On leaving Ballycastle the road for some way diverges considerably from the shore. The first object of particular interest in this route is the remarkable rock called Carrick-a-Rede. The road runs at the distance of a quarter of a mile, nor can a carriage get up to it; but it well repays the trouble of walking over two or three enclosures. It is an entire mass of basalt, separated from the coast by a chasm sixty feet in breadth and eighty-four in depth. Over this is thrown a bridge of a peculiar construction, to facilitate the communication with the rock, which is much frequented at the time of the salmon-fishery. Vast iron rings are morticed into the rocks on each side, to which are fastened two ropes running parallel to each other, connected together with cross bars of rope at equi-distances, in the manner of a ladder, and over these boards are tied; a railing of rope to hold by, runs along one side14; — a frail species of machinery to all appearance for crossing a chasm of so formidable a depth; yet during the season it is crossed and recrossed fifty times in the day, with perfect unconcern, by men, women, and children, carrying heavy baskets upon their heads: its undulating motion under the feet adds not a little to the feeling of insecurity which the contemplation of it necessarily inspires; and indeed, though generally crossed with safety, dreadful accidents have sometimes happened. I felt no disposition to go over it; yet a boy often or twelve years of age, who had followed us from the road, ran backwards and forwards several times with perfect unconcern.
Between Kenbann and Carrick-a-Rede is a remarkable fissure in the rock, which the legends of the country say was made by the great hero Cuchullin with a stroke of his sabre. West of Carrick-a-Rede are the caves of Lirrybann, in limestone cliffs, the roofs incrusted over with stalactite. At Ballintoy is a vein of coal, if coal it may be called, which has more the appearance of burnt or charred wood. This is the only village of any note between Ballycastle and the Giants' Causeway. Near it are the now trifling remains of Dunseveric Castle, standing on a rock of basalt. It was once a place of great extent and great strength; but the rock and the castle have mouldered away together, and remain only a monument of the ravages committed by that universal destroyer, Time. Vestiges of extraordinary manual labour may, however, be traced on an accurate examination, since it is evident that the sides of the rock have been hewn to render it perpendicular with the outward wall of the castle.
At this place I quitted my car; and sending that on to meet me at the Giants' Causeway, took a guide from Ballintoy, who had been recommended to me, to accompany me in a walk along the rock-heads, the only means by which they can be examined. I had thus an excellent sight of the fine promontory of Bengore, the northernmost point of the county of Antrim, of Pleaskin, and all the most remarkable spots of this extraordinary line of coast. Of these Pleaskin is beyond all comparison the most striking. A base of rock, fringed with the white foam constantly dashing against it, rises in a somewhat rapid slope above the sea, to the height of two hundred feet. It is a mixture of red ochre and of the species of basalt called trap, in alternate strata, strewn over with fragments of broken pillars and other masses, variegated with intervals of grass, the fragments being many of them covered with gray lichens. Above this base a row of basaltic pillars, about forty feet high, runs all round the head of the promontory, extending a considerable way on each side. They are ranged with such perfect order and regularity, that it is difficult to conceive the whole to have been an operation of nature; greater symmetry in the formation and order in the arrangement could hardly have been exhibited by the nicest hand of art. Above tins rises again a mass of trap; and then comes
After stopping to contemplate and admire this majestic object till it began to be time to recollect that I had yet some way to walk before I could rejoin my car, and that by the time it could be reached the clouds of the night would be beginning to come on, I proceeded forwards, when I soon perceived three or four men, one after the other, running towards me, as if emulous which should have the start of the other. "Here they come by dozens," said my companion. "Who are they?" I asked. "The guides of the Causeway," he replied: — "I suppose they have seen the car, and heard somebody was coming, and they are all running to try which can get hold of you first." It was even so: these men are like a parcel of hungry eagles, always hovering about, watching for prey, and the moment any is espied, the contest is commenced which can first pounce upon it. I had been warned of this, and had been recommended by my good friend, Dr. Macdonnell, to put myself under the guidance of a man named Currie, far the most intelligent of any among the guides — not loitering about the Causeway like the tribe by whom I was now assailed, but living at the town of Bushmills ready to be employed by any body who may apply to him. I therefore peremptorily rejected the solicitations of the rest, though I was not the less followed by them, and molested with their officious offers of services for the rest of my walk. They said they heard that I was recommended to Currie, but they could any of them show me about as well as he could; — I found, indeed, that he was a great object of jealousy among them.
To those who disregard a little bodily fatigue for the sake of gratifying curiosity, — or I would fain give the feeling a more respectable appellation, since
Juliet says, "What's in a name?" and the poet who puts this sentiment in her mouth was deeply read in human nature. Yet a name has very great influence not merely upon the imagination but even upon the judgement. We hear of the Giants' Causeway; we know that the term Giant is applied to a being which the imagination has figured, though of human form, immensely beyond all human stature and size, and we immediately figure to ourselves that every thing referable to these extraordinary imaginary beings must be of a vastness almost beyond all human conception. It is probable that at least three fourths of the visitors to the Causeway approach it impressed with these ideas and to such, disappointment must almost inevitably be the first sensation experienced15. Had I seen it five years earlier in my life, such had probably been my sensations; but led within that time to direct some part of my attention towards the mineral kingdom, I had imbibed more sobered ideas with regard to this mineralogical phaenomenon; and in one respect only did I find it falling short of
Yet if instead of being presented with a work so enormous that the execution of it seems immeasureably beyond the reach of human powers, we behold an object which in reference merely to its size might easily be supposed the work of mortal hands, its extraordinary construction must awaken feelings of such astonishment and admiration that every other sensation is absorbed in them alone. Let the Volcanists and the Neptunists, the Huttonians and the Wernerians, waste the midnight oil in labouring to establish their respective theories on the cause and origin of an effect so wonderful — all must bow with the deepest the most sacred veneration to the hand that could ignite the volcano, or direct the motion of the heaving billows in its formation.
The reader's attention is particularly requested to the annexed Plate; it is from a drawing taken on the spot by my friend Mr. Hare, surgeon, of Argyll-street; and I think I may safely venture to say that it gives a more accurate representation of the Causeway than any engraving yet before the public. It exhibits some of the most remarkable groups of the basaltic pillars, as they appear in descending from the rock-heads. The central group is provincially called the Giants' Loom; the extremity to the right is a part of the Causeway properly so called. It is a fault but too common among draughtsmen in taking sketches of scenery, if the objects as they actually exist do not form as pretty a landscape as they wish to produce, they add any little embellishments of their own which they think will supply the deficiency. I have had occasion in my Travels in France to advert to this practice in speaking of the Pont-du-Gard, and again I must reprobate it. If a painter only wishes to make a fine landscape, let him give free scope to his imagination — let not a tree, a building, a piece of water, be placed but where it will produce the most picturesque effect; but if he pretends to give a view, let it be the spot such as it really is, without deduction or addition. Sketches of actual scenery should be considered in the light of history, the most essential feature of which is a strict adherence to truth; while pieces of imagination are the novels of the graphic art, in which the artist is at liberty to give the fullest scope to his inventive powers. Whoever sees and studies this plate would afterwards approach the Causeway
The usual description given of the Causeway is, that it is a mole projecting from the foot of a towering basaltic rock some way into the sea. So far the description is very proper; but care should be taken at the same time to explain that the mole itself is not towering, that it does not in any part rise to a considerable height above the water. The tallest pillars are in the group called the Giants' Loom, and none of them exceed thirty-three feet in height. Mr. Hamilton says that the Causeway runs from the foot of the rock some hundred feet into the sea: this is a very loose and indefinite mode of description. I had heard before I saw it that it projected three-quarters of a mile into the sea; estimating it at the utmost possible extent to which it could be taken, I believe it would be found scarcely to run to a sixth part of that length16. But the accounts are so extremely varied that one thing only is to be inferred, which is, that no accurate measurement of it has ever yet been taken. My guide, whom in many respects I found very intelligent, seemed wholly at a loss when I questioned him on this subject. Indeed in computing the length of the Causeway, the first thing to be determined is the point from which the measurement is to commence. The whole length from the foot of the rock is commonly comprehended in it; whereas, in fact, the Causeway properly so called commences only at the range of low columns seen in the print to the right: — hence may very much arise the contradiction in the accounts. Something will also depend upon the state of the tide when the measurement is made. The mole
I wish I may have succeeded here in endeavouring to give more just ideas than are generally entertained as to the extent and height of this phaenomenon. Though I cannot assent to Sir R. C. Hoare's position, that it would be overlooked if not pointed out to observation, yet I am exceedingly disposed to think that the impression which its wonderful construction would naturally make if the imagination had not been led astray, is extremely weakened by the disappointment experienced in not finding it awfully gigantic. But I must persuade myself that the astonishment and admiration of every contemplative mind will increase in proportion as its construction is more and more minutely examined. It is now sufficiently known that the whole is a mass of naturally-formed pillars of basalt; — upon their nature and origin the opinions of men of science vary exceedingly, nor does my little knowledge suffice to authorize my having any decided opinion of my own. In the following chapter, however, I present my readers with some ideas upon so extraordinary an operation of nature, which will be found both new and ingenious. For the whole chapter I am indebted to my friend Mr. Hare, already mentioned as having favoured me with the drawing of the Causeway. As a man of science, a member of the
A striking and remarkable feature of the whole line of coast even from Benmore to Portrush, the whole northern coast of Antrim, is the number of small bays into which it is broken. This is more particularly the case in the part lying between Bengore-head, and the river Bush, in which division the Giants' Causeway is included. The rock from which that projects is nearly in the centre of one of these bays, which has the name of Port Noffer. The entire mass of rock with which this bay is surrounded is basalt, and in a variety of places clusters of columns appear emerging from the mass, some, small ones, only peeping out from among the green sod which covers a great part of these rocks. Several of these clusters may be observed in the plate, appearing in different parts of the rock above the Causeway. One of them, in the sweep of the bay eastward of the Causeway, has the name of the Giants' Organ, from the similarity found in the arrangement of the group to the pipes of an organ. Round the eastern point of Port Noffer sweeps another small bay, which is terminated by a remarkable rock, having at its point a little cluster of pillars, standing free from the rock and having the appearance of chimneys; from thence the group is called the Chimney-tops: this is one of the features of the scenery to which a stranger's attention is always particularly directed by the guides. Round Port Noffer there is for the most part a small level space between the foot of the rocks and the sea, overgrown with herbage, and strewed all over with loose blocks of stone, — fragments, as they appear, fallen from the rocks above. Many of these are in a state of extreme decomposition, and are readily broken to pieces with a few strokes of the hammer, when they display a variety of beautiful crystallizations. A remarkable rock in this little bay, called the Lion-rock, which is insulated at high water but perfectly accessible when the tide is down, is full of crystallizations. In going over the head of the Causeway, just below the rocks, is a spring of very pure and pleasant-flavoured water, to which is given the name of the Giants' Well; here sits an old woman with a glass,
On the nature of the several mineral productions to be found about the Causeway, it may be said, that where the basalt is not formed into columns, the masses possess a considerable variety of texture as well as colour; — in colour, they are to be found from various shades of gray and brown to a dull red. All these varieties are attributable to the iron contained in the mass under various circumstances of chemical influence. The basalt often approaches in its general character to amygdaloid, the cavities being sometimes very considerable, and either coated or filled entirely with various minerals. In the former instance, the interior surfaces have always a crystalline character, which when entire not uncommonly constitutes a hollow sphere, to which the name of geode has been applied: this is principally the case with such as are of a siliceous nature. Zeolite occurs in every known variety; and that which is usually termed fibrous, or mealy zeolite, is particularly deserving of attention from its extreme delicacy and brilliancy of character, resembling the fine down of a thistle. Calcareous spar is exceedingly common, steatite and green earth are occasionally found; chalcedony approaching to opal, and agates, are not rare. The basalt, which is decomposed to such an extreme degree as nearly to have lost the whole of its metallic matter, has much the appearance and the specific gravity of limestone or similar matters which have been submitted to the action of fire. In various parts of this district are also found numerous specimens of wood which has all the appearance of charcoal, excepting that it is rather more glossy. These circumstances have been upon many occasions adduced in support of the idea that basalt is of volcanic origin. At Port-na-Baw, a bay adjoining to that in which is the Giants' Causeway, iron pyrites occurs very much in the basaltic masses, and carbonate of strontites, or strontian, is by no means uncommon. The Statice Armeria was growing in many parts about among the pillars.18.
Since the Causeway has become so strongly the subject of public curiosity, which is little more than a century back, much investigation has been employed in endeavouring to ascertain the precise time and manner of its first coming into notice. It would scarcely be a less curious subject of inquiry to endeavour to trace out the time when the legend to which it owes its name was first brought into circulation, and the name of The Giants Causeway in consequence affixed to it. As it is possible that my work may fall into the hands of some readers to whom the legend is not known, it may not be mal-à-propos to present them with a sketch of it.
Fion Mac Cumhal, or Fin Mac Cool as he is sometimes called, thence by corruption converted into Fingal, was the sovereign of a race of giants inhabiting the interior of Ireland. In his days the Scots had made frequent descents upon the northern coast of Ireland, plundering and ravaging it. Fion at length undertook to avenge the cause of the sufferers, and not only to defend their country, but to carry his giant train across the ocean and repay tenfold the ravages which had been committed. To facilitate his purpose, he conceived the idea of building a bridge or rather causeway across the ocean, and made his followers hew from the mighty rocks along the coast the materials for constructing it. These blocks were hewn in the geometrical figures which compose the pillars of the Causeway, and the mole formed of these masses rose above the ocean till it reached the Scottish coast at the island of Staffa; — here a palace was built for the chief, of the same extraordinary materials. A route thus opened,
- Now armed for war along their iron road
Stern in their ire the giant warriors strode. —
As files on files advanced in serried might,
How flash'd their arms' intolerable light;
Casques, shields and spears, and banners floating gay,
And mail-clad steeds, and chariots' proud array,
Bright glancing as the fires which heaven adorn
When fair Aurora brings the Boreal morn.
[Giants' Causeway, p. 12.]
The Scotch beheld the progress of this stupendous work with terror and dismay: What could their feeble might avail against a power thus more than mortal! — the only hope was in matching against them powers supernatural as their own. The Druids and Bards were summoned: nine days successively did the altars smoke with human victims sacrificed to Odin; nine days were prayers and supplications addressed to him to assemble all his terrors and baffle the efforts of these mighty invaders. Odin, from the hall of Valhalla where he was quaffing the blood of the victims out of the sculls of redoubted heroes slain in battle, heard their prayers, and arming himself with his thunders, his lightnings, his winds, his hail, his sleet and his darkness, standing in the centre of the mole commanded these engines of his wrath to hurl destruction upon it. The mole sunk accordingly into the bosom of the abyss, and nothing remains of it but the fragments standing on the Irish coast and at Staffa.
From this fabulous legend, — from being the reputed work of giants, not from being in itself gigantic, — the Giants' Causeway derives its name. By this name alone does it appear ever to have been distinguished, it is the name given to it by the earliest writers at present known to us as mentioning it. Now it is worthy of observation that the legend does not bear the stamp of being one of modern date; legends of this nature are much rather the coinage of ancient days; — of those days when all religion being defaced by superstition, the imagination was ever at work to create objects for satisfying this leading propensity, and attributed to supernatural agents, the offspring of their own fancies, every thing either in the physical or moral world which their limited knowledge precluded them from referring to the regular ordinary processes of nature. But such a legend
The oldest document known to us which pretends to giving any thing like a philosophical account of this wonder of nature is one dated anno 1693, in the form of a letter from Sir Richard Bulkely to Dr. Lister19. It is a report made by a Cambridge Master-of-Arts, and reflects little credit on the writer; nothing can be more unlike the reality than his description of it. The next account is one dated 1694, by Dr. Samuel Foley, drawn up in a very superior manner to the former20 About the same period we find it also noticed by Dr. Thomas Molyneux,
There are no less than twelve whin dykes in the short space between the mouth of the river Bush west of the Causeway, and Port-na-Spania east. This port sweeps round eastward from the Chimney-tops. After the dispersion of the Spanish Armada, one of the vessels is said to have wandered about till at length it was driven into this port and there wrecked; hence it has its name. Two whin dykes have been already mentioned as separating the different divisions of the Causeway. Another is to be seen at Port-na-Baw, the next port westward of Port Noffer, and divided from it by some, not very high, rocks covered with green sod, called the Stookans. It takes a remarkable form here, a large piece of wall standing detached from the adjacent rocks, and it is composed of horizontal prisms having an axe-like form: about this mass the iron pyrites are principally found. But the most remarkable of the whin dyes is at Port Coane, the next port westward of Port-na-Baw. An engraving of it is annexed: the sketch was taken on the spot by Mr. Hare, who kindly obliged me with the use of it. From this a very accurate idea of its singular appearance may be obtained: seen at a distance it has very much the appearance of a ship with all the sails up. Sir R. C. Hoare, after expressing his disappointment from not finding all the picturesque beauty he expected at the Causeway, goes on to say: — "We afterwards visited a cavern in a little bay to the westward; here the artist will find a grand subject for his pencil, which I was prevented taking by a violent and dangerous fall in getting into the cavern." Port Coane is the bay here alluded to; and this rock, or whin dyke, may fairly be pronounced the subject which he recommends so strongly to the artist's pencil. The cavern of which he speaks could not be introduced in the plate; it lies behind the projecting rock to the right, and is consequently not in sight at the point of view whence the sketch is taken; indeed there is no point from
The cave is entered by a lofty arch, on the right side of which large stalactitic incrustations are formed by the constant dripping of water down from the higher regions of the rock. The arch of the cave lowers considerably in proceeding into the interior, and at the back is an opening, not a very large one, and not coming quite down to the ground, through which is another cave crossing the first in the manner of a T. One end of this is open to the sea, which rushes in with great force, the sound being finely reverberated by the echo within the cave. The floor of the cave rises in a regular slope from the sea, so that the majestic rush of the water may be contemplated in the most perfect security. It was no doubt going from one cave to the other that Sir R. C. Hoare got his fall; for the passage is dark, the footing slippery, and, unless directed and assisted by a guide accustomed to it, a false step is very easily made. I had been told that a beautiful little species of patella was to be procured here, and I accordingly inquired for them. The guide said they were not abundant, but the place to find them was plucking the large fuci from the stones to which they adhere, and the creatures were lodged beneath. Several of these plants he plucked off, but only two shells were found. Westward of this cave is one said to be much more worth visiting, that of Runkerry; but it is only accessible by water. The whole depth that it runs within the rocks is not known, since there is a bar of stones at some distance from the entrance, over which no boat can pass.
The visit to Port Coane and its caves concluded a day to which I shall always recur as one of the most interesting I have ever passed. Nor can I persuade myself but that the same would be the feeling of every traveller visiting this extraordinary phenomenon, if he could only divest himself previously of the ideas of immensity which have been unwarrantably attached to it. I cannot, however, finally take my leave of it without a word in favour of my guide Currie. I found him civil, obliging, intelligent; and as he saw me anxious to procure specimens of all the different mineralogical productions, he took every