 grouped themselves in every variety of light 
 and shadow ; some were wrapped in clouds, some 
 gleamed brightly in the sun, others stretched their 
 blue heads even above the clouds ; and villages, 
 towns, white churches, handsome country-houses 
 and castles were visible in their gorges, while shift- 
 ing gleams of light played on the green slopes at 
 their foot. The eye, wearied with variety, turns to 
 the north, which is on my left. Here nothing 
 distracts the gaze : the wide ocean alone blends 
 with the sky. For a short time you follow the 
 retreating shore of Anglesea at your side, on 
 which large nut-trees and oaks droop their pliant 
 boughs into the sea, and then you are alone with
 
 MENAI BRIDGE. 93 
 
 air and water ; or at most you fancy you descry 
 the sails of a distant vessel, or shape fantastic 
 pictures in the clouds. 
 
 After an hour of intense enjoyment, I rode at 
 the full speed of a poney, which I hired in Angle- 
 sea, to the great bridge. The best point of view 
 is from the beach, near some fishing-huts about a 
 hundred paces from the bridge. The more tho- 
 roughly and minutely I viewed it, the greater was 
 my astonishment, I thought I beheld in a dream 
 a filagree work suspended by fairies in the air. In 
 short, the fancy cannot exhaust itself in compari- 
 sons ; and as a stage-coach with four horses drove 
 rapidly over the arch a hundred feet high and six 
 hundred wide, half concealed by the intertexture 
 of the chains on which the bridge is suspended, I 
 thought I saw larks fluttering in a net. The men 
 who were seated in various parts of the chain- 
 work, giving it its first coat of paint, were like 
 captive insects. Those who know the castle at 
 Berlin will be able to form some idea of the 
 enormous dimensions of this bridge, when they 
 hear that it would stand perfectly well under the 
 centre arch : and yet the chains hold the latter so 
 firmly, that even driving at the quickest rate or 
 with the heaviest burden, which is by no means 
 forbidden, does not excite the smallest perceptible
 
 9* MENAI BRIDGE. 
 
 vibration. The bridge is divided at the top into 
 three roads, one for going, another for returning, 
 and a third for foot-passengers. The planks rest 
 on an iron grating, so that they are easily removed 
 when out of repair, and no danger is to be appre- 
 hended when they break. Every three years the 
 whole iron- work receives a fresh coat of paint, to 
 prevent rust. The name of the architect, who has 
 earned a high and lasting reputation, is Telford. 
 ' Sur ce, n'ayant plus rien a dire,' I close my 
 epistle, and wish you, my dear Julia, all the 
 happiness and blessings you deserve, f et c'est 
 beaucoup dire.' 
 
 Ever your most faithful
 
 PLAGUE OF FLIES. 95. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Bangor, July 23, 1828. 
 CHERE ET BONNE, 
 
 ONE little defect in this otherwise so beautiful 
 landscape is caused by the ebb and flow. During 
 a considerable part of the day a large portion 
 of the channel of the Menai (as this strait is 
 called) is dry, and exhibits only a tract of sand 
 and mud. Probably the indescribably persecuting 
 swarms of flies which infest this place, pouring 
 forth in thousands in search of prey, attacking 
 man and beast, and pursuing their victims with 
 relentless pertinacity, may be ascribed to the same 
 cause. In vain do you put your horse to his full 
 speed : the swarm, congregated into a ball like 
 a Macedonian phalanx, accompany your flight, 
 and disperse themselves over their prey the mo 
 ment you stop ; nor will anything but their com- 
 plete destruction deliver you from them. Even a 
 house does not always afford secure refuge. I 
 have found in some of my expeditions that when 
 once they have seized upon a victim, they will 
 wait patiently at the door till he comes out
 
 96 GERMAN TASTE IN GARDENING. 
 
 again. The only way is to seek out some place 
 through which a strong current of wind passes. 
 This they cannot resist. The cows which graze 
 on the hilly shores are quite aware of this fact, 
 and are always to be seen standing perfectly still, 
 ruminating, in such spots. I watched one today 
 for a long time, as she stood on a solitary point 
 of rock, her outline thrown out sharply on the 
 sky behind ; motionless, but for the slight work- 
 ing of her jaw, or the occasional sweep of her 
 tail against her side. How well, thought I, might 
 an ingenious mechanic frame a colossal image of 
 this animal, and provide it with the simple me- 
 chanical apparatus necessary to imitate that slight 
 motion, and what an acquisition were this for a 
 German-English garden at home ! for instance at 
 Cassel, opposite to the Hercules, or at Worlitz, 
 where she might be set to graze on the burning 
 mountain. This meritorious conception you must 
 try to put in execution. 
 
 Do you remember dementi Brentano ? When 
 the amiable and kind-hearted grandson of Count 
 L was showing him the view from his hunting- 
 seat over a flat but beautifully wooded country, 
 the Count joined them, and asked Brentano rather 
 absurdly, "what great improvement he could sug- 
 gest ? " Brentano fell into a profound meditation,
 
 PLAS NEWYDD. 97 
 
 and after some time replied, looking earnestly 
 at the attentive and expecting Count, "What 
 think you, Count, of making some hills of boards 
 and painting them blue ?" Improvements in this 
 taste, though perhaps not quite so absurd and 
 palpable, are still daily perpetrated in our beloved 
 fatherland, in spite even of the Berlin Horticul- 
 tural Society. 
 
 Dearest Julia, will you drive with me to Plas 
 Newydd, Lord Anglesea' s park in Anglesea? The 
 horses of fancy are soon harnessed. 
 
 We repass the giant bridge, follow the high- 
 road to Ireland for a short time, and soon see 
 from afar the summit of the pillar which a grate- 
 ful country has raised to General Paget, then 
 Lord Uxbridge, and now Marquis of Anglesea, in 
 memory of the leg which he left on the field of 
 Waterloo. About a mile and a half further on, 
 we arrive at the gate of Plas Newydd. The most 
 remarkable things here are the cromlechs, whose 
 precise destination is unknown ; they are gene- 
 rally believed to be druidical burial places. They 
 are huge stones, commonly three or four in num- 
 ber, forming a sort of rude gateway. Some are o 
 such enormous size that it is inexplicable how 
 they could be brought to such elevated situations
 
 98 NEW KALEIDOSCOPE. 
 
 without the most complicated mechanical aid. 
 It is, however, difficult to say what is possible to 
 human strength, excited by unfettered will or by 
 religious fanaticism. I remember reading that 
 a captain of^a ship coasting along the shore of 
 Japan, saw two junks of the largest size, that is 
 nearly as big as frigates, carried by thousands of 
 men across a chain of hills. 
 
 The cromlechs of Anglesea, which are not of 
 the largest class, have probably suggested the 
 thought of building a druidical cottage in an ap- 
 propriate spot, commanding a beautiful view of 
 Snowdon. It is, however, a strange heteroge- 
 neous chaos of ancient and modern things. In the 
 small dark rooms light is very prettily introduced, 
 by means of looking-glass doors, which answer 
 the double purpose of reflecting the most beau- 
 tiful bits of the landscape like framed pictures. 
 In the window stood a large sort of show-box, 
 a camera-obscura, and a kaleidoscope of a new 
 kind not filled like the old one, but exhibiting 
 under countless changes any object beheld through 
 it. Flowers especially produce a most extraordi- 
 nary effect, by the .^constantly varying brilliancy 
 of their colours. If you wish for one,' I will send 
 it you from London : it costs eight guineas. The
 
 UNWORTHY VIEWS OF PROVIDENCE. 99 
 
 house and grounds contain nothing remarkable, 
 and are seldom inhabited by the proprietor, whose 
 principal residence is in England. 
 
 July 23rd. 
 
 Today I received, with great delight, a long 
 letter from you ****** 
 .-. * * * * * * I am very 
 
 glad that you are not offended at L 's jest, 
 
 and that you do not, like Herr von Frommel*, 
 consider him an impious wretch. You must see, 
 in the first place, that he aims his wit only at the 
 servile credulity of those men who convert the 
 Unutterable, the Being of Beings, who is ever 
 present to us in a deep and dim consciousness, but 
 whom we can never comprehend, into a strange 
 compound of tyrant, pedagogue, and ministering 
 spirit : who think themselves constantly guided by 
 him in leading-strings, and regard all they see and 
 hear, or whatever happens to them, as an inter- 
 position of God, and regarding their own little- 
 ness alone. If, for instance, they fall into the 
 water, or if they win a prize in the lottery, they 
 see the finger of God incoatestably in that inci- 
 dent 5 if they escape any danger, they pour out the 
 
 * A fictitious name, which might be englished, Mr. Cant. 
 TRANSL. 
 
 F2
 
 100 UNWORTHY VIEWS OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 most vehement thanks to God, as if some strange 
 power had sent the danger, and God, like a care- 
 ful and prompt guardian, had flown to their suc- 
 cour and deliverance. They might reflect, that 
 whence the deliverance comes, thence comes also 
 the danger 5 whence the pleasure, the pain ; whence 
 life, death. The whole is one scheme of existence, 
 bestowed and governed not according to momen- 
 tary caprice, but to immutable laws. Such petty 
 views as those he satirizes, bring down the idea of 
 Omnipotence to our own mutability and frailty. 
 Our thanks, be they even speechless, are due to 
 Eternal Love for all that is; and perhaps no prayer 
 offered by man can be more worthy of the Deity, 
 than that mute and rapturous feeling of gratitude. 
 But it is childish to be ever ascribing to the 
 intervention of Omnipotence common-place and 
 external individual occurrences ; such as lucky 
 and unlucky accidents, riches, poverty, death, 
 and the like, which are subjected to the laws of 
 nature ; or (according to the measure of our 
 powers) to our own control. Such an interven- 
 tion on the behalf of our beloved selves, would be 
 no less strange and ill-adapted, with a view to 
 our instruction and improvement, than experience 
 proves it to be useless. 
 
 His satire is also directed against Christians
 
 PROTESTANT JESUITS. 101 
 
 who are no Christians and are neither so-called 
 Atheists (almost always a senseless denomina- 
 tion), nor yet genuine sincere fanatics ; but that 
 odious race of modern pietists, who are either 
 feeble creatures with irritable nerves, or hypo- 
 crites of the most impious sort, and further 
 removed from the elevated purity of Christ than 
 the Dalai Lama. These are the true Pharisees 
 and dealers in the temple, whom Christ would 
 cast out were he now on earth. These are they 
 who, were he now to appear, under a new and 
 obscure name, would be the first to cry out, 
 ' Crucify him!'* 
 
 Inthemain I confess I agree with L ; though, 
 
 with regard to the subject of the ( Reflections, 
 
 * It is a great mistake to think that this is a subject only 
 for ridicule or for rational indignation. The allianceofthe so- 
 called SAINTS, is not without danger to all men of large and 
 liberal opinions. There is a fermentation of Jesuitical masses, 
 who avail themselves of the form of Protestantism, because 
 Catholicism will no longer answer their purpose. They are 
 guided by the same principles to which the Jesuits owed 
 their power, governed by the same ' esprit de corps,' con- 
 stituted according to a like regular organization ; instead of 
 the ' aquetta/ indeed, they use, and with signal success, the 
 ten times more formidable poison of calumny, which, like 
 other instruments of darkness, is so easily employed by a 
 secret association. Germany has much more to dread from 
 such saints, than from the dreams of freedom promulgated by 
 a set of enthusiastic young students on the Wartburg. EDIT.
 
 102 DESTINIES OF MAN. 
 
 every opinion can be but hypothetical, and in 
 truth, what relates to another state of existence 
 must, of necessity, be totally different from all 
 that we have the capacity of understanding in 
 this. Had we been able to know it, or had it 
 been designed that we should do so, the Author 
 of our nature would have rendered it as clear, as 
 obvious to us, as it is that we feel, or think, or 
 exist. What is needful, is revealed to us inwardly; 
 and this has been declared from all time, in words 
 more or less plain and significant, by the great 
 spirits whom He has sent on earth. 
 
 That the human race is not destined to stand 
 still like a machine devoid of will, or to revolve 
 in one perpetual circle, but, on the contrary, con- 
 tinually to advance, till it has ended its cycle of 
 existence, and attained the highest perfection of 
 which it is capable, I never for an instant doubt. 
 But my hypothesis is this j that our earth, like a 
 vessel loosened from her moorings, is left, under 
 the protection and coercion of the immutable laws 
 of Nature, to the management of her own crew. 
 We ourselves, thenceforth, are the framers of 
 our own destiny, (insofar as it depends on human 
 operation, and not on those immutable laws,) and 
 of our own history, whether great or small, by 
 our own moral strength or weakness.
 
 SPECIAL INTERPOSITIONS. 103 
 
 It is "not, in my opinion, necessary to suppose 
 the extraordinary and special interposition of any 
 power who causes a hard winter in Russia for the 
 special overthrow of Napoleon ; Napoleon rather 
 is overthrown by the vicious principle which guides 
 him; and which, in the long run, must inevitably 
 wreck him upon some such external and im- 
 mediate cause or other. The physical incident 
 happens, with reference to him, only accidentally; 
 with reference to itself, doubtless, in that neces- 
 sary series of laws to which it is subject, although 
 these laws are unknown to us. 
 
 On the same grounds, Providence will generally 
 favour the virtuous, the industrious, the frugal, 
 the prudent, and grant many or most of their 
 desires ; while the foolish and the wicked, who set 
 themselves in opposition and hostility to the world, 
 are not ordinarily so successful or so happy. If 
 a man lets his hand lie in the ice, it is highly 
 probable that Providence will ordain it to be 
 frozen ; or if he holds it in the fire, to be burnt. 
 Those who go to sea, Providence will sometimes 
 permit to be drowned; those, on the other hand, 
 who never quit dry ground, Providence will hardly 
 suffer to perish in the sea. 
 
 It is therefore justly said, ' Help yourself, and 
 Heaven will help you." The truth is, that God
 
 104 VIRTUE AND VICE REGARD OUR SOCIAL STATE. 
 
 has helped us from the beginning: the work of 
 the master is completed; and, as far as it was 
 intended to be so, perfect: it requires, therefore, 
 no further extraordinary aids and corrections from 
 above; its further development and improvement 
 in this world is placed in our own hands. We 
 may be good or bad, wise or foolish, not always 
 perhaps in the degree which we, as individuals, 
 might choose, were our wills perfectly free, but 
 so far as the state of the human race immediately 
 preceding us has formed us to decide. 
 
 Virtue and vice, wisdom and folly, are indeed 
 words which receive their meaning solely from 
 human society, and apart from that would have 
 no signification. The ideas of the Good and the 
 Wicked are excited solely by the effect of our 
 actions upon others; for a man who never saw a 
 fellow-man can act neither well nor ill, nay, can 
 scarcely feel or think, well or ill : he possesses, 
 indeed, all the requisite capacities which form the 
 groundwork of his higher moral and intellectual 
 nature; but it is only by means of creatures of 
 a like nature, that these capacities can be brought 
 into activity; as fire can only exist, or become 
 sensible, when combustible materials are present. 
 The ideas of prudent and imprudent arise indeed 
 earlier, and with reference to the individual alone >
 
 MORAL DEFINITIONS. 10 
 
 for a single man in conflict with inanimate nature 
 may either injure himself foolishly, or employ 
 the materials given him with prudence and skill ; 
 and may have a full perception of these qualities 
 or modes of action in himself. To be good, 
 therefore, in every point of view, means nothing 
 but to love other men, and to submit to the laws 
 and rules imposed by society: to be wicked, to 
 rebel against those laws, to disregard the weal of 
 others, and in our conduct to have only our own 
 momentary gratification in view. To be prudent, 
 on the other hand, is only to have the power of 
 perceiving and securing our own advantage by 
 the best and aptest means : to be imprudent, to 
 neglect these means, or to form a false estimate 
 concerning them. 
 
 It is evident also that good and prudent 
 wicked and imprudent are in the highest sense 
 nearly synonymous : for a man who is good, will, 
 in the common order of events, please his fellow- 
 men, consequently will be beloved by them, and 
 consequently will be found to be prudent, that is, 
 to have secured his own greatest happiness and 
 advantage : while the bad man, engaged in an 
 interminable conflict, must at length have the 
 worst, and consequently suffer loss and injury. 
 
 But when once the moral sense has received its 
 
 F5
 
 106 VIRTUE, PRUDENCE IN THE HIGHEST SENSE. 
 
 last development and highest culture, the vir- 
 tuous man, though insolated, frames laws to 
 himself, which he follows, unheeding of advan- 
 tage, danger, or the opinion of others. The bases 
 of these laws will, however, always be what I have 
 described ; consideration of the well-being of his 
 fellow-men, and of the duty thence deduced, 
 which follows as a consequence of the way he has 
 traced out to himself. But when this point is 
 reached, the inward consciousness of having ful- 
 filled this duty, gives the moral man purer and 
 higher satisfaction than the possession of all 
 earthly enjoyments could confer upon him. It is 
 therefore permanently, and in both views of the 
 subject, true, that it is the highest prudence to be 
 virtuous, the greatest folly to be wicked. 
 
 But here, indeed, from the busy and compli- 
 cated nature of human life, arise many and varied 
 shades and distinctions. It is very easy, even 
 with great prudence, where the earthly and ex- 
 ternal is concerned, to seize upon appearance 
 instead of reality. It is possible for one man to 
 deceive others, and to make them believe that he 
 does them good, that he deserves their respect 
 and their thanks, when he only uses them as in- 
 struments of his own advantage, and does them 
 the bitterest injury. Folly too often produces the
 
 SOURCE OF POSITIVE RELIGIONS. 107 
 
 opposite effect, and imputes to others wicked de- 
 signs and bad motives, where the very contrary 
 have place. Hence arises the maxim, painful 
 indeed ! but too firmly based on universal experi- 
 ence, that in worldly connections and affairs, 
 folly and imprudence are productive of more 
 certain disadvantage to the individual than vice 
 and wickedness. The external consequences of 
 the latter may be kept off, perhaps entirely pre- 
 vented, by prudence; but nothing can ward off the 
 consequences of folly, which is perpetually work- 
 ing against itself. 
 
 The want, and the existence, of positive reli- 
 gions are mainly attributable to the general per- 
 suasion of this truth, and of the consequent in- 
 sufficiency of penal laws of human institution. 
 Hence arises the doctrine of future rewards and 
 punishments, awarded by an All-seeing Power, 
 against whose eye the precautions of prudence 
 are vain, and from whom the imprudent expects 
 pity and compensation: for truly he who has 
 combined prudence and virtue needs no further 
 recompense, he finds it rich and overflowing in 
 himself. Who would not, without a moment's 
 hesitation, give everything in the world to enjoy 
 the blessedness of being perfectly good ? A time 
 may perhaps come, when all church and state
 
 108 PERFECT CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 religions may be buried and forgotten; but Poetry 
 and Love, whose flower is true Religion* whose 
 fruit Virtue, must for ever rule the human heart in 
 their holy Tri-unity, the adoration of God as the 
 source of all existence, the admiration of nature 
 as his high work, and love to men as our brethren. 
 And this is the true doctrine of Christ, by none 
 more purely, touchingly, simply, and deeply ex- 
 pressed, although its forms and premises are 
 adapted to the times in which he lived. And 
 therefore is he become the seed from which the 
 fruit of after- times shall arise; the true Mediator, 
 whose doctrine, as we must hope, will, in time, 
 become Christianity in deed and in truth, and not 
 in words alone. ***** 
 ******* [Here 
 
 occurs a chasm in the letters, which begin again 
 on the 28th.] 
 
 Capel Cerig, July 28th, late in the evening. 
 As the weather cleared up, and the friends 
 whom I expected did not arrive, I hastened to 
 take advantage of the first ray of sun to penetrate 
 deeper amid the mountains ; and set off about 
 seven in the evening, in an Irish car drawn by one 
 horse, for Capel Cerig. I left my servant, and 
 took only a light travelling-bag containing a little
 
 IRISH CAR. 109 
 
 linen and a change of clothes. This carriage 
 consists *bf an open box, standing on two wheels, 
 resting on four horizontal springs, and contain- 
 ing two opposite benches, on which four persons 
 can commodiously sit. You ascend from behind, 
 as the door is between the wheels ; the whole 
 is very light and convenient. The moment was 
 unusually propitious j nearly a week of rain had 
 so swollen all the waterfalls, brooks, and rivers, 
 that they appeared in their fullest beauty; trees 
 and grass were clothed in their softest green, and 
 the air was transparent and pure as crystal. I 
 admired the rich masses of gay mountain flowers 
 and heaths which grew luxuriantly in the clefts 
 of the rocks, and regretted that I did not know 
 enough of botany to enjoy them with more than 
 my eye. 
 
 I soon reached that sterner region in which 
 flowers are rarely seen, and trees never. 
 
 I alighted at the waterfall of Idwal to visit a 
 little lake, which might serve as the entrance to 
 Hades. 
 
 The dreary and wild aspect of the deep moun- 
 tain enclosure is really awful. I had read that it 
 was possible to reach Capel Cerig from hence, 
 going in a straight line over Trivaen (the moun- 
 tain with basaltic columns, of which I have spoken)
 
 110 WALK ACROSS TRIVAEN TO CAPEL CERIG. 
 
 and the surrounding rocks. The passage was 
 represented as very difficult, but surpassingly 
 beautiful. At this moment I saw a shepherd 
 descending from the mountain, and I felt the 
 strongest inclination to attempt the expedition 
 with the guide which chance thus so opportunely 
 threw in my way. I got the postillion to act as 
 interpreter of my wishes. The man thought it 
 was too late, and that the descent on the other 
 side by night would be hazardous. On my pressing 
 him further, he said, however, that there would be 
 a moon, and that if I could follow him at a brisk 
 rate, he thought we might manage to cross the 
 mountain in two hours, but that there were some 
 very awkward places to pass. I had tried my 
 strength too well on Snowdon to shrink from the 
 enterprise j I therefore closed the bargain, only 
 taking the precaution to order the driver to wait 
 for me an hour, lest any unforeseen difficulties 
 should cause me to return, and then to drive back 
 to Capel Cerig. 
 
 The path along which we had to climb was 
 from the outset very steep, and lay over a boggy 
 soil between enormous detached masses of rock 
 strewed in wild disorder. It might be about half- 
 past seven o'clock : there was no trace of any 
 beaten path ; Trivaen reared its grotesque peak
 
 EXTENSIVE PROSPECT. Ill 
 
 like an embattled wall before us, nor was it easy 
 to discover how we were to cross it. The moun- 
 tain sheep here rendered us good service ; they 
 climbed before us, and showed the often uncer- 
 tain guide the most practicable places. After a 
 quarter of an hour of very wearisome climbing, 
 with many a giddy glance into the chasms be- 
 neath, to which, however, the eye became gra- 
 dually familiarized, we came to a little swampy 
 1 plateau ' through which we were obliged to wade 
 knee-deep in bog. Here we had a beautiful view 
 of the sea, the Isle of Man, and Ireland dimly 
 appearing in the distance. 
 
 Immediately above the bog a completely dif- 
 ferent sort of ground awaited us ; a wall of per- 
 pendicular and compact sharp and ragged rocks, 
 over which we scrambled on hands and feet. The 
 sun had already sunk behind a high mountain 
 sideward of us, and reddened the whole wild 
 scenery around, as well as the wall on which we 
 hung, with a dark and fiery glow one of the 
 strangest effects of sunlight I ever beheld. It 
 was like a theatrical representation of Hell. Our 
 way now lay across a swollen mountain- stream, 
 over which a fallen block of stone had formed a 
 natural bridge j and then over bare rocks wholly 
 unmixed with earth, till at length we reached the
 
 112 MOUNTAIN VIEW. 
 
 high crest which had so long stood right before 
 us, and at which I expected an end of all our 
 difficulties. I was therefore not a little disap- 
 pointed when I saw another defile before me, 
 which we must first descend and then climb iip 
 the opposite side, for no human foot could have 
 found a sure hold on the semicircular edge of 
 the crest, across which lay a shorter road. 
 
 We had now entirely lost sight of the sea ; our 
 view lay landward, where the mountain region of 
 Wales lay before us in its whole breadth ; peak 
 above peak, solitary, silent, and mighty. The 
 sterile valley beneath us was filled with giant 
 stones hurled about in wild disorder ; and truly 
 the game which was here played, with rocks 
 for balls, must have been a spectacle for Gods. 
 While I stood lost in contemplation of this chaos, 
 I heard a shrill reiterated cry close to me, and 
 looking up, saw two majestic eagles soaring over 
 our heads with outstretched wings a rarity in 
 these mountains. Welcome faithful birds* of my 
 house, exclaimed I, here, where there are only 
 hard rocks, but no false hearts j are you come to 
 carry me, like the Roc bird, into some valley of 
 
 * Wappenvogel (armorial-birds), an expression which ap- 
 pears affected in English, though the passage is unintelligible 
 without it. TRANSL.
 
 EAGLES. 113 
 
 diamonds ? or do you bring me tidings from my 
 far distant home ? The noble creatures seemed as 
 if they answered me by their cries ; but unfortu- 
 nately I am not skilled in the language of birds : 
 and they left me, wheeling higher and higher, till 
 they disappeared among the columns of Trivaen. 
 I look upon the repeated attentions paid me by 
 birds of prey as a good omen. 
 
 It was extremely inconvenient that I could no 
 more speak with my guide than with the eagles, 
 for he understood not a word of English. We 
 could therefore only converse by signs. After 
 we had for some time descended with comparative 
 ease, he pointed to a place to which we must now 
 turn our steps : we had arrived at the ( bad pas- 
 sage/ This consisted of a perfectly perpendicu- 
 lar wall, certainly not less than six hundred feet 
 in depth ; and above it a scarcely less steep ascent 
 of earth, washed over by the rain, and strewed 
 with small loose stones. Across this we were 
 to make our way a distance of fifteen hundred 
 paces. Formerly, I should have regarded this 
 undertaking as impracticable; but being urged 
 by necessity, after the first few fearful steps I 
 found it quite easy. 
 
 It certainly looked most terrific, but the nume- 
 rous stones and the moist soft earth afforded a
 
 ] 14- DANGERS ENHANCED IN DESCRIPTION. 
 
 firmer footing than might have been expected : 
 indeed these things, even in an unexaggerated de- 
 scription, always sound more perilous than they 
 are. It is very true that one false step would 
 cause inevitable destruction ; but this is exactly 
 what one takes good care not to set : so a man 
 must be drowned in the water, if he leaves off 
 swimming. Anybody who can walk, and has a 
 steady head, may perform such exploits without 
 the slightest danger. Twilight now began to close 
 in j the mountains became dim and indistinct ; 
 under us lay, like steaming cauldrons, the misty 
 lakes of Capel Cerig and Beddgelert. We had 
 reached the highest point, and hastened as much 
 as possible to reach the former lake. We waded 
 through another bog, and scrambled down over 
 rocks, till we came to the part of our way which 
 looked the least difficult, but was in fact the 
 most fatiguing j a firm and smooth hill covered 
 with turf, very steep, and with a substratum of 
 rock which in many parts presented itself at the 
 surface in broad smooth shelves. Down this de- 
 clivity we rather slid than walked j and the effort 
 was at length followed by such pain in the knees, 
 that both the guide and I fell several times, though 
 without sustaining any hurt. The lofty mountains 
 around us had hitherto concealed the moon, which
 
 RETURN TO CAPEL CERJG. 115 
 
 now arose large and blood-red above their wavy 
 line. We soon lost her again. Near our journey's 
 end she once more rose upon us, golden, clear, 
 and small, mirrored in the still waters of the lake, 
 on whose shores the inn stood. The last part of 
 the way lay along a level high-road, and offered 
 such a contrast to what had preceded it, that I 
 felt as if I could have walked along it sleeping. It 
 was as if my steps were not the result of any act 
 of the will, but rather of some mechanical power j 
 like the children's toys, which when wound up 
 run round and round the table without stopping. 
 We completed our expedition in an hour and three 
 quarters j and proud of my achievement, I entered 
 Cap el Cerig, where my host would hardly believe 
 we had accomplished the distance by night in so 
 short a time. I had lived such an indolent, effe- 
 minate life for some years, that I fancied myself 
 grown almost old ; but today's experience proved, 
 to my great joy, that I want nothing but stimulus 
 and opportunity, to recover all the freshness and 
 vigour of my bodily and mental powers ; danger 
 and difficulty had always been my most kindred 
 element when fate threw them in my way. 
 
 My driver had not yet returned with the car- 
 riage, and I was obliged to equip myself in the 
 clothes of my portly host, in which I now doubt-
 
 116 MERLIN'S CAVE, AND VALE. 
 
 less cut a very extraordinary figure, while my own 
 are drying at the kitchen- fire ; and I am alter- 
 nately occupied in writing to you, and in drinking 
 tea. 
 
 Tomorrow morning I shall leave my pillow at 
 four o'clock, guess in search of what; the rock 
 of the enchanter Merlin, where he prophesied to 
 king Vortigern the history of coming times, and 
 where his wondrous treasures, the golden throne 
 and diamond sword, still lie buried in its hidden 
 caves. Here is a new and most safe object of 
 speculation to the mining companies of London 
 and Elberfeld. 
 
 Beddgelert, July 29th, early. 
 
 Admire Merlin's vale with me, dearest Julia. 
 It is indeed enchanting ; but its rocks Dinas 
 Emrys, I shall long remember. But let me begin 
 at the beginning. I went to bed at one, rose 
 again punctually at four, and in ten minutes was 
 ready to start : for as soon as you bid adieu to 
 servants and luxuries, everything goes at an easier 
 and quicker pace. The fine weather had given 
 place to the usual mists of these mountains ; and 
 I was glad to avail myself of my mountain walk- 
 ing-stick of yesterday in its other capacity of 
 umbrella, as well as of that venerable cloak, the
 
 VALE OF GWYNANT. 117 
 
 honoured relic of my warlike services against 
 France, which I was once forced to throw out of 
 a balloon, together witjp all other ballast, to avoid 
 ending my aerial excursion in the water. 
 
 At first the road was dull and uninteresting 
 enough, till we came to the foot of Snowdon, 
 which reared its uncovered head majestically 
 above the clouds, by which we were encircled 
 and bedewed. Its aspect is peculiarly grand and 
 sublime from this point. It rises in nearly per- 
 pendicular height from the vale of Gwynant, 
 which commences here. This richly watered 
 valley unites the most luxuriant vegetation with 
 the sublimest views. The loftiest mountains of 
 Wales are grouped around it in manifold forms 
 and colours. The river which flows through it 
 forms, in its course, two lakes, not broad but deep, 
 the valley being narrow throughout, a circum- 
 stance which greatly contributes to enhance the 
 colossal air of the mountains which inclose it. In 
 the richest part of it a merchant of Chester has 
 a park, which he justly calls Elysium. 
 
 On a high and thickly wooded ridge, out of 
 whose deep verdure rocks which rival each other 
 in wildness of form break forth, overlooking the 
 mountain river which flows through a beautiful 
 stretch of meadows, stands the unpretending and
 
 118 DINAS EMRYS. 
 
 lovely villa. Below lies the lake, behind which 
 stands Merlin's solitary rock, apparently closing 
 the valley, which here makes an abrupt turn. 
 
 Dinas Emrys is doubly impressed on my me- 
 mory : first, for its romantic beauty; secondly, be- 
 cause on it I literally hung between life and death. 
 Although not above four or five hundred feet high, 
 it is considered accessible only on one side. I 
 had taken a little boy with me as guide, but when 
 we reached the spot he seemed to know very little 
 about the matter. The way which he took through 
 an oak copse appeared to me from the first suspi- 
 cious, from its uncommon steepness ; but he tran- 
 quillized my fears in broken English, and I could 
 do nothing but follow the little fellow, (who sprang 
 before me like ^a chamois,) as well as I could. 
 Merlin appeared to frown upon us : a violent wind 
 had arisen, and the sun, which had shone upon 
 us for a moment, imbedded himself behind black 
 clouds ; while the long wet grass which hung over 
 the blocks of stone made climbing very dangerous. 
 This did not much .impede the barefooted little 
 boy, but was a serious obstacle to my limbs, some- 
 what stiff from my yesterday's exploits. The 
 higher we went, the steeper the rocks became ; 
 often we were obliged to swing ourselves up by 
 the help of the shrubs which grew out of the
 
 DANGEROUS SITUATION. 119 
 
 clefts, avoiding as well as we could to look behind 
 us. At length I observed that the boy himself 
 was quite irresolute, and creeping on his belly 
 looked anxiously around. We now wriggled right 
 and left through some clefts, and suddenly found 
 ourselves standing on the peak of a smooth and 
 lofty wall, with scarcely room to set our feet, and 
 above us a similar wall, out of which grew some 
 tufts of grass. The summit of this appeared to 
 overtop the whole. 
 
 The prospect was not encouraging : the child 
 began to cry, and I considered not without some 
 uneasy feelings what was to be done. Willingly, 
 I confess, should I have climbed down again, and 
 left Merlin's rock to witches and gnomes, if I 
 had thought it possible to descend without dizzi- 
 ness, or indeed to find the way by which we had 
 ascended. Before us there lay no chance of escape 
 but by scaling the wall as we best might. The 
 boy, as the lightest and most practised, went 
 first ; I followed him step by step, holding by the 
 slight support of tufts of grass, clinging with hand 
 and foot in every little cleft j and thus hanging 
 between heaven and earth we reached the giddy 
 summit in safety. I was quite exhausted. A 
 more daring climber may laugh at me ; but I 
 honestly confess to you, that when a tuft of grass
 
 120 MERLIN'S CAVE. 
 
 or a root seemed unsteady, and threatened to give 
 way before I had raised myself up by it, I felt 
 what terror is. As I lay now panting with fatigue 
 and fright on the turf, I saw a large black lizard 
 couched just opposite to me, who appeared to 
 look at me with scornful, malicious eyes, as if he 
 were the enchanter himself in disguise. I was 
 however glad to see him, and in high good humour 
 at having got out of the scrape so cheaply; though 
 I thought fit to threaten the little imp, who like 
 a mischievous gnome had enticed me into such 
 perils, with all sorts of terrible punishments, if 
 he did not make out the right way back. In his 
 absence I examined the remains of the area, as 
 it is here called, the ruined walls, where 
 
 " Prophetic Merlin sat, when to the British king 
 The changes long to come auspiciously he told." 
 
 I grubbed among the stones, I crept into the 
 fallen caverns but from me, as from others, the 
 treasures remained hidden ; the moment has not 
 yet arrived. As a compensation, the boy re-ap- 
 peared jumping gaily along, and boasting of the 
 beauty of the way which he had at length found. 
 
 If it was not quite so smooth and easy as that 
 of sin, it was at least not like the last, inaccessi- 
 ble. Merlin's displeasure, however, pursued us 
 in the shape of torrents of rain, which obliged
 
 INN AT BEDDGELERT. 121 
 
 me again to send my clothes to the kitchen fire, 
 at which I am reposing. 
 
 The inn, completely shaded by high trees, is 
 most delightful. Just before my window is a 
 fresh-mown meadow, behind which a huge moun- 
 tain rears itself, covered from top to bottom with 
 deep purple heather, glowing like the morning 
 sky, in spite of the sheets of rain and the clouded 
 heavens. While my dinner was preparing, (for I 
 dine like Suwarroff at eight o'clock in the morn- 
 ing,) a harper, the humble relic of Welsh bards, 
 played on his curious and primitive instrument. 
 He is blind, and so is his dog, who stands behind 
 him on his hind legs, waiting with unwearied 
 patience, till one bestows a piece of money on his 
 master, and of bread on himself. Beddgelert 
 means " Gelert's grave," bed and grave being 
 poetically expressed in Welsh by the same word. 
 Gelert was no other than a greyhound, whose 
 history is, however, so touching, that as soon as 
 my ' dejeune dinatoire ' is removed, I will tell it 
 you*. 
 
 Caernarvon, July 30th. 
 I had kept the harper playing during the whole 
 
 * The story of Gelert is omitted, as familiar to the English 
 reader. TRANSL. 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 122^ WELSH CHARACTER. 
 
 time of dinner at Beddgelert, and had amused 
 myself, like a child, with his dog, with whom it 
 had become so much a second nature to stand 
 on two legs, that he would have been a better 
 representative of man than Plato's plucked fowl. 
 The perfect ease of his attitude, together with his 
 serious countenance, had something so whimsical, 
 that one had only to imagine him in a petticoat, 
 with a snuff-box in his paw, to take him for a 
 blind old lady. 
 
 In the same proportion as this dog resembles 
 the heroic Gelert, do the modern Welsh seem to 
 resemble their ancestors. Without the energy or 
 activity of the English, still less animated by the 
 fire of the Irish, they vegetate, poor and obscure, 
 between both. They have, however, retained the 
 simplicity of mountaineers, and they are neither 
 so rude and boorish, nor do they cheat so impu- 
 dently, as the Swiss. ( Point d'argent, point de 
 Suisse' is not yet applicable here. On the 
 contrary, living is so cheap that bankrupt En- 
 glishmen often retire hither : I am assured that 
 a man may have good board and lodging, the use 
 of a pony, and leave to shoot, for fifty guineas 
 a year. 
 
 The environs of Beddgelert are the last conti- 
 nuation of the magnificent valley which I have
 
 TAN Y BWLCH. 123 
 
 described to you. It was now alive with a hundred 
 waterfalls, which dashed foaming and white as 
 milk from every chasm and gorge. About a mile 
 and a half in the rear of the village the rocks stand 
 so near together that there is scarce room for road 
 and river to run side by side. Here rises the 
 Devil's bridge, an^ closes the valley, or rather 
 the defile. You now again approach the sea, and 
 the country assumes a gayer character. In two 
 hours I reached the great resort of tourists, Tan y 
 Bwlch, whose chief attraction is a beautiful park 
 extending over two rocky mountains overgrown 
 with lofty wood, between which gushes a moun- 
 tain stream forming numerous cascades. The 
 walks are admirably cut, leading, through the 
 best chosen gradations and changes, to the va- 
 rious points of view; from which you catch 
 now an island in the sea, now a precipice with 
 a foaming waterfall, now a distant peak or soli- 
 tary group of rocks under the night of primeval 
 oaks. 
 
 I wandered for above an hour along these 
 walks ; but was greatly surprised to see them in 
 so neglected a state, that in most places I had 
 to wade through deep grass, and to toil through 
 the rank and overgrown vegetation. Even the 
 house seemed in decay. I afterwards learned that 
 G2
 
 124- . TREMADOC. 
 
 the proprietor had lost his fortune at play in 
 London. 
 
 As I feared I should spend too much time here, 
 I gave up my visit to Festiniog and its celebrated 
 waterfall, hired an airy ' Sociable ' (a sort of light 
 four-seated f caleche' without a roof) of my host, 
 and set out for Tremadoc, distant about ten 
 miles. I was richly rewarded, although the road 
 is the very worst I have yet met with in Great 
 Britain : for some miles it runs in the sea, that 
 is to say, through a part of it which Mr. Maddox, 
 a rich landowner here, has cut off by a monstrous 
 dam ; he has thus redeemed from the ocean a 
 tract of fertile land equal in extent to a Rittergut 
 (a knight's fee). From this dam, twenty feet high 
 and two miles long, you command the most mag- 
 nificent views : the drained land forms a nearly 
 regular semicircle, whose walls appear to be form- 
 ed by the whole amphitheatre of the mountains. 
 Here the art of man has drawn aside the veil from 
 the bottom of the deep ; and instead of the ship, 
 the plough now tracks the broad expanse. But 
 on the left, the ocean still hides all the secrets of 
 "the fathomless profound" under his liqiiid moun- 
 tains. The line of coast is terminated at no great 
 distance by a bold headland, on which the ruins 
 of Harlech Castle, with its five mouldering towers,
 
 TRBMADOC DAM. 125 
 
 overhang the waves. In front, at the end of the 
 dam, a quiet cheerful valley opens before you, 
 cradled amid lofty mountains, with a small but 
 busy harbour, near which Tremadoc seems to grow 
 out of the rock. 
 
 In spite of all this, you, my Julia, would hardly 
 bring yourself to ride across this dam, which is 
 indeed better fitted for foot-passengers. It is, as 
 I have already said, twenty feet high, and consists 
 of rude, angular, and jagged blocks of stone, 
 heaped on one another. The road at the top is 
 only four ells wide, without anything like a railing. 
 On one side the breakers dash furiously against it; 
 and if your horses shyed at them, you would in- 
 fallibly be thrown on the points of rocks which 
 bristle like pikes on the other. The mountain 
 horses alone can cross such a road with safety, as 
 they seem to estimate the danger and to be familiar 
 with it : nevertheless a carriage is seldom seen 
 here. Waggons laden with stone cross the dam 
 on a rail-road, which makes it still worse for all 
 other vehicles. Tremadoc itself stands on land 
 formerly redeemed by a similar process. The 
 resemblance which this land, reclaimed some cen- 
 turies since, has to the sandy banks of northern 
 Germany, which were gained from the sea perhaps 
 a thousand years ago, is very striking : the little
 
 126 RESEMBLANCE TO NORTH GERMANY. 
 
 town itself and its inhabitants as if like soil 
 produced like character of people as completely 
 resembled the melancholy villages of that country. 
 It is dreary, neglected, and dirty; the men ill-clad; 
 the inn not better than a Silesian one, nor less 
 filthy ; and, that nothing might be wanting, the 
 post-horses out at field, so that I had to wait an 
 hour and a half for them. When they appeared, 
 their condition, the wretched state of their tackle, 
 and the dress of the postillion, were all perfectly 
 true to their model. This applies only to the part 
 redeemed from the sea : as soon as you have gone 
 four or five miles further, and reached the sur- 
 rounding heights, the country changes to the fruit- 
 ful and the beautiful. It had, indeed, lost its wild 
 and gigantic character ; but after so long a stay 
 among the rocks, this change refreshed me, espe- 
 cially as the most brilliant and lovely evening 
 shone over' the landscape. 
 
 The sun gleamed so brightly on the emerald 
 meadows, woody hiDs lay so peacefully as if at 
 rest around the crystal stream, and scattered cot- 
 tages hung so temptingly on their shady sides, 
 that I felt as if I could have staid there for ever. 
 I had dismounted from the carriage; and throwing 
 myself on the soft moss under a large nut-tree, I 
 gave myself up with delight to my dreams. The
 
 RETURN TO CAERNARVON. 127 
 
 evening light glittered like sparks through the 
 thick-leaved branches, and a hundred gay insects 
 sported in its ruddy light j while the gentle wind 
 sighed in its top-most boughs, in melodies which 
 are understood and felt by the initiated. 
 
 The carriage arrived. Once more I cast a long- 
 ing glance on the dark blue sea; once more I 
 drank in the fragrance of the mountain flowers, 
 and the horses bore the loiterer quickly to the 
 plains. 
 
 From this point the romantic wholly ceases ; 
 I rode along a well-tilled country till the towers 
 of Caernarvon Castle rose in the twilight above 
 the trees. Here I intend to rest some days, hav- 
 ing performed seventy-four English miles today, 
 partly on foot, between four in the morning and 
 ten at night. 
 
 August 1st. 
 
 This morning I received letters from you, which 
 make me melancholy. Yes, truly, you are right ; 
 it was a hard destiny which troubled the calmest 
 and cheerfullest happiness, the most perfect mutual 
 understanding, and tore asunder the best suited 
 minds (both too in the full enjoyment of their 
 respective tastes and pursuits), as a storm trou- 
 bles and tears up the peaceful sea. At one time, 
 indeed, this was well-nigh destruction to both ;
 
 128 SELF-INFJLICTED EVILS. 
 
 condemning the one to restless wandering, the 
 other to comfortless solitude ; both to grief, 
 anxiety, and vain longings. But was not this 
 storm necessary for the dwellers on the deep ? 
 would not, perhaps, the stagnant and motionless 
 air have been yet more destructive to them? Let 
 us not therefore give way to excessive grief : let 
 us never regret the past, which is always vain ; 
 let us only stretch forward to what is better, 
 and even in the worst exigencies let us be true to 
 ourselves. How often are the evils created by 
 our own imaginations the hardest to bear ! What 
 burning pains are caused by wounded vanity ! 
 what agonizing shame by notions of false honour ! 
 I am not much the better for perceiving this, and 
 am often tempted to wish for Falstaff s philosophy. 
 Nature has however endowed me with one pre- 
 cious gift, which I would most gladly share with 
 you. In every situation, I promptly, and as it 
 were by instinct, discover the good side of things ; 
 and enjoy it, be it what it may, with a freshness 
 of feeling, a childlike Christmas-day delight in 
 trifles*, which I am convinced will never grow 
 old in me. 
 
 And in what situation does not the good, in the 
 
 * Weihnachtsfreude. Those who have passed a Christmas- 
 eve in Germany will feel the force of this. TRANSL.
 
 DUTY OF CONTENTEDNESS. 129 
 
 long run, outweigh the evil ? this persuasion is 
 the ground- work of my piety. The gifts of God 
 are infinite ; and we might almost say that we are 
 inexcusable if we are not happy. How often in- 
 deed we have it in our power to be so, every one 
 may see, who looks back at his past life; he can- 
 not escape the conviction that he might easily 
 have turned almost every evil to good. As I have 
 long ago and often said to you, We are the makers 
 of our own destiny. It is true, however, that our- 
 selves we have not made ; and therein lies a wide 
 unknown Past, concerning which we perplex our 
 spirits in vain : our speculations can lead to no 
 practical end. Let every one only do his utmost 
 to be of good courage, and to regard the outward 
 things of this world, without exception, as of light 
 moment, for the things of this world are really 
 light and unimportant, in good as in evil. There 
 is no better defence against unhappiness ; only we 
 must not on that account cross our hands, and do 
 nothing. 
 
 Your womanish fault, my dear Julia, is, in evil 
 times to abandon yourself to Heaven and its as- 
 sistance, as ' Deus ex machina,' with a feeble and 
 helpless sort of piety. For if this assistance fails 
 us, our ruin is then certain and inevitable. 
 
 Both, pious hope and energetic action, consist 
 G 5
 
 130 FAITH AND ACTION. 
 
 perfectly well together, and indeed mutually aid 
 each other. No man can doubt that the former 
 greatly lightens the latter : for if that sort of piety 
 which is common in the world, that confident ex- 
 pectation of earthly and peculiar protection from 
 above, that supplication for good and against evil, 
 is merely a self-delusion, still it is a beneficent 
 one, and perhaps grounded in our very nature, 
 subject as we are to so many illusions, which, 
 when they take fast hold on our minds, become to 
 us individual Truth. It appears that our nature 
 has the power of creating to itself a factitious 
 reality, as a sort of auxiliary support, where 
 Reality itself is unattainable. Thus a pious confi- 
 dence in special interpositions, though but a form 
 of superstition, gives courage. A man who goes 
 into battle with a talisman which he believes 
 renders him invulnerable, will see bullets rain 
 around him with indifference. But still more 
 powerful and exalting is the enthusiasm excited 
 by ideas which place us above the external world ; 
 thus religious fanatics have frequently been seen 
 animated by a spirit which enabled them to brave 
 the most horrible bodily tortures with truly mira- 
 culous power; thus do the afflicted and oppressed 
 create to themselves blissful hopes of a future 
 state of felicity, which indemnify them even here.
 
 NEED OF RELIANCE ON A HIGHER POWER. 131 
 
 All these are effects of the potent instinct of self- 
 preservation in its widest sense, which brings 
 the above-named power of our nature into opera- 
 tion wherever it is needed. Hence, lastly, in feeble 
 characters, those death-bed conversions, useless 
 indeed in themselves, but tranquillizing. 
 
 Every human being must pay his tribute to this 
 want in one form or other : every one creates to 
 himself his earthly god; and thus is the descent of 
 God to us under human attributes ever repeated. 
 
 The conception of the all-loving Father is cer- 
 tainly the noblest and most beautiful of these 
 images, nor can the human imagination rise 
 higher. And it must be conceded, that the mere 
 idea of the Highest Principle of all things, exalted, 
 sublimated, I might almost say, evaporated, to 
 the Incomprehensible, the Unutterable, no longer 
 warms the human heart, conscious of its own 
 weakness, with the same fervent emotion. 
 
 It often'appears to me that all which is fashion- 
 ed by nature or by man may be reduced to two 
 primary elements, Love and Fear, which might 
 be called the Divine and the Earthly principles. 
 All thoughts, feelings, passions, and actions, arise 
 from these : either from one of them or from a 
 mixture of both. Love is the divine cause of 
 all things ; Fear seems to be their earthly pre-
 
 132 LOVE AND FEAR. 
 
 server. The words, f Ye shall love God and 
 fear him/ must be so interpreted, or they have 
 no meaning ; for absolute and unmixed love can- 
 not fear, because it is the absence of all self- 
 regarding thoughts and feelings; and indeed, if it 
 truly inspired us, would make us one with God 
 and the universe; and we have moments in which 
 we feel this. 
 
 When I use this notion as a standard or mea- 
 sure by which to try all human actions, I find it 
 constantly confirmed. Love fertilizes, fear pre- 
 serves, and destroys. In all nature too, I see the 
 principle of self-preservation or fear (it is one and 
 the same), in what we call, according to our system 
 of morals, crime or wickedness ; that is, founded 
 on the annihilation of another's individuality. 
 One race lives by the destruction of another ; life 
 is fed by death, to all eternity of reproduction and 
 reappearance, which, preciselybythis kind of unity, 
 continues in perpetual change. 
 
 It is also worthy of note, that this fear, although 
 so indispensably necessary to all of us for our 
 earthly support and preservation, is even here so 
 little esteemed by our diviner part, that scarcely 
 any possible crime is covered with such deep con- 
 tempt as cowardice. 
 
 On the other hand, nothing so effectually con-
 
 ELEVATING INFLUENCE OF LOVE. 133 
 
 quers fear, as a great and lofty idea springing from 
 the dominion of love. A man inspired by such a 
 feeling, even hurries along others with him; and 
 whole nations devote themselves when under its 
 influence, although nothing earthly can remain 
 pure from all admixture of the baser principle. 
 Fear has reference to the future, in time and space : 
 Love, to the present, eternally; and knows neither 
 time nor space. Love is endless and blessed : 
 Fear dies an eternal death. 
 
 K Park, August 2nd. 
 
 On my return to Bangor, I made acquaintance 
 
 with the possessor of Castle (the black 
 
 Saxon castle which I described to you), a man 
 to whom I am strongly attracted by our common 
 building mania. 
 
 It is now seven years since the castle was 
 begun, in which time 20,000^. have been spent 
 upon it ; and it will probably take four years more 
 to complete it. During all this time, this wealthy 
 man lives with his family in a humble hired cot- 
 tage in the neighbourhood, with a small establish- 
 ment; he feasts once a week on the sight of his 
 fairy castle, which, after the long continuance of 
 such simple habits, he will probably never bring 
 himself to inhabit. It appeared to give him great
 
 134- PENMAN MAWR. 
 
 pleasure to show and explain everything to me ; 
 and I experienced no less from his enthusiasm, 
 which was agreeable and becoming in a man 
 of an otherwise cold demeanour. 
 
 In compliance with an invitation which I had 
 received in London, and which had since been 
 pressingly renewed, I came hither yesterday 
 morning. My road lay at first through fertile 
 fields, between the lake and the foot of the 
 mountains ; sometimes crossed by a sudden de- 
 file or glen, and by rapid brooks hurrying to 
 the sea. On Penman Mawr the road, which is 
 blasted in the rock, contracts into a narrow and 
 fearful pass, the left side of which overhangs the 
 sea at a perpendicular height of five hundred 
 feet. A most necessary parapet wall guards car- 
 riages. I sat on the imperial, a place which I 
 frequently take in fine weather, and enjoyed the 
 wide sea-view in full freedom: the wind mean- 
 while sighed and whistled in every variety of tone, 
 and I with difficulty kept my cloak about me. 
 In an hour I reached Conway, whose site is most 
 beautiful. Here stands the largest of those strong 
 castles, which Edward built, and Cromwell demo- 
 lished. It is likewise the most remarkable for 
 the picturesque beauty both of its position and 
 structure.
 
 CONWAY CASTLE. 135 
 
 The outer walls, though ruinous, are still 
 standing, with all their towers, to the number, 
 it is said, of fifty-two. The whole town, a strange 
 but not unpicturesque mixture of old and new, is 
 contained within the inclosure of these walls. A 
 chain-bridge, with pillars in the form of Gothic 
 towers, has lately been thrown over the river 
 Con way, on whose banks the castle stands : it in- 
 creases the grandeur and strangeness of the scene. 
 The surrounding country is magnificent : woody 
 hills rise opposite to the ruins, and behind them 
 appears a yet higher range. Numerous country- 
 houses adorn the sides of the hills ; among others 
 a most lovely villa, which is now on sale, and 
 bears the seducing name of ' Contentment.' 
 
 In the castle, the imposing remains of the ban- 
 queting hall with its two enormous fire-places 
 are still visible, as is also the king's chamber. 
 In the queen's closet there is an altar of beau- 
 tiful workmanship, in tolerably good preserva- 
 tion, and a splendid oriel window. The town 
 also contains very remarkable old buildings, 
 with strange fantastic devices in wood. One of 
 these houses was built, as a tombstone in the 
 church testifies, in the fourteenth century, by a 
 man named Hooke, the forty-first son of his 
 father, a rare instance in Christendom. A large
 
 136 CONWAY. 
 
 child, in swaddling-clothes, carried by a stork, 
 carved in oak, occurred in various parts of the 
 building. 
 
 Conway is a laudable place in a gastronomic 
 point of view: it abounds with a fish, the firm 
 and yet tender flesh of which is delicious. Its 
 name is Place*, as who should say, Place for 
 me, who am the worthiest ! And truly I shall 
 always be glad to give him the place of honour 
 at my table. 
 
 I quitted Conway early, driving across the 
 chain-bridge, which serves as a most noble ' point 
 d'appui' to the ruined castle. The monstrous 
 chains lose themselves so romantically in the 
 solid rock-like towers, that one would scarcely 
 be reminded of their newness, if there were not 
 unluckily a toll-house on the other side, built 
 exactly in the form of a diminutive castle, and 
 looking like a harlequin apeing the other. 
 
 The nearer you approach to St. Asaph, the 
 softer the character of the country becomes. In 
 a semicircular bay which the eye can scarcely 
 traverse, the tranquil sea washes fruitful fields 
 and meadows, richly studded with towns and 
 
 * A warning to all makers of puns and jeux de mots to 
 know their tools. Our author probably is still in blissful 
 ignorance of the * which spoils his joke. TRANSL.
 
 A TRUE ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 137 
 
 villages. All the country-gentlemen here seem 
 lovers of the Gothic style of architecture. This 
 taste is carried so far, that even an inn by the road- 
 side was provided with portcullis, loop-holes, and 
 battlements, though there was no garrison to 
 defend it, except geese and hens. Don Quixote 
 might have been excused here; and the host 
 would not do amiss to hang out the knight of the 
 sorrowful countenance, with couched lance and 
 brazen helmet, as his sign. At some distance I 
 saw what appeared to be a ridge of hills crowned 
 with a Gothic castle : it had such a striking 
 aspect that I was duped into dismounting and 
 climbing the toilsome ascent. It was at once 
 ridiculous and vexatious to find that the kernel of 
 the jest was only a small and insignificant house, 
 and that what had attracted me were mere walls 
 which, built on the summits and declivities of the 
 mountain, represented towers, roofs, and large 
 battlements, half hidden in wood ; but served in 
 fact only to inclose a kitchen- and fruit-garden. 
 A lucky dog, a shopkeeper, who had suddenly 
 become rich, had built this harmless fortress, as 
 I was told, in two years; a perfect satire on the 
 ruling taste. 
 
 Towards evening I arrived at the house of my 
 worthy Colonel, a true Englishman, in the best
 
 138 A TRUE ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 
 
 sense of the word. He and his amiable family 
 received me in the friendliest manner. Country- 
 gentlemen of his class, who are in easy circum- 
 stances (with us they would be thought rich), and 
 fill a respectable station in society ; who are not 
 eager and anxious pursuers of fashion in London, 
 but seek to win the affection of their neighbours 
 and tenants; whose hospitality is not mere osten- 
 tation j whose manners are neither { exclusive ' 
 nor outlandish ; but who find their dignity in a 
 domestic life polished by education and adorned 
 by affluence, and in the observance of the strictest 
 integrity ; such form the most truly respectable 
 class of Englishmen. In the great world of Lon- 
 don, indeed, they play an obscure part ; but, on 
 the wide stage of humanity, one of the most 
 noble and elevated that can be allotted to man. 
 Unfortunately, however, the predominance and the 
 arrogance of the English aristocracy is so great, 
 and that of fashion yet so much more absolute 
 and tyrannous, that such families, if my tribute 
 of praise and admiration were ever to fall under 
 their eye, would probably feel less flattered by it, 
 than they would be if I enumerated them among 
 the leaders of f ton.' 
 
 To what a pitch this weakness reaches, even 
 among the worthiest people in this country, is
 
 FASHION- HUNTING. 1 39 
 
 not to be believed without actual observation and 
 experience; without seeing all classes of society 
 affected by it in the most ludicrous manner. But 
 I have written you enough on this subject from 
 the ' foyer ' of European Aristocracy, and will not 
 therefore repeat myself. 
 
 It is, moreover, high time to close this letter, 
 otherwise I fear my correspondence may be too 
 long even for you ; for though the heart is never 
 weary, the head puts in other claims. 
 
 But I know how much I may trust to your 
 indulgence in this point. 
 
 Your ever truly devoted
 
 HO ST. AS A PH. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 K Park, August 4th, 1828. 
 
 MY DEAREST FRIEND, 
 
 I AM in most agreeable quarters. The manner 
 of living is ' comfortable/ the society cordial, { la 
 chere excellente, 5 and the freedom, as it is univer- 
 sally in the country, perfect. Yesterday I took 
 a very agreeable ride of some twenty miles on an 
 untireable horse of my host's; for distances dis- 
 appear before the excellence of the horses and of 
 the roads. I must tell you all I saw. 
 
 I rode first to the small town of St. Asaph to 
 look at the cathedral, which is adorned with a 
 beautiful window of modern painted glass. Many 
 coats of arms were extremely well executed, and 
 the artist had had the good sense to avoid the 
 common error of endeavouring to represent ob- 
 jects not suited to his art, which requires masses 
 of colour and no delicate and floating shades. To 
 obtain a more perfect knowledge of the country, 
 I ascended the tower. At a distance of about 
 twelve miles I espied a church-like building on 
 the summit of a high mountain, and asked the
 
 DENBIGH CASTLE. 141 
 
 clerk what it was. He replied, in broken English, 
 that it was ' the king's tabernacle,' and that who- 
 ever would pass seven years without washing 
 himself, cutting his nails, or shaving his beard, 
 would be allowed to live there ; and at the expi- 
 ration of the seventh year he would have a right 
 to go to London, where the king must give him a 
 pension and make him a l gentleman.' The man 
 believed this wild story implicitly, and swore to 
 its truth ; ( Voila ce que c'est que la foi/ 
 
 I inquired afterwards the true state of the af- 
 fair, and heard the origin of this history ; namely, 
 that the building was erected by the province, or 
 f county,' to commemorate the Jubilee of the last 
 king's reign, and had stood empty ever since ; 
 but that a wag had advertised a considerable 
 reward in the newspapers, to any man who would 
 fulfil the above-named conditions. The common 
 people had mixed up this strange ordeal with the 
 ' tabernacle ' of King George III. 
 
 I descended the towers, and now you may see 
 me galloping at the foot of some gentle slopes, 
 till I reach a rocky isolated hill, on which stands 
 Denbigh Castle. The side of the hill is covered 
 with the ruinous houses and huts of the misera- 
 ble little town, and you climb through its narrow 
 lanes to the top. A gentleman, who afterwards
 
 14-2 DENBIGH CASTLE. 
 
 declared himself to be the surgeon of the town, 
 very kindly showed me the way, and did the 
 honours of the ruins with great politeness. Here 
 is a sort of casino most romantically situated within 
 the walls, and a very pretty flower-garden, com- 
 manding a beautiful view. The rest of this vast 
 edifice offers only a neglected labyrinth of walls, 
 standing amid the rank luxuriance of grass and 
 thistles. Every third year, notwithstanding, a 
 great national festival is held on this spot ; the 
 meeting of Welsh bards, who, like the old German 
 Minnesingers, repair hither to a trial of skill. 
 The victor wins a golden cup ; and a chorus of a 
 hundred harps resounds to his fame arnid these 
 ruins. The meeting will take place in three 
 months, when the Duke of Sussex is expected to 
 be present. 
 
 Following a ravine, I now entered a most 
 lovely valley. Deep wood overshadoAved me ; 
 rocks stretched out their mossy heads, like old ac- 
 quaintances from the branches ; the wild torrent 
 foamed, leaping and dancing amid the flowers; and 
 the gold-green of the meadows here and there 
 gleamed through the shade. I wandered for some 
 hours in this place, and then climbed the heights 
 by a weary foot-path, to discover where I was. 
 I stood immediately above the bay and the broad
 
 ENGLISH DAIRY. 143 
 
 tranquil sea, which appeared to be nearer to the 
 gentle descent in front than it really was. After 
 some effort, I espied among the groups of trees 
 on the plain the house of K park, and trotting 
 briskly onward, reached it in time to dress for 
 dinner. 
 
 August 5th. 
 
 I walked this morning, while all the rest of 
 the family were still in bed, with the charming 
 little Fanny, the youngest daughter of the house, 
 who is not yet c ->ut'*.' She took me round the 
 park and garden, and showed me her ' dairy ' 
 and f aviary.' 
 
 I told you once before, that the dairy is one 
 of the principal decorations of an English park, 
 and stands by itself, quite away from the cow- 
 house. It is generally an elegant pavilion, adorned 
 with fountains, marble walls, and rare and beau- 
 tiful porcelain j and its vessels, large and small, 
 filled with the most exquisite milk and its pro- 
 
 * " To come out," as applied to young girls in England, 
 means to go into the world. Parents sometimes let them 
 wait for this happiness till they are twenty, or even older. 
 Till then, they learn the world only from novels ; in later 
 life they consequently often act upon them, where the prin- 
 ciples of domestic virtue (for there is such a thing now and 
 then in England) have not been deeply and firmly laid. 
 EDITOR.
 
 144- ENGLISH POULTRY- YARD. 
 
 ducts, in all their varieties. There can be no 
 better place of refreshment after a walk. It is 
 of course surrounded by a flower-garden, which 
 the English love to attach to all their buildings. 
 In this, the mineral rivalled the vegetable king- 
 dom in brilliancy and beauty of colour. The pro- 
 prietor has a share in the principal copper mines 
 in Anglesea, and little mountains of ore, glittering 
 with red, blue, and green, formed a gorgeous bed 
 for rare and curious plants. 
 
 The aviary, which elsewhere is filled with gold 
 pheasants and other foreign birds, was here more 
 usefully tenanted ; and was exclusively devoted 
 to cocks and hens, geese, ducks, peacocks, and 
 pigeons. It was however, from its extraordinary 
 cleanliness and nice adaptation, a very pretty and 
 agreeable sight. German housewives, listen and 
 wonder ! Twice a- day are the yards, which are 
 provided with the most beautiful receptacles of 
 water, the separate houses, pigeon-holes, &c., 
 twice a-day are they cleaned : the straw nests of 
 the hens were so pretty; the perches on which 
 the fowls roost, so smooth and clean ; the water 
 in the stone basins which served as duck-ponds, 
 so clear; the barley and the boiled rice (equal to 
 Parisian ''riz au lait') so tempting, that one thought 
 one's self in the Paradise of fowls. They enjoyed,
 
 .ENGLISH POULTRY- YARD. 145 
 
 too, the freedom of Paradise : here were no clipped 
 wings ; and a little grove of high trees, close by 
 their house, formed their pleasure-ground. Most 
 of them were still poised in air, waving tr and 
 fro on the topmost boughs, when we arrived : but 
 scarcely did they espy the rosy little Fanny trip- 
 ping towards them, with dainties in her apron, 
 like a beneficent fairy, than they flew down in a 
 tumultuous cloud, and ran to her feet, pecking 
 and fluttering. I felt a sort of pastoral sensibility 
 come over me, and turned homewards, to get rid 
 of my fit of romance before breakfast. But now 
 the children's gardens were to be visited, and a 
 sort of summer-house, and Heaven knows what; 
 in short we were too late, and got a scolding. Miss 
 Fanny exclaimed, with true English pathos, 
 "We do but row, 
 
 And we are steer'd by fate ; " 
 
 in the words of our proverb, Dcr Mensch denkt, 
 Gott lenkt. Yes indeed, thought I, the little 
 philosopher is right: things always turn out dif- 
 ferently from what one intends, even in such small 
 events as these. 
 
 After dinner I mounted my horse again. I 
 sought the most untracked ways in the wildest 
 mountain country on the land side, frequently 
 fording the rapid stream, and revelling in the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 WELSH GIRLS. 
 
 most beautiful and striking scenery. Here and 
 there I met a country girl working in the fields. 
 They are strikingly pretty in the singular costume 
 which sets off their fine persons to the greatest 
 advantage. They are moreover shy as roes, and 
 chaste as vestals. Everything shows the moun- 
 tain character ; my horse among the rest : un- 
 wearied as a machine of steel, he gallops over 
 the stones, up hill and down ; leaps with undis- 
 turbed composure over the gates which continu- 
 ally intercept my way across the fields, and tires 
 me long before he feels the least fatigue himself. 
 This, to me, is the true pleasure of riding ; I 
 love to traverse mile after mile of country which 
 I had never seen before, where I know not whither 
 I am going, and must find out my way back as I 
 can. 
 
 Today I came upon a park, in which wooden 
 statues painted white contrasted strangely with 
 the sublimity of nature. No human being wasr 
 visible ; only hundreds of rabbits put their heads 
 out of the holes in the side of the hill, or coursed 
 rapidly across the road. All sorts of strange and 
 curious devices marked the proprietor as an ori- 
 ginal. The only thing that pleased me was a dark 
 fir grove, surrounded by a belt of bright crimson 
 mallows. I at length reached the top, a bare hill,
 
 CRAIG Y DON. 147 
 
 and went out as I had come in, through a gate 
 which fell to of itself. The same solitude reigned 
 throughout, and the enchanted castle was soon far 
 behind me. 
 
 Bangor, August 8th. 
 
 I was to stay some weeks at K park : but 
 
 you know my restlessness ; uniformity, even of 
 the good, soon wearies me. I therefore took 
 leave of my kind friends, made a visit of some 
 hours, instead of days, to another country-gen- 
 tleman who had invited me, saw a sun- set from 
 the ruins of Conway Castle, ate a plaice, and 
 returned to my head-quarters, which I now leave 
 for ever. I am unfortunately not very well ; my 
 chest seems somewhat the worse for my late 
 fatigues, and frequently gives me great pain j 
 ( mais n'importe.' 
 
 Craig y Don, August 9th, early. 
 Do you recollect this name ? It is the beau- 
 tiful villa which I described to you. I have since 
 become acquainted with its amiable possessor, 
 whose friendly invitation to spend my last night 
 in Wales with him I could not resist. The pain 
 in my chest prevented my taking more than short 
 walks in the garden with the son of my host j and 
 ii 2
 
 148 CONDITION OF ENGLISH GENTLEMEN. 
 
 the attempt to climb a high hill in the neigh- 
 bourhood made me so ill, that I was obliged to 
 amuse myself after dinner with reading the news- 
 paper. In this vast desert I met with only one 
 thing which I think worth quoting to you. The 
 article treated of the speech from the throne, in 
 which were the words, " The Speaker is command- 
 ed to congratulate the people on their universal 
 prosperity." This, says the writer, is too insolent, 
 openly to make a jest of the miseries of the people. 
 It is indeed a settled point, that truth is never to 
 be expected in a speech from the throne ; and if 
 ever a king were mad enough to wish to speak 
 the real truth on such an occasion, he must begin 
 his speech, "My knaves and dupes," instead 
 of the wonted exordium, " My Lords and Gen- 
 tlemen." 
 
 My host is a member of the yacht club, and a 
 passionate lover of the sea. Our dinner would 
 have contented the most rigid Catholic in Lent : 
 it consisted entirely of fish, admirably dressed in 
 various ways. An oyster-bank under his windows 
 contributed its inhabitants for our dessert ; the 
 cows grazing before the house also afforded many 
 delicacies ; and the hot-houses adjoining the 
 dining-room, delicious fruits. 
 
 Does it not do one good to think that perhaps
 
 ADVANTAGES OP ENGLAND. 149 
 
 not less than a hundred thousand persons in 
 England are in the enjoyment of such an exist- 
 ence as this; of such substantial and comfortable 
 luxury in their peaceful homes ? free monarchs 
 in the bosom of their families, where they live in 
 the security of their inviolable rights of property ! 
 Happy men ! they are never annoyed with the 
 oppressive missives of uncivil functionaries, who 
 want to rule everything, even in their drawing- 
 rooms and bed-chambers, and think they have 
 rendered the state an important service when they 
 have put the unhappy subject to an expense of 
 many thousand dollars in a year for unnecessary 
 postage; who are not contented to be placed 
 above the governed, but must place themselves 
 against them; thus uniting in their own persons 
 party and judge. Happy men ! free from assaults 
 on their purses, from personal indignities, from 
 the insolence of officials, eager to show their 
 power by useless and frivolous vexations, from 
 the avidity of insatiable blood-suckers! unre- 
 strained masters of their own property, and only 
 subject to those laws which themselves have con- 
 tributed to make ! When we reflect on this, we 
 must confess that England, though not a perfect 
 country, is a most fortunate one. We ought not, 
 therefore, to be much offended at Englishmen, if
 
 150 PARIS MINES. 
 
 feeling strongly the contrast between their own 
 country and most others, they can never, what- 
 ever be their courtesy and kindness, get over the 
 distance which separates them from foreigners. 
 Their feeling of self-respect, which is perfectly 
 just, is so powerful, that they involuntarily look 
 upon us as an inferior race. Just as we, for 
 example, in spite of all our German heartiness, 
 should find it difficult to fraternize with a Sand- 
 wich Islander. In some centuries we shall per- 
 haps change places ; but at present, unhappily, 
 we are a long way from that*. 
 
 Holyhead, August 9th. Evening. 
 
 I have had a bad night, a high fever, bad 
 
 weather, and rough roads. The latter misery I 
 
 incurred by choosing to visit the celebrated i Paris 
 
 mines ' in the Isle of Anglesea. This island is 
 
 * Nothing can be more ridiculous than the declamation 
 of German writers concerning the poverty which reigns in 
 England ; where, according to them, there are only a few 
 enormously rich, and crowds of extremely indigent. It is 
 precisely the extraordinary number of people of competent 
 fortune, and the ease with which the poorest can earn, not 
 only what is strictly necessary, but even some luxuries, if 
 he chooses to work vigorously, which make England inde- 
 pendent and happy. One must not indeed repeat after the 
 Opposition newspapers.
 
 SMELTING COPPER. 151 
 
 the complete reverse of Wales ; almost entirely 
 flat no trees, not even a thicket or hedge only 
 field after field. The copper-mines on the coast 
 are, however, interesting. My arrival having 
 
 been announced by Colonel H , I was received 
 
 with firing of cannon, which resounded wildly 
 from the caves beneath. I collected several beau- 
 tiful specimens of the splendid and many-coloured 
 ore : the lumps are broken small, thrown into 
 heaps, and set on fire like alum ore, and these 
 heaps left to burn for nine months : the smoke 
 is in part caught, and forms sulphur. It is 
 curious to the uninitiated, that during this nine 
 months' burning, which expels all the sulphur by 
 the force of the chemical affinity created by the 
 fire, the pure copper, previously distributed over 
 the whole mass, is concentrated, and forms a little 
 compact lump in the middle, like a kernel in a 
 nut-shell. After the burning, the copper, like 
 alum again, is washed ; and the water used for 
 the purpose is caught in little pools : the deposit 
 iu these contains from twenty-five to forty per 
 cent of copper ; and the remaining water is still 
 so strongly impregnated, that an iron key held in 
 it, in a few seconds assumes a brilliant copper 
 colour. 
 The ore is then repeatedly smelted, and at last
 
 152 SMELTING COPPER. 
 
 refined; after which it is formed into square 
 blocks, of a hundred pounds weight, for sale ; or 
 pressed by mills into sheets for sheathing vessels. 
 A singular circumstance is observable at the 
 founding, which is a pretty sight. The whole 
 mass flows into a sand-bed or matrix, divided 
 into eight or ten compartments, like an eating- 
 trough for several animals : the divisions do not 
 quite reach the height of the exterior edge ; so 
 that the liquid copper, which flows in at one end, 
 as soon as the plug is drawn out must fill the 
 first compartment before it reaches the second, 
 and so on. Now the strange thing is, that all 
 the pure copper which was contained in the 
 furnace remains in this first compartment, the 
 others are filled with slag, which is only used for 
 making roads. The reason is this : the copper 
 ore contains a portion of iron, which is magne- 
 tically affected : this holds the copper together, 
 and forces it to flow out first. Now as they know 
 pretty accurately, by experience, what proportion 
 of pure copper any given mass of ore will contain, 
 the size of these compartments is regulated so as 
 exactly to receive it. The manager, a clever man, 
 who spoke half Welsh half English, told me that 
 he had invented this manner of founding, which 
 spared much trouble, and that he had taken out a
 
 HDLYHEAD. 153 
 
 patent for it. The advantages which arise from 
 it are obvious j since without these divisions or 
 compartments, the copper, even if it flowed out 
 first, must afterwards have spread itself over the 
 whole mass. The Russians, who in matters of 
 trade and manufacture suffer nothing to pass 
 neglected, soon sent a traveller hither to make 
 himself master of the process. It was not in the 
 slightest degree concealed from him ; indeed it 
 is but justice to say that the masters of commer- 
 cial and manufacturing establishments in England 
 are generally very liberal. 
 
 While I was yet standing by the furnace, an 
 officer made his appearance, and in the name of 
 
 the brother of Colonel H , who is likewise a 
 
 Colonel, and commands a Hussar- regiment in 
 this neighbourhood, invited me to dine and spend 
 the night. I was, however, too tired and unwell 
 to venture on the exploit of a mess -dinner in 
 England ; where, in the provinces at least, the 
 wine is dealt out in right Old English measure. 
 I wished too to sail by the packet of tonight j 
 and therefore gratefully declined the invitation, 
 and took the road to Holyhead, where I arrived 
 at ten o'clock. * 
 
 My usual ill luck at sea did not permit me to 
 sail, the night was so rough that the packet 
 H 5
 
 154 HOLYHEAD LIGHT- HOUSE. 
 
 went off without passengers. I staid behind, not 
 very unwillingly, to take another day's rest in a 
 comfortable inn. 
 
 August 10th. 
 
 Ill and languid as I am, an excursion to the 
 newly built light-house, four miles from hence, 
 has given me extraordinary pleasure. Although 
 the Island of Anglesea appears very flat, its 
 picturesque craggy rocks rise on the western 
 shore to a very considerable height above the sea. 
 On one of these rocks which stands out to sea, 
 abrupt, and isolated, is placed the light-house. 
 This indescribably wild cliff is not only perpen- 
 dicular the summit actually projects several 
 hundred feet beyond the line of the base ; so that 
 it appears rather as if blasted by powder, than 
 the work of nature. Treading on a thick carpet 
 of yellow dwarf broom and crimson heath, you 
 reach the edge of the precipice : you then descend 
 four or five hundred steps, roughly hewn in the 
 rock, till you come to a little bridge suspended on 
 ropes : across this, holding by its net-work sides, 
 you swing, as it were, over the chasm which se- 
 parates this rock from the main land. Thousands 
 of sea-mews wheeled around us, uttering their 
 ceaseless melancholy wail to the storm. The 
 young ones were just fledged, and the parent
 
 DUBLIN. 155 
 
 birds took advantage of the rough weather to 
 exercise them. Nothing could be more graceful 
 and interesting than these flying lessons. The 
 young were easily distinguishable by their gray 
 colour and their yet unsteady flight ; while the 
 old ones hung poised sometimes for the space of 
 a minute without moving a wing, as if upborne 
 motionless by the storm. The young ones often 
 rested in the crevices of the rocks, but were soon 
 driven out to fresh exertions by their inexorable 
 parents. 
 
 The light-house is exactly like that which I 
 have described to you at Flamborough Head, on 
 the eastern coast of England, only without the 
 revolving lights. The neatness of the oil- vessels, 
 and the wonderful brightness of the mirror-like 
 reflectors were here, as there, most admirable. 
 I remarked an ingenious sort of rough-weather 
 window, which may be opened in the hardest 
 gale without trouble or danger of breaking ; and 
 a vertical stone staircase, like a saw, which saves 
 much room. But I cannot make you understand 
 either without a drawing. 
 
 Dublin, August llth. 
 
 A more unprosperous voyage it is hardly pos- 
 sible to have. I was ten hours tossed about, sick
 
 156 FIRST ASPECT OF IRELAND. 
 
 to death. The heat, the disgusting smell of the 
 steam-boiler, the universal sickness, it was a 
 frightful night a picture of human misery 
 worthy of Carl of Carlsberg. In a longer voyage 
 one gets hardened, and many new sources of 
 pleasure compensate for privations ; but short 
 voyages, which show only the dark side of the 
 picture, are my greatest aversion. Thank God 
 it's over, and I once more feel firm ground under 
 me; though I sometimes think Ireland rocks a 
 little. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 This country has more resemblance to Ger- 
 many than to England. That universal and 
 almost over-refined industry and culture dis- 
 appears here, and with it, alas ! English neat- 
 ness. The houses and streets have a dirty air, al- 
 though Dublin is adorned with many magnificent 
 palaces and broad straight streets. The lower 
 classes are in rags ; those somewhat higher, want 
 the English elegance ; while the variety of brilliant 
 uniforms, which are never seen in the streets of 
 London, still more strongly remind one of the 
 continent. The environs of the city have no 
 longer the accustomed freshness ; the soil is more 
 neglected, the grass and trees scantier. The 
 grand features of the landscape, however, the
 
 MONUMENTS IN DUBLIN. 157 
 
 bay, the distant mountains of Wicklow, the Hill 
 of Howth, the amphitheatrical mass of houses, the 
 quays, the harbour, are beautiful. Such, at least, 
 is the first impression. 
 
 I find myself, in the best inn in the city, less 
 comfortable than in the little town of Bangor. 
 The house is large, but seems silent and deserted; 
 while I remember that there, only during my 
 dinner, I saw fifteen carriages arrive, all of which 
 were necessarily sent away from the door. The 
 influx of strangers is so great along the high- 
 roads of England, that waiters in the inns are not 
 hired, but on the contrary, sometimes pay as 
 much as 300/. a year for their places. They 
 make a handsome profit, nevertheless, from the 
 fees they receive. In Ireland, we return to the 
 continental custom. 
 
 As soon as I had a little refreshed myself, I 
 took a walk through the city; in the course of 
 which I passed two rather tasteless monuments. 
 The one represents William of Orange on horse- 
 back, in Roman costume. Both man and horse 
 are deformed : the horse has a bit in his mouth, 
 and head-gear on, but no appearance of a bridle, 
 though the king's hand is stretched out exactly 
 as if he were holding one. Does this mean that 
 William wanted no rein to ride John Bull ?
 
 158 DUBLIN HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 
 
 The other monument is a colossal statue of 
 Nelson, standing on a high pillar and dressed in 
 a modern uniform. Behind him hangs a cable 
 which looks more like a pack-thread. The atti- 
 tude is devoid of dignity, and the figure is too 
 high to be distinctly seen. 
 
 I afterwards came to a large round building, 
 towards which the people crowded, keeping watch 
 on the outside. On inquiry, I learned that the 
 yearly exhibition of fruits and flowers was held 
 here. They were just taking away the former as 
 I entered; notwithstanding which, I saw many 
 very fine specimens. In the midst of the flowers, 
 which formed a sort of temple, there was an 
 inclosed space railed round for the fruits, which 
 twelve judges ate with great gravity and apparent 
 satisfaction. They must have been a long time 
 in coming to a decision ; for rinds of melons, 
 pears and apples, fragments of pines, stones of 
 plums, apricots and peaches, lay in mountains on 
 the table beneath \ and although the flowers were 
 all gradually removed by the proprietors, I did 
 not see that any of the fruits found their way out 
 of this temple of Pomona. 
 
 August 12th. 
 
 As I knew not what else to do (for all the 
 ' notables ' who inhabit the town were in the
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE. 159 
 
 country), I visited a number of 'show places.' 
 First the Castle, where the vice- King resides, and 
 whose miserable state- apartments with coarsely 
 boarded floors do not offer anything very attrac- 
 tive. A modern Gothic chapel, the exterior of 
 which is a deceptive imitation of antiquity, is 
 more worth seeing : the interior is decorated 
 with splendid Italian painted glass, of the fifteenth 
 century \ and richly ornamented with modern 
 carvings in wood, of truly antique beauty. The 
 whole chapel is heated by pipes of hot air ; and 
 a passage, warmed in the same manner and car- 
 petted, connects it with the Lord Lieutenant's 
 apartments. 
 
 In the extensive and beautiful buildings be- 
 longing to the University a student acted as my 
 cicerone. These young men, when within the 
 precincts of the college, are obliged to wear, over 
 their usual clothes, a black mantle, and a strange 
 high cap with tassels three quarters of an ell 
 long, which gives them a rather grotesque ap- 
 pearance. This dress is as rigorously adhered to, 
 as at one time a pig-tail and powder were by 
 Saxon staff- officers. 
 
 The young man took me into the Museum ; 
 showed me the burning-glass with which Archi- 
 medes set fire to the Roman fleet ! Ossian's
 
 160 TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 harp * 5 a stuffed Indian chieftain, with toma- 
 hawk and spear ; and some fragments of pillars 
 from the Giant's Causeway, which could not be 
 more accurately formed by the hand of man, and 
 which ring like English glass. f Je vous fais grace 
 du reste.' 
 
 In the great hall in which the examinations 
 are held, (the student told me this with a slight 
 shudder,) stands a Spanish organ, built for the 
 grand Armada, Much more interesting are the 
 portraits of Swift and Burke : both physiogno- 
 mies express the known qualities of the men. The 
 one has an expression as acute and sarcastic as it 
 is native and original : the other, full of intellect 
 and power, somewhat blunt, but yet benevolent 
 and honest, announces the thundering orator who 
 contended sincerely and without reserve for his 
 opinion, but never glossed over his own interest 
 with affected enthusiasm for others. 
 
 After visiting the Courts of Justice, the Cus- 
 tom-house, and other magnificent buildings, I was 
 going home, when I was tempted by the advertise- 
 ment of a ' Peristrephic Panorama ' of the battle 
 of Navarino. This is a very amusing sight ; and 
 gives so clear an idea of that ' untoward event,' 
 
 * Probably presented by Macpherson himself. EDITOR.
 
 BATTLE OF NAVAR1NO. 161 
 
 that one may console one's self for not having 
 been there. You enter a small theatre, the cur- 
 tain draws up, and behind it are discovered the 
 pictures which represent, in a grand whole, the 
 series of the several incidents of the fight. The 
 canvass does not hang straight down, but is 
 stretched in a convex semicircle, and moved off 
 slowly upon rollers, so that the pictures are 
 changed almost imperceptibly, and without any 
 break between scene and scene. A man describes 
 aloud the objects represented; and the distant 
 thunder of cannon, military music and the noise 
 of the battle, increase the illusion. By means 
 of panoramic painting, and a slight undulation 
 of that part which represents the waves and the 
 ships, the imitation almost reaches reality. 
 
 The first scene represents the bay of Navarino 
 with the whole Turkish fleet in order of battle. 
 At the opposite extremity of the bay is seen Old 
 Navarino and its fortress perched on a high rock ; 
 on the side of it the village of Pylos, and in the 
 foreground the city of Navarino with Ibrahim's 
 camp, where groups of fine horses and beautiful 
 Greek prisoners surrounded by their captors, 
 attract the eye. In the distance, just at the ex- 
 tremity of the horizon, the allied fleets are faintly 
 descried. This picture slowly disappears, and
 
 162 THEATRE. 
 
 is succeeded by the open sea; the entrance to 
 the bay of Navarino then gradually succeeds. You 
 distinguish the armed men on the rocks, and at 
 length see the allied fleet forcing the passage. 
 By some optical deception everything appears of 
 its natural sizej and the spectator seems to be 
 placed in the Turkish position in the bay, and 
 to see the admiral's ship, the Asia, bearing down 
 upon him with all sails set. You see Admiral 
 Codrington on the deck in conversation with the 
 captain. The other vessels follow in extending 
 lines and with swelling sails, as if ready for the 
 attack ; a glorious sight ! Next follow the sepa- 
 rate engagements of the several ships, the explo- 
 sion of a fireship, and the sinking of some Turkish 
 frigates. Lastly, the engagement between the 
 Asia and the Egyptian admiral's ship on the one 
 side, and the Turkish on the other, both of which, 
 as you know, sank after an obstinate defence of 
 many hours. 
 
 The battle is succeeded by some views of Con- 
 stantinople, which give a very lively idea of Asiatic 
 scenes and habits. 
 
 In the evening I visited the theatre ; a very 
 pretty house, with a somewhat less rough and 
 obstreporous audience than those of London. 
 The actors were not bad, though none of them
 
 PHOENIX PARK. 163 
 
 rose above mediocrity. Numerous uniforms were 
 intermingled among the ladies in the lower tier of 
 boxes, which seemed to be elegantly filled. The 
 higher classes, however, as I am told, seldom visit 
 the theatre here, any more than in London. 
 
 August 13th. 
 
 Having seen enough of the city, I have begun 
 my rides in the neighbourhood, which is much 
 more beautiful than its appearance at my first 
 approach, on the least favourable side, led me to 
 expect. A road commanding charming views, 
 first of the bay, which is intersected by a mole 
 five miles in length, and bounded at either ex- 
 tremity by the two light-houses of Dublin and 
 Howth, rising like columns in the distance ; then 
 of the mountains of Wicklow, some clothed with 
 wood, some rising like sugar-loaves high above 
 the others, and leading along an avenue of noble 
 elms by the side of a canal, brought me to the 
 Phoanix Park, the Prater of Dublin, which in no 
 respect yields to that of Vienna, whether we 
 regard its expanse of beautiful turf for riding, 
 long avenues for driving, or shady walks. A large 
 but ill-proportioned obelisk is erected here to the 
 Duke of Wellington. I found the park rather 
 empty, but the streets through which I returned
 
 164 IRISH CHARACTER. 
 
 full of movement and bustle. The dirt, the po- 
 verty, and the ragged clothing of the common 
 people often exceed all belief. Nevertheless they 
 seem always good-natured, and sometimes have 
 fits of merriment in the open streets which border 
 on madness ; whiskey is generally at the bottom 
 of this. I saw a half-naked lad dance the national 
 dance in the market-place so long, and with such 
 violent exertion, that at last he fell down sense- 
 less amid the cheers of the spectators, totally ex- 
 hausted, like a Mohammedan dervise. 
 
 The streets are crowded with beggar- boys, who 
 buzz around one like flies, incessantly offering 
 their services. Notwithstanding their extreme 
 poverty, you may trust implicity to their ho- 
 nesty ; and wretched, lean, and famished as they 
 appear, you see no traces of melancholy on their 
 open, good-natured countenances. They are the 
 best-bred and most contented beggar-boys in the 
 world. Such a little fellow will run by your 
 horse's side for hours, hold it when you alight, 
 go on any errand you like ; and is not only con- 
 tented with the few pence you give him, but full 
 of gratitude, which he expresses with Irish hyper- 
 bole. The Irishman appears generally more pa- 
 tient than his neighbours, but somewhat degraded 
 by long slavery.
 
 IRISH CHARACTER. 165 
 
 I was witness among other things to this : A 
 young man had pasted up a wrong play-bill on a 
 wall : the manager of the theatre came up and hit 
 him a slap on the face, and otherwise ill-treated 
 him, without his making any resistance ; an 
 Englishman would have made instant reprisals. 
 
 I passed the evening in the family circle of an 
 old acquaintance, a brother of the Lord-lieutenant, 
 who was just come to town for a few days. We 
 talked over old times, as we had been much to- 
 gether in London. He has a remarkable talent 
 for imitating the late Kemble, whom he resembles 
 in person. I thought I saw Coriolanus and Zanga 
 again. 
 
 August 14th. 
 
 Another friend, of yet older date, Mr. W , 
 
 to whom I had once an opportunity of rendering 
 some service in Vienna, paid me a visit this 
 morning, and offered me his country-house as a 
 residence. He had scarcely quitted me, when I 
 
 was told that Lady B , an Irish ( peeress', 
 
 and one of the most beautiful women in the 
 country, whose acquaintance I had cultivated 
 during the last season in the metropolis, was in 
 her carriage below, and wished to speak to me. 
 As I was still in the most absolute f negligeV, I 
 told the waiter, (a perfect f Jocrisse', whose ' Irish
 
 166 fc CHARACTER" IN ENGLISH. 
 
 blunders' daily amuse me,) that I was not dressed, 
 as be saw, but that I would be ready immediately, 
 He announced the state of my toilet ; but added, 
 e de son chef, that "my Lady had better come 
 up/' Imagine my astonishment when he came 
 
 back and told me that Lady B had laughed 
 
 very much, and had bid him say that she would 
 willingly wait, but that to pay gentlemen morning 
 visits in their chambers was not the custom in 
 Ireland. 
 
 In this answer appeared the cordial, frank, and 
 good-natured character of the true Irishwoman, 
 which I had already learned to love and admire. 
 A prudish Englishwoman would have driven away 
 in high displeasure, and perhaps have ruined the 
 reputation of a "young man for such a ' qui pro 
 quo' as this: for in English society people do not 
 only stumble at things which in other countries 
 produce quite a contrary effect; but the f it is said' 
 in the mouth of an influential person is a two- 
 edged sword. f He has a bad character*,' is 
 sufficient to shut a hundred doors against a 
 
 * Character, in England, means, (most characteristically, 
 in a country where appearance has more weight than in any 
 other,) not the result or sum of a man's moral and intel- 
 lectual qualities, but his reputation, what is said of him. 
 EDITOR.
 
 W PARK. 167 
 
 A 
 
 stranger. An Englishman is much less guided by 
 his own observation than is generally imagined : 
 he always attaches himself to some party, with 
 whose eyes he sees. 
 
 In the afternoon I went to dine at my friend's 
 villa. The road was very agreeable. It began 
 with the Phoenix Park, and followed the course of 
 the Liffey, the river which flows through Dublin, 
 where its beautiful quays, stone and iron bridges, 
 add so much to the embellishment of the town. 
 Here it has a rural and romantic character, bor- 
 dered with the broad leaves of the tussilago, and 
 inclosed by soft hills and verdant thickets. I 
 asked a beggar whom I met, how far it was to 
 
 W park, and whether the road continued 
 
 equally beautiful all the way. f Long life to your 
 honour ! ' exclaimed he, with Irish patriotism, 
 e only keep right on, and you never saw anything 
 more beautiful in this world ! ' 
 
 The entrance to W park is indeed the 
 
 most delightful in its kind that can be imagined. 
 Scenery, by nature most beautiful, is improved 
 by art to the highest degree of its capability ; and 
 without destroying its free and wild character, a 
 variety and richness of vegetation is produced 
 which enchant the eye. Gay shrubs and wild 
 flowers, the softest turf and giant trees festooned
 
 168 SUMMER-HOUSE. 
 
 with creeping plants, fill the narrow glen through 
 which the path winds by the side of the clear 
 dancing brook; falling in little cataracts, it flows 
 on, sometimes hidden in the thicket, sometimes 
 resting like liquid silver in an emerald cup, or 
 rushing under overhanging arches of rock, which 
 nature seems to have hung there as triumphal 
 gates for the beneficent naiad of the valley to 
 pass through. As soon as you leave the glen, 
 the enchantment suddenly ceases : the rest in no 
 respect answers your high-raised expectations. 
 Scanty grass, stunted trees and thick stagnant 
 water, surround a small Gothic castle, which looks 
 like a poor scene in a play. In it, however, you 
 find some interestingobjects: among others, some 
 good pictures ; and the best and most cordial host 
 that man can desire. I must also mention a 
 curious ' pavilion rustique ' which is built in a 
 suitable spot in the ' pleasure-ground.' It is 
 hexagonal, three sides solid, and fashioned of 
 pieces of rough branches of trees very prettily 
 arranged in various patterns ; the other three 
 consist of two windows and a door. The floor is 
 covered with a mosaic of little pebbles from the 
 brook, the ceiling with shells, and the roof is 
 thatched with wheat straw, on which the full ears 
 are left.
 
 THE THREE ROCKS. 169 
 
 August 15th. 
 
 Although my chest continues to give me pain, 
 and my doctor sometimes makes solemn faces, I 
 go on with my expeditions, which afford me great 
 pleasure. 
 
 I had already fixed a longing eye on one of 
 three hills, four or five miles from the city, on 
 the summit of which stands three distinct upright 
 masses of rock, from which it takes its name, 
 ' The Three Rocks.' The view from it must needs 
 be beautiful. I got up, therefore, earlier than 
 usual, that I might reach the top in good time : 
 I asked repeatedly in the villages through which 
 I passed, which was the best way, but could never 
 get a distinct answer. At length I was assured 
 by the inhabitants of a house at the foot of the 
 hu% that I could not ride up, and must dismount. 
 This in the present state of my chest was not 
 practicable; but as I have long learned what 
 people's impossibilities are, I took the path they 
 showed me, on horseback, without hesitation. I 
 could safely trust my little compact mare, for 
 the Irish horses climb over rocks or walls like 
 cats. For some time I followed a tolerably beaten 
 footpath, and when this ceased, the dry bed of a 
 mountain stream, along which I rode without 
 much difficulty for about two miles. I now found 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 170 IRISH PEASANT- WOMEN. 
 
 myself on a large and naked ' plateau', and saw 
 the three rocks, like witches' stones, rearing their 
 heads before me. The intervening space, how- 
 ever, seemed an impassable bog. I tried it very 
 cautiously, and found a shingly bottom at about 
 eight or ten inches under the boggy soil. This 
 continued all the way; till after some time I 
 reached firm ground, and stood upon the highest 
 point. The wished-for prospect lay before me : 
 Ireland, like a map; Dublin, like a smoking lime- 
 kiln in the green plain (for the coal- smoke did 
 not allow me to distinguish one single building) ; 
 the bay with its light-houses; the boldly marked 
 headland of Howth; and on the other side the 
 mountains of Wicklow, stretching away to the 
 horizon, lay beneath me bathed in sun-light, and 
 rewarded me for all my fatigue. 
 
 But the scene was yet further animated by a 
 sweet-looking young woman, whom I discovered 
 in this wild solitude, busied in the humble employ- 
 ment of straw-platting. The natural grace of the 
 Irish peasant-women, who are often truly beau- 
 tiful, is as surprising as their dress, or rather 
 their want of dress; for though it was very cold on 
 these hills, the whole clothing of the young woman 
 before me consisted of a large very coarse straw 
 hat, and literally two or three rags of the coarsest
 
 IRISH PEASANT- WOMEN. 171 
 
 sackcloth suspended under the breast by a piece 
 of cord, and more than half disclosing her hand- 
 some person. Her conversation was cheerful, 
 sportive and witty; perfectly unembarrassed, and 
 in a certain sense free; but you would fall into a 
 great error if you inferred from that, any levity 
 or looseness of conduct. 
 
 The women of this class in Ireland are, almost 
 universally, extremely chaste, and still more dis- 
 interested. If one of them ever strays from the 
 path of virtue, she is very rarely seduced by those 
 considerations of gain which are so degrading, 
 and, in such matters, so unnatural. 
 
 After I had descended the mountain on the 
 other side, leading my horse, who scrambled after 
 me as well as he could, I reached the high road, 
 and came upon an open park gate, (for in this also 
 Ireland resembles the Continent, where every pro- 
 prietor, from the king to the humble country gen- 
 tleman, enhances his own enjoyment by sharing 
 it with the public,) and rode in. I soon gave up 
 the enterprise, however, on seeing two gigantic 
 capuchins with gown and cross cut out of painted 
 boards, standing in a cross way, and each of them 
 holding a book on which was written, (f To the 
 Pheasantry," " To the Abbey." Such bad taste 
 is rare here. 
 
 i 2
 
 172 ENGLISH SINECURES. 
 
 In the street I met a London ' dandy', who 
 called out to me, (for I did not recognise him,) 
 laughed heartily at our meeting ( in such a horrid 
 place', ran on for some time in a satirical vein on 
 Dublin society, and at last concluded by inform- 
 ing me, that through the influence of his family 
 he had just obtained a place here, which, indeed, 
 brought him in 2000/. a-year, and gave him no- 
 thing to do, but which compelled him ' pro forma ' 
 to pass a part of every year in this ( shocking ' 
 abode. With such, and even much richer sine- 
 cures, are the younger sons of the English aristo- 
 cracy provided in countless numbers, and in all 
 parts of the empire. I think, however, that even 
 here, the pitcher will not always go to the well 
 without breaking; though I must confess that 
 these defects in the English government, com- 
 pared with the arbitrary power exercised in other 
 states, are but spots on the sun. 
 
 I of course entirely except Ireland, which 
 appears to experience, in almost every instance, 
 a stepmother's care ; which contributes largely 
 to the power and splendour of the English nobi^ 
 lity, without receiving back the smallest portion 
 of those advantages of which England receives so 
 much.
 
 LADY M . 173 
 
 August 18th. 
 
 Your letters are still so melancholy, dear Julia, 
 
 ********* 
 
 #=' * * * * * * * - 
 
 You see, then, that it is not events themselves, so 
 much as your own view of them, which years 
 have tinged with a more gloomy colour. But 
 alas ! this is the most irremediable of all evils ! 
 We are not what we were ; and the one eternal 
 and universal error remains, that we think we 
 can help ourselves by an exertion of strength, 
 when the strength is no longer there : as soon 
 can we be, or look, young again ! I too begin to 
 feel traces of this, but only there, where the 
 world lays its fetters around me ; when alone 
 with God and nature, the gloomiest horizon has 
 no power to darken my inner sun. 
 
 I accompanied Lady B , of whom I have 
 
 already spoken, to breakfast today at the country- 
 house of a much admired young lady. 
 
 I declined staying to dinner, and hastened back 
 
 to town to call on Lady M , to whom I had a 
 
 letter of introduction, and who had already sent 
 me a polite invitation which I had not been able 
 to accept. I was very eager to make the ac- 
 quaintance of a woman whom I rate so highly as 
 an authoress. I found her, however, very dif-
 
 1?4 LADY M . 
 
 ferent from what I had pictured her to myself. 
 She is a little, frivolous, lively woman, apparently 
 between thirty and forty, neither pretty nor ugly, 
 but by no means disposed to resign all claim to 
 the former, and with really fine and expressive 
 eyes. She has no idea of * mauvaise honte ' or 
 embarrassment; her manners are not the most 
 refined, and affect the s aisance ' and levity of the 
 fashionable world, which, however, do not sit 
 calmly or naturally upon her. She has the En- 
 glish weakness, that of talking incessantly of 
 fashionable acquaintances, and trying to pass for 
 very ' recherche',' to a degree quite unworthy of a 
 woman of such distinguished talents j she is> not 
 at all aware how she thus underrates herself. 
 
 She is not difficult to know, for with more viva- 
 city than good taste, she instantly professes perfect 
 openness, and especially sets forth on every occa- 
 sion her liberalism and her infidelity; the latter 
 of the somewhat obsolete school of Helvetius 
 and Condillac. In her writings she is far more 
 guarded and dignified than in her conversation. 
 The satire of the latter is, however, not less biting 
 and dexterous than that of her pen, and just as 
 little remarkable for a conscientious regard to 
 truth. You may think that with all these elements 
 two hours flew rapidly away. I had enthusiasm
 
 DISASTER. 175 
 
 enough to be able to utter some 'a propos' which 
 pleased her, and she treated me with marked atten- 
 tion : first, because I happen to have a distinguished 
 title; and secondly, because she had seen my name 
 as dancing at Almacks, and as present at several 
 "fetes' of the great leaders of Ton a circumstance 
 which appeared so important in her eyes, that she 
 repeatedly recurred to it. 
 
 August 20th. 
 Yesterday evening I was engaged to a ' soiree ' 
 
 at Lord C 's, the head of a new family, but 
 
 one of the oldest ' wits ' of Dublin. I was invited 
 
 to accompany his friend Lady M , but was 
 
 prevented by a tragi-comical incident. I had 
 
 ridden out to visit Mr. L at his country-seat 
 
 (a trouble which between ourselves neither he nor 
 his family deserved), and it was late when I set 
 out on my return. To save time, I took my way 
 across the country, f a la Seidlitz.' For some 
 miles all went on capitally, till just at twilight I 
 came to a very wide ditch, the opposite bank of 
 which was considerably lower than the one on 
 which I stood, and surrounded a broad meadow. 
 I leaped into this inclosure ; but on trying to get 
 out on the other side, my horse refused, and all 
 my efforts to bring him to obedience were vain. 
 I alighted to lead him, mounted again to try to
 
 176 DISASTER. 
 
 leap him at another place, tried fair means and 
 foal ; all equally in vain : till at length he made 
 an awkward attempt at a leap, fell with me 
 into the muddy water, and with some difficulty 
 scrambled back again to the inner und lower 
 bank. All hope of getting out of the enchanted 
 spot in which I was caught as in a mouse- trap, 
 was now lost : it was become quite dark, I was 
 wet through, and extremely heated j and was at 
 last obliged to come to the determination of leav- 
 ing my horse, getting over the fatal ditch, ' tant 
 bien que mal,' on foot, and seeking help and 
 shelter where I could. The moon came kindly 
 from behind the clouds, and aided me with her 
 welcome light. After a most toilsome walk of 
 half an hour over ploughed land and through high 
 wet grass, I reached a miserable hut, in which 
 everybody was already asleep. I walked in (for 
 the houses here are never fastened) j a couple of 
 pigs grunted under my feet, and near them lay 
 the master of the house. With some difficulty I 
 made him understand my request, which I en- 
 forced by jingling some silver close to his ear. 
 This universal language awakened him more ef- 
 fectually than my invocations ; he sprang up, 
 called a comrade, and went out to my ' Didone 
 abbandonata'. Irishmen are never at a loss for
 
 LADY M . 177 
 
 expedients : they found a broken and deserted 
 wooden bridge near at hand, laid it across the 
 ditch, and I at length found myself on the high 
 road with my liberated steed. I reached home so 
 late, and in such a plight, that I desired nothing 
 
 but rest, and was sorry to hear that Lady M 
 
 had been to fetch me, and had driven away in 
 great vexation an hour ago. 
 
 The next morning I went to make my excuses. 
 She pardoned me graciously, but assured me that 
 I had lost a great deal, for that all the rank and 
 fashion of the town were there. I assured her 
 with great sincerity that I regretted nothing but 
 the loss of her society, but that I hoped to be in- 
 demnified for that as soon as I had made my 
 ' sentimental journey ' to the county Wicklow, 
 for which my German romantic soul ardently 
 thirsted, and which I intended to commence the 
 following morning on horseback. The conversa- 
 tion became very gay, for she likes that ; and at 
 last ended so petulantly, that she exclaimed, 
 i Finissez ! ' when you come back I shall receive 
 you just like an elder sister : to which I answered, 
 laughing, ( That I cannot agree to ; je craindrais 
 
 le sort d'Abufar.' Addressed to Lady M 
 
 this was certainly rather a ' fade ' joke. 
 
 The continuation of my adventures you will 
 i5
 
 178 
 
 LADY M- 
 
 receive from the midst of rocks and mountains. 
 Adieu ! may Heaven send you serenity and peace, 
 and may every word of my letters whisper to you, 
 ' true love till death/ 
 
 Your L .
 
 ENGLISH PIETY. 179 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 August 22nd, 1828. 
 BELOVED JULIA, 
 
 ABOUT noon I quitted Dublin entirely alone, com- 
 fortably established on my good steed. I left my 
 carriage and people in the town, and sent a little 
 travelling bag, containing my most necessary ef- 
 fects, before me by the stage-coach. Unfortu- 
 nately, however, this was changed by mistake; and 
 though I waited for it a whole day and night in 
 Bray, only twenty miles from Dublin, it did not 
 overtake me : rather than go back or wait longer, 
 I bought a Scotch cloak and some linen in Bray, 
 and entered on my tour quite after the fashion 
 of a German student. I supped with a young 
 parson of good family, who made me laugh 
 heartily at his orthodoxy in matters of religion, 
 interspersed with talk which was by no means 
 remarkable for severe decorum or virtue. But 
 auch is the piety of Englishmen, it is to them 
 at once a party matter, and an affair of good 
 manners ; and as in politics they follow their party 
 implicitly, through thick and thin, reasonable and
 
 180 ENGLISH PIETY. 
 
 unreasonable, because it in their party j as they 
 submit to a custom for ever, because it is a custom; 
 so they regard their religion (without the least 
 tincture of poetry) in exactly the same point of 
 view : they go to church on Sundays, just as re- 
 gularly as they dress every day for dinner ; and 
 regard a man who neglects church, just in the 
 same light as one who eats fish with a knife*. 
 
 Accompanied by the young divine, who was 
 travelling the same way for some distance, I left 
 Bray at five o'clock in the morning. In a most 
 lovely country we passed Kilruddery, a newly 
 built seat of the Earl of Meath, in the style of 
 the houses of Elizabeth's time ; in this case the 
 masses are not sufficiently large to produce a good 
 effect. The park is not very extensive, but long and 
 narrow ; the gardens, in the old French taste, are 
 very celebrated ; but, probably owing to our un- 
 pretending appearance, we were most discourte- 
 ously denied admittance. In England this is com- 
 mon enough, but rare in Ireland, and gave no 
 very favourable impression of the philanthropy of 
 
 * The common people in England put the knife as well as 
 the fork to their mouths. The higher classes, on the con- 
 trary, regard this as the true sin against the Holy Ghost, 
 and cross themselves internally when they see a foreign 
 Ambassador now and then eat so ; it is an affront to the 
 whole nation.
 
 GLEN OF THE DOWNS. 181 
 
 possessor. My companion, who is an adherent of 
 ' la grace efficace/ that is to say, who is firmly 
 persuaded that God, from all eternity, predestined 
 his favourites for heaven, and others who pleased 
 him less for hell, made no doubt, in his wrath, 
 that the Lord of Kilruddery belonged to the latter 
 category. " It is a disgrace to an Irishman !" ex- 
 claimed he, angrily; and I had some difficulty in 
 making him understand the duty of tolerance. 
 
 A second park, Bellevue, the property of a 
 worthy old gentleman, readily opened its gates 
 to us. Here is a summer-house which seems to 
 hang in the air, and overlooks the ' Glen of the 
 Downs,' a deep valley, behind which- two extinct 
 volcanoes rear their conical heads. The summer- 
 house had just been prettily covered with purple 
 heather. A less happy thought was a stuffed 
 tiger, lying as if alive in the ante-room. 
 
 My travelling chaplain here quitted me, and I 
 rode alone to the vale of Durwan, where, in a 
 narrow romantic pass, stands a rock, eighty or a 
 hundred feet high, shaped in the rude outline of 
 the human figure. The country people, who relate 
 many wondrous stories about it, call it the Giant. 
 Not far from it are the ruins of a castle, so entirely 
 overgrown with ivy that you must approach very 
 near to distinguish it from the surrounding trees.
 
 182 DEVIL'S GLEN. 
 
 At the end of the valley the path winds to a con- 
 siderable height over fields, which command a 
 most exquisite view. I looked across the sea, 
 and saw, almost with a feeling of home sickness, 
 the Welsh mountains in the blue distance. 
 
 After having refreshed myself with bread and 
 milk in a little country inn, I took my way to the 
 e Devil's Glen,' which merits the name it bears. 
 The wild scene opens with a Gothic castle whose 
 blackened walls rise above the surrounding wood : 
 you then plunge into a glen the sides of which 
 gradually rise higher and higher, and are more 
 and more contracted, while the moaning breeze 
 rustles louder through the dark thicket, and the 
 torrent roars more fearfully. I rode on with 
 difficulty over the slippery earth, incessantly an- 
 noyed by the overhanging boughs, and suddenly 
 found the path terminated by a magnificent cas- 
 cade, which plunges headlong over lofty crags and 
 disappears foaming in the bottom. If not the devil 
 himself, it is at least Kuhleborn. 
 
 Most agreeable is the change from this awful 
 glen to the lovely sylvan valley of Rosanna, where 
 I ate my mid- day repast under the shade of high 
 ash-trees. I found two regular English tourists, 
 armed with hortus siccus and hammers. They 
 had resided here for some weeks, during which
 
 AVONDALE. 183 
 
 time they had had the clean table-cloth removed 
 from the dirty table, and remained sitting an hour 
 at dessert, with exactly the same punctuality as in 
 a London coffee-house, though they had miserable 
 sloe-juice instead of claret, and roasted apples 
 instead of ripe fruit. 
 
 At seven o'clock I mounted my horse again, 
 galloped ten miles along the main road, and just 
 before sunset reached the exquisitely beautiful 
 Avondale. In this paradise every possible charm 
 is united. A wood which appears of measureless 
 extent, two noble rivers, rocks of every variety of 
 picturesque form, the greenest meadows, the most 
 varied and luxuriant shrubberies and thickets; in 
 short, scenery changing at every step, yet never 
 diminishing in beauty. The last time I traversed 
 the valley it was moonlight, and I should have 
 found my way with difficulty but for a young man 
 whom I met returning from shooting ; with true 
 Irish kindness and courtesy he accompanied me at 
 least three miles on foot, far beyond the most in- 
 tricate parts. The night was extremely clear and 
 mild, the sky as blue as by day, and the moon 
 lustrous as a gem. Though I lost something in ex- 
 tent of view, I gained perhaps more by the magic 
 light which was diffused through the atmosphere ; 
 by the darker and more fantastic ' contours' of
 
 184 AVONDALE. 
 
 the rocks, the thought-pregnant stillness, and the 
 sweetly-awful loneliness of night. 
 
 At ten o'clock I reached the end of my day's 
 journey, Avoca Inn; where I found very tolerable 
 accommodation, kind and hearty attendance, and 
 moderate charges. I met another English tourist 
 in the eating-room ; but this was a high- spirited 
 and interesting young man, who fully sympathized 
 in my rapture at the enchanting country, and 
 with whom I talked away a very pleasant hour at 
 tea, before I sat down to write to you. But now 
 good night, for mountain travelling demands early 
 rising. 
 
 Roundwood, August 23rd. 
 
 Yesterday I rode eight German miles, today 
 nine; and my chest is not at all the worse. 
 Pleasure is an excellent restorative ; and I have 
 seen so many varied objects, that these few days 
 appear to me like so many weeks. 
 
 I had slept well, though the broken windows 
 of my chamber were only repaired with pillows. 
 My humble lodging was succeeded by a better 
 breakfast, and my horse was excellently taken 
 care of. I ride like the Arabs, either at a gallop* 
 
 * Neither the French nor Germans have a word corre- 
 sponding to our canter, which the author probably means 
 here. TRANSL.
 
 MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 185 
 
 or a foot pace : this fatigues one the least, and 
 gets over the most ground. My first excursion 
 was to the celebrated i Meeting of the Waters/ 
 where the two rivers Avon-beg and Avon-more 
 unite their streams. They have chosen the most 
 picturesque spot in which to celebrate their nup- 
 tial feast. 
 
 On a rock on this side stands Castle Howard, 
 with its numerous towers and battlements, which, 
 unluckily, were but just finished, and on a near 
 approach lost all their imposing effect. I found 
 the castle still buried in sleep ; and a servant in 
 his shirt showed me the pictures, among which 
 is a splendid portrait of Mary Stuart. This must 
 be a speaking likeness : it is clearly a cotemporary 
 painting ; and the captivating, truly French face, 
 with the delicate nose, the bewitching mouth, the 
 languishing fire of the eyes ; and that indescriba- 
 ble, inimitable expression, which, without making 
 any direct advance, yet somehow inspires courage j 
 and though not devoid of womanly dignity, yet 
 at the first glance bespeaks confidence and in- 
 timacy, all convince one that thus the woman 
 must have looked, whom scarcely any man could 
 approach nearly, however widely severed by in- 
 equality of rank, without soon assuming the cha- 
 racter of a lover. Her hands are exquisite j and
 
 186 BALLY-ARTHUR. 
 
 in her dress, although of the 'barroque' style of 
 that age, there reigns such harmony, that one is 
 instantly convinced she was not less skilled in the 
 arts of the toilet than her country-women of the 
 present day. 
 
 An excellent road leads from this place through 
 the f entire vale ' to the park of Bally- Arthur. 
 The peculiar characteristic of this valley is, that 
 the hills on either side are clothed with such 
 impenetrable beech-woods that there is no visible 
 interval between the masses, and it really looks 
 as if you could ride on the tops of the trees. I 
 here quitted the road, and followed a foot-path 
 in the thicket which led me to a very beautiful 
 view: at the termination of the long glen, the 
 towers of Arklow appeared as if set in a frame. 
 About a mile and a half further on, the path 
 suddenly ends in a ha-ha, over which my horse 
 utterly refused to leap. As the wall was on my 
 side, and the turf below very soft, I hit upon a 
 new expedient: I tied my handkerchief over the 
 eyes of the refractory beast, and pushed him down 
 backwards over the wall. He was very little 
 frightened and not at all hurt by the fall, as I had 
 expected, and grazed peaceably blindfold till I 
 rejoined him. This manoeuvre saved me at least 
 five miles.
 
 AVOCA. 187 
 
 The new park in which I now found myself 
 for all this part of the country is a continued 
 pleasure-ground, belonged to Shelton Abbey, a 
 modern piece of Gothicry, intended to represent 
 an old abbey. The possessors had been absent 
 for years ; and a negro who was at work in the 
 garden showed me the rooms!, in which are some 
 very interesting pictures. The hero of one is the 
 great-grandfather of the possessor ; the scene in 
 Italy, and the costume, as well as the manners 
 represented, most strange and even revolting. 
 The civil negro led me across the fields and 
 through a pretty deep ford in the river (whose 
 ice-cold waters did not seem to alarm him) to the 
 town of Arklow, whence I returned along the 
 high road to dinner at Avoca Inn. In the course 
 of my ride I ascended another hill, from which I 
 looked down into three distinct valleys, the con- 
 trasted character of which afforded a most sin- 
 gular view. Scarcely had I seated myself at table 
 (at Avoca), when I was told that some one wish- 
 ed to speak to me. A young man, whom I had 
 never seen, was shown in, and presented to me a 
 pocket-book, which, to my no small astonishment, 
 I recognised as my own ; containing, besides 
 other important papers which I always carry 
 about me, all the money I had taken for my
 
 188 f A GENTLEMAN.' 
 
 journey. I had, Lord knows how, dropped it out 
 of my breast-pocket in the summer-house 3 and 
 had, therefore, no small reason to congratulate 
 myself on so honourable and obliging a finder. 
 In England I should hardly have had the good 
 fortune to see my pocket-book again, even if f a 
 gentleman* had found it; he would probably 
 have let it lie in peace, or kept it. 
 
 I must here take occasion to explain to you 
 what this far-famed epithet f gentleman ' means, 
 since the signification affixed to it is inimitably 
 characteristic of the English. 
 
 ( A gentleman ' is neither a man of noble birth, 
 nor a man of noble sentiments (iveder ein Edel- 
 mann noch ein edler Mann neither a Nobleman 
 nor a noble man) ; but, in strictness*, a man of 
 independent means and perfect knowledge of the 
 usages of good society. He who serves or works 
 for the public in any way, (the higher functionaries 
 of the state, and here and there a poet or artist of 
 the first category only excepted,) is ' no gentle- 
 man,' or at best only a half a one. I was greatly 
 astonished at hearing a certain well-known per- 
 sonage, with whom all lovers of horses, native and 
 foreign, are well acquainted ; who is rich, who is 
 
 * In a more loose and general sense, every man of respect- 
 able appearance is called a gentleman.
 
 ( NO GENTLEMAN/ 189 
 
 on a footing of intimacy with many Dukes and 
 Lords, and enjoys great consideration, but who 
 presides at a weekly auction of horses (thereby 
 doing useful service to the public) say of himself, 
 
 " I can't imagine how the Duke of B could 
 
 commission me to carry a challenge to Count 
 M ; he ought to have employed a gentleman, 
 those things are not in my way." 
 
 A really poor man, who is not in a situation to 
 contract debts, can on no terms be ( a gentleman. 3 
 On the contrary, a rich scamp, who has had what 
 is called a good education, so long as he preserves 
 his f character'* (reputation) dexterously, passes 
 for c a perfect gentleman.' In the exclusive society 
 of London there are yet finer ' nuances.' A man, 
 for instance, who were to manifest any timidity or 
 courtesy towards women, instead of treating them 
 in a familiar, confident, and 'nonchalant' manner, 
 would awaken the suspicion that he was f no gen- 
 tleman : ' but should the luckless man ask twice 
 for soup at dinner, or appear in evening dress at a 
 breakfast which begins at three in the afternoon 
 and ends at midnight, he may be a prince and 
 a f millionnaire,' but he is f no gentleman.' 
 
 But let us back from Babylon's tyrannous jar- 
 gon to the freedom of the hills. 
 
 * This has nothing to do with morality, only with 'acandale.'
 
 190 LEAD MINES OF GLENMALURE. 
 
 The country through which I now rode was 
 strikingly like the fiat part of Switzerland, gra- 
 dually rising till I found myself opposite to the 
 highest mountains of Wicklow, whose heads were 
 shrouded in clouds. The valley of Glemnalure 
 has a character of desolate sublimity which har- 
 monized perfectly with the weather. In the midst 
 stands a deserted and already decaying barrack 
 which looks like a haunted castle; neither tree 
 nor bush is to be seen, and the sides of the moun- 
 tains are covered with loose stones. The valley- 
 has only subterranean inhabitants, and their life 
 leads to death. Here are great lead- works, whose 
 unwholesome exhalations are traced on the pallid 
 faces of the workmen. I dressed myself in a black 
 slop, and was driven into one of the entrances, 
 a gloomy and terrific journey. The passages were 
 cold as ice ; pitch-darkness reigned in them, and 
 a cutting wind loaded with a death- like smell blew 
 in our faces. Minute drops fell with a hollow 
 sound from the low roof, which bent us nearly 
 double ; and the insufferable jolting of the car, 
 which a man dragged slowly over the rugged bot- 
 tom, completed the picture of horrors. 
 
 The delicate state of my chest did not permit 
 me to remain long here, and I gave up all further 
 researches, glad 'once more to see the rosy light.'
 
 VALLEY OF THE SEVEN CHURCHES. 191 
 
 I had now to ride over a new and magnificent 
 military road (for the Government has the watch- 
 fulness of a bad conscience about Ireland), over 
 one of the mountains which inclose the valley. 
 The view from the heights was extensive and 
 beautiful, and yet of a very different character 
 from any I had yet seen : it was much improved 
 by a most favourable light thrown by the sun 
 from beneath a line of black clouds. No effect of 
 light gives such clearness and brilliancy to di- 
 stant objects as this. The rays lay in broad stripes 
 like a glory on the intersecting lines of hills ; and 
 the two ' Sugar Loaves ' stood, overtopping all, in 
 deep blue against this clear horizon. The way 
 down the mountain is so serpentine that I could 
 gallop along it with ease. It was nevertheless 
 quite evening before I reached the last valley 
 which I had yet to see in this day's tour the 
 Valley of the Seven Churches. Here stood, above 
 a thousand years ago, f sic fabula docet,' a large 
 city with seven churches, which the Danes de- 
 stroyed. A handsome gateway still remains al- 
 most entire, though the key-stone is wanting. 
 Time has repaired this loss by a thick ivy branch 
 which holds together the whole arch. Seven dis- 
 tinct ruins are, according to the popular belief, 
 the remains of those holy structures which gave
 
 192 IRISH LEGENDS. 
 
 its name to the valley. Only one of them indis- 
 putably bears this character, and is remarkable 
 from one of the highest of those strange mysteri- 
 ous towers, without doors or windows, which are 
 found near many ruins of religious houses in Ire- 
 land. At the further end of the valley, sunk in 
 the deepest hollow and most sacred repose, sleep 
 two dark lakes, celebrated for the adventures of 
 Saint Kevin. The rocks around them are uncom- 
 monly steep, and in many places formed like 
 stairs. In one is a narrow and deep cleft, exactly 
 as if cut by a mighty blow. The legend tells that 
 the young giant Fian MacCumhal, being thought 
 by his comrades yet too weak to serve in the war 
 they were then waging, cleft the rock with his 
 sword, and so put an end to their doubts. Further 
 still, in a rock overhanging the lake, you descry a 
 black hole in the cave, Saint Kevin's cell. 
 
 Here the saint sought refuge from the perse- 
 cuting love of the king's beautiful daughter 
 Cathelin, and lived for a long time in solitude on 
 roots and herbs. In a fatal hour the wandering 
 fair-one discovered the fugitive, and surprised 
 him in the dead of night on his mossy couch. 
 With sweet kisses she awakened the ungallant 
 saint j who seeing his danger, took the desperate 
 resolution of pushing Cathelin over the precipice
 
 IRISH GUIDE, 193 
 
 into the lake, where she lost life and love in its 
 dark waters. 
 
 But the man of God felt some touch of human 
 pity, and commanded that no other life should 
 ever be lost in these waves, a charm which, as 
 my guide testified, is in full force to this day. 
 This ' cicerone' was a pretty, and as usual half 
 naked, boy of about eleven ; his dress was a spe- 
 cimen of an Irish toilette worth recording. He 
 wore the coat of a grown man, which, besides 
 many diaphanous places, was deficient in a sleeve 
 and a half, and one flap, while the other streamed 
 after him like the tail of a comet. Neckcloth, 
 waistcoat, and shirt were dismissed, as wholly 
 superfluous : to make amends, the remains of a 
 pair of red plush breeches made a most magni- 
 ficent appearance, though in somewhat strong 
 contrast with the naked legs beneath. To see 
 this figure scramble over the rocks like a squir- 
 rel, singing all the while bits of " Tommy*" 
 Moore and Walter Scott, was certainly charac- 
 teristic. As he led me to the cave, at a point 
 where the passage was rather slippery, he cried, 
 " Oh you can come on very well ; I brought Sir 
 Walter Scott here, and he climbed over the worst 
 
 * So the Irish delight to call him, proud of his ' landsmcmn 
 schaft' (country manship). 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194) HAPPY EXEMPTION FROM CONVENIENCES. 
 
 places though he had a lame foot." He could 
 talk of nothing else ; and recited rapidly four lines 
 which Scott or Moore, I forget which, had com- 
 posed in the cavern. These people are so exactly 
 suited to their wild and ruin- clad country, that 
 without them it would lose much of its romantic 
 interest. 
 
 In order to reach a tolerable inn at night, I had 
 to ride ten miles over an interminable moor, the 
 usual haunt of all sorts of spirits, though only 
 now and then a solitary Will-o'-the-wisp deigned 
 to flit by me. 
 
 When I reached the village, both the inns were 
 filled with ' tourists ' ; and it was with the greatest 
 difficulty that I procured a little sort of ante-room, 
 in which I was to sleep on straw. The tea, butter, 
 toast and eggs were, however, excellent, and 
 hunger seasoned my repast. I cannot describe to 
 you how delightful this life is to me. Amidst all 
 its privations, I feel myself a hundred times more 
 ' a mon aise,' than when encumbered and annoyed 
 with a thousand needless conveniences. I am as 
 free as the bird in the air, and that is one of the 
 highest enjoyments. 
 
 And now, honour to whom honour is due. Few 
 men would sit down with religious regularity 
 every evening, after such fatigues, to write you a
 
 LUGGELAW. 195 
 
 faithful report of all the events of the day. If it 
 does but give you pleasure, I am rewarded a thou- 
 sandfold. 
 
 Bray, August 24th. 
 
 Gall maintained, as you may remember, when 
 he examined my scull in Paris, that I have a very 
 prominent organ of veneration. Nevertheless 
 many have regarded me as a vile heretic ; but he 
 was right ; that is, if religion consists in love, 
 and in a sincere striving after truth. In such a 
 joyful, pious frame of mind did I greet the fresh 
 morning with prayer and praise, and the inward 
 brightness broke through the gloomy damp mist 
 which surrounded me ; for the weather was ex- 
 tremely bad. The road too was desert and 
 melancholy; but, patience! The evening brought 
 back sunshine and beauty. 
 
 For the present I saw nothing around me, as 
 far as my eye could reach, but barren heath and 
 moor ; a stormy wind blew across it in gusts, 
 and drove before it the rack, which, when I came 
 within its reach, wetted me like a heavy rain. 
 Short and feeble gleams [of sun gave momentary 
 hope, till about noon the clouds parted j and 
 exactly as I reached the summit of the mountain 
 above the magnificent valley and lake of Lug- 
 gelaw, the sun gilded all the country beneath me, 
 K 2
 
 196 LUGGELAW. 
 
 though the tops of the hills were yet shrouded in 
 mist. 
 
 This valley belongs to a wealthy proprietor, 
 who has converted it into a delightful park. It 
 is singularly laid out, and I will try to give you 
 an idea of it. The valley forms a nearly regular 
 long oval basin. The lake occupies the immediate 
 fore-ground to the mountain's foot ; the middle 
 ground is meadow-land, studded with groups of 
 trees, and watered by a meandering stream ; and 
 in its centre, backed by a solitary rock, is an 
 elegant f shooting lodge.' The mountains sur- 
 rounding the valley are very high and steep, and 
 rise on every side, in a bare and unbroken line 
 from the perfectly level plain. On the left are 
 naked rocks of imposing aspect, only here and 
 there overgrown with heath-plants; the three 
 other sides are clothed with thick and varied 
 vegetation, whose foliage hangs into the very 
 lake. At the spot where the mountain stream 
 flows through bright green herbage into the lake, 
 it forms a broad waterfall. It is indeed a lovely 
 spot of earth, lonely and secluded ; the wood full 
 of game, the lake full of fish, and nature full of 
 poetry. As the shooting season has not yet be- 
 gun, the proprietor was absent ; and the wife of 
 the steward, a still pretty \voman, through rather
 
 RUBEZAHL. 197 
 
 'passee', with handsome white hands, and man- 
 ners above her station, at my request prepared 
 my breakfast ; while her lively little son con- 
 ducted me about the valley. A beautiful grey- 
 hound, who bounded over the ground as lightly as 
 a leaf borne by the wind, and enjoyed his free- 
 dom in the wildest gambols, accompanied us. We 
 climbed, not without pain to my chest, e car je ne 
 vaux plus rien a pied,' to a rocky table-land, four 
 hundred feet high, which overlooks the whole 
 valley. Opposite is a strange sport of nature, a 
 monstrous face regularly formed in stone, looking 
 gloomily and angrily on the lake below. The 
 eyebrows and beard were distinctly marked by 
 moss and heath, and the prominent cheeks and 
 deep sunk eyes perfectly formed by the clefts in 
 the rock. The mouth is open ; when you remove 
 further off it closes, but without altering the other 
 features. It is really a high prerogative to pos- 
 sess such a living image of a mountain spirit. He 
 looks, however, as I said, angrily on the lake, and 
 seems to call aloud with open mouth, "Ye human 
 creatures, leave my valley, my fish, my game, my 
 rocks and woods in peace ! Leave them, or I will 
 bury you, ye pigmies, under my ruins !" But it is 
 in vain ! the voice of spirits is become powerless 
 Bince man's own spirit awoke. RUbezahl's coun-
 
 198 LORD P 
 
 tenance is turned to stone, and his voice dies away 
 in the gusty breeze, which irreverently sports with 
 his bushy eyebrows, and curls the waves of the 
 lake as if in scorn against him. 
 
 An interval of ten miles of uninteresting coun- 
 try lay between this walk and my arrival at the 
 
 gate of the park of P , one of the most 
 
 extensive and beautiful in Ireland. But it was 
 Sunday, the lord of the domain a saint, and of 
 course the gate locked. On this day, according 
 to his view of the matter, a pious man must on no 
 account leave his house except to inclose himself 
 within the gloomy walls of a damp church ; on 
 no account rejoice himself in God's own wondrous 
 and magnificent temple. This was a sin to which 
 Lord P would by no means afford encourage- 
 ment, and at his recent departure had therefore 
 prohibited the opening of his gate. Instructed by 
 the adventure which you may recollect befel me 
 in England, I made no attempt at winning a pas- 
 sage by means of a gift, but pursued my way 
 along a wall, over which from time to time I cast 
 a longing and stolen glance at the magnificent 
 waterfall and the enchanting scene. Thou bene- 
 ficent God ! thought I, in what different ways 
 art thou worshiped ! One man roasts his neigh- 
 bour to thy honour \ another fashions thee as
 
 LORD P . 199 
 
 Apis : some represent thee more partial and un- 
 just than the devil himself; others think they 
 offer thee the most acceptable service when they 
 deface thy loveliest gifts, or deprive themselves 
 and others of the enjoyment of them. Oh ! Lord 
 
 P , you will not read these lines ; but it were 
 
 good for you if you could, and if you would lay 
 them to heart ! Full many a poor man, who sweats 
 through the whole week that he may pay you your 
 rent, would feel his heart expand with joy on a 
 Sunday in your beautiful park, and would bless the 
 goodness of that God who has not left him wholly 
 destitute $ who has spread out before his eyes the 
 glory and the beauty of creation. And this joy 
 would be reflected back upon yourself; but 
 perhaps you are not even present ? perhaps you 
 send your pious commands from afar ? You are, 
 perhaps, like so many of your colleagues, one of 
 those ' absentees ' who by the hands of ravenous 
 and merciless agents strip the people of their last 
 rag, rob them of their last potatoe*, to enrich the 
 charlatans of London, Paris, or Italy. Then, in- 
 
 * This is no exaggeration. I have heard such things here, 
 proved by legal evidence, and seen such misery, as never 
 were witnessed in the times of villanage in Germany, and are 
 hardly to be paralleled in countries where slavery now pre- 
 vails. EDITOR.
 
 200 SUGAR LOAF. 
 
 deed, if that be the case, your religion can hardly 
 go beyond superstitious veneration for the Sunday, 
 and for the ceremonies of your priests. 
 
 From hence to Bray the cultivation is luxu- 
 riant ; the country is filled with houses and gar- 
 dens of the opulent citizens : the road lies at the 
 foot of the Great Sugar Loaf, whose hoary, naked 
 cone is barren of all vegetation. I saw some tra- 
 vellers who had just ascended it, and looked like 
 moving chess-men; I envied them the magnifi- 
 cent view, for the day was brilliant and the atmo- 
 sphere perfectly clear. Towards evening I lay 
 myself down in a lonely spot, among the field- 
 flowers by the side of a brook, and gave myself 
 up to a dreamy and grateful delight in this beau- 
 tiful world; leaving, like a knight-errant, my 
 faithful steed to graze by my side. I thought of 
 you and of past times ; I called on the living to 
 appear, and the dead to arise, and looked into my 
 past life as into a mirror; now with a melan- 
 choly, then with a cheerful smile : for through all 
 the follies and vanities of this world, through 
 errors and faults, there still ran one pure silver 
 thread strong enough to endure ; feelings of 
 child- like love, and a high capacity for enjoyments 
 which God's goodness renders attainable by all. 
 
 I returned to Bray in good time, and found my
 
 LORD BYRON. 201 
 
 travelling-bag arrived ; it contained many things 
 which, after long privation, were not to be de- 
 spised : among others, it afforded me the most 
 interesting of companions, Lord Byron. I have 
 now two portraits of him before me, drawings 
 which have been given me, and which I have had 
 bound in the Giaour and Don Juan. Like Napo- 
 leon, while yet aspiring, he is thin, wild and melan- 
 choly ; when he had reached the summit, he is fat 
 and smiling. But in both these otherwise so dif- 
 ferent countenances is seen that scornful, haughty 
 spirit, deeply shaken by fate, more deeply sensi- 
 tive by nature, which animated these features. 
 
 I can never refrain from laughing at the En- 
 glish, who pass such pitiful cockney judgments on 
 this their second poet (for after Shakspeare the 
 palm is surely his) , because he ridiculed their pe- 
 dantry, because he could not adapt himself to 
 the manners and usages of their little nook, nor 
 share in their cold superstition ; because their 
 insipidity was sickening to him, and because he 
 denounced their arrogance and hypocrisy. Many 
 of them cross themselves (inwardly) when they 
 mention him ; and even the women, though their 
 cheeks glow with enthusiasm when they read him, 
 in public take part vehemently against their secret 
 favourite. 
 
 K5
 
 202 LORD BYRON. 
 
 It was worthy of grateful Germany, worthy of 
 our Patriarch, to erect a lasting German arch of 
 triumph to a man who belongs to Europe, oppo- 
 site to that monument of infamy which the English 
 have laboured to build. 
 
 Could I but bid you a "farewell" as immortal 
 as his, it should be no last, I hope no long, fare- 
 well, but as tender and as touching. Think of 
 me thus. 
 
 Your faithful L .
 
 DONNYBROOK FAIR. 203 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 Dublin, Aug. 29th, 1828. 
 
 DEAR AND KIND ONE, 
 
 I HAVE passed the last few days in bed with 
 fever and pain. I am but now sufficiently reco- 
 vered to answer your letter. What you send me 
 from B is indeed very flattering to me, though 
 the enthusiasm which my little labours excite in 
 him is the growth of his own poetical soul alone, 
 which paints what ought to be, and believes that 
 it is. Do not wish for my return before it is pos- 
 sible; and trust me, that where a man is not, he 
 is commonly desired; as soon as he is there, he is 
 thought, by many, in the way. 
 
 I rode out again today for the first time to see 
 the fair at Donnybrook, near Dublin, which is a 
 kind of popular festival. Nothing indeed can be 
 more national! The poverty, the dirt, and the 
 wild tumult were as great as the glee and merri- 
 ment with which the cheapest pleasures were en- 
 joyed. I saw things eaten and drunk with delight, 
 which forced me to turn my head quickly away 
 to remain master of my disgust. Heat and dust,
 
 204- DONNYBROOK FAIR. 
 
 crowd and stench, (' il faut le dire',) made it im- 
 possible to stay long : but these do not annoy 
 the natives. There were many hundred tents, all 
 ragged like the people, and adorned with tawdry 
 rags instead of flags ; many contented themselves 
 with a cross on a hoop; one had hoisted a dead 
 and half putrid cat as a sign ! The lowest sort of 
 rope-dancers and posture-masters exercised their 
 toilsome vocation on stages of planks, and dressed 
 in shabby finery, dancing and grimacing in the 
 dreadful heat till they were completely exhausted. 
 A third part of the public lay, or rather rolled, 
 about, drunk; others ate, screamed, shouted, and 
 fought. The women rode about, sitting two and 
 three upon an ass, pushed their way through the 
 crowd, smoked with great delight, and coquetted 
 with their sweethearts. The most ridiculous 
 group was one which I should have thought indi- 
 genous only to Rio de la Plata : two beggars were 
 seated on a horse, who by his wretched plight 
 seemed to supplicate for them; they had no sad- 
 dle, and a piece of twine served as reins. 
 
 As I left the fair, a pair of lovers, excessively 
 drunk, took the same road. It was a rich treat 
 to watch their behaviour. Both were horribly 
 ugly, but treated each other with the greatest 
 tenderness, and the most delicate attention. The
 
 IRISH DRUNKEN GALLANTRY. 205 
 
 lover especially displayed a sort of chivalrous 
 politeness. Nothing could be more gallant, and 
 at the same time more respectful, than his re- 
 peated efforts to preserve his fair one from fall- 
 ing, although he had no little difficulty in keep- 
 ing his own balance. From his ingratiating de- 
 meanour and her delighted smiles, I could also 
 perceive that he was using every endeavour to 
 entertain her agreeably j and that her answers, 
 notwithstanding her 'exalte' state, were given 
 with a coquetry and an air of affectionate inti- 
 macy which would have been exquisitely becom- 
 ing and attractive in a pretty woman. 
 
 My reverence for truth compels me to add that 
 not the slightest trace of English brutality was 
 to be perceived: they were more like French 
 people, though their gaiety was mingled with more 
 humour, and more genuine good-nature ; both of 
 which are national traits of the Irish, and are al- 
 ways doubled by Potheen (the best sort of whisky 
 illicitly distilled). 
 
 Don't reproach me for the vulgarity of the pic- 
 tures I send you : they are more akin to nature 
 than the painted dolls of our e salons.' 
 
 Bray, August 30th. 
 I am returned hither on purpose to see the park
 
 206 THE DARGLB. 
 
 of P , from which Sunday lately debarred 
 
 me. It would not be easy for Nature to unite 
 greater capabilities than she has lavished here 
 with bounteous hand; and her gifts have been 
 skilfully turned to account. 
 
 You enter by the Dargle, a very deep and nar- 
 row glen, thickly wooded with high trees. In 
 the bottom gushes a full and rapid stream. The 
 road ascends on the right side, and the eye travels 
 down the green depths, out of which it catches 
 here and there a gleam of the water, or a bold 
 group of rocks. Three large mountains rise above 
 the glen, and, though at some distance, seem quite 
 close, as their base is hidden : they were tinged 
 this evening with a deep rosy red by a sun worthy 
 of Italy, and contrasted beautifully with the bright 
 green of the oaks. 
 
 Further on, the path suddenly opens on a rocky 
 cliff, called ' The Lover's Leap,' where the glen 
 diverges into several valleys, formed by chains of 
 lesser hills, but terminated at some distance by 
 the highest mountains of the neighbourhood. In 
 the midst of this landscape appears the house, 
 situated on a gentle slope on the edge of a wood, 
 and surrounded by beautiful flower-gardens. 
 From hence to the great waterfall, a distance of 
 five miles, the road leads through ever varying
 
 THE DARGLB. 207 
 
 scenes, which are more like those of beautiful 
 nature than of a park. At length you reach a 
 wood, and the rush of the distant waterfall meets 
 your ear before you catch sight of it. It is in- 
 considerable except after rain, but then it is 
 magnificent. The lofty rocks are thickly covered 
 on either side with shrubs ; the cascade dashes 
 through their varied foliage, and falling into a 
 basin, flows away through a beautiful meadow. 
 Around this are venerable oaks, under which a 
 house, suited to the character of the place, has 
 been built. Here refreshments are to be obtained, 
 and it is the usual resort of the many parties of 
 pleasure who come hither. Green footpaths lead 
 still further into the wild mountain country ; but 
 as it was already dark, I was obliged to return. 
 On my way hither, I had gone over the greater 
 distances in a gallop j and to avoid unnecessary 
 delay, had taken up the ragged boy who acted as 
 guide behind me, v regardless of the wonderment 
 of the passers by, who knew not what to make of 
 so extraordinary a cavalcade. At night I was 
 obliged to ride slowly along the stony road, till 
 the moon rose, orange- coloured, behind the moun- 
 tains, and half shrouded herself in evening mists. 
 I reached the inn at Bray, tired and hungry, at 
 eleven o'clock.
 
 208 ENGLISH UNIFORMITY. 
 
 August 31st. 
 
 I found this country inn so pleasant that I 
 resolved to prolong my stay over today (Sunday). 
 Living at inns affords one a good opportunity of 
 observingthe middle classes. Everyman here shows 
 himself as he is, and seems to feel himself alone. 
 I have already told you that English travellers of 
 this class (I include all the inhabitants of the three 
 kingdoms who have English manners and habits) 
 usually pass their time, when not out of doors, in 
 a common room called the coffee-room. In the 
 evening this coffee-room is lighted with lamps j 
 candles are carried, if called for, to the gentlemen 
 who sit at the separate little tables. It has often 
 surprised me that, in a country in which luxury 
 and refinement on all the wants of life are so uni- 
 versal, even in the best provincial inns (and often 
 in London) tallow candles are commonly used. 
 Wax candles are an unwonted luxury ; and if you 
 ask for them, you are treated with redoubled civi- 
 lity, but your bills are also doubled throughout. 
 
 It is very diverting to observe the perfect uni- 
 formity with which all behave, as if machines out 
 of one workshop. This is particularly observable 
 in their eating : though placed at separate tables, 
 and no individual taking the slightest notice of 
 any other, they all seem to have exactly the same
 
 AN ENGLISHMAN DINING. 209 
 
 usages, exactly the same gastronomic tastes. No- 
 body eats soup, which, unless bespoken before- 
 hand, is not to be had. (This is the reason, by- 
 the-by, for which my old Saxon servant left me. 
 He declared that he could not exist any longer 
 in such a state of barbarism without soup !) A 
 large joint of roast meat is commonly carried from 
 one to another, and each cuts off what he likes. 
 This is accompanied by potatoes or other vegeta- 
 bles, boiled in water ; and a ' plat de menage 
 filled with sauces is placed on every table ; beer 
 is poured out, and there, in a common way, ends 
 the dinner. Only the luxurious eat fish before 
 the meat. 
 
 But now follows the second stage : the table- 
 cloth is removed ; clean plate and knife and fork 
 laid ; wine and a wine-glass, and a few miserable 
 apples or pears, with stony ship-biscuits, are 
 brought : and now the diner seems to begin to 
 enjoy tranquillity and comfort. His countenance 
 assumes an expression of satisfaction ; apparently 
 sunk in profound meditation, leaning back in his 
 chair and looking fixedly straight before him, he 
 suffers a sip of wine to glide down his throat from 
 time to time, only breaking the death-like silence 
 by now and then laboriously craunching his rocky 
 biscuits.
 
 210 'BOOTS/ 
 
 When the wine is finished, follows stage the 
 third, that of digestion. All motion now ceases . 
 his appetite being sated, he falls into a sort of 
 magnetic sleep, only distinguishable from the na- 
 tural by the open eyes. After this has lasted for 
 half an hour or an hour, all at once it ceases ; he 
 cries out, as if under the influence of some sudden 
 possession, ( Waiter, my slippers ;' and seizing a 
 candle, walks off gravely to his chamber to meet 
 his slippers and repose. 
 
 This farce acted by five or six men at once has 
 often amused me more than a puppet-show ; and 
 I must add, that with the exception of the inci- 
 dent of the slippers, pretty nearly the same scene 
 is represented in the first clubs of the metropolis. 
 I scarcely ever saw an Englishman read at dinner j 
 I am not sure that they don't think it an act of 
 indecorum perhaps of impiety like singing or 
 dancing on a Sunday for instance. Perhaps, how- 
 ever, it is only a rule of diatetics converted by 
 time into a law which no vivacity of temper can 
 break through. 
 
 Englishmen who do not belong to the aristo- 
 cracy, and are not very rich, usually travel with- 
 out a servant by the mail or stage-coach, which 
 deposits them at the inn. The man who waits 
 on strangers to the coach, cleans their boots, &c.
 
 ENGLISH BBEAKFAST. 211 
 
 has the universal appellation ' Boots.' It is, ac- 
 cordingly, ' Boots ' who brings your slippers, 
 helps you to pull off your boots, and then departs, 
 first asking at what time you will have, not as in 
 Germany, your coffee, but your hot water to shave. 
 He appears with it punctually at the appointed 
 hour, and brings your clothes cleanly brushed. 
 The traveller then hastens to dress himself and to 
 return to his beloved coffee-room, where the in- 
 gredients of breakfast are richly spread upon his 
 table. To this meal he seems to bring more ani- 
 mation than to any other, and indeed I think more 
 appetite ; for the number of cups of tea, the 
 masses of bread and butter, eggs and cold meat, 
 which he devours, awaken silent envy in the 
 breast, or rather in the stomach, of the less capa- 
 ble foreigner. He is now not only permitted, 
 but enjoined (by custom, his Gospel) to read. At 
 every cup of tea he unfolds a newspaper of the 
 size of a table-cloth. Not a single speech, crim. 
 con., murder or other catastrophe invented by the 
 ' accident maker' in London, escapes him. 
 
 Like one who would rather die of a surfeit 
 than leave anything uneaten which he had paid 
 for, the systematic Englishman thinks that hav- 
 ing called for a newspaper he ought not to leave 
 a letter of it unread. By this means his break-
 
 212 AFFRAYS. 
 
 fast lasts several hours, and the sixth or seventh 
 cup is drunk cold. I have seen this glorious meal 
 protracted so long that it blended with dinner ; 
 and you will hardly believe me when I assure 
 you, that a light supper followed at midnight 
 without the company quitting the table. 
 
 On this occasion several were assembled ; and 
 I must remark, generally, that when that is the 
 case, a very different scene is exhibited. The 
 wine instead of producing the lethargic reverie I 
 have described, makes them rather too talkative. 
 Something of the kind occurred today. Five or 
 six travellers were very jovial, and having carried 
 their good fellowship a little too far, a violent 
 quarrel arose among them, which, after long con- 
 tinued noise and confusion, ended, strangely 
 enough, in their all falling foul of the waiter and 
 pushing him out at the door. Upon this the host 
 was forced to come in and to beg pardon for the 
 poor fellow, who was perfectly innocent. Not one 
 of the men who were eating at their solitary tables 
 took the slightest notice of this affray, but stared 
 straight before them just as indifferently as if no- 
 thing were going on. 
 
 Soon, however, one of them who had begun his 
 dinner very late gave us a new scene. He was dis- 
 satisfied with the mutton they had brought him,
 
 DUKE OP S W IN ENGLAND. 213 
 
 and desired the waiter to tell the cook she was 
 a d b . On receiving this communi- 
 cation, the Irishwoman lost all respect for the 
 author of so sensible an insult ; tore herself out 
 of the arms of her companions who vainly at- 
 tempted to hold her at the dining-room door, 
 darted with double fists on the offender, and over- 
 whelmed him with such a torrent of truly national 
 epithets, that he turned pale and left the field, 
 roaring " My slippers" as loud again as usual, 
 and without further attempt at resistance hastily 
 retreated to his chamber in the third story ; for, 
 as you know, the bed- rooms here are always under 
 the roof, ' comme au Colombier.' 
 
 When the late Grand Duke of W was in 
 
 England he was seized with a desire to travel 
 alone and incognito by the e stage/ as a means of 
 becoming more intimately acquainted with En- 
 glish life. It amused him much : the next morn- 
 ing he was not a little surprised, when the ' Boots' 
 brought him his clothes, at his saying, " I hope 
 your lloyal Highness slept well last night." He 
 thought, however, he might have misunderstood, 
 and taking no notice of the thing, continued his 
 journey on the outside. The next morning, the 
 same title. He now inquired into the matter, 
 and found that a card with his name and rank
 
 214 KINGSTON. 
 
 was stitched to the inside of his cloak, and had 
 destroyed his e incognito.' What struck him the 
 most doubtless was, that people troubled them- 
 selves so little whether a German Sovereign Prince 
 sat on the top of the stage-coach or not. The 
 common people in England care little about rank, 
 about foreign rank nothing. It is only the 
 middle classes that are servile : they are delighted 
 to talk to a foreign nobleman, because they cannot 
 get at their own haughty aristocracy. The En- 
 glish nobleman, even the least of the Lords, in 
 the bottom of his heart thinks himself a greater 
 man than the King of France. 
 
 This mode of travelling, to a man who has any 
 thing in view beside mere change of place, or who 
 does not feel himself flattered by the increased 
 reverence of innkeepers and waiters, is certainly 
 preferable to the usual manner of making the 
 grand tour. The diminution of comfort and con- 
 venience is counterbalanced by so much that is 
 instructive and agreeable, that one gains a hun- 
 dredfold by the change. 
 
 Dublin, September 1st. 
 
 I returned this time, by way of Kingston, along 
 a rough but very romantic road, close to the 
 sea. A crowd of beggars stood in the road. They 
 were not, however, deficient in industry and acti-
 
 KINGSTON. 215 
 
 vity, for an old woman among them was busily 
 gathering up some white sand which had fallen 
 from a cart. How I wished to open the treasures 
 of our Sand-Golconda to this poor creature ! As 
 I could not, I made her happy with a few pence, 
 of which I always carry a cargo in my coat-pocket 
 to throw out like corn among fowls ; for here 
 everybody begs. 
 
 Kingston is a little town consisting chiefly of 
 the country-houses of the opulent people of Dub- 
 lin. The Lord Lieutenant sometimes resides here. 
 Since the King's visit a harbour has been made, 
 at which the men are still at work. The shallow- 
 ness of Dublin Bay renders this very desirable ; 
 but its principal end now is to give work to the 
 lower classes. The many ingenious inventions 
 which are here applied ; the four rail-roads run- 
 ning side by side, on which one horse can draw 
 enormous loads ; the chain windlasses by which 
 huge masses are brought to hand and walled into 
 the dam, and other things of the like kind, are 
 uncommonly interesting and instructive. Several 
 large ships are lying in the unfinished harbour, in 
 which they already find deep water and safe an- 
 chorage. Among them I was struck by the ap- 
 pearance of a black hulk, which lay like a solitary 
 ghost : it contained, as I was told, the convicts
 
 216 GEORGE IV/S OBELISK. 
 
 ordered for transportation to Botany Bay; the 
 transport ship which was to convey them had 
 already arrived. This is no very severe punish- 
 ment (deducting sea-sickness), and converts two- 
 thirds of these criminals into useful citizens. 
 Every government might (according to its local 
 resources) create a Botany Bay ; but it will he 
 long ere the principle of vengeance is banished 
 from our systems of law or of religion. 
 
 A monument has been erected at the entrance 
 of the harbour, in honour of the King's memora- 
 ble visit (memorable, that is, for disappointing 
 all hopes and expectations). It is designed and 
 executed with the sort of taste which seems to 
 lie like a curse on all the public buildings of 
 Great Britain : it is a small, ridiculous stump 
 of an obelisk, perched on the corner of a natural 
 rock; it stands on four balls, and looks pre- 
 cisely as if the first blast of wind would roll it 
 into the sea. One cannot suppress the wish that 
 this may happen ; the sooner, the better. The 
 royal crown is stuck at the top like a lid on a 
 mustard-pot, and the whole, contrasted with the 
 noble dimensions of the harbour and surrounding 
 buildings, is so small and 'mesquin,' that it 
 might be taken for the whim of a private man, but 
 certuiuly never for a national monument. Per-
 
 CATHOLIC ASSOCIATION. 217 
 
 haps the architect was a ' mauvais plaisant/ and 
 meant it satirically : as an epigram it is deserv- 
 ing of praise. 
 
 The road from hence to Dublin is very fine, and 
 covered with riders and carriages. I wondered 
 not to find it watered, which makes the roads 
 near London so agreeable. Probably it is only 
 done when the Lord Lieutenant is here. The 
 dust today was almost insufferable, and all the 
 trees covered as if with chalk. 
 
 I returned to Dublin just at the moment of 
 a meeting of the f Catholic Association,' and 
 alighted at the door of their house : unfortunately, 
 however, neither Shiel nor O'Connell was pre- 
 sent, so that there was no great attraction. Heat 
 and bad smells ( f car I'humanite Catholique pue 
 autant qu'une autre/) drove me out in a few 
 minutes. 
 
 In the evening I was better amused by the per- 
 formances of some other charlatans, a company 
 of English horse-riders who are here. Mr. Adams, 
 in his way indisputably f le premier deshommes,' 
 was leader of the ' Academy,' which deserved its 
 name better than some others I could mention. 
 
 It was pleasant to see about twenty elegantly 
 dressed young men, all moving with nearly equal 
 grace and dexterity often bewildering the eye
 
 218 CLOWNS. 
 
 by the artful confusion, the variety, difficulty and 
 extreme rapidity of their movements, forming a 
 wild dissonance or chaos, and then resolving this 
 into the most graceful harmony. Still more de- 
 lightful were two inimitable clowns, whose limbs 
 were perfectly at their disposal. The one was 
 excellently supported by his piebald ass, which 
 shamed the noblest horses by the precision with 
 which he executed his feats ; and the other, on an 
 instrument of his own invention, produced a sort 
 of music so truly mad, that even the mere tones 
 excited resistless laughter. 
 
 The performance was closed by a ( pas de 
 deux' of the two clowns, danced on their hands 
 and feet ; the latter cutting capers in the air, while 
 the former supported the weight of their bodies. 
 Here the human form seemed obliterated ; and 
 the scene, frightful as a tale of Hoffman's, appeared 
 to the bewildered spectator like the dance of two 
 mad polypi. 
 
 [Here some leaves of the correspondence are 
 wanting.]
 
 CONNAUGHT. 219 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 B m, in the West of Ireland, 
 Sept. 5, 1828. 
 
 DEAR JULIA, 
 
 You make me laugh by your gratitude for my 
 diligence in writing. Are you not aware that I 
 can have no greater enjoyment ? I have hardly 
 written a word before I feel myself at home, and 
 new comfort and courage are infused into my 
 heart. 
 
 Do you remember the young parson at Bray ? 
 Though he converted the God of Mercy into the 
 greatest of all tyrants, he himself is a very good- 
 hearted fellow, e qui n'y entend pas malice.' He 
 gave me such a hearty invitation to accompany 
 him to his father's house in Connaught, who, as 
 he assured me, was no less hospitable than rich, 
 that I consented, ( et m'y voila !' This wild part 
 of Ireland, seldom visited by natives, never by 
 foreigners, has such a bad name, that there is a 
 proverb ' Go to hell and Connaught !' It was 
 therefore a matter worthy of deliberation ; but 
 what deters others often attracts me; such si- 
 
 L2
 
 220 SCENERY OF CONNAUGHT. 
 
 tuations too I have often found the richest in 
 amusement. The present promises me this in 
 abundance, at least so far as novelty and strange- 
 ness go. 
 
 Yesterday evening after dinner we left the me- 
 tropolis in my carriage. We had just a hundred- 
 and-one miles to go. In England this is soon ac- 
 complished ; here things are very differently ma- 
 naged, and it took us four-and- twenty hours. 
 
 The scenery is strikingly like the Wendish 
 districts of Lower Lusatia, whither my unlucky 
 stars once drove me ; except that there are thick 
 Avoods, while here, with the exception of a few 
 arid firs, they appear only to have been. Bound- 
 less plains are covered with bog and turf; the 
 oakwood, thousands of years old, which is found 
 sometimes at a great depth, fetches a high price 
 for decorative furniture ; snuff-boxes and ladies' 
 ornaments are likewise made of it. The other 
 part of the soil is sandy or wet : the dry lands 
 are meagre and barren; but on the other hand 
 the bog cultivation, which is admirably under- 
 stood, is very successful. The bog is first levelled, 
 the projecting parts being cut into squares of 
 turf, and the soil then burnt and sown with 
 corn. All the bogs appear to be remarkably deep : 
 the principal crops are buckwheat, potatoes, and
 
 RISH GENTLEMAN'S HOUSE. 221 
 
 oats. The cabins of the inhabitants are beyond 
 description wretched, and the appearance of all 
 the flat country extremely poor, till you approach 
 my friend's estate, where Nature becomes more 
 smiling ; and blue hills, the scene of many a won- 
 drous tale, peep above the horizon. 
 
 My host, Captain W , is one of the f No- 
 tables ' of liis county, but his house is not better 
 than that of a German nobleman of moderate es- 
 tate. English elegance and English luxury are 
 not to be thought of ; wax-lights are unknown ; 
 port and sherry, but above all ' whisky-punch,' 
 are the only beverages : the coffee is detestable ; 
 but the food excellent, nutritious, and plentiful. 
 The house is not over-clean j the small establish- 
 ment very respectable from length of service, zeal 
 and attachment, but of a somewhat unwashed and 
 boorish appearance. 
 
 From my chamber windows I penetrate into all 
 the mysteries of the domestic economy, which is 
 t too modest to spread out* the dunghills as chief 
 point de vue/ as in North Germany. The rain 
 (for alas ! it does rain) runs merrily through my 
 windows, and falls in romantic cascades from the 
 window-sill to the floor, where an old carpet 
 thirstily drinks the stream. The furniture is 
 rather tottering; but I have tables enough (a great
 
 222 IRISH SOCIETY. 
 
 matter to me with my multitude of things), and 
 the bed seems at least large and hard enough. In 
 my chimney burns, or rather smoulders, capital 
 turf, which not only gives heat, but covers every 
 thing with fine ashes like an eruption of Vesu- 
 vius. All this does not sound brilliant j but how 
 largely are these trifles outweighed by the patri- 
 archal hospitality, the cheerful, easy, unaffected 
 kindness of the family. It is as if my visit were 
 a distinguished favour, for which all seem to feel 
 indebted to me as for some real service. 
 
 Sept. 6th. 
 
 I like my host very much ; he is seventy-two 
 years old, and still hale and vigorous as a man of 
 fifty. He must have been very handsome, and 
 has given the world twelve sons and seven daugh- 
 ters, all by the same wife, xvho is still living, 
 though just now. too unwell for me to see her. 
 Some of the sons and daughters have been long 
 married, and the old man sees his grandsons of 
 twelve at play with his youngest daughter of four- 
 teen. The greater part of the family is now here, 
 which makes the abode rather a noisy one ; this 
 is increased by the musical talents of the daugh- 
 ters, who daily perform on an instrument horribly 
 out of tune, a circumstance which seems not to
 
 IRISH SOCIETY. 223 
 
 annoy them in the slighest degree*. The men 
 generally talk about horses and dogs, and are 
 somewhat uninstructed. Today a country squire 
 of the neighbourhood searched long and patiently 
 in a map of Europe for the United States : at last 
 his brother-in-law gave him the fortunate sugges- 
 tion of trying his luck on the map of the world. 
 The occasion of the search was, that the old gen- 
 tleman wanted to show me Halifax and B 
 
 town, which latter takes its name from him. He 
 laid the first stone of both during the American 
 war, in which he commanded seven hundred men, 
 and loves to recall those days of his youth and 
 importance. The scrupulous and chivalrous cour- 
 tesy of his manners, the constant and ready sa- 
 crifice of his own convenience to others, are proofs 
 of the education of times long passed by, and 
 mark his age more surely than his appearance 
 does. 
 
 Our amusements for some days to come are 
 arranged as follows. In the morning we go to 
 church ; the day after to the town of Galway, to 
 see some horse-races, in which the poor animals 
 
 * I have often had occasion to remark, that the love of 
 music in England is a mere affair of fashion. There is no 
 nation in Europe which pays music better, or understands it 
 worse.
 
 224- ORDINATION AT TUAM. 
 
 not only run a German mile, but in the course of 
 it have to leap several stone hedges or walls ! They 
 are ridden by gentlemen. In the evening is a ball, 
 at which I am promised a sight of all the beauty 
 of the neighbourhood. 
 
 To tell you the truth, touched as I am by the 
 kindness shown me in this house, I rather dread 
 a long stay : I should, however, vex these excel- 
 lent, cordial people if I showed it j e Je m'execute 
 done de bonne grace.' 
 
 Sept. 7th. 
 
 The manners here are so old-fashioned that the 
 master of the house every day drinks to my 
 health, and we have no napkins at table, for 
 which pocket-handkerchiefs or the corners of the 
 table-cloth are obliged to serve as substitutes. 
 
 We passed four hours this morning in the 
 church of the neighbouring town of Tuam, and 
 saw four clergymen ordained by the archbishop. 
 
 The English Protestant service differs much 
 from ours : it is a strange mixture of Catholic 
 ceremony and Protestant simplicity. Pictures on 
 the walls are not suffered, on the windows they 
 are. The dress of the priests, even of the arch- 
 bishops, consists only of a white surplice. On the 
 other hand, the seat of the latter, built like a
 
 SERVICE OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 2 
 
 throne, covered with purple velvet and adorned 
 with an archbishop's crown, stands ostentatiously 
 opposite to the chancel. The sermon is read, and 
 lasts very long. The most wearisome part, how- 
 ever, both before and after it, is the endless re- 
 petition of antiquated and contradictory prayers, 
 the burthen to which is occasionally re-echoed in 
 singing from the choir. These form a perfect 
 course of English history. Henry the Eighth's 
 ecclesiastical revolution, Elizabeth's policy, and 
 Cromwell's puritanical exaggerations, meet and 
 shake hands ; while certain favourite phrases are 
 repeated every minute, many of which are more 
 characteristic of cringeing slaves prostrate in the 
 dust before an eastern tyrant, than of Christian 
 freedom and dignity. 
 
 The text was chosen, strangely enough, from 
 the story of the passage of the evil spirits into 
 the herd of swine ; and after this had been 
 discussed for an hour, the four priests were 
 ordained. 
 
 The old archbishop, who enjoys a high reputa- 
 tion for strict orthodoxy, has a very dignified air 
 and a fine sonorous voice ; but the deportment of 
 the young divines displeased me exceedingly ; it 
 was disgustingly hypocritical. They continually 
 wiped their eyes with their pocket-handkerchiefs, 
 
 L5
 
 226 RELIGIOUS WORSHIP. 
 
 held them before their faces as if in the deepest 
 emotion, answered with a broken voice ; in 
 short, Herrnhuters could not have acted it better : 
 * La grace n'y etoit pas ; ' of no kind. 
 
 One of the oddest customs is, that everybody 
 during the short prayer at coming and going, 
 turns himself to the wall, or into a corner, as if 
 he were doing something not fit to be seen. 
 
 I must frankly confess it, I do not understand 
 how a reflecting man can be edified by such a 
 service. And yet how beautiful, how elevating 
 might the service of God be, if while we dismissed 
 all ridiculous and unmeaning ceremonies, we did 
 not require and abstract worship, from which 
 sense were utterly excluded, an impossibility for 
 creatures of sense ! Why should we not devote 
 all our best powers to the honour of him who 
 gave them ? Why not employ every art in its 
 highest perfection, and thus consecrate to God 
 the noblest, the finest works that the human fa- 
 culties can produce ? 
 
 I can imagine a congregation, whose piety is 
 equally removed from mean servility and from 
 arrogant conceit ; who meet to praise the infinite 
 greatness and love of the Universal Father, 
 and the wonders of his creation, not to bring 
 within the walls consecrated to him the hatred
 
 IRISH LOWER ORDERS. 22? 
 
 of bigotry and intolerance; whose creed demands 
 from each man only that degree of belief which 
 his own inward revelation makes possible to him. 
 Before my fancy no longer float separate churches 
 for Jews, and for fifty sorts of Christians ; but true 
 temples of God and Man, whose gates at all times 
 stand open to every human being who, when op- 
 pressed by the Earthly, seeks to have the Holy 
 and the Heavenly within him animated and sus- 
 tained by all the aids and appliances of sense 
 or spirit; or who longs to pour out the over- 
 flowings of his heart, when filled with happiness 
 and gratitude. 
 
 Galway, Sept. 8th. 
 
 We arrived very late on the ( race-course,' and 
 saw little of this day's sport. The sight of the 
 people was however extremely curious and inter- 
 esting to me. In many points of view this nation 
 is really semi-barbarous. The universal want of 
 decent clothing among the lower classes, even on 
 festivals like the present ; their utter inability to 
 resist ardent spirits, so long as they have a penny 
 in their pockets ; the sudden and continual wild 
 quarrels and national pitched battles with the 
 shillelah (a murderous sort of stick which every 
 man keeps hidden under his rags), in which hun- 
 dreds take part in a minute, and desist not till
 
 228 IRISH .LOWER ORDERS. 
 
 several are left dead or wounded on the field ; the 
 frightful war-whoop which they set up on these 
 occasions j the revenge for an affront or injury, 
 cherished and inherited by whole villages : on 
 the other hand, the light-hearted carelessness 
 which never thinks of the coming day; the heart- 
 felt merriment, forgetful of all want and suffering ; 
 the kind hospitality which ungrudgingly shares 
 its last morsel; the unreserved cordiality with 
 the stranger who makes any advances to them ; 
 the natural fluency and eloquence which they have 
 ever at command ; all are characteristics of a 
 half- civilized people. 
 
 Hundreds of drunken men accompanied our 
 carriages as we drove from the race-course to 
 the town, and more than ten times, fights arose 
 among them. The confluence of guests was so 
 great that we with difficulty found a miserable 
 lodging; our dinner was however good, and very 
 abundant. 
 
 Galway was chiefly built by the Spaniai'ds. 
 Some descendants of the ancient families still 
 exist, as do several very curious houses of that 
 period. It struck me as characteristic, that in a 
 town of forty thousand inhabitants there was not 
 a single bookseller's shop or circulating library 
 to be found. The suburbs and all the villages
 
 GALWAY RACES. 229 
 
 through which we passed on our way, were of a 
 kind which I should vainly attempt to liken to 
 anything ever seen before : pigsties are palaces 
 in comparison ; and I often saw numerous groups 
 of children (for the prolificness of the Irish peo- 
 ple seems to keep pace with their wretchedness), 
 naked as they came into the world, roll and paddle 
 about with the ducks in the filthy kennels, with 
 the greatest delight. 
 
 Athenrye, Sept. 10th : Morning. 
 I write to you this morning from the house of 
 one of the sweetest women I ever saw in my life : 
 an African too, and, as she tells me, by birth a 
 
 Mademoiselle H . ( Que dites vous de cela ? ' 
 
 But more of her hereafter. You must now ac- 
 company me to the ' race-course,' and see the 
 running and leaping from the beginning. It is a 
 remarkable sight of its kind, and exactly suited to 
 a half-savage nation. I confess that it far exceeded 
 my expectations, and kept me in a state of intense 
 anxiety ; only one must leave pity and humanity 
 at home, as you will see from what follows. The 
 race-course is an elongated circle. On the left 
 side is the starting post ; opposite to it, on the 
 right, is the goal. Between them, at the opposite 
 points of the circumference, are built walls or
 
 230 GALWAY RACES. 
 
 hedges of stone \vithout mortar, five feet high and 
 two broad. The course, two English miles in 
 length, is run over once and a half. You see then, 
 from my description,, that the first wall must be 
 leaped twice, the second only once in each heat. 
 Many horses run, but none is declared winner till 
 he has beaten the others in two heats; so that 
 this is often repeated three, four, or even five 
 times, if a different horse comes in a-head each 
 time. Today they ran four times ; so that the 
 winner, in a space of less than two hours, reckon- 
 ing the intervals, ran twelve English miles at full 
 speed and leaped the wall twelve times ! a fa- 
 tigue which it is difficult to conceive how any 
 horse can stand. Six gentlemen in elegant jockey 
 dresses of coloured silk jackets and caps, leather 
 breeches and top-boots, rode the ( race.' I had 
 an excellent hunter belonging to the son of my 
 host, and could therefore, by crossing the course, 
 keep up perfectly well, and be present at every 
 leap. 
 
 It is impossible not to have a favourite on such 
 occasions. Mine, and indeed that of the public, 
 was an extremely beautiful dark bay, called Game- 
 cock, ridden by a gentleman in yellow, a hand- 
 some young man of good family, and a most ad- 
 mirable rider.
 
 GALWAY RACES. 231 
 
 After him, the horse which pleased me the 
 most was a dark brown mare called Rosina, rid- 
 den by a cousin of Captain B ; a bad rider, 
 
 in sky blue. The third in goodness, in my opi- 
 nion, Killarney, was a strong but not very hand- 
 some horse, ridden by a young man who showed 
 more power of endurance than perfect horseman- 
 ship : his dress was crimson. The fourth gen- 
 tleman, perhaps the most skilful, though not the 
 strongest of the riders, rode a brown horse not 
 remarkable in its appearance, and was dressed in 
 brown. The other two deserve no mention, as 
 they were ' hors du jeu' from the beginning: they 
 both fell at the first leap j the one sustained a severe 
 injury on the head, the other came off with a slight 
 contusion, but was disabled from riding again. 
 
 Gamecock, who darted off with such fury that 
 his rider could hardly hold him in, and flew, 
 rather than leapt, over the walls with incredible 
 bounds, won the first heat with ease. Imme- 
 diately after him came Rosina without her rider, 
 whom she had thrown, and took the remaining 
 leaps of her own accord with great grace. Game- 
 cock was now so decidedly the favourite that the 
 bets were five to one upon him : but the result 
 was far different from these expectations, and very 
 tragical. After this noble animal had distanced
 
 232 GALWAY RACES. 
 
 the other two in two successive heats, and had 
 achieved the two first leaps in the most brilliant 
 manner, he set his foot, in the third, on a loose 
 stone which one of the less skilful horses had 
 pushed down in his fall, and which it was not 
 permitted to remove out of the course*. He fell 
 backward upon his rider with such violence that 
 both lay motionless, when the other riders came 
 up, took not the slightest notice of them, and ac- 
 complished the leap. After a few seconds Game- 
 cock got up, but his rider did not recover his 
 senses. A surgeon present soon pronounced his 
 state to be hopeless ; both his breast-bone and 
 scull were fractured. His old father, who stood 
 by when the accident happened, fell senseless on 
 the ground, and his sister threw herself with heart- 
 rending cries on the yet palpitating though un- 
 conscious body. But the general sympathy was 
 very slight. After the poor young man had been 
 repeatedly bled, so that he lay on the turf welter- 
 ing in his blood, he was taken away, and the 
 
 * This is one of the mistakes into which, as it is affirmed 
 by competent witnesses, the author has fallen. In spite of 
 his emphatic Italics, it appears that there are men stationed 
 on the course whose business it is to pick up the stones 
 which are kicked down. To be sure in such a scene a little 
 more or less of the wonderful or the barbarous is hardly 
 worth notice. TRANSL.
 
 GALWAY RACES. 233 
 
 race began again at the appointed time as if no- 
 thing had happened. 
 
 The brown rider had been the first in the pre- 
 ceding heat, and hoped to win the last and deci- 
 sive one. It was what the English call f a hard 
 race.' Both horses and men did their part admi- 
 rably, they ran and leaped almost in rank. Kil- 
 larney at last won only by a quarter of a head : 
 it was necessary therefore to run again. This 
 last contest was of course the most interesting, 
 since one of the two running must of necessity 
 win everything. There was a great deal of bet- 
 ting, which at first was even. Twice did the vic- 
 tory appear decided, and yet at last terminated 
 on the contrary side. At the first leap the horses 
 were together ; before they reached the second it 
 was evident that the brown was exhausted, and 
 Killarney gained so much upon him that he reach- 
 ed the second wall more than a hundred paces be- 
 fore him. But here, contrary to all expectations, 
 he refused to leap, and the rider had lost all power 
 over him. Before he could be brought to obey, 
 the brown came up, took his leap well ; and 
 putting out all his strength, was so much a-head 
 that he seemed sure of winning. Bets were now 
 ten to one. But the last hedge was yet to cross, 
 and this was fatal to him. The tired animal, who
 
 234 GALWAY RACES' 
 
 had exhausted his last remaining strength in fast 
 running, tried the leap willingly enough indeed, 
 but had no longer power to effect it; and half 
 breaking down the wall, he rolled bleeding over 
 and over, burying his rider under him, so that it 
 was impossible for him to rise. Killarney's rider 
 had in the mean time brought his refractory horse 
 into subjection, accomplished the two remaining 
 leaps amid the cheers of the multitude, and then 
 rode at a foot pace, perfectly at his ease and 
 without a rival, to the goal. He was so exhausted, 
 however, that he could scarcely speak. 
 
 In the intervals between the preceding heats I 
 was introduced to many ladies and gentlemen, all 
 of whom most hospitably invited me to their 
 houses. I however preferred following my young 
 host, who promised to show me the fairest of the 
 fair, if I would give myself up to his guidance, 
 and not object to riding ten miles in the dark. 
 On the way he told me that this lady was called 
 
 Mrs. , and was the daughter of the late Dutch 
 
 governor of , that she had had a complaint 
 in the lungs, and was now staying in the solitary 
 village of Athenrye, on account of the salubrity of 
 its air. 
 
 We did not arrive till ten ; and surprised her in 
 her little cottage (for the place is miserable) at tea.
 
 A PORTRAIT. 235 
 
 I wish I could describe this sweet and lovely 
 being to you in such a manner as to place her 
 visibly before you; certain that you, like me, 
 would love her at the first glance. But I feel that 
 here all description falls short : all about her is 
 heart and soul, and those are not to be described; 
 she was dressed in black with the greatest 
 simplicity, her dress up to the neck, but fitting 
 closely to her beautiful form. Her person is 
 slender and extremely youthful, full of gentle 
 grace, and yet not without animation and fire in 
 her movements. Her complexion is of a pure 
 and clear brown, and has the soft polish of mar- 
 ble. More beautiful and brilliant black eyes, or 
 teeth of more dazzling whiteness, I never beheld. 
 Her mouth too, with the angelic, childlike cha- 
 racter of her smile, is enchanting. 
 
 Her refined unaffected good-breeding, the spor- 
 tive graces of her gay and witty conversation were 
 of that*rare sort which are innate, and must there- 
 fore please, whether in Paris or in Pekin, in town 
 or country. The greatest experience of society 
 could not give more ease or address, and no girl 
 of fifteen could blush more sweetly or jest more 
 joyously. And yet her life had been the most 
 simple and uniform, and her youth was rather the 
 unfading spring of the soul than that of the body;
 
 236 A PORTRAIT. 
 
 for she was mother of four children, near thirty, 
 and but just recovered from an attack on the 
 lungs which had threatened to prove fatal. But 
 the fire of all her movements, the lightning-flashes 
 of her conversation, had all the freshness and all 
 the power of youth, imparting a resistless charm 
 to the gentleness of her nature. One felt that 
 this was the child of a warmer and kindlier sun, 
 of a more luxuriant soil, than are to be found in 
 our misty climes. And indeed she felt the most 
 melancholy longings after her native land, and a 
 painful expression passed over all her lovely fea- 
 tures as she said, she should never more breathe 
 that balmy air charged with sweet odours. I was 
 too much absorbed in looking at her to think of 
 food, had she not, with all the kind activity of a 
 good housewife, made preparations for entertain- 
 big us as well as she could in her little cabin. A 
 table was laid in the room in which we sat ; so 
 that our frugal meal caused no interruption to the 
 conversation, and it was long after midnight ere 
 we separated. 
 
 It was not till I was in bed that I learned that, 
 finding it impossible to get us beds in a place 
 consisting of only a few cabins, this kind-hearted 
 and unceremonious woman had quitted her own for 
 me, and gone to sleep with her eldest daughter.
 
 ATHENRYE. 237 
 
 Concerning her family, whose name was neces- 
 sarily so striking to me, Mrs. herself could 
 
 tell me but little. She had married Mr. , then 
 
 a captain in the British army, in her twelfth year : 
 immediately afterwards she lost her father, and 
 embarked with her husband for Ireland, which 
 she had never left. She had heard, indeed, that 
 she had relations in Germany, but never corre- 
 sponded with them. Three years ago she received 
 a business letter from a cousin in A, an- 
 nouncing that her father's brother had died and 
 had left her heir to his whole property. The in- 
 difference of this African child of nature went so 
 far, that she had not only up to the present time 
 left this letter unanswered, but as she told me, had 
 never been able to decypher the whole of it, as it 
 was written in Dutch, and she had almost entirely 
 forgotten the language. "I don't know the man," 
 added she innocently, "and the money affairs I 
 left to my husband." 
 
 This bathing-place, Athenrye, is also one of the 
 curiosities of Ireland. From what I have already 
 said, you will conclude that no Polish village can 
 have a more wretched aspect. The cluster of 
 cabins is on a bare hill rising out of the bog, M ith- 
 out tree or bush, without an inn, without any 
 convenience, inhabited only by ragged beggars,
 
 238 BEGGARS, 
 
 and by the few invalids who bring with them every 
 thing they want, and must send for even the most 
 trifling article of food to Galway, a distance of 
 twelve miles. Once it was otherwise; and it sad- 
 dens one to see at the further extremity of this 
 wretched village the proud ruins of better times. 
 Here stood a rich abbey, now overgrown with 
 ivy, the arches which once protected the sanctuary 
 lie in fragments amid the unsheltered altars and 
 tombstones. Further on is a castle with walls ten 
 feet thick, in which King John held his court of 
 justice when he came over to Ireland. 
 
 I visited these ruins with a most numerous 
 company: I do not exaggerate when I say that at 
 least two hundred half-naked beings, two-thirds 
 of whom were children, had collected round my 
 carriage at a very early hour in the morning, 
 doing nothing : they now thronged round me, 
 all begging, and shouting, "Long life to your 
 Honour!" Every individual among them stuck 
 faithfully by me, leaping over stones and bram- 
 bles. The strangest compliment now and then 
 resounded from the midst of the crowd : at last 
 some called out, "Long life to the King \" On 
 my return I threw two or three handfuls of cop- 
 per among them ; and in a minute half of them, 
 old and .young, lay prostrate in the sand, while
 
 STATE OF EDUCATION. 239 
 
 the others ran with all speed into a whisky-shop, 
 fighting furiously all the way. 
 
 Such is Ireland ! Neglected or oppressed bv the 
 Government, debased by the stupid intolerance of 
 the English priesthood, and marked by poverty 
 and the poison of whisky, for the abode of naked 
 beggars ! I have already mentioned that even 
 among the educated classes of this province, the 
 ignorance appears, with our notions of education, 
 perfectly unequalled : I will only give you one or 
 two examples. Today something was said about 
 magnetism, and no one present had ever heard the 
 slightest mention of it. Nay, in B m, in a com- 
 pany of twenty persons, nobody knew that such 
 places as Carlsbad and Prague existed. The in- 
 formation that they were situated in Bohemia did 
 not mend the matter : Bohemia was not less 
 unknown ; and in short, everything out of Great 
 Britain and Paris was a country in the moon*. 
 " And where do you come from ? " asked one. 
 " From Brobdignag," said I in jest. " O ! is that 
 on the sea? Have they whisky there?" asked 
 another. The son of my host, whom I have repeat- 
 edly mentioned, asked me one day very seriously 
 as we met some asses, whether there were any 
 
 * " Bohmische Dorfer ". The jeudemots is inevitably lost. 
 TRANSL.
 
 240 FAIRIES. 
 
 such animals in my country ? " Ah ! but too 
 many," replied I. 
 
 B m, Sept. 12th. 
 
 Yesterday we returned home, tearing ourselves 
 away from the lovely African, who however had 
 promised soon to follow us. Today I took ad- 
 vantage of a leisure day to ride to Castle Hackett, 
 a solitary hill in the neighbourhood, believed by 
 the people to be a favourite resort of the fairies, 
 or ' good people ' as they call them. No nation 
 is more poetical, or more richly endowed with 
 fancy. An old man who has the care of the woods 
 of Castle Hackett, and has the reputation of know- 
 ing more than other men about the ' good people,' 
 told us the following circumstances connected with 
 the death of his son, in the style of a romance. 
 
 " I knew it, " said he, " four daysbefore I knew 
 he would die ; for as I was going home that even- 
 ing about twilight, I saw them scouring in a wild 
 chase over the plain : their red dresses fluttered 
 in the wind ; and the lakes turned to ice as they 
 came near, and walls and trees bowed themselves 
 to the earth before them ; and they rode over the 
 tops of the thicket as if it were over the green 
 grass. In front rode the queen, on a white stag- 
 like horse j and by her I saw, with a shudder, 
 my son, whom she smiled upon and caressed j
 
 CASTLE HACKETT. 241 
 
 while he, with a fevered eye, looked wistfully at 
 her, till all were past Castle Hackett. Then I 
 knew that it was all over with him ; that same 
 day he took to his bed on, the third I carried 
 him to the grave. There was not a handsomer 
 or a better lad in Connemara, and it was for that 
 the queen chose him." 
 
 The old man seemed so firmly and unaffectedly 
 convinced of the truth of his story, that it would 
 only have offended him to express the least doubt 
 of it. He replied to our inquiries for further 
 details with great readiness, and I promised myself 
 the pleasure of giving you the most accurate de- 
 scription of the dress of the fairy queen for your 
 next masked ball. At the foot of this hill is a 
 pretty country-seat ; and the hill itself is clothed 
 to its summit with young and thriving plantations. 
 On the top is a sort of artificial ruin, made of loose 
 stones piled together, laborious and almost dan- 
 gerous to climb. The view from it is, however, 
 worth the exertion. On two sides the eye wan- 
 ders over the almost immeasurable plain ; on the 
 other two lies Lough Corrib, a lake thirty miles 
 in length, behind which are the mountains of 
 Clare ; and in still remoter distance the ro- 
 mantic ridge of Connemara. The lake just at its 
 middle bends inland like a river, and its waters 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 f GOOD TEMPER/ 
 
 gradually lose themselves between the lofty 
 mountains, which seem to form a gateway for 
 their entrance. Just at this point the sun set; 
 and Nature, who often rewards my love for her, 
 displayed one of her most wondrous spectacles. 
 Black clouds hung over the mountains, and the 
 whole heavens were overcast. Only just at the 
 point where the sun looked out from beneath the 
 dusky veil, issued a stream of light which filled 
 the whole ravine with a sort of unearthly splen- 
 dour. The lake glittered beneath it like molten 
 brass j while the mountains had a transparent, 
 steel-blue lustre, like the gleam of diamonds. 
 Single streaks of rose-coloured cloud passed 
 slowly across this illumined picture over the 
 mountains ; while on both sides of the opened 
 heavens distant rain fell in torrents, and formed 
 a curtain which shut out every glimpse of the 
 remaining world. Such is the magnificence which 
 Nature has reserved for herself alone, and which 
 even Claude's pencil could never imitate. 
 
 On our way home my young friend discoursed 
 
 largely on the perfections of Mrs. L . Among 
 
 other things, he said, " Never with all her viva- 
 city did I see, even for an instant, the least trace 
 of impatience or ill-humour about her ; never had 
 woman a sweeter ' temper.' This word is, like
 
 ' GOOD TEMPER/ 243 
 
 1 gentle/ untranslatable. Only the nation which 
 invented c comfort' was capable of conceiving 
 f good temper,' for f good temper' is to the moral 
 what f comfort' is to the physical man. It is the 
 most contented, the most comfortable state of 
 the soul; the greatest happiness both for those 
 who possess it, and for those who live within its 
 influence. Perhaps it is found in perfection in 
 woman alone ; for it is rather a passive than an 
 active quality : and yet we must by no means con- 
 found it with mere apathy, which is either tedious, 
 or exasperates one's anger and contempt; whereas 
 1 good temper' soothes and tranquillizes all who 
 approach it. It is a truly kind, loving and cheerful 
 principle; mild and balmy as a cloudless May- 
 day. With ( gentleness ' in his own character 
 ' comfort* in his house, and ' good temper' in his 
 wife, the earthly felicity of man is complete. 
 ' Good temper,' in the highest sense, is doubtless 
 one of the rarest qualities ; the consequence of 
 an absolute harmony, or equilibrium of the moral 
 powers; the most perfect health of the soul. 
 Great and striking particular qualities cannot 
 therefore be combined with it ; for wherever one 
 quality is predominant, the equilibrium is de- 
 stroyed. It is possible to be most captivating, 
 to inspire passionate love, admiration or esteem, 
 it 2
 
 244 CONG. 
 
 without 'good temper j' to be perfectly and last- 
 ingly amiable without it, is impossible. The con- 
 templation of harmony in all things has a salutary 
 effect on the mind ; often unconscious of the cause, 
 the soul is gladdened and refreshed by it, whatever 
 be the sense through which it is communicated. 
 A person, therefore, who is gifted with ( good 
 temper,' affords us continual enjoyment, without 
 ever awakening our envy, or exciting any vehement 
 emotion. We gain strength from his tranquillity, 
 courage from his cheerfulness, comfort from his 
 resignation ; we feel our anger vanish before his 
 loving patience, and are finally the better and the 
 happier for listening to the spiritual music of his 
 harmony. 
 
 How many words, you will say, to describe one 1 
 And yet, dear Julia, I have very imperfectly ex- 
 pressed what ( good temper ' is. 
 
 September 13th. 
 
 The beautiful view of yesterday evening enticed 
 me to take a nearer survey of what I had beheld 
 at a distance. My obliging friend speedily fitted 
 out an equipage for this purpose, a little ' char a 
 bane,' which was drawn by two horses ' tandem ' 
 (one horse before another). We determined to 
 visit Lake Corrib, Cong and its caverns, and to 
 return in the night. After four hours smart trot-
 
 CONG. 245 
 
 ting, and some little accidents to our frail tackle, 
 we reached Cong, at a distance of twenty miles, 
 where we ate a breakfast we had brought with 
 us, of lobster prepared after the Irish fashion*. 
 Knives and forks were not to be had, so that we 
 adopted the Chinese mode of eating. We then 
 set out to the caverns, accompanied as usual by a 
 half-naked cortege, 
 
 Every one of them was on the watch to do us 
 some service : if I stooped to pick up a stone, ten 
 or a dozen scrambled for it, and then asked for 
 money ; if there was a gate to open, twenty 
 rushed to it, and expected a like reward. After I 
 had given away all my small money, came one 
 who affirmed that he had shown me some trifle or 
 other : I unwillingly refused him, and told him 
 my purse was empty. " Oh," said he, " a gentle- 
 man's purse can never be empty!" no bad an- 
 swer ; for under the form of a compliment lurks 
 a sort of reproach : " You look too much like a 
 ' gentleman' not to have money ; but if you are so 
 ungenerous as not to give any, you are not a true 
 gentleman ; and, if you really have none, still less 
 are you one." The crowd felt this, and laughed 
 till I bought my deliverance from him. 
 
 But to return to the * Pigeon-hole.' It lies in the 
 * An excellent dish ! the receipt, vivd voce.
 
 246 THE PIGEON-HOLE. 
 
 middle of a bare and treeless field, which, although 
 flat, is scattered over with masses of limestone 
 of a peculiar form, between which the scanty soil 
 is with difficulty cultivated. These pieces of rock 
 are as smooth as if polished by art, and look like 
 stones regularly piled and half prepared for some 
 colossal building. In this rocky plain, at about 
 half a mile from Lough Corrib, is the entrance of 
 the cave, like a broad dark well, in which thirty 
 or forty steps, roughly hewn in the rock, lead 
 down to the stream, which here flows subterra- 
 neously, making its way through long and ro- 
 mantic arches, till at length it rises into day and 
 turns a mill. It then buries itself a second time 
 in the earth, and at length appears again as a 
 broad, deep, and crystal river, and thus flows on 
 till it falls into the lake. 
 
 Not far from the cave before which we were now 
 standing lives a ' Donna del Lago,' who pays the 
 lord of the soil four pounds a year for the privi- 
 lege of showing the c Pigeon-hole' to strangers. 
 She was admirably fitted for the porteress of such 
 an entrance to the nether world, and indeed the 
 whole scene could not be better ' in character' as 
 the English say. We had descended the steps in 
 the dark, and heard the rush of invisible waters, 
 when the gigantic, haggard old woman, with a
 
 LOUGH CORRIB. 247 
 
 scarlet cloak loosely thrown around her, long 
 streaming white hair, and a firebrand in each 
 hand, came down, the living original of Meg 
 Merrilies. It was a wild scene ! her flickering 
 torches threw fitful gleams on the rolling water 
 and the lofty vaulted roof bristling with stalac- 
 tites, and now and then brought out the pale and 
 squalid figures behind her with a broad red glare. 
 She took some bundles of straw, and with words 
 which sounded like an incantation, lighted them 
 and threw them blazing into the stream. As they 
 floated rapidly away, they disclosed new grottos, 
 more grotesque forms, and at length, after a hun- 
 dred windings, disappeared in the distance like 
 small tapers. We followed them, scrambling 
 over the slippery stones, as far as we could, and 
 discovered here and there a trout in the ice-cold 
 water. They have this peculiarity, that whatever 
 bait may be offered them, no attempt to catch one 
 has ever succeeded. The people of course think 
 them enchanted. 
 
 On emerging from the 'darkness to the spot 
 where daylight breaks faintly, as down a shaft, 
 you see the ivy and creeping plants hang around 
 the rocks in the most picturesque festoons and 
 garlands. Here flocks of wild pigeons roost, 
 whence the cave has its name. The popular
 
 248 LOUGH CORRIB. 
 
 superstition permits no sportsman to molest them 
 in this spot, so that they are fearless as in a dove- 
 cote. 
 
 We quitted this gloomy region, where all is 
 close and oppressive, and wandered down to the 
 broad sea-like lake, where all seems to lose itself 
 in boundless space. This majestic body of water 
 fills a basin of twelve German miles long, and at 
 its widest point, three broad. It contains just as 
 many islands as the year days ; at least so the 
 natives assert, I did not count them. It is 
 bounded on two sides by the high mountains of 
 Connemara ; on the others its waters are nearly 
 level with the plain : the approach to it opposite 
 to the mountains was, therefore, more beautiful 
 than the return. The navigation of this lake is very 
 dangerous from its numerous rocks and islands, 
 and the sudden squalls which often arise upon it. 
 We saw in a newspaper a short time ago, that a 
 boat, having on board a butcher and his sheep, had 
 gone down, and man and beast perished. We had 
 a very calm, though not a bright day. When we 
 landed, my companion went before to give some 
 orders ; while, as the sun was setting, I visited the 
 ruins of an abbey, which contained some striking 
 remains of architectural and sculptural beauty. 
 
 Ireland is studded with ruins of old castles and
 
 IRISH BURIAL-PLACES. 249 
 
 monasteries more thickly than any country in Eu- 
 rope, though they do not present such enormous 
 masses as those in England. These old ruins (for 
 unfortunately even here are many new ones) are 
 constantly used by the people as places of burial, 
 a poetical idea peculiar, I believe, to this nation. 
 As there are none of those tasteless modern mo- 
 numents which deform English churches, and the 
 grave is marked only by a mound of earth, or at 
 most a flat stone, the touching picture of human 
 frailty is enhanced, not impaired, by this custom. 
 The impression is, however, sometimes height- 
 ened into horror by the little heed paid by those 
 who dig the graves to the earlier buried, whose 
 skeletons are thrown out without ceremony as 
 soon as there is a want of room. The ruins are 
 consequently filled with heaps of skulls and bones 
 thrown confusedly together, and sometimes placed 
 in pyramids or other forms by children at play t 
 I climbed over a heap of mingled stones and bones, 
 and crawled up into a ruinous chamber of the first 
 story, where I feasted myself on the strange ro- 
 mantic picture. On my left the wall had fallen 
 in, and opened to the eye the beautiful landscape 
 which surrounds the lake, with its bright- green 
 foreground, the mountains in the distance, and on 
 one side the house and the high trees in the park
 
 250 IRISH BURIAL-PLACES. 
 
 of the Macnamaras. Before me was a window in 
 good preservation, surrounded with carvings like 
 ' point d'Alei^on ; ' above it hung large bunches 
 of deep purple blackberries pendant from their 
 luxuriant branches, which crept in one continuous 
 mass along the open wall. On the right, where 
 the wall of the chamber remained perfect, was a 
 low niche, which no doubt formerly contained 
 a saint, but was now occupied by a skull ; the 
 empty eye-sockets were directed exactly towards 
 the beautiful landscape spread before it, as if its 
 brilliancy and freshness had power to gladden 
 death itself. Following the same direction, I dis- 
 covered a grated window just above the ground, 
 which I had till then overlooked : it gave light to 
 a spacious cellar, in which I descried a vast heap 
 of bones, all arranged in the way I have mentioned, 
 in various forms. The sunny landscape above, 
 the dark charnel-house below, in which childhood 
 sported with death, it was a glance at once into 
 life and the grave, the joys of the one and the 
 unsympathizing calm of the other ; while the 
 rays of the setting sun threw a cheering glow 
 over the living and dead, like messengers from a 
 fairer world. 
 
 Our return in a dark night, with incessant rain, 
 was fatiguing and unpleasant ; we broke several
 
 ENGLISH POSTAGE. 251 
 
 springs of our carriage, and had all sorts of cala- 
 mities to endui'e. We arrived at B after mid- 
 night, and to my real dismay found the good old 
 Captain and the whole family still up, and waiting 
 supper for us. The prodigal attentions and the 
 infinite kindness of these excellent people daily 
 put me to shame, and I continually admire to see 
 that their cordial hospitality is not deformed by 
 the slightest trace of ostentation. 
 
 That my letter may not be too large, and cost 
 too much postage, (for I have to pay some pounds 
 sterling to the English post-office for my volu- 
 minous packets,) I close it before I leave B in. 
 
 You will know me safe and well up to this point, 
 and in the care of people whose hearts are like 
 your own, however inferior to you they may be 
 in mind and cultivation. Heaven bless and pre- 
 serve you. 
 
 Your most faithful L .
 
 252 BELIEF. 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 B m, Sept. 14th, 1828. 
 
 BELOVED FRIEND, 
 
 YOUR sermon is excellent ; your reasons are un- 
 answerable; but I happen to believe the contrary; 
 and belief is, as you know, a thing which not only 
 removes mountains, but often builds up such as it 
 is impossible to see over. No conversion conse- 
 quently can be effectual, be the subject what it 
 may, till the opposite belief has already begun to 
 totter. Till that point is reached, though you 
 speak with the wisdom of Plato, and act with 
 the purity of Jesus, every man will retain his be- 
 lief, on which reason and good sense have ordi- 
 narily little influence. He who wishes to produce 
 any sudden change in the minds of men before 
 they are already disposed to it, will either be con- 
 fined as a madman, or stoned and crucified as a 
 martyr. History teaches us this in every page. 
 What is applicable universally, is also applicable 
 individually, and now, f parlez moiraison si vou 
 Fosez/ But, seriously speaking, a man who has 
 the misfortune to be born with a too independent 
 spirit, and who cares little for common opinion,
 
 GERMAN CHARACTER. 253 
 
 merely because it is common, should remain un- 
 changed all his life. The consequences of such a 
 turn of mind, and the hostilities it excites, be- 
 come painful, and at length dangerous, only when 
 he grows weak and ceases to be self-sustained j 
 when instead of despising, as before, the opinions 
 of others, he begins to fear them. The multitude 
 are quick to perceive the change, and instantly 
 begin a steady and vigorous pursuit of the game 
 which flees before them, and which, so long as it 
 stood at bay and looked them boldly in the face, 
 they dared not openly attack. For getting on in 
 the world, there is no better maxim than this, 
 1 Bouche riante, et front d'airain, et vous passez 
 par tout.' We Germans are almost always too 
 earnest as well as too timid, and are capable of only 
 momentary struggles against these defects, which, 
 like all such attempts, generally overshoot the 
 mark. This makes us so fond of retirement and 
 of converse with our own fancy, our best and 
 faithfullest companion j we are sovereign lords of 
 the regions of air, as Madame de Stae'l says. The 
 world, as it is, does not please us, and we are just 
 as little fitted to please the world. Retirement, and 
 with it freedom, are therefore what we love best. 
 
 We have had a strange accomplishment of a pro- 
 phecy. Miss Kitty, one of my host's daughters,
 
 254 FORTUNE-TELLING. 
 
 and a very nice girl, had her fortune told yesterday 
 by gipseys. I was by, and heard the woman say 
 to her, among many common-place predictions, 
 " Be upon your guard ; for a shot" will be fired in 
 
 at your window, and your stay in B will not 
 
 be long after that." We thought the prediction 
 rather serious, and communicated it to the family 
 on our return, but were only laughed at. The next 
 morning early, we were all alarmed by the firing 
 of two shots j Miss Kitty rushed down stairs half 
 dressed, and nearly fainting from terror; and 
 every one in the house ran to see what was the 
 matter. We found that two of Kitty's younger 
 brothers, who had been on a visit to Mrs. M , 
 had returned quite unexpectedly to fetch their 
 sister, had played the silly trick of firing their 
 fowling-pieces up at her window, and had done it 
 so awkwardly that they had broken it. They 
 were soundly rated, and then drove off with Miss 
 Kitty ; so that everything happened precisely as 
 the old woman, Heaven only knows how! had 
 seen in the lines of her hand. 
 
 September 15th. 
 
 I was a little hypochondriacal and dull yester- 
 day, but today I am better in health, and conse- 
 quently full of philanthropical sentiments ; vir- 
 tuous, 'faute d'occasion de pe'cher/ and merry,
 
 STATE OF IRISH PEASANTRY-. 255 
 
 because I can laugh at myself, f faute de trouver 
 quelque chose de plus ridicule/ 
 
 Meanwhile the scene here has altered. The fair 
 African- is arrived, and we immediately set out 
 ten in number, on a ride > in the course of which 
 the old Captain showed us his bog cultivation and 
 his draining with all the ardour of a young man. 
 He was as much enchanted by a field of potatoes 
 as I by my fair companion. Pointing to a good 
 crop, he cried out with enthusiasm, " Is not that a 
 magnificent sight ?" it certainly never came into 
 his head that we could be thinking of other things, 
 and that we assented only out of civility. 
 
 I found some peasants for my plan of coloniza- 
 tion ; they were all eager to go, but unfortunately 
 had not a penny in the world in furtherance of 
 such a scheme. One runs no risk in promising 
 them that they will be better off, in every respect, 
 than here, where a man must subsist from half an 
 acre of land ; and if he be ever so willing to seek 
 work abroad, cannot find it. Those of them who 
 are best off live in dwellings which our peasants 
 would think too bad for their cows or horses. I 
 visited one of these cabins, and found the walls 
 built of rude blocks of stone, with moss stuffed 
 into the interstices, and a roof covered partly with 
 straw, partly with turf. The floor consisted of
 
 256 STATE OP IRISH PEASANTRY. 
 
 the bare earth ; there was no ceiling, and the roof 
 admitted the light in many places. Chimneys 
 seem to be esteemed a useless luxury. The 
 smoke ascended from the open hearth, and found 
 its way through the holes which served as win- 
 dows. A lower shed on the right was the bed- 
 room of the whole family ; a similar one on the 
 left, the habitation of the pig and the cow. The 
 house stood in the middle of a field, without gar- 
 den, and utterly bare, and this they all called an 
 excellent house. 
 
 When we got home our pretty visitor's hands 
 were nearly frozen, even at this season. They were 
 perfectly white and insensible, and were rubbed a 
 quarter of an hour before the blood and life re- 
 turned to them : ' C'est le sang Africain.' She 
 is in perfect comfort only when seated close to a 
 glowing turf fire, which would scorch anybody 
 else ; then she recovers her child-like freedom and 
 sportiveness, which sometimes carries even me 
 away with it. 
 
 September 17th. 
 
 Today Mr. L came to visit us. * * 
 
 He is a furious Orangeman : it was to be expected
 
 SENTIMENTS OF AN ORANGEMAN. 257 
 
 that such a character as his would range itself on 
 the side of injustice, and delight in party rage. 
 But on what principles ! As this is a specimen of 
 the height to which the spirit of party has reached, 
 and the shamelessness with which it dares to avow 
 itself, I will give you the quintessence of his con- 
 versation. 
 
 " I have served my king for nearly thirty years 
 in almost every part of the world, and want rest. 
 Nevertheless, it is my most ardent wish, which 
 I daily pray God to grant, that I may live to see 
 a ( good sound rebellion ' in Ireland. If I were 
 called out to serve again, or if I were to lay down 
 my life the very day it broke out, I should make 
 the sacrifice willingly, could I but be sure that 
 the blood of five millions of Catholics would flow 
 at the same time with my own. Rebellion ! that's 
 the point at which I want to see them, at which 
 I wait for them, and to which they must be led 
 on, that we may make an end of them at once ; 
 for there can be no peace in Ireland till the whole 
 race is exterminated, and nothing but an open re- 
 bellion, and an English army to put it down, can 
 effect this !" 
 
 The youthful and uncorrupted hearts of the 
 sons of my host were as indignant as my own : 
 they manfully combated these diabolical princi-
 
 258 LANDSCAPE GARDENING, 
 
 pies ; but this exasperated the maniac Orange- 
 man still more, till at length all were silent. Se- 
 veral had early dropped off from table to escape 
 from such revolting conversation. 
 
 September 18th. 
 
 Mr. L 's visit fortunately lasted only a few 
 
 days, and we are once more alone. We took 
 advantage of our recovered freedom to make an 
 
 excursion of twenty miles to Mount B , the 
 
 beautiful residence of a nobleman, and did not 
 get back till late at night. The park at Mount 
 
 B affords a perfect study for the judicious 
 
 distribution of masses of water, to which it is so 
 difficult to give the character of grandeur and 
 simplicity that ought always to belong to them. 
 It is necessary to study the forms of nature for 
 the details ; but the principal thing is never to 
 suffer an expanse of water to be completely over- 
 looked, or seen in its whole extent. It should 
 break on the eye gradually, and if possible lose 
 itself at several points at the same time, in order 
 to give full play to the fancy, the true art in all 
 landscape gardening. The lord of the demesne, 
 who is rich, possesses a numerous collection of 
 pictures, some of which are excellent. There is 
 a winter landscape of Ruysdaal's, the only one of
 
 COLLECTION OF PICTURES. 259 
 
 its kind which I remember to have seen by that 
 master. The character of the cold foggy air, and 
 the crisp frozen snow, are so perfectly given, that 
 I almost shivered before it ; I felt at least that 
 the flickering blaze in the fire-place beneath had 
 a double charm. A fine and undoubted Rubens, 
 the Miraculous Draught of Fishes, is chiefly re- 
 markable for a strange singularity : St. Peter has 
 a scarlet wig, and yet the general expression of 
 the picture is not injured. It has the effect of a 
 glory, and seems to shed light around. I should 
 think it was a trial of skill, perhaps undertaken 
 by the painter in consequence of some jest, ( pour 
 prouver la difficulte vaincue/ A very laborious 
 landscape on wood, by an unknown hand, was 
 formerly in the private collection of Charles I., 
 whose cipher and name, with the crown above, 
 are branded on the back. The gem of the collec- 
 tion appeared to me a picture of Rembrandt's, 
 supposed to be the portrait of an Asiatic Jew ; it 
 is at any rate the ideal of one. The reality of the 
 eyes and their blighting look is almost terrific ; 
 the dark and sinister, yet sublime expression of 
 the whole is increased by the inky blackness of the 
 rest of the picture, out of which the fiery eyes and 
 satanic mouth look as if peeping forth frightfully 
 from the midst of Egyptian night.
 
 260 IRISH HUNTERS. 
 
 After breakfast several hunters and racers were 
 brought out, and we exhibited our feats of horse- 
 manship to the ladies. The hunters of this country 
 are not, perhaps, quite so swift as the best English 
 ones, but they are unequalled at leaping, to which 
 they are trained from their youth. They go up to 
 a wall with the most perfect composure, and mount 
 it with their fore and hind feet like a dog. If there 
 is a ditch on the other side, they leap that also by 
 giving themselves a fresh * elan' on the top of the 
 wall. The less the rider attempts to help a well- 
 trained horse the better. If he keeps a steady 
 light rein upon him he may safely leave him to 
 himself. 
 
 I don't know whether these details of horse- 
 manship are very interesting to you, but as my 
 letters are at the same time my journal (for how 
 should I find time to keep any other?), you must 
 be so kind as to receive with indulgence what- 
 ever has any interest, not only for you, but for 
 myself. 
 
 Galway, September 1 9th : Evening. 
 
 You know that my determinations are often of 
 
 a very sudden nature, my pistol-shots, as you 
 
 used to call them. I have just discharged one. 
 
 You may think that I did not quit such cordial
 
 IRISH KINDNESS. 261 
 
 friends without great regret, but I had resolved 
 to go, and adhered steadily to my resolution. To 
 avoid the delay of sending for post-horses, I 
 rode with James for the last time on ' Doctor,' 
 his admirable hunter, to Tuam, leaving all need- 
 ful arrangements to my servant. I intended to 
 leave Tuam by the mail, but it was not its day for 
 going, and no species of conveyance to Galway 
 was to be had, except the little two-wheeled cart 
 of the man who carries the letter-bags, which 
 carries two passengers. I did not deliberate long, 
 but giving James a last shake by the hand, sprang 
 into this frail vehicle, and * clopin-clopant,' away 
 rattled the old horse with us through the streets. 
 The other passenger was a fine athletic, well 
 dressed, young man, with whom I soon got into 
 an interesting conversation on the beauties and 
 wonders of his country, and the character of his 
 countrymen. He was not long without affording 
 me a fresh proof of the hearty kindness and civi- 
 lity of the latter. I was very lightly dressed, and 
 heated with riding, so that I suffered from the 
 cold wind. I offered the driver some money to 
 surrender his cloak to me: on a nearer view, how- 
 ever, this appeared so fearfully dirty and disgust- 
 ing, that I could not bring myself to put it on. 
 The young man immediately took off a magnifi-
 
 262 COUNTY GALWAY. 
 
 cent great-coat of vast dimensions, and almost 
 forced me to take it, protesting that he never 
 caught cold, that he could sleep in the water 
 without taking any harm, and that he had put on 
 the great-coat only because he did not know what 
 to do with it. This friendly act of his made us 
 more quickly acquainted than we should other- 
 wise have been ; and the time passed away, amid 
 all sorts of talk, much more rapidly than I had 
 ventured to hope ; for the distance was six Ger- 
 man miles, the rode very rough, the equipage as 
 bad as possible, the seat uneasy, the country mo- 
 notonous and dreary. Not a hill, not a tree to 
 be seen ; only a network of walls drawn over the 
 whole surface. Every field is inclosed within 
 Avails of loose stones without mortar, but so well 
 constructed, that unless violently shaken they 
 stand very firm. Many ruins of old castles were 
 visible, but in such a flat desert plain, without 
 one bush or bough to break it, they produced no 
 romantic effect. 
 
 We found the ragged potatoe-eating people 
 everywhere gay and joyous. They always beg, 
 to be sure, but they beg laughing, with wit, 
 humour, and the drollest expressions, without 
 importunity, and without f rancune' if they get 
 nothing. Most striking, amid such singular
 
 IRISH GAIETY. 263 
 
 poverty is the no less singular honesty of these 
 people; perhaps, however, the one arises out of 
 the other, for luxury makes us covetous, and the 
 poor man can often bear the privation of neces- 
 saries more easily than the rich of superfluities. 
 
 We saw a number of labourers sitting by the 
 road-side on heaps of stone, which they were 
 breaking. My companion said, " Those are con- 
 querors; their whole business is to break in pieces 
 and destroy, and they rise on the ruins they make." 
 Meanwhile our driver blew his horn to announce 
 the post, for which, as with us, everything must 
 make way : the tone, however, came forth with 
 such difficulty and sounded so piteously, that we 
 all laughed. A pretty boy of about twelve, look- 
 ing like a personification of happiness and joy, 
 though half naked, was sitting on a heap of stones, 
 hammering. He shouted with mischievous glee, 
 and called out to the angry driver, "Oh, ho, friend, 
 your trumpet has caught cold ; it is as hoarse as 
 my old grandmother: cure it directly with a glass 
 of potheen, or it will die of a consumption before 
 you reach Gal way !" A loud laugh from all the 
 labourers followed as chorus. "There," said my 
 companion, " there you see our people, star- 
 vation and laughter, that is their lot. Would 
 you believe that, from the number of labourers and
 
 264 GALWAY. 
 
 the scarcity of labour, not one of these men-earns 
 enough to buy sufficient food ; and yet every one 
 of them will spare something to his priest : and if 
 you go into his cabin, will give you half of his last 
 potatoe and a joke into the bargain." 
 
 We now approached the Gal way mountains, 
 over which the sun was setting magnificently. 
 This is a spectacle which I can never behold un- 
 moved; it always enchants me, and leaves a feel-- 
 ing of calm and security, arising from the cer- 
 tainty that this language, which God himself 
 speaks to us, cannot lie; though human revelations 
 be but piece-meal, differently understood by every 
 different interpreter, and often abused to the pur- 
 poses of cunning and selfishness. 
 
 We alighted at the same inn at which I had been 
 during the races ; and to make some return for my 
 young friend's civility, I invited him to sup with 
 me. It was late when we separated, probably for 
 ever; but such acquaintanceships I like : they leave 
 no time for dissembling; ignorant of each other's 
 social relations, each values in the other only the 
 man. Whatever each obtains from the other of 
 kind feeling or good opinion he owes to himself 
 alone. 
 
 Sept. 20th. Morning. 
 
 I had hoped my carriage would have arrived
 
 "THE CROSS-BONES." 265 
 
 during the night, but it is not yet come, and I 
 therefore employed my leisure in taking a more 
 perfect survey of this ancient city. I was greatly 
 assisted by some fragments of an old Chronicle 
 which I accidentally picked up in a grocer's shop, 
 where I made some inquiries. In an obscure 
 corner of the town stands a house of extreme an- 
 tiquity, over the door of which are still to be seen 
 a skull and cross-bones, remarkably well sculp- 
 tured in black marble. This house is called " The 
 Cross-bones," and its tragical history is as fol- 
 lows. 
 
 In the fifteenth century, James Lynch, a man of 
 old family and great Wealth, was chosen mayor of 
 Galway for life, an office which was then nearly 
 equal to that of a sovereign in power and influ- 
 ence. He was reverenced for his inflexible rec- 
 titude, and loved for his condescension and mild- 
 ness. But yet more beloved, the idol of the 
 citizens and their fair wives, was his son, ac- 
 cording to the Chronicle, one of the most distin- 
 guished young men of his time. To perfect manly 
 beauty and the most noble air, he united that cheer- 
 ful temper, that considerate familiarity, which 
 subdues while it seems to flatter, that attaching 
 grace of manner, which conquers all hearts with- 
 out an effort, by its mere natural charm. On the 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 " THE CROSS-BONES." 
 
 other hand, his oft- proved patriotism, his high- 
 hearted generosity, his romantic courage, and 
 complete mastery in all warlike exercises, form- 
 ing part of an education singular in his age and 
 country, secured to him the permanency of an 
 esteem which his first aspect involuntarily be- 
 spoke. 
 
 So much light was not without shadow. Deep 
 and burning passions, a haughty temper, jea- 
 lousy of all rival merit, rendered all his fine qua- 
 lities only so many sources of danger to himself 
 and others. Often had his stern father, although 
 proud of such a son, cause for bitter reproof, and 
 for yet more anxious solicitude about the future. 
 But even he could not resist the sweetness of the 
 youth, as quick to repent as to err, and who 
 never for a moment failed in love and reverence 
 to himself. After his first displeasure was past, 
 the defects of his son appeared to him, as they 
 did to all others, only spots on the sun. He was 
 soon still further tranquillized by the vehement 
 and tender attachment which the young man ap- 
 peared to have conceived for Anna Blake, the 
 daughter of his best friend, and a girl possessing 
 every lovely and attaching quality. He looked 
 forward to their union as the fulfilment of all his 
 wishes. But fate had willed it otherwise.
 
 "THE CROSS-BONES." 267 
 
 While young Lynch found more difficulty in 
 conquering the heart of the present object of his 
 love than he had ever experienced before, his 
 father \vas called by business to Cadiz ; for the 
 great men of Galway, like the other inhabitants 
 of considerable sea-ports in the middle ages, held 
 trade on a large scale to be an employment nowise 
 unworthy even of men of noble birth. Galway 
 was at that time so powerful and so widely known, 
 that, as the Chronicle relates, an Arab merchant, 
 who had long traded to these coasts from the East, 
 once inquired " in what part of Galway Ireland 
 lay?" 
 
 After James Lynch had delegated his authority 
 to trusty hands, and prepared everything for a di- 
 stant journey, with an overflowing heart he blessed 
 his son, wished him the best issue to his suit, and 
 sailed for his destination. Wherever he went, suc- 
 cess crowned his undertakings. For this he was 
 much indebted to the friendly services of a Spa- 
 nish merchant named Gomez, towards whom his 
 noble heart conceived the liveliest gratitude. 
 
 It happened that Gomez also had an only son, 
 who, like Edward Lynch, was the idol of his fa- 
 mily and the darling of his native city, though in 
 character, as well as in external appearance, en- 
 tirely different from him. Both were handsome ; 
 N 2
 
 268 "THE CROSS-BONES." 
 
 but Edward's was the beauty of the haughty and 
 breathing Apollo ; Gonsalvo's, of the serene and 
 mild St. John. The one appeared like a rock 
 crowned with flowers ; the other, like a fragrant 
 rose-covered knoll threatened by the storm. The 
 pagan virtues adorned the one ; Christian gentle- 
 ness and humility the other. Gonsalvo's graceful 
 person exhibited more softness than energy ; his 
 languid dark blue eyes, more tenderness and love 
 than boldness and pride ; a soft melancholy over- 
 shadowed his countenance, and an air of volup- 
 tuous suffering quivered about his swelling lips, 
 around which a timid smile rarely played, like 
 a gentle wave gliding over pearls and coral. His 
 mind corresponded to such a person : loving and 
 endearing, of a grave and melancholy serenity, of 
 more internal than external activity, he preferred 
 solitude to the bustle and tumult of society, but 
 attached himself with the strongest affection to 
 those who treated him with kindness and friend- 
 ship. His inmost heart was thus warmed by a 
 fire which, like that of a volcano buried too deep 
 to break out at the surface, is only seen in the in- 
 creased fertility of the soil above, which it clothes 
 in the softest green, and decks with the brightest 
 flowers. Thus captivating, and easily captivated, 
 was it a wonder if he stole the palm even from
 
 " THE CROSS-BONES." 269 
 
 the hand of Edward Lynch ? But Edward's father 
 had no such anticipations. Full of gratitude to 
 his friend, and of affection for his engaging son, 
 he determined to propose to the old Gomez a 
 marriage between Gonsalvo and his daughter. 
 The offer was too flattering to be refused. The 
 fathers were soon agreed ; it was decided that 
 Gonsalvo should accompany his future father-in- 
 law to the coast of Ireland, and if the inclinations 
 of the young people favoured the project, that their 
 union should take place at the same time with 
 Edward's j after which they should immediately 
 return to Spain. Gonsalvo, who was just nine- 
 teen, accompanied the revered friend of his father 
 with joy. His young romantic spirit enjoyed in 
 silent and delighted anticipation the varying scenes 
 of strange lands which he was about to see ; the 
 wonders of the deep which he would contemplate ; 
 the new sort of existence of unknown people with 
 whom he was to be connected ; and his warm heart 
 already attached itself to the girl, of whose charms 
 her father gave him, perhaps, a too partial descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 Every moment of the long voyage, which at that 
 time abounded with dangers and required a much 
 longer period than now, increased the intimacy 
 and mutual attachment of the travellers : and when
 
 270 "THE CROSS-BONES." 
 
 at length they descried the port of Galway, the 
 old Lynch congratulated himself not only on the 
 second son which God had sent him, but on the 
 beneficial influence which the unvarying gentle- 
 ness of the amiable youth would have on Edward's 
 darker and more vehement character. 
 
 This hope appeared likely to be completely ful- 
 filled. Edward, who found all in Gomez that was 
 wanting in himself, felt his own nature as it were 
 completed by his society; and as he had already 
 learned from his father that he was to regard him 
 as a brother, their friendship soon ripened into the 
 warmest and most sincere affection. 
 
 But not many months had passed before some 
 uneasy feelings arose in Edward's mind to trouble 
 this harmony. Gonsalvo had become the husband 
 of his sister, but had deferred his return to Spain 
 for an indefinite time. He was become the object 
 of general admiration, attention, and love. Ed- 
 ward felt that he was less happy than formerly. 
 For the first time in his life neglected, he could 
 not conceal from himself that he had found a 
 successful rival of his former universal and un- 
 contested popularity. But what shook him most 
 fearfully, what wounded his heart no less than 
 his pride, what prepared for him intolerable and 
 restless torments, was the perception which every
 
 "THE CROSS-BONES." 271 
 
 day confirmed, that Anna, whom he looked upon 
 as his, though she still refused to confess her 
 love, that his Anna had, ever since the arrival of 
 the handsome stranger, grown colder and colder 
 towards himself. Nay, he even imagined that in 
 unguarded moments he had seen her speaking eyes 
 rest, as if weighed down with heavy thoughts, on 
 the soft and beautiful features of Gomez, and a 
 faint blush then pass over her pale cheek; but if 
 his eye met hers, this soft bloom suddenly become 
 the burning glow of fever. Yes, he could not 
 doubt it j her whole deportment was altered : ca- 
 pricious, humoursome, restless, sometimes sunk 
 in deep melancholy, then suddenly breaking into 
 fits of violent mirth, she seemed to retain only the 
 outward form of the sensible, clear-minded, serene 
 and equal -tempered girl she had always appeared. 
 Everything betrayed to the quick eye of jealousy 
 that she was the prey of some deep-seated pas- 
 sion, and for whom ? for whom could it be but 
 for Gomez ? for him, at whose every action it was 
 evident the inmost cords of her heart gave out their 
 altered tone. It has been wisely said, that love is 
 more nearly akin to hate than to liking. What 
 passed in Edward's bosom was a proof of this. 
 Henceforth it seemed his sole enjoyment to give 
 pain to the woman he passionately loved; and
 
 272 "THE CROSS-BONES." 
 
 now, in the bitterness of his heart, held guilty of 
 all his sufferings. Wherever occasion presented 
 itself, he sought to humble and to embarrass her ; 
 to sting her by disdainful pride, or to overwhelm 
 her with cutting reproaches ; till, conscious of her 
 secret crime, shame and anguish overpowered the 
 wretched girl, and she burst into torrents of tears, 
 which alone had power to allay the scorching fever 
 of his heart. But no kindly reconciliation followed 
 these scenes, and, as with lovers, resolved the dis- 
 sonance into blessed harmony. The exasperation 
 of each was only heightened to desperation : and 
 when he at length saw enkindled in Gomez, so 
 little capable of concealment, the same fire which 
 burnt in the eyes of Anna ; when he thought he 
 saw his sister neglected and himself betrayed by 
 a serpent whom he had cherished in his bosom, 
 he stood at that point of human infirmity, of which 
 the All-seeing alone can decide whether it be mad- 
 ness, or the condition of a still accountable crea- 
 ture. 
 
 On the same night in which suspicion had 
 driven Edward from his couch, a restless wan- 
 derer, it appears that the guilty lovers had for the 
 first time met in secret. According to the sub- 
 sequent confession of Edward, he had concealed 
 himself behind a pillar, and had seen Gomez,
 
 "THE CROSS-BONES.' 273 
 
 wrapped in his mantle, glide with hurried steps 
 out of a well-known side door in the house of 
 Anna's father, which led immediately to her 
 apartments. At the horrible certainty which now 
 glared upon him, the fury of hell took possession 
 of his soul : his eyes started from their sockets, 
 the blood rushed and throbbed as if it would burst 
 his veins, and as a man dying of thirst pants for 
 a draught of cooling water, so did his whole being 
 pant for the blood of his rival. Like an infuriate 
 tiger he darted upon the unhappy youth, who re- 
 cognised him, and vainly fled. Edward instantly 
 overtook him, seized him, and burying his dag- 
 ger a hundred times, with strokes like lightning- 
 flashes, in the quivering body, gashed with satanic 
 rage the beautiful features which had robbed him 
 of his beloved, and of peace. It was not till the 
 moon broke forth from behind a dark cloud, and 
 suddenly lighted the ghastly spectacle before him, 
 the disfigured mass, which retained scarcely a 
 feature of his once beloved friend, the streams of 
 blood which bathed the body and all the earth 
 around it, that he waked with horror as from 
 some infernal dream. But the deed was done, 
 and judgement was at hand. 
 
 Led by the instinct of self-preservation, he 
 fled, like Cain, into the nearest wood. How long 
 N 5
 
 274- "THE CROSS-BONES." 
 
 he wandered there he could not recollect. Fear, 
 love, repentance, despair, and at last madness, 
 pursued him like frightful companions, and at 
 length rohbed him of consciousness, for a time 
 annihilating the terrors of the past in forgetful- 
 ness ; for kind nature puts an end to intolerable 
 sufferings of mind, as of body, by insensibility or 
 death. 
 
 Meanwhile the murder was soon known in the 
 city ; and the fearful end of the gentle youth, who 
 had confided himself, a foreigner, to their hos- 
 pitality, was learned by all with sorrow and in- 
 dignation. A dagger steeped in blood had been 
 found lying by the velvet cap of the Spaniard; and 
 not far from it a hat, ornamented with plumes 
 and a clasp of gems, showed the recent traces of 
 a man who seemed to have sought safety in the 
 direction of the wood. The hat was immediately 
 recognised as Edward's ; and as he was nowhere 
 to be found, fears were soon entertained that he 
 had been murdered with his friend. The terrified 
 father mounted his horse, and, accompanied by a 
 crowd of people calling for vengeance, swore so- 
 lemnly that nothing should save the murderer, 
 were he even compelled to execute him with his 
 own hands. 
 
 We may imagine the shouts of joy, and the
 
 "THE CROSS-BONES." 275 
 
 feelings of the father, when at break of day Ed- 
 ward Lynch was found sunk under a tree, living, 
 and although covered with blood, yet apparently 
 without any dangerous wound. We may imagine 
 the shudder which ran through the crowd, the 
 feelings of the father we cannot imagine, when, 
 restored to sense, he embraced his father's knees, 
 declared himself the murderer of Gonsalvo, and 
 earnestly implored instant punishment. 
 
 He was brought home bound, tried before a full 
 assembly of the magistrates, and condemned to 
 death by his own father. But the people would 
 not lose their darling. Like the waves of the 
 tempest-troubled sea, they filled the market-place 
 and the streets, and forgetting the crime of the 
 son in the relentless justice of the father, de- 
 manded with threatening cries the opening of the 
 prison and the pardon of the criminal. During 
 the night, though the guards were doubled, it 
 was with great difficulty that the incensed mob 
 were withheld from breaking in. Towards morn" 
 ing it was announced to the mayor that all 
 resistance would soon be vain, for that a part of 
 the soldiers had gone over to the people ; only 
 the foreign guard held out, and all demanded 
 with furious cries the instant liberation of the 
 criminal.
 
 276 "THE CROSS-BONES." 
 
 At this, the inflexible magistrate took a resolu- 
 tion, which many will call inhuman, but which ex- 
 hibits an awful self-conquest worthy of the rarest 
 examples of stoical firmness. Accompanied by a 
 priest, he proceeded through a secret passage to 
 the dungeon of his son ; and when, with newly- 
 awakened desire of life excited by the sympathy 
 of his fellow-citizens, Edward sunk at his feet, 
 and asked eagerly if he brought him mercy and 
 pardon ? The old man replied with unfaltering 
 voice, "No, my son, in this world there is no 
 mercy for you : your life is irrevocably forfeited 
 to the law, and at sunrise you must die. One-and- 
 twenty years I have prayed for your earthly hap- 
 piness, but that is past, turn your thoughts 
 now to eternity ; and if there be yet hope there, 
 let us now kneel down together and implore the 
 Almighty to grant you mercy hereafter; but 
 then I hope that my son, though he could not live 
 worthy of his father, will at least know how to 
 die worthy of him." With these words he re- 
 kindled the noble pride of the once dauntless 
 youth, and after a short prayer he surrendered 
 himself with heroic resignation to his father's 
 relentless will. 
 
 As the people, and A he greater part of the armed 
 men mingled in their ranks, now prepared, amidst
 
 " THE CROSS-BONES." 277 
 
 more wild and furious menaces, to storm the pri- 
 son, James Lynch appeared at a lofty window j 
 his son stood at his side with the halter round his 
 neck. "I have sworn," exclaimed the inflexible 
 magistrate, u that Gonsalvo's murderer should die, 
 even though I must perform the office of the exe- 
 cutioner myself. Providence has taken me at my 
 word ; and you, madmen, learn from the most 
 wretched of fathers that nothing must stop the 
 course of justice, and that even the ties of nature 
 must break before it." 
 
 While he spoke these words he had made fast 
 the rope to an iron beam projecting from the wall, 
 and now suddenly pushing his son out of the 
 window, he completed his dreadful work. Nor 
 did he leave the spot till the last convulsive 
 struggles gave certainty of the death of his un- 
 happy victim. 
 
 As if struck by a thunder-clap, the tumultuous 
 mob had beheld the horrible spectacle in death- 
 like silence ; and every man glided, as if stunned, 
 to his own house. From that moment the mayor 
 of Galway resigned all his occupations and digni- 
 ties, and was never beheld by any eye but those of 
 his own family. He never left his house till he was 
 carried from it to his grave. Anna Blake died 
 in a convent. Both families in course of time
 
 278 GORT. 
 
 disappeared from the earth ; but the skull and 
 cross-bones still mark the scene of this fearful 
 tragedy. 
 
 Limerick, Sept. 21st. 
 
 At ten o'clock my carriage arrived, and I 
 immediately quitted Galway. As long as the 
 country remained monotonous, I beguiled the 
 time by reading. At Gort it becomes more inter- 
 esting. Not far from it flows a river, which, like 
 that at Cong, loses itself several times jn the earth. 
 One of the deepest basins which it forms is called 
 "The Punch-bowl." To fill such a bowl would 
 require a larger tun than that at Heidelberg. 
 
 You now begin to approach the Clare moun- 
 tains, and Nature decks herself in more pic- 
 turesque attire. A park belonging to Lord Gort 
 broke upon me like a magnificent picture : it is 
 bounded by a broad lake, in which are thirteen 
 beautiful wooded islands ; these, with the moun- 
 tains in the back-ground, and the expanse of water, 
 which the eye never completely embraces, in front, 
 produced a grand and striking effect. One of the 
 most miserable of post-horses seemed to parti- 
 cipate so intensely in my delight, that it was 
 impossible to make him stir. After many vain 
 attempts to induce him to change his position, 
 during which the postillion repeatedly protested
 
 IRISH POSTING. 279 
 
 that it was only this one spot to which he was so 
 attached, but that if we could once get him away 
 from it he would go like the devil himself, we 
 were obliged to unharness him ; he had begun to 
 kick and to break our crazy equipage. In com- 
 parison with the Irish post establishment, that of 
 Saxony, erst so celebrated, might fairly be called 
 excellent. Bleeding skeletons, galled all over, 
 starved and superannuated, are fastened by rotten 
 harness to your carriage; and if you ask your 
 postillion (whose dress consists of a few rags,) if 
 he thinks that such cattle can go a mile, much 
 more a stage of twelve or fifteen, he answers very 
 seriously, "Sure there's no better equipage in 
 England ; I shall take your Honour there in less 
 than nothing." Scarcely, however, have you gone 
 twenty steps, when something breaks, one horse 
 is restive, and the other falls down exhausted : this 
 does not put him the least out of countenance, he 
 has always some admirable excuse ready ; and at 
 last, if nothing else will do, he declares himself 
 bewitched. 
 
 This was the course of things today. We must 
 probably have passed the night in the park of Gort 
 had not assistance and horses been most hospitably 
 dispatched to us from the house. Notwithstand- 
 ing this, we were delayed so long that it was ten
 
 280 CONCLUSION. 
 
 before I reached Limerick. My letter is so thick 
 that I must send it away before its corpulence 
 becomes 'impayable/ You will not hear of me 
 again in less than a fortnight, as I am determined 
 to plunge into those wild regions which foreign 
 foot has seldom trod. Pray for a prosperous 
 journey for me ; and above all, love me with the 
 same tenderness as ever. 
 
 Your faithful L .
 
 LIMERICK. 281 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 Limerick, Sept. 22nd, 1828. 
 DEAREST FRIEND, 
 
 LIMERICK is the third city in Ireland, and of the 
 kind of cities I like, old and venerable, adorned 
 with Gothic churches and moss-covered ruins ; 
 with dark narrow streets, and curious houses of 
 various dates ; a broad river flowing through its 
 whole length, and crossed by several antique 
 bridges; lastly, a busy market-place, and cheerful 
 environs. Such a city has for me a charm like 
 that of a wood, whose dark branches, now low, 
 now high, afford sylvan streets of various forms, 
 and frequently overarch the way like a Gothic roof. 
 Modern regular cities are like a trimly cut French 
 garden : they do not suit my romantic taste. 
 
 I was not quite well, and returned after a little 
 walk in the town to my inn. I found a sexton 
 of one of the Catholic churches waiting for me ; 
 he told me that they had rung the bells as soon 
 as they knew of my arrival, and hoped I would 
 give them ten shillings as a gratuity. ' Je 1'en- 
 voyai promener.' In a few minutes a Protestant 
 functionary of the same sort was announced. I
 
 I 
 
 282 CATHEDRAL. 
 
 asked him what he wanted. " Only to warn your 
 Royal Highness against the impositions of the 
 Catholics, who annoy strangers in the most 
 shameless manner, and to beg that your Royal 
 Highness will not give them anything : at the 
 same time I take the liberty to ask a small con- 
 tribution to the Protestant poor-house." (You 
 must observe that the people of this country are 
 extremely lavish of titles to anybody who travels 
 with four horses.) ' Go to the d 1, Protestants 
 and Catholics/ said I in a rage, and flung the door 
 in his face. 
 
 But this was not all ; I was soon waited upon 
 by a deputation of the Catholics, consisting of the 
 French consul (an Irishman), a relation and name- 
 sake of O'Connell,and some others, whoharangued 
 me, and begged to present me with the Order of 
 the Liberator. I had the greatest possible diffi- 
 culty in excusing myself from this honour, and in 
 declining an invitation to dine with their club. 
 We compromised the matter by my accepting 
 the offer of two of them to accompany me all over 
 the town as ciceroni. 
 
 I resigned myself very patiently, and was first 
 conducted to the cathedral, a building of great 
 antiquity, more in the style of a fortress than of a 
 church ; the architecture solid and rude, but im-
 
 IRISH NOBILITY. 283 
 
 posing by its massiveness. In the interior I ad- 
 mired a carved chair of the most exquisite work- 
 manship ; it is five hundred years old, and made 
 of bog-oak, which time has rendered black as 
 ebony. Its rich ornaments consisted of beautiful 
 arabesques and most curious masks, which were 
 different on every side. The grave of Thomond, 
 King of Ulster and Limerick, though mutilated 
 and defaced by modern additions, is a very inter- 
 esting monument. Descendants of this royal 
 line are still in existence. The head of the family 
 bears the title of Marquis of Thomond, a name 
 which you will remember to have seen in my 
 letters from London, where its possessor was dis- 
 tinguished for the excellence of his dinners. Ire- 
 land has many families of great antiquity, who 
 pique themselves on never having contracted a 
 ' mesalliance,' a practice so common among the 
 English and French nobility, that pure unadulte- 
 rated blood (stiftsfahiges blut *, as we call it in 
 Germany) is no longer to be found in either of 
 those kingdoms. The French nobles called these 
 marriages for money, ( mettre du fumier sur ses 
 
 * Blood which renders its possessor eligible to certain 
 chapters and ecclesiastical orders, to which none can be 
 admitted who cannot prove their seventy-two quarterings. 
 TRANSL.
 
 284) CURIOUS MISTAKE. 
 
 terres,' a joke not very flattering to the bride. 
 And many an English lord owes all the present 
 splendour of his family to such ' fumier.' 
 
 We quitted the church, and were proceeding to 
 visit the rock near the Shannon, upon which the 
 English signed the treaty after the battle of the 
 Boyne; a treaty which they have not been remark- 
 ably scrupulous in observing. I remarked that 
 we were followed by an immense crowd of people, 
 which increased like an avalanche, and testified 
 equal respect and enthusiasm. All on a sudden 
 they shouted "Long life to Napoleon and Marshal 
 
 ." Good God," said I, " for whom do 
 
 the people take me ? As a perfectly unpretending 
 stranger I cannot in the least degree understand 
 why they seem disposed to do me so much honour." 
 
 "Was not your father the Prince of ?" 
 
 said O'Connell. " Oh no," replied I ; "my father 
 was indeed a nobleman of rather more ancient 
 extraction, but very far from being so celebrated." 
 " You must forgive us then," said O'Connell in- 
 credulously ; " for to tell you the truth, you are 
 believed to be a natural son of Napoleon, whose 
 partiality to your supposed mother was well 
 known." "You joke," said I, laughing : "I am 
 at least ten years too old to be the son of the great 
 emperor and the beautiful princess." He shook
 
 TRALEE. 285 
 
 his head, however, and I reached my inn amid 
 reiterated shouts. Here I shut myself up, and 
 shall not quit my retreat today. The people, 
 however, patiently posted themselves under my 
 windows, and did not disperse till it was nearly 
 dark. 
 
 Tralee, Sept. 23rd. 
 
 This morning I was again received with cries of 
 " Long life to Napoleon and your Honour ! " And 
 while my servant, who was seated in my carriage 
 and passed for Napoleon's son, drove off in the 
 midst of cheers and acclamations, I slipped out 
 at a back-door, with a lad who carried my travel- 
 ling bag, and took my place in the stage which 
 was to convey me to the lake of Killarney. My 
 people had orders to wait for me in Cashel, where 
 I shall probably rejoin them in a fortnight. 
 
 With my present simple exterior no human 
 being thought of assailing me with homage ; and 
 I could not help philosophizing on this public 
 farce, and thinking how often the desire of glory 
 and renown leads only to disguise and false 
 assumption. Certainly of all the dreams of life 
 this is the most shadowy ! Love sometimes sa- 
 tisfies, knowledge tranquillizes, art gladdens and 
 amuses j but ambition, ambition gives only the 
 tormenting possession of a hunger which nothing
 
 286 STAGE-COACH. 
 
 can allay, a chase after a phantom which is ever 
 unattainable. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour I was comfortably 
 established in the stage-coach. The passengers 
 inside consisted of three women ; one fat and 
 jovial, another extremely lean, and a third pretty 
 and well-proportioned. There was also a man 
 who had the air of a pedagogue, with a long 
 face, and still longer nose. I sat entrenched be- 
 tween the two slender ladies, and conversed with 
 the corpulent one, who was very talkative. On 
 my letting down a window she told us that she 
 had lately been nearly sea-sick in this very coach, 
 because an ailing lady who sat opposite to her 
 would not allow a window to be opened on any 
 account. That she, however, did not give it 
 up j and after a quarter of an hour's persuasion 
 had succeeded in prevailing on the lady to admit 
 one inch of air ; a quarter of an hour after, 
 another inch ; and so on, till she manoeuvred the 
 whole window open. " Excellent," said I ; "that 
 is exactly the way in which women manage to get 
 all they desire ; first one inch, and then as much 
 as they want. How differently do men act under 
 similar circumstances," continued I, "An English 
 writer, in his directions to travellers, says, that if 
 anybody in the mail should insist on keeping all
 
 SHANNON. 287 
 
 the windows closed, you should not enter into any 
 c pour parler' with him, but immediately thrust 
 your elbow through the window as if by accident, 
 beg his pardon, and quietly enjoy the cool air/' 
 The ruins of Adair now attracted our attention, 
 and interrupted the conversation. Further on, the 
 Shannon appeared in all its grandeur. In some 
 parts it is like an American river, nine miles 
 broad, and its shores finely wooded. At Lisdowel, 
 a little place where we dined, hundreds of beggars 
 assembled as usual about the coach. One novelty 
 struck me ; they had little wooden cups fixed at 
 the end of long sticks, which they reached in at 
 the window, and thus more conveniently secured 
 the desired * pence.' One beggar had built him- 
 self a sort of sentry-box of loose stones in the 
 road, in which he seemed to remain in a state of 
 perpetual bivouac. I must conclude; for the mail 
 drives off again in a few hours, and I want rest. 
 More tomorrow. 
 
 Killarney, Sept. 24th. 
 
 In the course of today I saw twelve rainbows, 
 a bad omen for the steadiness of the weather; but 
 I receive it as a good one for me. It promises 
 me a many-coloured journey. The company had 
 dropped off, one by one, like ripe fruit, and I 
 found myself alone with an Irish gentleman, a
 
 288 KILLARNEY. 
 
 manufacturer from the north, when I entered the 
 pretty cheerful town of Killarney, where the in- 
 cessant resort of English tourists has almost in- 
 troduced into the inns English elegance and 
 English prices. We immediately inquired for 
 boats, and for the best way of seeing the lake ; but 
 were told that it was impossible to go on in such 
 a storm: no boat could ( live on the lake/ as the 
 fisherman expressed it. An English dandy, who 
 had joined us during breakfast, ridiculed these 
 assurances; and as I, you know, am also rather 
 incredulous about impossibilities, we outvoted the 
 manufacturer, who showed very little ardour for 
 the undertaking, and embarked, 'malgre vent et 
 mar^e,' near Ross Castle, an old ruin not far from 
 Killarney. 
 
 We had a capital boat, an old, characteristic- 
 looking, grey-headed steersman, and four sturdy 
 rowers. The heavens were as if torn open ; in 
 some places blue, in others various shades of gray ; 
 but for the most part raven -black. Clouds of all 
 forms rolled in wild disorder, now and then tinged 
 by a rainbow, or lighted by a pale sunbeam. The 
 high mountains scarcely appeared through their 
 gloomy veil, and on the lake all was like night. 
 The black waves heaved in busy and ceaseless 
 tumult; here and there one bore a crest of snow-
 
 LAKE OF K1LLARXEY. 289 
 
 white foam. As the motion was nearly as great 
 as at sea, I was slightly sea-sick. The manufac- 
 turer was pale from fear; the young Englishman, 
 proud of his amphibious nature, laughed at us 
 both. Meanwhile the storm piped so loud that 
 we could hardly hear each other speak; and when 
 I asked the old steersman where we should land 
 first, he said, "At the Abbey, if we can land any- 
 where." This did not sound encouraging. Our 
 boat, which was the only one on the lake (for even 
 the fishermen would not venture out), danced so 
 fearfully up and down without making the smallest 
 way, in spite of all the efforts of the rowers, that 
 the manufacturer began to think of wife, children, 
 and manufactory, and peremptorily insisted on 
 returning, as he had no intention of sacrificing 
 his life to a party of pleasure. The dandy on the 
 other hand was ready to burst with laughter: he 
 protested that he was a member of the Yacht Club, 
 and had seen very different sort of danger from 
 this; and promised the rowers, who would rather 
 have been at home, money without end if they 
 would but hold out. For my own part, I followed 
 General Yermoloff's maxim, "neither too rash, 
 nor too timid," took no part in the contest, 
 wrapped myself in my cloak, and awaited the 
 issue in peace. It seems I had all the beauty of 
 VOL. j. o
 
 290 LAKE OF KILLARNEY. 
 
 the scene to myself; one of my companions being 
 prevented from seeing it by fear, the other by self- 
 complacency. For some time we struggled with 
 the waves, on which we floated like sea-birds in 
 storm and darkness; till at last such a violent 
 wind came upon us from a gorge in the mountains 
 opposite to which we lay, that it grew rather too 
 serious even for the ( member of the Yacht Club,' 
 and he acceded to the request of the steersman, to 
 row back with the wind, and land on an island till 
 the storm abated a little, which was generally the 
 case about noon. 
 
 This happened as he predicted : and after en- 
 camping for some hours on Innisfallen, a lovely 
 little islet with beautiful groups of trees and ruins, 
 we were able to continue our voyage. All the 
 islands of this little lake, even to the smallest, 
 called the Mouse, which is only a few yards long, 
 are thickly clothed with arbutus, and other ever- 
 greens. They grow wild ; and both in summer 
 and in winter enliven the scene with the bright 
 colours of their flowers and fruit. The forms of 
 many of these islets are as curious as their names. 
 They are generally called after O'Donaghue. Here 
 is O'Donaghue's ' White Horse, 1 on whose rocky 
 hoofs the surf breaks ; there, his ' Library ; ' fur- 
 ther on, his 'Pigeon -house/ or his 'Flower-gar-
 
 O'DONAGHUE. 291 
 
 den ;' and so on. But you do not know how the 
 lake of Killarney arose. Listen then. 
 
 O'Donaghue was the powerful chieftain of a 
 clan inhabiting a great and opulent city, which 
 stood where the lake now rolls its waters. It had 
 everything in abundance, except water j and the 
 legend says, that the only little spring which it 
 possessed was the gift of a mighty sorcerer, who 
 called it up at the prayer of a beautiful virgin ; 
 adding a solemn warning, that they should never 
 forget to close it every evening with a large silver 
 cover which he left for that purpose. Its strange 
 forms and ornaments seemed to confirm this won- 
 derful command; and never was the old custom 
 neglected. 
 
 But O'Donaghue, a mighty and dauntless war- 
 rior (perhaps too, likeTalbot, an incredulous one), 
 only made merry at this story, as he called it; and 
 one day, being heated with more wine than usual, 
 he commanded, to the terror of all present, the 
 silver cover to be carried into his house, where, 
 as he jestingly said, it would make him an 
 excellent bath. All remonstrances were vain : 
 O'Donaghue was accustomed to make himself 
 obeyed : and as his terrified vassals at length 
 dragged in their ponderous burthen, amid groans 
 and lamentations, he exclaimed laughing, " Never 
 o2
 
 2D2 O'DONAGHUE. 
 
 fear, the cool night air will do the water good, 
 and in the morning you will all find it fresher 
 than ever." But those who stood nearest to the 
 silver cover turned away shuddering, for it seemed 
 to them as if the strange intricate characters upon 
 it moved, and wreathed like a knot of twisted 
 snakes, and an awful sound appeared to come 
 forth mournfully from it. Fearful and anxious, 
 they retired to rest: one alone fled to the adjoin- 
 ing mountains. And now when morning broke, 
 and this man looked down into the valley, he 
 thought he was in a dream j city and land had 
 disappeared j the rich meadows were no more to 
 be seen, and the little spring bursting forth from 
 the clefts of the earth had swelled into a mea- 
 sureless lake. What O'Donaghue prophesied was 
 true ; the water had become cooler for them all, 
 and the new vessel had prepared for him his last 
 bath. 
 
 In very clear bright weather, as the fishermen 
 assured us, some have seen at the lowest bottom 
 of the lake, palaces and towers glimmering as 
 through glass : but many have beheld, at the ap- 
 proach of a storm, O'Donaghue's giant figure 
 riding over the waves on a snorting white horse, 
 or gliding along the waters with the quickness of 
 lightning in his unearthly bark.
 
 APPARITION OF o'DONAGHUB. 293 
 
 One of our boat's crew, a man of about fifty, 
 with long black hair, which the wind blew wildly 
 about his temples, of an earnest and quiet but 
 imaginative look, was stealthily pointed out to me 
 by one of his companions, while they whispered 
 in my ear that "he had met him." 
 
 You will believe that I quickly entered into 
 conversation with this boatman, and sought to 
 gain his confidence, knowing that these people, 
 whenever they anticipate unbelief and jesting, 
 observe an obstinate silence. At first he was re- 
 served; but at length he became warmed, and 
 swore by St. Patrick and the Virgin that what he 
 was going to tell me was the naked truth. He 
 said he had met O'Donaghue at twilight, just 
 before the raging of one of the most terrific storms 
 he had ever witnessed. He had staid out late 
 fishing ; it had rained torrents the whole day ; it 
 was piercingly cold, and without his whisky-bottle 
 he could not have held out any longer. Not a 
 living soul had been visible on the lake for a long 
 time, when all at once a boat, as if fallen from 
 the clouds, sailed towards him; the oars plied 
 like lightning, and yet no rowers were visible; 
 but at the stern sat a man of gigantic stature : his 
 dress was scarlet and gold, and on his head he 
 wore a three-cocked hat with broad gold lace.
 
 294- O'DONAGHUB. 
 
 The spirit-boat passed him : Paddy fixed his eyes 
 intently upon it : but when the tall figure was 
 over-against him, and two large black eyes glared 
 forth out of the mantle, and scorched him like 
 living coals, the whisky fell out of his hand, and 
 he did not come to himself till the rough caresses 
 of his other half waked him. She was in a great 
 rage, and called him a drunken fellow : She might 
 think the whisky had brought him to that, but he 
 knew better. 
 
 Is it not curious that the costume here described 
 exactly corresponds with that of our German Devil 
 of the last century, who is now come into such 
 great favour again ? And yet Paddy had most 
 certainly never heard of the Freischiitz. It seems 
 almost as if Hell had its 'Journal des Modes.' I 
 was extremely amused at the old man's penitence 
 and distress after he had finished his story. He 
 loudly reproached himself for it, crossed himself, 
 and incessantly repeated, " O'Donaghue, though 
 terrible, looked like a t real gentleman;' for," said 
 he, looking round fearfully, " e a perfect gentle- 
 man ' he was, is now, and always will be." The 
 younger boatmen were not such firm believers, 
 and seemed to have a good mind to joke the ghost- 
 seer a little, but his seriousness and indignation 
 soon overawed tliem all. One of these young
 
 POWER OF THE PRIESTS. 295 
 
 men was a perfect model of a youthful Hercules. 
 With all the overflowing spirits of a body sound 
 to the core, he played incessant tricks, and did 
 the work of three at the same time. 
 
 We landed at Mucruss Abbey, which stands in 
 Mr. Herbert's park, notwithstanding which it is 
 plentifully furnished with skulls and bones. The 
 ruins are of considerable extent, and full of inter- 
 esting peculiarities. In the court-yard is a yew- 
 tree, perhaps the largest in the world; it not only 
 overtops all the building, but its branches darken 
 the whole court, like a tent. In the first story I 
 observed a fire-place, on which two ivy branches, 
 one on each side, formed a most beautiful and 
 regular ornament, while their leaves covered the 
 mantel-piece with a mass of foliage. 
 
 Our guide here gave us a curious example of 
 the unbounded power of the Catholic priests over 
 the common people. Two clans, the Moynihans 
 and the O'Donaghues had been in a state of per- 
 petual feud for half a century. Wherever they 
 met in any considerable numbers, a shillelah battle 
 was sure to take place, and many lives were usually 
 lost. Since the formation of the Catholic Asso- 
 ciation, it has become the interest of the priests 
 to establish peace and concord in their flocks. 
 Accordingly, after the fight which took place last
 
 296 O'SULLIVAN'S WATERFALL. 
 
 year, they enjoined as penance that the Moynihans 
 should march twelve miles to the north and the 
 O'Donaghues an equal distance to the south, and 
 both pronounce certain prayers at their journey's 
 end; that all the lookers-on should make- a pil- 
 grimage of six miles in some other direction ; and 
 in case of a repetition of the offence, the penance to 
 be doubled. All this was executed with religious 
 exactness, and ever since the war is at an end. 
 
 Continuing our progress for about three miles 
 on this side the lake, we landed on a thickly wooded 
 shore, and visited O'Sullivan's waterfall, which, 
 swollen by the rain, was doubly magnificent. The 
 luxuriance of the trees and trailing plants which 
 overhang it, and the cave opposite, in which you 
 stand protected from the wet to view this foaming 
 cataract, increase the picturesque and wild beauty 
 of the scene. Here are sweet lonely walks, which 
 lead over the mountains to a village imbedded in 
 a deep wood, and cut off from all the world. 
 
 But as the sun was still struggling with the 
 clouds, and we were soaked through and through 
 (both by the heavens and the lake, whose waters 
 had more than once washed over us), and very 
 weary, we resolved to close our labours for today, 
 and to return by Lady Kenmare's pretty villa. 
 
 As we had still about four miles to go by water,
 
 IRISH ECHO. 297 
 
 the handsome young fellow, who by-the-by, in 
 spite of his athletic frame, had a most remarkable 
 resemblance to Mademoiselle Sontag, offered to bet 
 three shillings that he would row us home in half 
 an hour. The old ghost- seer would not undertake 
 such an exertion, but young Sontag declared he 
 would row for him. We accepted the wager ; and 
 now flew like an arrow across the lake. Never did 
 I see a finer exhibition of power and persistency, 
 amid constant singing, jokes, and sportive tricks. 
 The rowers won their wager only by half a minute, 
 but received from us more than double their bet, 
 which all promised with great glee to drink in the 
 course of the night. To conclude the whole, they 
 held a conversation, already got up for the pur- 
 pose, with the echo of the walls of Ross Castle. 
 The answers had always some double meaning ; 
 for instance, ' Shall we have a good bed ? ' 
 answer, ' Bad,' and so on. 
 
 Sept. 25th. 
 
 Unfortunately two Englishmen of my acquaint- 
 ance arrived today, and joined us, which destroyed 
 my beloved incognito ; for though I am no ' exalted 
 personage,' I find as much pleasure in it as if I were. 
 When one is unknown, one always escapes some 
 gdne, and gains some freedom the more, however 
 inconsiderable one may be. As I could not help 
 o 5
 
 298 LAKE OF KILLARNEY, 
 
 myself in this case, I contrived at least to perform 
 half this day's tour by land with my worthy friend 
 the manufacturer, and let the three Englishmen 
 go together by boat. It was the same which we 
 had yesterday, and had then engaged for today. 
 My pony had the high-sounding name of 'the 
 Knight of the Gap / He was but a recreant knight, 
 however, and would not move without whip and 
 spur. Before we came to the great ravine or gap, 
 from which he takes his name, we had a very 
 beautiful view of the mountains from a hill which 
 rises in the midst of the plain. Mountain, water, 
 and trees were so happily distributed as to produce 
 the more refreshing harmony : the long ravine 
 appears all the wilder and more monotonous ; in 
 the style of Wales, but not so vast. In one part 
 of it a large mass of rock loosened itself some 
 years ago, and lies, split in two, across the road. 
 A man conceived the project of excavating these 
 pieces of rock to form a hermitage, but remained 
 faithful to his strange dwelling only three months. 
 The people, with their usual energy of expression, 
 call it "The madman's rock." Some way further 
 on we saw an old woman lying cowering on the 
 road, whose appearance exceeded all that has ever 
 been invented in fairy tales. Never did I see any- 
 thing more frightful and disgusting : I was told
 
 LAKE OF KILLARNEV. 299 
 
 that she was a hundred-and-ten years old ; and 
 had survived all her children and grandchildren. 
 Although in an intellectual point of view reduced 
 to a mere animal, all her senses were in tolerable 
 preservation. Her form was neither human nor 
 even animal, but resembled rather an exhumed 
 corpse reanimated. As we rode by, she uttered 
 a piteous whine, and seemed satisfied when we 
 threw her money. She did not reach however to 
 pick it up, but sank back into her former torpor 
 and apathy. All the furrows of her livid face were 
 filled with black dirt, her eyes looked diseased, 
 her lips were of a leaden blue; in short, imagina- 
 tion could conceive nothing so shocking. 
 
 We met our boat at Brandon Castle, a ruin 
 rendered habitable, with a high tower and neg- 
 lected pleasure-grounds. There are some pieces 
 of water through which our guides carried us 
 on their backs. The boat appeared 'a. point 
 nomme ; ' it sailed round a projecting point just 
 as we reached the shore, and had on board the 
 best bugleman in Killarney. He blew a sort of 
 Alpine horn with great skill, and called forth 
 many a delightful echo. We passed the arch of 
 a bridge, on which, when the waters are swollen, 
 boats are often wrecked. Our bugleman told 
 us that he had been twice upset here, and the
 
 300 ENGLISH c DANDY.' 
 
 last time nearly drowned. He wished, therefore, 
 to be put on shore, and climb along the rocks past 
 this formidable place; but the old steersman would 
 not consent, declaring that if the strange gentle- 
 men remained in the boat, it became him to stay, 
 and be drowned with them. We all passed quite 
 safely, however. 
 
 The rock called " The Eagle's Nest," which is 
 the almost constant abode of those kingly birds, 
 is of a fine and imposing form. Not far from it 
 is Coleman's Leap, two rocks standing upright 
 in the water at some distance ; on which are the 
 marks of feet, three or four feet deep in the rock. 
 Such leaps and footmarks are to be found in almost 
 all mountains. 
 
 Our boat was fully victualled for a brilliant 
 dinner (a thing which Englishmen seldom forget), 
 and as we espied a most romantic cottage under 
 high chestnut-trees, we determined to land here, 
 and eat our repast. It would have been extremely 
 agreeable, had not the dandy spoiled it by his 
 affectation, his want of all feeling for the beau- 
 tiful, and his ill-natured ' persiflage ' of the less 
 polished but far more estimable Irishman. He 
 gave him the nickname of Listen (a celebrated 
 actor, who is particularly distinguished in silly 
 absurd characters), and made the poor devil un-
 
 ENGLISH f DANDY.' 301 
 
 consciously act so burlesque a part, that I was 
 sometimes reluctantly constrained to laugh, though 
 the whole thing was quite c hors de saison,' and in 
 the most execrable taste. It is possible, too, that 
 the Irishman only affected stupidity, and was, in 
 fact, the most cunning of the two, at least he ad- 
 dressed himself to eating and drinking with such 
 unwearied perseverance, while the others were oc- 
 cupied with laughing, that very little remained for 
 them. I cannot deny that he received powerful 
 support in this department from me. A fresh- 
 caught salmon broiled on arbutus- sticks over the 
 fire was an admirable specimen of Irish fare. 
 
 We rowed slowly back by moonlight, while the 
 bugleman's horn started echo after echo from her 
 repose. It was an enchanting night ; and wan- 
 dering from thought to thought, I reached a state 
 of mind in which I too could have seen ghosts. 
 The men near me seemed to me only like puppets ; 
 Nature alone, and the sweetness and the majesty 
 that surrounded me, seemed real. 
 
 Whence comes it, thought I, . that a heart so 
 loving is not social ? that men are generally of so 
 little worth to you ? Is your soul too small for in- 
 tercourse with the intellectual world, too nearly 
 allied to plants and animals ? or have you out- 
 grown the forms of this state of existence in
 
 302 CURIOUS CEREMONIAL. 
 
 some prior one, and feel pent up in your too 
 narrow garments ? And when the melancholy 
 tones of the bugle-horn again trembled in soft 
 notes across the waves, and gave to my fancies 
 the sounds of a strange language, like the voice of 
 invisible spirits, I felt like Gothe's fisherman, 
 as if some irresistible force dragged me softly 
 down into the calm element, to seek O'Donaghue 
 in his coral rocks. 
 
 Before we landed, a curious ceremony took place. 
 The boat's crew, with young Sontag at their head, 
 who always called me ' his gentleman,' in virtue 
 of a somewhat larger fee he had received from me, 
 asked permission to lie-to at a little island, and 
 to christen this after me, which could only be 
 done by moonlight. I was therefore told to stand 
 on a projecting rock : the six boatmen leaning on 
 their oars formed a circle around me, while the 
 old man solemnly pronounced a sort of incanta- 
 tion in a wild measure, which sounded awfully in 
 this romantic scenery and the night. Young Son- 
 tag then broke off a large arbutus branch, and 
 giving a twig of it first to me, and then to the 
 gentlemen in the boat, we fixed them in our hats ; 
 the rest he divided among his comrades, and then 
 asked me with respectful earnestness what name 
 the island with O'Donaghue's permission -was
 
 CURIOUS CEREMONIAL. 303 
 
 in future to bear ? " Julia ! " said I with a loud voice : 
 on which this name was repeated, not very ac- 
 curately, three times with thundering hurrahs. A 
 third man now took a bottle filled with water, 
 delivered a long address in verse to O'Donaghue, 
 and threw the bottle with all his might against a 
 piece of rock, so that it broke into a thousand 
 pieces. A second bottle filled with whisky was 
 then drunk to my health, and a threefold cheer 
 again given to Julia Island. The boatman, to 
 whom the name was strange, took it for mine, 
 and henceforth called me nothing but Mr. Julia, 
 which I heard with a melancholy satisfaction. 
 
 Your domains are thus increased by an island 
 on the romantic lake of Killarney : it is only a 
 pity that the next company that lands on the 
 same spot will probably rob you of it ; for doubt- 
 less such christenings take place as often as 
 godfathers are to be found. The real child, the 
 whisky-bottle, is always at hand. Nevertheless, 
 I inclose an arbutus leaf from the identical sprig 
 which flourished on my hat, that you may at least 
 retain undisputed possession of something from 
 your island. 
 
 Glengariff, Sept. 26th. 
 To write to you today is really an effort which 
 
 -
 
 304- ROAD TO KENMARE BAY. . 
 
 deserves reward ; for I am excessively tired, and 
 have, like my father Napoleon, been obliged to 
 drink coffee incessantly to keep me awake *. 
 
 I left Killarney at nine o'clock in the morning 
 in a car of the most wretched construction, and 
 followed the new road which leads along the up- 
 per and lower lake to the Bay of Kenmare. This 
 road discloses more beauties than are seen from 
 the lakes themselves, which have the great disad- 
 vantage of affording a picturesque view on one 
 side only, the other shore is quite flat. On the 
 road which lies along the side of the mountain 
 and through a wood, every turn presents you with 
 pictures which are the more beautiful from being 
 framed. I remark, generally, that views seen from 
 the water lose : they want the principal thing 
 foreground. 
 
 Near a beautiful cascade, and in the most charm- 
 ing wilderness, though not far from the road, 
 a merchant has built himself a villa, and sur- 
 rounded it with a garden and park. He must have 
 expended at least five or six thousand pounds, 
 
 * The maitre d'hotel who lately published Memoirs of 
 Napoleon, vindicates the Emperor from this reproach with 
 indignation. His memoirs are certainly most flattering to 
 that great man, for they prove ' qu'il est reste heros meme 
 pour son valet de chambre.' EDIT.
 
 ROAD TO KENMARE. 305 
 
 perhaps much more, and yet the land is the pro- 
 perty of his family only for ninety-nine years ; at 
 the expiration of that time it falls, together with 
 all that is upon it, to the lord of the soil, Lord 
 Kenmare, and must be delivered up to him in 
 perfect repair. No German would feel disposed 
 to spend his money in decorative improvements 
 on such terms : but in England, where almost 
 the whole soil belongs either to the government, 
 the church, or the powerful aristocracy, and there- 
 fore can seldom be purchased in fee ; where, on 
 the other hand, industry fostered by a wise go- 
 vernment, in alliance with agriculture, has en- 
 riched the middling and trading classes, such 
 contracts are extremely common, and obviate 
 many of the inconveniences of the distribution of 
 landed property, without diminishing its great 
 utility to the state. 
 
 The ascent now became steeper and steeper, 
 and we soon found ourselves in the midst of 
 bare heights ; for vegetation here seldom extends 
 above midway up the mountains. It is not as in 
 Switzerland, where luxuriant verdure reaches al- 
 most to the snowy region. To take Switzerland 
 as a standard by which to try Ireland, would 
 however be absurd. Both countries afford ro- 
 mantic beauties of a totally different character j
 
 306 KENMARE. 
 
 both excite admiration and astonishment at the 
 sublime works of Nature, though in Switzerland 
 they are on a more colossal scale. The road was 
 so winding, that after half an hour's climbing we 
 found ourselves precisely over the pretty cottage 
 I mentioned, which with its shining gray thatch 
 looked, at that depth, like a little mouse sunning 
 itself in the green grass ; for the sun, after a long 
 struggle, had at length become undisputed lord of 
 the heavens. 
 
 Eight miles from Killarney we reached the 
 highest point of the road, where stands a solitary 
 inn. You look down upon the broad valley, in 
 whose lap lies the greater part of the three lakes, 
 so that you behold them all with one glance. 
 
 From this point the road descends, leading be- 
 tween naked mountains of bold forms to the sea. 
 It was fair-time when I arrived in Kenmare, and 
 I could hardly penetrate through the bustling 
 crowd with my one-horse vehicle,, especially from 
 the number of drunken men who would not 
 perhaps could not get out of the way. One of 
 them fell in consequence of an attempt to do so, 
 and knocked his head so violently on the pave- 
 ment that he was carried away senseless, a thing 
 of such common occurrence that it attracted no 
 attention. The skulls of Irishmen appear to be
 
 IRISH FIGHTS. 307 
 
 universally of a more firm and massive construc- 
 tion than those of other people, probably because 
 they are trained to receive shillelah blows. While 
 I dined, I had another opportunity of observing 
 several affrays. First a knot of people collect, 
 shouting and screaming ; this rapidly thickens ; 
 and all at once, in the twinkling of an eye, a hun- 
 dred shillelahs whirr in the air, and the thumps, 
 which are generally applied to the head, bang 
 and snap like the distant report of fire- arms, till 
 one party has gained the victory. As I was now 
 at the fountain-head, through the mediation of 
 mine host I bought one of the finest specimens of 
 this weapon, yet warm from the fight. It is as 
 hard as iron, and that it may be sure, to do exe- 
 cution, it is also weighted at the end with lead. 
 
 The celebrated O'Connell is now residing about 
 thirty miles from hence, in his solitary fortress in 
 the most desert region of Ireland. As I have long 
 wished to know him, I sent a messenger from this 
 place, and determined, while waiting for his an- 
 swer, to make an excursion to Glengariff Bay, 
 whither I accordingly set out as soon as I had 
 dined. 
 
 Driving is now completely at an end : I can 
 proceed only on a pony or on foot. I set out, a 
 pony carrying my baggage, and I and my guide
 
 308 ROAD TO GLENGARIFF. 
 
 walking by his side. If either of us was tired, the 
 good little horse was to carry us too. The sun 
 soon set, but the moon shone bright. The road 
 was not uninteresting, though horribly bad, often 
 leading through bog and brook without bridge 
 or stepping-stone. It became indescribably dif- 
 ficult after six or eight miles, where we had to 
 climb a high and nearly perpendicular hill, tread- 
 ing only on loose and pointed stones, from which 
 we slipped back at every step nearly as far as we 
 went forward. The descent on the other side was 
 still worse, especially when a mountain intercept- 
 ed the moon's light. I was so weary that I could 
 walk no further, and seated myself on the pony. 
 This little creature showed almost human intelli- 
 gence. Going up-hill he helped himself with his 
 nose, and I think even with his teeth, as a fifth 
 leg ; and down-hill, he wriggled with incessant 
 twisting of his body like a spider. When he came 
 to a boggy place, in which there was only here 
 and there a stone thrown by way of step, he crept 
 as slowly as a sloth, always first trying with his 
 foot whether the stone would bear him and his 
 burthen. The whole scene was most singular. The 
 night was so clear, that I could see around me to 
 a great distance ; but nothing met my eye save 
 rocks ranged above rocks, of every shape and kind,
 
 GLENGARIFF. 309 
 
 standing out gigantic, wild and sharp, against the 
 sky. No living creature, not a tree or bush, was 
 to be seen, only our own shadows trailed after 
 us ; not a sound was heard but our own voices, 
 and sometimes the distant rush of a mountain- 
 stream, or more rarely the melancholy horn of a 
 herdsman collecting his cattle wandering amid 
 these pathless wilds. Once only we saw one of 
 these cows, which, like the mountain- sheep of 
 Wales, have caught the shyness of wild animals. 
 She was lying in the road, but on our approach 
 sprang bellowing over the rocks, and vanished in 
 the darkness like a black spirit. 
 
 About an hour before you reach Glengariff Bay 
 the landscape becomes as luxuriant and park-like 
 as it has heretofore been dreary and barren. Here 
 the rocks arise in the strangest forms, out of Hes- 
 perian thickets of arbutus, Portugal laurel and 
 other lovely and fragrant shrubs. Many of these 
 rocks stand like palaces, smooth as marble, with- 
 out excrescence or inequality; others form pointed 
 pyramids, or long continuous walls. In the val- 
 ley sparkled solitary lights, and a gentle breeze 
 waved the tops of the high oaks, ashes, and birches, 
 intermingled with beautiful holly, whose scarlet 
 berries were visible even by moonlight. The mag- 
 nificent bay now glittered under the web of moon-
 
 310 COLONEL W *S PARK. 
 
 beams which lay upon it; and I really thought 
 myself in Paradise when I reached its shore, and 
 alighted at the door of a pretty cheerful inn. 
 Cheerful as was its exterior, mourning was within 
 its gates. The host and hostess, very respectable 
 people, came out to receive me, dressed in deep 
 mourning. On my inquiring the cause, they told 
 me that her sister, the most beautiful girl in 
 Kerry, eighteen years of age and the picture of 
 health, died the day before of a brain-fever, or, 
 rather, of the ignorance of the village doctor: the 
 poor woman added, weeping, that a week's illness 
 had changed her to forty, so that nobody could 
 recognise the corpse of the once blooming girl, 
 or those sweet features which were so lately the 
 pride of her parents and the admiration of all the 
 young men in the neighbourhood. 
 
 She lies close by my bed-room, dear Julia ! 
 parted from me only by a few boards. Four feet 
 from her stands the table at which I am writing 
 to you. Such is the world ; life and death, joy 
 and grief, are never far apart. 
 
 Kenmare, Sept. 27th. 
 At six o'clock I was stirring, and at seven, in 
 
 the magnificent park of Colonel W , brother of 
 
 Lord B , whose family possesses all the coun-
 
 COLONEL W 5 S PARK. 311 
 
 try around the bays of Bantry and Glengariff, per- 
 haps the most beautiful part of Ireland. The 
 extent of this estate is princely, although in a 
 pecuniary point of view not so considerable, the 
 greater part of the land consisting of uncultivated 
 rocks and mountains, which pay only the rent of 
 romantic beauties and magnificent views. Mr. 
 W 's park is certainly one of the most per- 
 fect creations of that kind, and owes its existence 
 entirely to his perseverance and good taste. It 
 is true, that he could nowhere have found a spot 
 of earth more grateful for his labours j but it 
 seldom happens that art and nature so cordially 
 unite. It is enough to say that the former is 
 perceptible only in the most perfect harmony; 
 otherwise, it appears to vanish into pure nature : 
 not a tree or a bush seems planted by design. 
 The vast resources of distant prospect are wisely 
 husbanded ; they come upon the eye by degrees, 
 and as if unavoidably : every path is cut in a 
 direction which seems the only one it could 
 take without constraint and artifice : the most 
 enchanting effects of woods and plantations are 
 produced by skilful management, by contrast of 
 masses, by felling some, thinning others, clearing 
 off or keeping down branches ; so that the eye is 
 attracted now into the depths of the wood, now
 
 312 COLONEL W 'S HOUSE. 
 
 above, now below the boughs; and every possible 
 variety within the region of the beautiful is pro- 
 duced. This beauty is never displayed naked, but 
 always sufficiently veiled to leave the requisite 
 play for the imagination : for a perfect park, in 
 other words, a tract of country idealized by art, 
 should be like a good book, which suggests at 
 least as many new thoughts and feelings as it 
 expresses. 
 
 The dwelling-house is not visible till you reach 
 an opposite height; it then suddenly emerges 
 from the mass of wood, its outline broken by 
 scattered trees and groups, and its walls garlanded 
 with ivy and roses and creeping plants. It was 
 built after the design of the possessor; in a style 
 not so much Gothic as antiquely picturesque, 
 such as a delicate feeling of the suitable and har- 
 monious suggested as in keeping with the sur- 
 rounding scenery. The execution is excellent; 
 for the imitation of the antique is quite deceptive. 
 The ornaments are so sparingly and so suitably 
 interspersed, the whole so well constructed for 
 habitation and comfort, and the part which ap- 
 pears the oldest has such a neglected and uninha- 
 bited air, that the impression it made, on me at 
 least, completely answered the intention of the 
 architect ; for I took it to be an old abbe) r , lately
 
 GLENGARIFF BAY. 313 
 
 rendered habitable, and modernized just so far as 
 our .usages render necessary. At the back of 
 the house are hothouses and a walled garden in 
 beautiful order, both connected with the sitting- 
 rooms, so that you live in the midst of flowers, 
 tropical plants and fruits, without leaving the 
 house. The climate is the most favourable pos- 
 sible for vegetation, moist, and so warm that 
 not only azaleas, rhododendrons, and all sorts of 
 evergreens stand abroad through the winter, but 
 even, in a favourable aspect, camellias. Dates, 
 pomegranates, magnolias, lyriodendrons, &c. at- 
 tain their fullest beauty; and the three last are 
 not even covered. The situation affords extensive 
 views, remarkable variety, and yet a complete 
 whole, inclosed within high mountains. Bantry 
 and Glengariff bays are seas in miniature, and 
 supply to the eye the want of the ocean. On the 
 land side the wavy lines of mountain seem nearly 
 end] ess. 
 
 The lesser bay of Glengariff, which stretches in 
 front of the house, is nine miles, the other fifty 
 miles in circumference. Among the mountains 
 immediately opposite to the park rises another 
 sugar-loaf, and at its foot a narrow line of hills 
 stretches into the middle of the bay, where its ter- 
 mination is picturesquely marked by a deserted 
 
 VOL. i. p
 
 314- LORD fl . 
 
 fort. The park itself lies along one entire side of 
 the bay, and at its lesser end borders on that of 
 
 Bantry, where Lord B 's house forms the 
 
 principal object from this side. This whole beau- 
 tiful domain was called out of nothing only forty 
 years ago, and is yet only half finished. Such a 
 work deserves a crown : and the excellent man 
 who with slender means, but with singular talent 
 and perseverance, has accomplished it, ought to be 
 held up as a model to those Irish proprietors who 
 spend their money abroad. I heard with real sa- 
 tisfaction, that on his and Lord B 's estates 
 
 party hate is unknown. Both are Protestants, 
 all their 'tenants' are Catholics; nevertheless they 
 render an obedience as boundless as it is voluntary 
 
 and cordial. Colonel W , indeed, lives like a 
 
 patriarch among them, as I learnt from the com- 
 mon people themselves, and settles all their dif- 
 ferences, so that not a penny is spent in the wire- 
 drawings of the law. 
 
 You may be sure that I was eager to make the 
 acquaintance of so admirable a man : I esteemed 
 myself, therefore, highly favoured by fortune in 
 meeting him in the park inspecting the operations 
 of his workmen. Our conversation took a very 
 interesting and, to me, very instructive turn. I 
 readily accepted his invitation to breakfast with
 
 1 SHOOTING LODGE.' 315 
 
 him and his family ; and found in his wife a lady 
 with whom I had made a transient acquaintance 
 in the whirl of London. She received so unex- 
 pected a guest most cordially, and introduced me 
 to her two daughters of seventeen and eighteen. 
 They are not yet out ; for as I have told you, in 
 England, where they bring out horses c sans com- 
 paraison ' too early, the poor girls are let to grow 
 almost old before their leading-strings are taken 
 off and they are launched into the wicked world. 
 
 The family show me all possible civility and 
 kindness ; and as the ladies saw me so passionate 
 a lover of nature, they urged me to stay some 
 days, that I might visit the- various wonders of 
 their neighbourhood, especially the celebrated wa- 
 terfall and view from Hungry Hill, in their com- 
 pany. It was impossible for me to stay, as I had 
 already announced myself at O'Connell's ; but I 
 shall certainly avail myself of their invitation 011 
 my way to Cork, for such society is not of the 
 kind that I shun. 
 
 I therefore contented myself for the present 
 with taking a long walk with the whole family, 
 first along the bay, to obtain a general view of 
 the park and garden ; then into a wood, in which 
 
 Lord B has a ' shooting lodge/ This spot is 
 
 as if invented for a romance. All that the most
 
 316 'SHOOTING LODGE.' 
 
 secluded solitude, the richest vegetation, the 
 freshest and greenest meadows, surrounded by 
 rocks and mountains ; valleys on whose sides 
 precipitous walls of rock, sometimes a thousand 
 feet high ; thickly-wooded glens ; a rapid torrent 
 dashing over masses of rock and over-arched by 
 picturesque bridges of trunks and arms of trees ; 
 groves amid which the sunbeams play, and the 
 cool waters refresh a thousand wild flowers ; ani- 
 mals sporting about in joyous security; majestic 
 eagles and gay-plumed singing birds ; all rendered 
 doubly dear to the poetic heart by the sweetest 
 repose and retirement; all that such elements 
 can produce is here found combined in the richest 
 profusion. With melancholy regret I quitted 
 these enchanting fancies of our dear mother earth, 
 and tore myself away, when we reached the rustic 
 gate at which my guide and pony were already 
 waiting for me. 
 
 As I took leave of my new friends, and turned 
 my back on the lovely valley, the heavens were 
 overclouded anew, and on my entrance into the 
 dreary rocky region which I described to you 
 yesterday, assumed the hue most suited to my 
 disposition and to the surrounding objects. Tired 
 of my long ride of yesterday, I wished to walk ; 
 but on my inquiring for my over- shoes, which
 
 RETURN TO KENMARE. 317 
 
 the wetness of the road rendered needful, I found 
 that the guide had lost one of them ; and as fine 
 scenery is better enjoyed dry-footed, I sent him 
 back, hoping to restore to my sorrowful galoche 
 its faithful mate, at least for the morrow : for to- 
 day, I resolved to continue my way through thick 
 and thin on foot. 
 
 A soft rain began to fall, one mountain after 
 another was veiled from sight ; and I wandered 
 on, to the region where only the vast bones of the 
 earth are visible, casting back many a melancholy 
 lingering thought to the lost paradise. Mean- 
 while the rain became more and more heavy, and 
 sudden gusts of wind soon announced a serious 
 storm. I had to climb the high mountain which 
 lies in the middle of the first half of the way, and 
 already I was met by torrents of water which 
 gushed like little cascades through every cleft. 
 As I am seldom in the way of enjoying such a 
 bath in the open air, I waded with a great feeling 
 of satisfaction and pleasure through the streams, 
 throwing myself in some degree into the plea- 
 surable state of mind of a duck. Nothing of that 
 kind is, as you know, impossible to my mobile 
 fancy. But as the weather became every minute 
 more dark and stormy, my thoughts also became 
 more gloomy, and indeed fell almost into the
 
 318 RETURN TO KJBNMARE. 
 
 fashionably scornful satanic vein. The supersti* 
 tion of the mountains surrounded me; I could 
 not withstand it, and Riibezahl, the Bohemian 
 Huntsman, elfs, fairies, and the Evil One him- 
 self, all passed before my mind ; and I asked my- 
 self, " why should not the Devil appear to me, as 
 well as to other respectable gentlemen ?" At this 
 instant I reached the highest point of the steep 
 mountain. 
 
 The storm howled furiously, water fell in sheets 
 from the heavens, and the deep basin below me 
 appeared now and then for a minute from behind 
 its black curtain, and then vanished again in the 
 rolling mist and the gathering twilight. 
 
 A sudden gust of wind now completely inverted 
 my umbrella, and nearly threw me down. I felt 
 as if some giant fist had struck me. I turned 
 and saw nothing : But how ? does not some- 
 thing move there in the corner ? by heaven it 
 does ! My amazement was not slight when I now 
 discerned, as clearly as darkess and rain would 
 permit, a figure clad in black from head to foot, 
 with a scarlet cap on its head advancing at a slow 
 and limping pace towards me. 
 
 Now, dear Julia, ' est-ce moi ou le Diable qui 
 e"crira le reste ? * or do you think I am inventing 
 a fable to amuse you. ' Point du tout' Dichtung
 
 RETURN TO KENMARE. 319 
 
 und Wahrheit* is my motto. At all events I 
 must close my letter here : I venture to hope my 
 next will be expected with some impatience. 
 Wholly yours, 
 
 Poetry and Truth, the title of Gothe's auto-biographical 
 work. TRANSL.
 
 320 RETURN TO KENMARE. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 Kenmare, Sept. 28th, 1828. 
 
 BELOVED FRIEND, 
 
 WAS it the Devil or not then ? you ask. ' Ma foi, 
 je n'en sais rien/ At any rate he had assumed a 
 very ( recommendable,' though rather dangerous 
 form, that of a pretty girl, who, wrapped in her 
 long dark blue cloak, made darker by the rain, 
 and with the red cap of Kerry on her head, bare- 
 foot and shivering with cold, was going to pass 
 by me, when I asked her what made her limp, 
 and why she was wandering alone in such wea- 
 ther ? " Ah ! " said she, in half-intelligible patois, 
 and pointing to her foot bound up, " I was only 
 going to the next village, and I am belated, and 
 I fell into the terrible weather, and I have hurt 
 myself very much ; " and then she looked down 
 with an arch bashfulness, and showed the pretty 
 wounded ancle. We walked on together and 
 shared the difficulties of the way, helped one an- 
 other where we could, and at length found in the 
 valley, first, better weather ; then a place of shel- 
 ter j and last, a refreshing draught of new milk.
 
 KENMARE. 321 
 
 Thus invigorated I wandered on by night ; and 
 when I reached Kenmare, I had walked four Ger- 
 man miles in something more than six hours : I 
 was, however, heartily tired, and as soon as I 
 reached my bed-room I exclaimed with Wallen- 
 stein, 
 
 " Ich denke einen langen Schlaf zu thun!"* 
 
 Derrinane Abbey, Sept. 29th. 
 
 This accordingly happened ; and I had plenty 
 of time, for the weather was so horribly bad that 
 I waited in vain, alas ! till three in the afternoon 
 for better. I had sent a messenger to O'Connell 
 the evening before, and had very inconsiderately 
 paid him beforehand. I found him at the inn, 
 without an answer and with broken shins. As 
 soon as he felt the money in his pocket he had 
 been unable to resist the whisky, and in conse- 
 quence he and his horse had fallen down a rock 
 in the night. He had, however, had the extra- 
 ordinary sense and thought to send on a friend of 
 his to fulfil his mission ; and at my waking I 
 found a very polite invitation from the Great 
 Agitator. 
 
 I have already said that I did not set out till 
 three o'clock ; and although I had to ride seven 
 
 * " I think to take a long sleep." 
 P 5
 
 322 ROAD TO DERRINANB. 
 
 hours with a most violent rain beating in my face, 
 and in this desert, where not even the shelter of 
 a single tree is to be found, and I had not a dry 
 thread upon me after the first half hour, I would 
 on no account have missed this extraordinary part 
 of my adventures. 
 
 The beginning was certainly difficult. At first 
 I could not get a horse, for that which I had rid- 
 den at Glengariff had hurt his foot. At length 
 appeared an old black cart-horse, which was 
 destined for my use, and a sort of cat-like little 
 animal intended for my guide. I was also in an 
 imbroglio with regard to my toilet. The lost 
 galoche had not been found, and the umbrella was 
 already unreefed on the haunted mountain. I 
 replaced the first by a large slipper of my host's ; 
 the second I tied together as well as I could, and 
 then holding it before me like a shield, with a 
 pocket-handkerchief covered with a piece of oil- 
 cloth over my head, I galloped off in search of 
 fresh adventures, a perfect Don Quixote, and 
 attended by a no less faithful representative of 
 Sancho Panza. 
 
 Before I got a quarter of a mile from the town 
 a destructive gust of wind made a deplorable end 
 of my umbrella, once the ornament of New Bond 
 Street, and since the companion of so many a
 
 ROAD TO DERR1NANE. 323 
 
 disaster. All its cords broke, and left only a torn 
 piece of silk and a bundle of whalebone in my 
 grasp : I gave the remains to my guide, and sur- 
 rendered myself without further solicitude or de- 
 fence to the elements, determined to bear good- 
 humouredly what could not be altered. 
 
 As long as we coasted the bay of Kenmare, we 
 rode on as quickly as possible, the road being 
 tolerable. Soon, however, it assumed a worse 
 aspect. The entrance to the wilder mountain 
 country is marked by a picturesque bridge, thrown 
 acro*ss a chasm an hundred feet high, called " The 
 Bridge of the Black Water." The sides of the 
 chasm were clothed with oaks, the last trees 
 which I beheld. I remarked that my valise, which 
 my guide had fastened on his horse, must inevita- 
 bly be soaked through, and ordered the man to 
 endeavour, if possible, to get a mat or sack at the 
 nearest cabin, to lay over it. This incautious act 
 I had abundant cause to rue : he too was, appa- 
 rently, detained by the fascinations of whisky ; at 
 any rate, though I frequently stopped in the hope 
 that he would overtake me, I did not see him 
 again till just at the end of my journey, which 
 afterwards caused me the greatest perplexity. 
 
 The road, which gradually grew worse and 
 worse, lay for the most part close to the sea,
 
 SS-t ROAD TO DERRINANE. 
 
 which the storm threw into magnificent agitation j 
 sometimes across a dreary flat of bog, some- 
 times by the side of chasms and steep precipices, 
 or through wide chaotic plains, where masses of 
 rock were thrown together in such wild confusion, 
 that it seemed the spot from which the giants had 
 stormed heaven. 
 
 At rare intervals I met a solitary ragged wan- 
 derer ; and the thought often recurred to me, how 
 easy it were in this desert region to rob or mur- 
 der me without the slightest risk of discovery. 
 My whole travelling property resides in my breast 
 pocket ; for in the Grecian fashion I carry ' omnia 
 mea' with me. But far removed from all preda- 
 tory thoughts, these poor good hearted people 
 invariably greeted me with respectful kindness, 
 although my exterior was anything but imposing, 
 and, to an English eye, by no means bespoke 
 ' a gentleman.' I was frequently in utter uncer- 
 tainty which of the half- imperceptible roads I 
 ought to take, but fortunately determined to keep 
 as near to the sea as possible, which, though 
 not the nearest, was the surest. Meanwhile time 
 passed on ; and when, at long intervals, I met a 
 human being, and asked " How far is it to Mr. 
 O'Connell's ?" the object of my visit always drew 
 down a blessing upon me. I was answered with a
 
 JR.OAD TO DERRINANE. 325 
 
 " God bless your Honour !" but the miles seemed 
 rather to increase than to diminish. 
 
 At length it began to grow dark just as I reached 
 a part of the coast which assuredly it would be 
 difficult to parallel. Foreign travellers have pro- 
 bably never been thrown into this desolate corner 
 of the earth, which belongs rather to owls and sea- 
 mews than to men, and of whose awful wildness 
 it is difficult to give an idea. Torn, jagged, coal- 
 black rocks, with deep caverns into which the sea 
 breaks with a ceaseless thunder, and then dashes 
 over the top of the tower-like crags its white foam, 
 which is borne by the wind in compact masses, 
 like locks of wool, over the highest points of the 
 mountains ; the wailing cry of the restless flut- 
 tering sea-fowl, piercing through the storm with 
 its shrill monotonous sound ; the incessant howl 
 and roar of the undermining waves, which some- 
 times suddenly dashed over my horse's hoofs, and 
 then ran hissing back again ; the comfortless re- 
 moteness from all human help ; the ceaseless 
 pattering rain, and the coming-on of night on an 
 uncertain and entirely unknown road ; I began 
 really to feel uneasy, in earnest, not half in 
 jest as the day before. Your eager search for 
 the romantic will turn out as ill for you, as for the 
 Sorrowful Knight, thought I, and urged on my
 
 326 ROAD TO DERRINANK. 
 
 tired horse to his utmost speed. He stumbled 
 every moment over the loose stones, and with 
 great difficulty I at length brought him into a 
 heavy trot. My anxiety was increased by O'Con- 
 nell's letter. He had written to me that the pro- 
 per approach to his house was from Killarney, 
 that carriages must cross thence by water ; but 
 that the road from Kenmare was the most difficult, 
 and that I must therefore be sure to provide myself 
 with a safe guide. And, as is generally the case 
 when we pursue one train of thoughts with great 
 pertinacity, a popular tale of Croker's which I 
 had lately read came into my mind. "No land," 
 says he, " is better than the coast of Inveragh for 
 being drowned in the sea ; or if you like that better, 
 for breaking your neck 011 shore." Yet thought 
 I and here my horse suddenly stumbled, shyed, 
 and turned with such a leap as I had hardly given 
 the old creature credit for. I now found myself 
 in a narrow pass. It was still light enough to see 
 several steps before me clearly, and I could not 
 understand what had struck this panic into my 
 horse. Making all the resistance he could, and 
 only in obedience to the admonitions of my shil- 
 lelah, he at length went on again j but in a few 
 steps I perceived with astonishment that the path, 
 which had appeared pretty well tracked, termi-
 
 ROAD TO DERRINANJB. 327 
 
 nated directly in the sea. The bridle nearly 
 dropped out of my hand, as a foaming wave chased 
 by the storm sprang upon me like a huge monster, 
 and scattered the narrow cleft far behind me with 
 its spray. Here was really a difficult situation. 
 Bare inaccessible rocks surrounded me on every 
 side, before me rolled the ocean, there was no- 
 thing for me but to retreat. But if I had lost 
 my way, as I could not but suspect, how could I 
 reckon on meeting my guide, even by returning ; 
 and if I did not meet him, where was I to pass 
 the night ? With the exception of O'Connell's old 
 castle, there was no hope of meeting with the least 
 trace of a shelter for twenty miles round. I was 
 already shivering with cold and wet, and my con- 
 stitution would certainly not carry me through 
 a bivouac in such a night. I had doubtless cause 
 for some alarm. It was useless, however, to con- 
 sider : I must ride back, that was clear ; and as 
 quickly as possible. My horse seemed to have 
 come to the same conclusion ; for, as if inspired 
 with new force, he bore me away from the spot 
 at a gallop. But would you believe it : a black 
 figure was again destined to help me in my diffi- 
 culty. You will say this is too much. 'Cen'est 
 pas ma faute ; le vrai souvent n'est pas le vrai- 
 semblable.' In short, I saw a black figure glide
 
 328 ROAD TO DERRINANE. 
 
 like a dim phantom across my path, and disappear 
 behind the rocks. Invocations, prayers, promises, 
 were in vain : Was it a smuggler allured to this 
 coast by the ample facilities it offers ? or a super- 
 stitious peasant who took my unhappy person for 
 a ghost ? At all events it appeared that he did 
 not choose to venture from his hiding-place, and 
 I began to despair of the help I had thought at 
 hand ; when suddenly his head peeped out close 
 to me from the cleft of a rock. I soon succeeded 
 in tranquillizing his fears, and he explained to 
 me the puzzle of the road terminating in the sea. 
 " This road was "made for low water ; the tide is 
 now/' he said, " about half in ; a quarter of an 
 hour later it will be impossible to pass ; but now, 
 if you'll pay me well, I will try and bring you 
 through, but we must not lose a moment." With 
 these words he seated himself at one bound on the 
 horse behind me, and we made what speed we 
 could back to the sea, which was rolling in with 
 great rapidity. 
 
 I felt a strange sensation as we now appeared 
 deliberately to plunge down into the stormy sea, 
 and had to make our difficult way amid the white 
 waves and the rocks, which looked like ghosts in 
 the dim twilight. 
 
 We had the greatest trouble too with the horse :
 
 ROAD TO DERRINANE. 329 
 
 however, the black man knew the ground so per- 
 fectly that we reached the opposite coast in safety, 
 though bathed up to the arms in salt-water. 
 
 Unluckily, the terrified beast here shyed again 
 at a projecting rock, and broke both the rotten 
 girths directly in the middle, a mischance for which 
 there was no remedy here. After all my disasters, 
 I had the agreeable prospect of riding the last six 
 miles balancing on the loose saddle. My black 
 guide had, indeed, given me the clearest direc- 
 tions for the prosecution of my journey; but it 
 was now so dark that the landmarks were no 
 longer visible. 
 
 The road lay, as it appeared to me, across a 
 wide moor, and was at first quite level. After half 
 an hour of rough and stumbling trotting, during 
 which I pressed my knees as hard as possible 
 together, that I might not lose my saddle, I re- 
 marked that the road turned again to the right 
 into the higher range of mountains j for the 
 climbing grew steeper and more continual. Here 
 I found a woman, who was passing the night with 
 her pigs or goats. The road branched off into 
 two divisions, and I asked her which I must take 
 to reach Derrinane Abbey ? " Oh ! both lead 
 there," said she; "but that on the left is two 
 miles nearer." Of course I took this, but soon
 
 330 ROAD TO DEIIRIXANK. 
 
 found to my cost that it was practicable only for 
 goats. I execrated the old witch, and her traitor- 
 ous intelligence : my poor horse exhausted him- 
 self in vain efforts to climb through the blocks of 
 stone, and at length, half stumbling, half falling, 
 he threw both saddle and me. It was impossible 
 to keep the saddle alone on him ; it fell down in- 
 cessantly, and I was obliged to load my own 
 shoulders with it, and to lead my horse besides. 
 Till now I had kept in pretty good temper ; the 
 spirit was still willing, but the flesh began to be 
 weak : the man on the cliff had said, only six 
 miles further, and you are there ; and now, after 
 half an hour's hard riding, the woman insisted 
 upon it that it was still six miles, by the shortest 
 way, to Derrinane. I began to fear that this 
 mountain fortress was not to be found, and that 
 I was the sport of Kobolds, who bandied me from 
 one to another. I seated myself on a stone 
 quite out of heart, fevered with alternate heat and 
 cold ; when, like the voice of an angel in the wil- 
 derness, the shouts of my guide resounded in my 
 ear, and I soon heard the trampling of his horse's 
 hoofs. He had taken quite a different way through 
 the interior of the mountains, to avoid the seu, 
 and had luckily met the woman whose direction I 
 had followed.
 
 DERRINANK ABBEY. 331 
 
 In the delicious feeling of present security, I 
 forgot all my disasters, loaded my deliverer with 
 the saddle and my wet cloak, gave up my horse to 
 his guidance, and seated myself upon his, thus 
 making what speed I might. We had, in fact, 
 five miles yet to ride, and that through a moun- 
 tain-pass surrounded by precipices, but I can 
 give you no further description of the road. The 
 darkness was so complete, that I was obliged to 
 strain my eyes to the utmost to follow the man, 
 who appeared only like a dim shadow flitting 
 indistinctly before me. I perceived by the stum- 
 bling of my horse that we were on uneven ground ; 
 I felt that it was a continual alternation of steep 
 ascents and descents ; that we waded through two 
 deep and rapid mountain torrents, but that was 
 all: now and then, indeed, I suspected, rather 
 than saw, that a bare wall of rock rose by my side, 
 or the deeper black beneath me betrayed the pre- 
 cipice which yawned below. 
 
 At length, atlength a bright light broke through 
 the darkness; the road grew more even; here and 
 there a bit of hedge was visible ; and in a few 
 minutes we stopped at the gate of an ancient 
 building standing on the rocky shore, from the 
 windows of which a friendly golden radiance 
 streamed through the night.
 
 332 DANIEL O'CONNELL. 
 
 The tower clock was striking eleven, and I 
 was, I confess, somewhat anxious as to my din- 
 ner, especially as I saw no living being, except a 
 man in a dressing-gown at an upper window. 
 Soon, however, I heard sounds in the house ; a 
 handsomely-dressed servant appeared, bearing sil- 
 ver candlesticks, and opened the door of a room, 
 in which I saw with astonishment a company of 
 from fifteen to twenty persons sitting at a long 
 table, on which were placed wine and dessert. 
 A tall handsome man, of cheerful and agreeable 
 aspect, rose to receive me, apologized for having 
 given me up in consequence of the lateness of 
 the hour, regretted that I had made such a 
 journey in such terrible weather, presented me 
 in a cursory manner to his family, who formed 
 the majority of the company, and then conduct- 
 ed me to my bedroom. This was the great 
 O'Connell. 
 
 On my return to the dining-room I found the 
 greater part of the company there assembled. I 
 was most hospitably entertained; and it would 
 be ungrateful not to make honourable mention of 
 Mr. O'Connell's old and capital wine. As soon 
 as the ladies had quitted us, he drew his seat near 
 me, and Ireland was of course the subject of our 
 conversation. He asked me if I had yet seen many
 
 DANIEL O'CONNELL. 333 
 
 of the curiosities of Ireland ? whether I had been 
 at the Giant's Causeway? "No," replied I, 
 laughing, " before I visit the Giant's Causeway, 
 I wished to see Ireland's Giants;" and there- 
 with drank a glass of claret to his high under- 
 takings. 
 
 Daniel O'Connell is indeed no common man, 
 though the man of the commonalty. His power 
 is so great, that at this moment it only depends 
 on him to raise the standard of rebellion from one 
 end of the island to the other. He is, however, 
 too sharp-sighted, and much too sure of attaining 
 his end by safer means, to wish to bring on any 
 such violent crisis. He has certainly shown great 
 dexterity in availing himself of the temper of the 
 country at this moment, legally, openly, and in 
 the face of the government, to acquire a power 
 scarcely inferior to that of the sovereign ; indeed, 
 though without arms or armies, in some in- 
 stances far surpassing it : for how would it have 
 been possible for His Majesty George IV. to with- 
 hold 40,000 of his faithful Irishmen for three 
 days from whisky-drinking ? which O'Connell ac- 
 tually accomplished in the memorable Clare elec- 
 tion. The enthusiasm of the people rose to such 
 a height, that they themselves decreed and in- 
 flicted a punishment for drunkenness. The deliu-
 
 334 DANIEL O'CONNELL. 
 
 quent was thrown into a certain part of the river, 
 and held there for two hours, during which time 
 he was made to undergo frequent submersions. 
 
 The next day I had fuller opportunity of ob- 
 serving O'Connell. On the whole, he exceeded 
 my expectations. His exterior is attractive ; and 
 the expression of intelligent goodnature, united 
 with determination and prudence, which marks 
 his countenance, is extremely winning. He has, 
 perhaps, more of persuasiveness than of genuine 
 large and lofty eloquence ; and one frequently 
 perceives too much design and manner in his 
 wordvS. Nevertheless, it is impossible not to fol- 
 low his powerful arguments with interest, to view 
 the martial dignity of his carriage without plea- 
 sure, or to refrain from laughing at his wit. It 
 is very certain that he looks much more like a 
 general of Napoleon's than a Dublin advocate. 
 This resemblance is rendered much more striking 
 by the perfection with which he speaks French, 
 having been educated at the Jesuits' Colleges at 
 Douai and St. Omer. His family is old, and was 
 probably one of the great families of the land. 
 His friends, indeed, maintain that he springs from 
 the ancient kings of Kerry, an opinion which no 
 doubt adds to the reverence with which he is re- 
 garded by the people. He himself told me, and
 
 DANIEL O CONNELL. 335 
 
 not without a certain ' pretension,' that one of 
 his cousins was Comte O'Connell, and ' cordon 
 rouge' in France, and another a baron, general 
 and chamberlain to the Emperor of Austria ; but 
 that he was the head of the family. It appeared 
 to me that he was regarded by the other members 
 of it with almost religious enthusiasm. He is 
 about fifty years old, and in excellent preservation, 
 though his youth was rather wild and riotous. 
 
 Among other things he became notorious, about 
 ten years ago, for a duel he fought. The Protes- 
 tants, to whom his talents early made him for- 
 midable, set on a certain Desterre, a bully and 
 fighter by profession, to ride through all the 
 streets of Dublin with a hunting-whip, which, 
 as he declared, he intended to lay on the shoul- 
 ders of the king of Kerry. The natural conse- 
 quence was a meeting the next morning, in which 
 O'Connell lodged a bullet in Desterre's heart; 
 Desterre's shot went through his hat. This was 
 hiiTfkst victory over the Orangemen, which has 
 been followed by so many more important, and, 
 it is to be hoped, will be followed by others more 
 important still. 
 
 His desire for celebrity seemed to me boundless ; 
 and if he should succeed in obtaining emancipa- 
 tion, of which I have no doubt, his career, so far
 
 336 FATHER L'ESTRANGE. 
 
 from being closed, will I think only then properly 
 begin. But the evils of Ireland, and of the Con- 
 stitution of Great Britain generally, lie too deep 
 to be removed by emancipation, To return to 
 O'Connell : I must mention, that he has received 
 from Nature an invaluable gift for a party-leader; 
 a magnificent voice, united to good lungs and a 
 strong constitution. His understanding is sharp 
 and quick, and his acquirements out of his pro- 
 fession not inconsiderable. With all this, his 
 manners are, as I have said, winning and popular, 
 although somewhat of the actor is perceivable in 
 them ; they do not conceal his very high opinion 
 of himself, and are occasionally tinged by what 
 an Englishman would call "vulgarity." Where 
 is there a picture entirely without shade ! 
 
 Another interesting man, the real though not 
 ostensible head of the Catholics, was present, 
 Father L'Estrange, a friar, and O'Connell's con- 
 fessor. He may be regarded as the real founder 
 of that Catholic Association so often derided in 
 England, but which by merely negative powers, 
 by dexterous activity in secret, and by univer- 
 sally organizing and training the people to one 
 determinate end*, attained a power over them as 
 
 * All the Catholic children in Ireland are carefully in- 
 structed, and can at least read ; while the Protestant are
 
 DANIEL O'CONNELL. 337 
 
 boundless as that of the hierarchy in the middle 
 ages ; with this difference, that the former strove 
 for light and liberty, the . latter for darkness and 
 slavery. This is another outbreak of that se- 
 cond great revolution, which solely by intellectual 
 means, without any admixture of physical force, 
 is advancing to its accomplishment; and whose 
 simple but resistless weapons are public discus- 
 sion and the press. L'Estrange is a man of phi- 
 losophical mind and unalterable calmness. His 
 manners are those of an accomplished gentleman, 
 who has traversed Europe in various capacities, 
 has a thorough knowledge of mankind, and with 
 all his mildness cannot always conceal the sharp 
 traces of great astuteness. I should call him the 
 ideal of a well-intentioned Jesuit. As O'Connell 
 was busy, I took an early walk with the friar to a 
 desert island, to which we crossed dry-footed over 
 the smooth sand now left by the ebb. Here stand 
 the genuine ruins of Derrinane Abbey, to which 
 O' Council's house is only an appendix. It is to 
 be repaired by the family, probably when some of 
 their hopes are fulfilled. 
 
 often utterly ignorant. The morals of the Catholic priesthood 
 in Ireland are everywhere exemplary, as were those of the 
 Reformers in France. The oppressed Church is everywhere 
 the most virtuous ; the causes of which are easily found. 
 EDITOR. 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 338 DANIEL O'CONNELL. 
 
 On our return we found O'Connell on the ter- 
 race of his castle, like a chieftain among his vas- 
 sals, surrounded by groups of the neighbouring 
 peasantry, who came to receive his instructions, 
 or to whom he laid down the law. This he can the 
 more easily do being a lawyer ; but nobody would 
 dare to appeal from his decisions : O'Connell and 
 the Pope are here equally infallible. Lawsuits 
 therefore do not exist within his empire ; and 
 this extends not only over his own tenantry, but 
 I believe over the whole neighbourhood. 
 
 I wondered, when I afterwards found both 
 O'Connell and L'Estrange entirely free from re- 
 ligious bigotry, and even remarked in them very 
 tolerant and philosophical views, though they 
 persist in continuing true Catholics. I wished I 
 had been able to conjure hither some of those fu- 
 rious imbeciles among the English Protestants, 
 
 as for instance Mr. L , who cry out at the 
 
 Catholics as irrational and bigoted j while they 
 themselves cling with furious fanaticism to the 
 faith of their politico-religious party, and are 
 firmly predetermined to keep their long ears for 
 ever closed to reason and humanity. 
 
 In the course of the day we were to have a hare 
 hunt, (for O'Connell has a small pack of hounds,) 
 which would certainly have presented a most
 
 DEPARTURE FROM DERRINANE. 339 
 
 picturesque spectacle on these mountains and 
 broad naked steeps : the bad weather, however, 
 prevented it. I found much greater enjoyment in 
 repose, and in the very interesting company to 
 which I am indebted for much instructive infor- 
 mation. 
 
 Kenmare, Sept. 30th. 
 
 Although my kind hosts, with true Irish hospi- 
 tality, pressed me to stay a week longer for a great 
 festival which is in preparation, and to which a 
 large company is invited, I did not think it right 
 to take this entirely 'a la lettre;' besides which I 
 had such a longing after Glengariff, that I did not 
 wish to absent myself from it longer than was 
 necessary for the end I had in view. I therefore 
 took leave of the family this morning, with the 
 sincerest thanks for the friendly welcome they had 
 given me. O'Connell himself escorted me to the 
 boundaries of his demesne, mounted on a large 
 and handsome gray horse, on which he looked 
 more military than ever. The rugged way is bare 
 of all vegetation, but affords many sublime views, 
 sometimes inland, sometimes to the sea, studded 
 with rocks and islands, some of which rise com- 
 pletely isolated out of the water like high-peaked 
 mountains. O'Connell pointed out one to me, 
 on which he told me he had ordered an ox to 
 02
 
 340 DANISH FORT. 
 
 be landed that he might fatten on the rich and 
 undisturbed herbage. After some days the animal 
 took such decided possession of the island, that 
 he was furious if anybody attempted to land on it, 
 and attacked and drove away even the fishermen 
 whe used to dry their nets on the shore. He was 
 often seen, like Jupiter under his transformation, 
 with uplifted tail and glaring eyes, bounding 
 furiously along to reconnoitre the bounds of hi& 
 domain, and to see if any intruder dared to ap- 
 proach. The emancipated ox at last became so 
 troublesome and dangerous, that they were obliged 
 to shoot him. This appeared to me a good satire 
 on the love of liberty, which as soon as it has 
 gained the power it seeks, degenerates into vio- 
 lence and tyranny; and the association of ideas 
 brought many comical images involuntarily before 
 my mind. 
 
 We afterwards came to a remarkable ruin, one 
 of those so-called Danish forts, which were built 
 not by the Danes but against them. They are more 
 than a thousand years old; and the lower walls, al- 
 though put together without mortar, remain in ex- 
 cellent preservation. At the ruins of a bridge car- 
 lied away by the swelling of a mountain-stream, 
 O'Connell stopped to take a final leave of me. I 
 could not help expressing to the champion of the
 
 IRISH MODES OF TRANSPORT. 341 
 
 rights of his countrymen, my wish that when we 
 next met, the dungeons and fortresses of English 
 intolerance might be overthrown by him and his 
 allies, as completely as these ruined walls had 
 been by the swollen and overflowing torrent*. 
 So we parted. 
 
 As I returned by nearly the same way as I had 
 come, I have little new to say about it, except that, 
 though the day was fine, it tired me twice as much 
 as before ; probably because my mind was less ex- 
 cited. Not far from Kenmare I met several loads 
 of stones, planks, beer, and butter. Everything is 
 conveyed on the backs of horses. The Irish are 
 very ingenious in modes of transport. I have al- 
 ready described their admirable cars, with which 
 one horse can so commodiously draw five or six 
 persons. They have also a sort of car, equally 
 well contrived, for the carriage of hay, wood, 
 &c. ; by means of which one horse does as much 
 work as three with us. This is accomplished 
 entirely by the skill with which the weight is 
 balanced. A car is loaded with long timber, for 
 instance, in such a manner that the horse is hardly 
 visible under the complete covering of wood, the 
 ends of which project many yards before the 
 
 * The wish of my departed friend is already in part fulfill- 
 ed, and the future is big with yet greater changes. EDITOR.
 
 342 IRISH PEOPLE. 
 
 horse's head and behind the car. The division 
 of the weight at each end is so perfect that the 
 timbers press only on one point, and the horse 
 has thus comparatively little to draw. The driver 
 helps a little, going up or down hill, by heaving 
 up or bearing down the ends, which the slightest 
 force is sufficient to move. 
 
 In the same manner five or six heavy oak planks 
 are laid flat across the saddle of a horse, who 
 carries them thus, like a balancing pole, without 
 much labour; though the same weight in a different 
 volume, a chest for instance, would suffice to crush 
 him. They have another ingenious contrivance 
 for transporting stone ; a sort of wooden baskets 
 or cradles which they hang over the saddle, bind- 
 ing them on the horse's back over a thick bundle 
 of straw. 
 
 The merry humour and goodnatured politeness 
 of the people I met were very engaging. I know 
 no nation of which the lower classes appear so 
 little selfish ; so thankful for the least friendly 
 word vouchsafed to them by a gentleman, without 
 the least idea of gain. I really know no country 
 in which I would rather be a large landed pro- 
 prietor than here. What I did elsewhere, and 
 earned only ingratitude and opposition of every 
 kind, would here attach ten or twelve thousand
 
 IRISH CHARACTER. 34-3 
 
 people to me body and soul j the only difference 
 is, that here with much less time and cost I should 
 have attained infinitely greater results, since here 
 nature and man render almost everything attain- 
 able. The people taken in a body, with all their 
 wildness, unite the frank honesty and poetical tem- 
 per of the Germans with the vivacity and quickness 
 of conception of the French, and the pliability, 
 naturalness and submissiveness of the Italians. 
 It may with the fullest justice be said of them, 
 that their faults are to be ascribed to others, their 
 virtues only to themselves. Now I am upon this 
 subject, I must relate to you an incident of no 
 great importance which befel me some days ago: 
 it deserves mention, as illustrative of the national 
 character. 
 
 As I was going from Killarney to Kenmare, I 
 met a continual succession of people driving cattle 
 from some neighbouring fair. Most of them were 
 riding colts they had just bought, without bridles ; 
 and as man and beast were strangers to each 
 other, the latter were not in a very perfect state of 
 subordination : we were therefore often forced to 
 stop. At last I grew tired of this ; and at the bird 
 or fourth rencontre of the kind, I called out to the 
 people that I had not time to spend half the day 
 on the road on account of their clumsiness ; and
 
 344 IRISH CHARACTER. 
 
 somewhat hastily ordered the coachman to drive 
 on. In an instant two colts set off with their 
 riders, galloping before the carriage as hard as 
 they could, while the whole drove of cattle took 
 to the mountains. I was now sorry for my im- 
 patience, and desired the driver to stop again. 
 There were in all four or five drovers whom I had 
 thus routed, all sturdy young fellows ; and the 
 trick I had played them was certainly one of the 
 most disagreeable that could be imagined, as it 
 would take them at least half an hour to collect 
 their dispersed cattle. If a traveller in a miserable 
 one-horse vehicle, with a ragged driver, had given 
 such a job to Germans, Englishmen, or French- 
 men, they would certainly have attacked him with 
 appropriate abuse, and very likely have tried to 
 catch him and do him some injury. The behaviour 
 of these goodnatured fellows was far different : at 
 once respectful and witty. " Oh ! murther, mur- 
 ther \" cried one, while his { crantancarous ' colt 
 made another attempt to dart up the hill, and 
 nearly threw him ; " God bless your honour ! but 
 every gentleman in England and Ireland gets out 
 of the way of cattle ! Oh, for God's sake stop now, 
 your honour, stop 1" I immediately stopped : and 
 after the poor devils had had the greatest trouble 
 in fetching back the part of the cattle that had
 
 WERTHER. 345 
 
 .^^OOASAHJ' 
 
 run the furthest, they came back to my car, with 
 a " Long life to your honour ! " to thank me for 
 my goodness, and went merrily off with their re- 
 captured prize. I must confess that their be- 
 haviour was far more commendable than mine, 
 which I repaired as well as I could by means of a 
 handsome present, 
 
 October 1st : Morning. 
 
 Although dreadfully tired I could not sleep last 
 night, and asked the host if he had a book. He 
 brought me an old English translation of the 
 Sorrows of Werther. You know how highly, 
 how devoutly I honour, our prince of poets, and 
 will therefore hardly believe me when I say that 
 I had never read this celebrated book. The cause 
 would appear to many very childish. The first 
 time it came into my hands, the passage at the 
 beginning in which Charlotte wipes the little boy's 
 dirty nose excited in me such disgust that I could 
 read no further ; and this disagreeable image re- 
 mained always present to my mind. I now, how- 
 ever, set earnestly to work to read it, struck with 
 the strangeness of the accident which led me to 
 read Werther for the first time in a foreign tongue, 
 and in the midst of the wild mountains of Ireland. 
 But even here, I must honestly confess I could 
 not feel any hearty relish for the antiquated
 
 34<6 FAUST. 
 
 " Sufferings*;" the quantity of bread and butter ; 
 the provincial and obsolete manners ; and even the 
 ideas, which were then new, but are now become 
 common-place, like Mozart's beautiful melodies 
 degraded into street ditties ; lastly, the involun- 
 tary recollection of Potier's admirable parody, it 
 was absolutely impossible for me to work myself 
 up to the right " communion frame of mind," as 
 Madame von Frbmmel calls it. But thus much I 
 could perceive, jesting apart, that the book was 
 calculated to ' far furore ' at one period ; for the 
 morbid state of mind under which Werther sinks 
 is truly German, and German feeling was just 
 then beginning to make its way through the 
 materialism which had taken possession of the 
 rest of Europe. Wilhelm Meister indeed followed 
 it with far different steps ; and Faust has since 
 traversed it with giant strides. We have, I think, 
 outgrown the Werther period, but have not yet 
 reached that of Faust ; nor will any age, so long 
 as men exist, outgrow that. 
 
 In the tragedy of Faust, as in those of Shak- 
 speare, the whole inward man is mirrored forth ; 
 the principal character is a personification of the 
 
 * The translation of the title of the book is of a piece with 
 all the rest. Leiden does not mean sorrows, but sufferings. 
 TRANSL.
 
 GlENGARIFF. 34-7 
 
 eternal, mysterious longings of the human heart, 
 the restless striving after the Unknown and the 
 Unattainable. Hence this drama can obviously 
 never have a fully definitive end, even were it ex-- 
 tended through many more acts than it is. But 
 as the lofty spirit here treads a path dizzy as the 
 bridge of Al Sirat, he is every moment nearer to 
 the bottomless fall than the human animal who 
 remains quietly on the secure plain, and feeds. 
 
 A cousin of O'Connell's, who gives hunting 
 parties on the lake of Killarney, had promised me 
 one for tomorrow. I have, however, a positive 
 antipathy to going to see what I have seen before, 
 as long as there is anything new to see; and I can- 
 not imagine that dogs and horses can make any 
 great alteration in the features of a scene I know 
 so well. On the other hand, in Glengariff, amiable 
 people and a great deal of novelty awaited me : I 
 therefore preferred it, rode once more across the 
 Devil's Mountain, this time by daylight, and 
 arrived here about an hour ago. I am established 
 in a pretty little room, and all the glories of the 
 Bay are spread before my window. 
 
 Before I quitted Kenmare my vanity was put 
 to a severe trial. The Irish naivete of the inn- 
 keeper's daughter made such an agreeable impres- 
 sion on me, that on my return to her father's inn
 
 348 HUNGRY HILL. 
 
 I scarcely talked to anybody else, and thus won 
 her good graces. She had never quitted her native 
 mountains, and was as ignorant of the world as it 
 is possible to conceive. I asked her in jest if she 
 would go with me to Cork. "Oh no," said she, "I 
 should be afraid to go so far with you. Do tell 
 me now who you really are : you are a Jew 5 
 that I know already." " Why, are you mad ?" 
 said I ; "what makes you think I must be a Jew ? ' ' 
 
 II Ah, you can't deny it ; hav'n't you a black beard 
 all round your chin, and five or six gold rings on 
 your fingers ? And are you not an hour washing 
 yourself in a morning, and don't you go through 
 ceremonies such as no Christian ever saw ? Con- 
 fess it now, you are a Jew, ar'n't you?" My 
 disclaimer was of no use. At last, however, she 
 said good-humouredly, that if I positively would 
 not allow that I was one, she wished at least that 
 I might e become as rich as a Jew,' (an English 
 phrase). I confirmed this with a Christian 
 ' Amen.' 
 
 October 2nd. 
 I am just returned from an excursion of sixteen 
 
 miles with Colonel W to Hungry Hill, a lofty 
 
 mountain at the end of Bantry Bay, remarkable 
 for its waterfall, and for Thomas O'Rourke's flight 
 to the moon on an eagle's back, which began here,
 
 WATERFALLS. 349 
 
 and has so often been related in prose and verse. 
 Even in Germany this amusing tale has been re- 
 peatedly translated, and has probably fallen into 
 your hands. The hero of the story is a game- 
 keeper of Lord B 's, who is still alive, and 
 
 almost always drunk. On our return Colonel 
 
 W introduced him to me at the inn. He is 
 
 now extremely proud of his celebrity, and seemed 
 to me when I saw him to be projecting another 
 visit to the moon. 
 
 The quantity of rain which has fallen these few 
 days has added much to the beauty of the water- 
 falls. The fall at Hungry Hill entirely disappears 
 in dry weather, but after violent rains exceeds the 
 Staubbach and Terni. Hungry Hill is a huge mass 
 of naked rock about two thousand feet high. On 
 the land side it forms two steep terraces, on the 
 'plateau' between which there is a lake, which of 
 course is not visible from below, whence you see 
 only the continuous lines of these colossal terraces. 
 The upper one consists of bare rock, and is divided 
 in the middle by a deep vertical groove which looks 
 as if cut by art ; the lower, although also free from 
 any visible inequality, has its side clothed with 
 heather and coarse grass, on which hundreds of 
 goats are seen grazing. 
 
 Through the groove or channel mentioned above
 
 350 WATERFALL. 
 
 the mass of water shoots from the highest point 
 of the mountain, falls into the lake on the lower 
 terrace, and filling that, rushes down afresh in 
 four distinct cascades on the valley below. These 
 form such vast arches, that the goats feed peace- 
 fully under them, while the streams convert the 
 meadows below into a temporary lake. 
 
 As the spectator who stands below cannot see 
 the division between the upper and the lower falls, 
 nor the lake which lies between them, the whole 
 appears one enormous cataract, the effect of which 
 
 exceeds all description. Colonel W assured 
 
 me that when the waters are at the highest he has 
 seen the arch so enormous, that, to use his expres- 
 sion, a regiment of soldiers might have marched 
 under it without a man being wetted ; and, as he 
 added, the noise would serve admirably for the 
 thunder of the cannon. 
 
 One of the neighbouring glens was, according 
 to the somewhat fabulous history of Ireland, the 
 scene of a memorable battle between the great 
 O'Sullivan and O'Donovan. The people show 
 the remains of a very old arbutus, on which, as 
 they relate, O'Donovan was hanged. It is very 
 certain that money and jewels have recently been 
 found buried deep in the earth in this inclo- 
 sure.
 
 EAGLES. 351 
 
 The eagles of these mountains, who build on 
 inaccessible rocks, play a very principal part in 
 the popular stories. They are extremely large 
 and strong, and it is certain that they sometimes 
 carry off even children. Some time ago an eagle 
 carried off a boy of three years old, and deposited 
 him, probably because he was too heavy, nearly 
 uninjured on a shelf of rock, to which the people 
 below climbed and saved him. The new Gany- 
 mede, the ' corpus delicti,' is now living, and in 
 full vigour. Another more tragical circumstance 
 of the same kind occurred a few months ago. 
 An eagle bore off a little girl before her father's 
 eyes, and disappeared with her among the rocks ; 
 nor could the least trace of the poor child ever be 
 discovered. 
 
 October 3rd. 
 
 Colonel W is as great a f parkomane' as I, 
 
 but not quite such a ' gourmet.' Field-sports by 
 land and water, however, furnish his table with 
 many delicacies. The grouse or moor-fowl are 
 particularly good; and the oyster-bed on the edge 
 of the park supplies oysters of a peculiarly fine 
 flavour, and as large as a plate. The bay swarms 
 with fish and seals: I saw one of the latter sit- 
 ting on a projecting cliff just opposite my window, 
 and listening with a delighted and almost dancing
 
 352 ENGLISH FAMILY WORSHIP. 
 
 motion to the music of a bagpipe which re- 
 sounded from a neighbouring public-house. These 
 creatures are so passionately fond of music, that 
 they follow the pleasure-boats with bands of 
 music on board, in herds of twenty or thirty. 
 They are decoyed in this way by sportsmen. It 
 is really barbarous thus to abuse their love of the 
 arts ! 
 
 Unfortunately it rained all day, so that I was 
 obliged to remain in the house. In the morning 
 I attended the daily worship of the family, the 
 female members of which are somewhat bigoted 
 as to form, though, as it seemed to me, sincerely 
 pious. We all sat round in a circle, and the 
 mother read one verse out of the Church of En- 
 gland Prayer-book, the eldest daughter the next, 
 and so on alternately, imitating the parson and 
 clerk at a church. After this, the daughter, who 
 has something reserved and enthusiastic about 
 her, began a strange and very long prayer, which 
 lasted a full quarter of an hour; during which 
 all (and of course I among the number) turned 
 decorously towards the wall, fell on their knees 
 before their chair, and hid their faces in their 
 hands. The mother sighed and groaned; the 
 father seemed somewhat ( ennuye ; ' the youngest 
 daughter, a charming girl, who is a good deal
 
 ENGLISH FAMILY WORSHIP. 353 
 
 more muudane than her sister, had now and 
 then fits of absence ; and the son had thought it 
 expedient to absent himself altogether. I, who 
 think every sincere feeling or virtuous aspiration, 
 at whatever time of the day, a prayer to God, 
 believed myself not impiously employed in ob- 
 serving a little what was going on. 
 
 After the company had all stood up, brushed 
 their knees, and smoothed down their petticoats 
 (for English enthusiasm does not easily forget 
 itself), a chapter from the Gospel was read by 
 the mother. The one chosen was that in which 
 six thousand men were fed on three loaves and 
 two fishes, if I remember right, and much was 
 still left remaining. 
 
 Happily for us, our dinner was not measured 
 out to us upon the same scale, and the gifts of God 
 were consumed with great cheerfulness and satis- 
 faction. To this, however, I soon gave an involun- 
 tary shock : I happened to speak in jest of the 
 comet of the year 1832, which, it is predicted, is to 
 approach nearer the earth's orbit than any hitherto 
 known. I remarked that, according to Lalande's 
 reckoning, a comet which should approach within 
 fifty thousand miles of the earth must inevitably 
 exercise such a power of attraction as to raise the 
 waters of the sea above the top of Chimborazo.
 
 354- THEOLOGICAL DISPUTE. 
 
 "If the one of 1832 comes so near us," said I, 
 "we shall infallibly all be drowned." "I beg 
 your pardon, that is impossible," replied Mrs. 
 
 W very earnestly, "for that would be a second 
 
 deluge, and you appear to have entirely forgotten 
 that we are promised in the Bible that there should 
 never be another deluge, but that the earth should 
 at last be destroyed by fire/' ('II faut avouer que 
 la faveur n'est pas grande.') " That this destruc- 
 tion is at hand," continued she, sighing, " I cer- 
 tainly believe ; for the most learned of our pious 
 men are agreed that we are now, probably, in 
 the seventh kingdom of the Revelation of St. 
 John, in which the end of the world is predicted, 
 and in which our Saviour will come to judge us." 
 What singular people these l saints ' are ! On 
 this, mother and daughter fell into such a violent, 
 and at last such a bitter dispute, that I, unworthy 
 layman, was obliged to interpose and endeavour 
 to re-establish peace. The question was, whether, 
 at the time of this final catastrophe, men were to 
 be immediately judged and then burnt, or first 
 burnt and then judged. The daughter indignantly 
 asked ('je vous jure que je ne brode pas') "if our 
 Saviour, on his coming, was to wait to pronounce 
 judgement till the world was burnt? " She said it 
 was plainly written in the Scriptures that he would
 
 THEOLOGICAL DISPUTE. 355 
 
 come to judge the quick and the dead; and how 
 would this be possible if all were first burnt ? It 
 was clear that the world would not be burnt till 
 all were judged. This the mother declared was 
 perfect ' nonsense/ that men must necessarily 
 first die, before they could receive either eternal 
 blessedness or damnation, that the passage which 
 speaks of the quick and the dead regarded only 
 on the one hand those who would be still living 
 at the time of the conflagration, or on the other, 
 those who had long lain in the grave. She in- 
 sisted therefore, "first burnt, and then judged." 
 Both now appealed to me, in the hope of strength- 
 ening themselves by the accession of a partisan. 
 I ventured to reply that I really was not much 
 skilled in these details, and that their dispute ap- 
 peared to me very like that in which Madame du 
 Deffand was called upon to decide; viz., whether 
 St. Denis had walked one mile or six without his 
 head : to which she replied, " que dans ces sortes 
 de choses ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute ! " 
 That I must confess that in the doctrines of Christ 
 I had always chiefly sought to imbibe rules of 
 duty, confidence in God, meekness, and love to 
 man, though I had unhappily rarely succeeded to 
 the extent of my wishes. I hoped, however, that 
 I might dismiss all anxiety as to whether AVC were
 
 356 THEOLOGICAL DISPUTE. 
 
 to be first judged and then burnt, or first burnt 
 and then judged ; that I believed whatever God 
 did was perfectly well done. I must confess that 
 I considered myself just as much in the hand of 
 God, and just as near to his power, in the present 
 life as after the close of my earthly career, or even 
 after the destruction of the little globe which we 
 call * the world'. That judgement was in my 
 opinion for ever going on, and was as eternally 
 active as the spirit which creates and vivifies the 
 universe. This confession of faith had the effect 
 of entirely reconciling the combatants, by uniting 
 them against me. I retreated from the field, how- 
 ever, in so dexterous a manner as not entirely to 
 lose their favour. 
 
 In the evening, between torrents of rain, twi- 
 light, and sunset, we had another magnificent 
 effect of light. Our waterfall in the park was so 
 swollen that it took upon itself to thunder a little 
 too, and grass and bush were prettily illuminated 
 with gay sunbeams. We walked about till it was 
 quite dark, saw the Great Sugar-loaf gradually 
 change its hue from dark blue into rose-colour, 
 and feasted our eyes on the clear mirror of the 
 lake, the leaping of the fish on its surface, and 
 the peaceful sporting of the otters. 
 
 Everything here is delightful, even the air,
 
 GLENOARJFF BAY. 357 
 
 which is famed for its salubrity. There are no 
 tormenting insects; for the bay is so deep, that 
 the ebb leaves no muddy shore, and the constant 
 gentle breeze of the valley is probably not agree- 
 able to them. The climate is singularly equable, 
 neither too hot nor too cold ; and the vegetation 
 so luxuriant, that only one thing more and one 
 less are wanting to clothe the greater part of the 
 bare mountains, and even the interstices between 
 the rocks, with the richest and most beautiful 
 woods: these two things are, planters, and goats. 
 The former have no money, or none that they 
 choose to spend in planting here; the latter suffer 
 nothing to grow that is not inclosed within double 
 walls. It appears that these mountains were for- 
 merly covered with forests; but the English, who 
 have never had any other thought with regard to 
 Ireland but how to draw as much money from her 
 as possible, felled them all. Their remains are 
 still visible in many places. 
 
 Another advantage of this spot is, to my taste 
 at least, its perfect seclusion. It can hardly be 
 reached in a carriage; and with the exception of a 
 few curious travellers, like myself, no attempt is 
 made to overcome the difficulty of the approach. 
 It is inhabited by a goodnatured people, not 
 congregated in villages, but scattered in solitary
 
 358 GLENGARIFF BAY. 
 
 dwellings amid the mountains, and living a pa- 
 triarchal life, unspoiled by the tumult of cities. 
 Nor are they so distressingly poor as in other 
 parts of the country : their wants are few j turf 
 for fuel they have for the fetching, grass for their 
 cows in the bogs, and the sea supplies them with 
 an abundance of fish far beyond what they can 
 consume. For a landowner, inspired with a spirit 
 of enterprise and a love of improvement, an in- 
 exhaustible field here presents itself. Were I a 
 capitalist, this is the spot where I would settle. 
 
 My worthy host takes upon himself to forward 
 this letter immediately. Heaven grant that it 
 may find you in the same happy state of mind 
 which has inspired it ! Remember the favourite 
 saying of my venerable ancestress, f Coeur con- 
 tent, grand talent.' 
 
 Your truly devoted 
 
 L . 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Printed by RICHARD TAYLOR, Red Lion Court, Fleet Street.
 
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