Once more then I am in Ireland, I said within myself as I came on shore, and what a multitude of pleasing recollections immediately pressed upon my mind! They seemed an assurance that in revisiting the country, far from being diminished, a large accession would be added to them; nor were my prophetic visions erroneous. Such indeed was the charm I found in renewing my acquaintance with my old friends, and in the acquisition of many new ones, that although I came with the fixed intention of not spending more than a week at Dublin, I stayed three weeks, and only wished at the expiration of that time that I could have indulged myself in a much longer stay.
Among my new acquaintance must be particularly mentioned the family of Mr. Walker at Saint Valeri near Bray, and that of Sir William Betham at Montpellier near Dublin. Though I had occasion in the former part of my work to mention the latter gentleman, it was rather by anticipation, for it was not till this year that I had the pleasure of knowing him. With his sister Miss Matilda Betham, the well-known authoress of a biographical work celebrating such of her own sex as have at any period of the world particularly distinguished themselves, of some poetical works, and lastly of a very beautiful poem entitled the Lay of Marie, — with this lady I had the pleasure of being acquainted, and she obligingly gave me a letter of introduction to her brother and his family, for which I have to acknowledge great obligations to her.
With that elegant scholar, that man of refined and classical taste, the late
This tribute paid to the dead, my warm acknowledgements are now due to the living. While I was at Ravenswell, the year before, I had more than once passed by Saint Valeri, which is scarcely so much as two miles from Bray, looking towards it with an eye of regret, in the thought that while all its natural beauties were the same, still flourishing, the objects of delight to all around, the hand which had contributed so essentially towards forming them was cold in the tomb. I inquired who had succeeded to the property, and was informed that it was left by the deceased to a sister who had always lived with him. I was impressed with a strong wish to make myself known to her; but apprehensive of appearing intrusive, I restrained my wishes. When I returned from my excursion round the county of Wicklow the year before, I learnt that Mr. Samuel Walker, the brother of the deceased, had been inquiring for me, and I then began earnestly to wish I had been less scrupulous, and had made myself known to the family. But it was now too late, I was on the verge of my departure, and for that time the thought of answering his civilities must of necessity be abandoned. I had now, however, not been more than two days in Dublin before I was favoured with a call from him, he having heard that I was in the country from Sir William Betham, who is his brother-in-law, Lady Betham and Mrs. Walker being sisters — and he obligingly engaged me not to quit the country without visiting Saint Valeri. I had however
Having seen and descanted upon the principal objects that invite the attention of strangers in Dublin in the first part of this Narrative, I have little to add. I went over one day to Howth, in hopes of seeing the diving machine at work, which I was informed was used in making the new pier, and that it might be seen any day, only observing not to be there before the half ebb tide, since it cannot work at high water, or till the tide is about half down. But I was very unfortunate in the day I pitched upon; the machinery was to be removed to another part, and the bell was not to go down that day, so that I only saw the nature of the process, I did not actually see the men submerged. The machine is of cast iron, not in the form of a bell, but of a vast chest or coffer having no bottom. In the top are four bulls-eyes to give light, which are in no danger of being broken from any pressure of water; and the air pipe is so managed that nothing is to be apprehended from the want of a sufficiency of air, or a proper renovation of it; there are seats at each end within the chest. This is suspended at a sufficient height above the water, just to admit of a small boat going underneath; the men who are to go down are rowed under, when they place themselves upon the seats, the boat comes away, and the machine is let down by vast ropes over a cylinder turned by winches upon the same principle as a bucket to a well. When they want the machine to be drawn up, they strike upon the iron sides, which sends forth a body of sound that cannot fail of being heard above. I talked with some of the men who are in the habit of going down, and it was become so familiar to them, the machinery was besides of such an improved kind, that they talked of it with perfect unconcern, as of a thing not attended with the slightest risk. The object for which it is used is in laying the foundation stones for the head of the new pier. The block of stone is first lowered into the water, when the men descend and fix it in the proper situation. They do not stay below longer than twenty minutes together; the machine is sometimes fifteen feet under water. It is a curious idea to think of men working in such a situation; and yet the whole apparatus carried with it such an appearance of security, that I thought I could have gone down myself without apprehension. Indeed it appears much less hazardous than ascending in a balloon.
Since the first part of my Narrative was printed off, I learn that the idea of this harbour at Howth ever being brought to answer the destined purpose is so much abandoned, that the making a harbour on the southern shore of the bay is determined on; not, however, at Dalkey Island which had been so much talked of and recommended, but at Dunleary. This is nearer to Dublin by two miles than Dalkey would be; there is already a little fishing harbour, which is to be enlarged by an additional mole, and at all states of the tide there will be a sufficient depth of water for the packets to come in. Passengers coming by the packets very often choose to be rowed up to Dunleary and there to land, rather than wait for the vessel going into the harbour, while jaunting-cars and jingles are in attendance to carry them into the city.
In the course of my stay at Dublin I spent a very pleasant day and night at Sir William Betham's house at Montpellier, a little beyond Black-Rock, in a delightful situation having a fine view all over Dublin Bay; indeed a particularly advantageous one, since the house stands just so far removed from the shore as to lose the tracts of sand which deform the bay when the tide is down, and nothing remains to the view but the fine sweep over the water with the Hill of Howth on the other side. In taking a drive about the neighbourhood before dinner, we passed a house to which Sir William directed my attention, as that of Mrs. Usher, the mother of Captain Usher, whose name had then recently come so much into public notice from his commanding the vessel in which the ex-emperor of the French and his suite were carried to the Island of Elba. I had been very much acquainted with a young man who was once a lieutenant under Captain Usher on board the Undaunted, but obliged to quit the service on account of ill health. In talking one day of the French emperor, while he was in his prosperity, long before any idea could be entertained of all that has happened, this young man said he wished they could take him prisoner on board the Undaunted, they'd teach him another lesson, they'd take down his pride, they'd show him the difference between him and an English seaman. "No," said a lady in company, "you would not; your captain would behave to him as a gentleman ought to behave, he would treat him with all the politeness and deference due to his talents and situation; and for the crew, they would all contend which should pay him the most respect and attention." How singular that Captain Usher should be the very person placed in this situation!
I have mentioned, in speaking of Shanes-Castle, the pedigree of the O'Neale family which had been made out by Sir William Betham, in quality of his function of Herald at Arms, and under his direction so finely written and illuminated. He showed me another of the same kind just finished, of the united families of O'Donnel and Tyrconnel in which was a painting of the celebrated relic belonging to the O'Donnel family, mentioned by Lady Morgan in her excellent novel of O'Donnel, the Cathach as it is called, or Casket, in which is supposed to be deposited the ancient legend of Saint Columba, or Columbkill. Indeed the writing, the illuminations, the binding of the work and every thing belonging to it, present admirable specimens of Irish talents and industry. I passed a most interesting morning at Sir William Betham's office, by his indulgence, looking over curious old records, books of heraldry and various other objects of curiosity; among which Sir William's own regalia must not be forgotten. Those worn as Herald at Arms are very ancient, on the head is a sort of crown or diadem; — as attached to the modern knights of Saint Patrick, he has a very handsome belt or girdle of modern workmanship. Nor must a sword and part of a shield which I saw there be forgotten, which are supposed to have belonged to one of the knights of Saint John of Jerusalem when they were in possession of the lands of Kilmainham. About four or five years ago in digging upon these lands, near the river Liffey, to make the new military road, a skeleton was found with this sword and shield lying by it; and from the handle of the sword being cruciform and inlaid with gold, it is obvious that it must have belonged to some person of distinction.
I found Mr. and Mrs. Kean again at Dublin; Mr. Kean enchanting the public not less than the former year. Many pleasant hours did I pass in his house, in the society of such men of talents as his own talents can never fail to draw around him. He had been performing for a fortnight before I arrived, and staid about a fortnight after. All people seemed anxious that the reproach
On leaving Dublin, my course was first directed to Saint Valeri, in acceptance of the kind hospitalities to which I had been invited by Mr. Walker. I was here introduced to Mrs. Walker, and to their amiable but suffering sister, Miss Walker. This lady had been the constant companion and nurse of her brother during a long and lingering illness; and perhaps the invalid state into which she has fallen almost ever since, is to be traced up to the fatigue of body and mind inseparable from so painful an attendance. Though she is the proper owner of Saint Valeri, such is her kindness towards the present Mr. Walker and his family, that the house and place are as much theirs as if they were the actual possessors. It is indeed a sweet spot, but it stands in a country where every spot is sweet. To a house small when he came to it, the late Mr. Walker added a very handsome room for a library, which is extremely well filled: it is scarcely necessary to say that a collection of rare and choice Italian books forms an essential part of it; of such a collection the author of the Historical Memoir on Italian Tragedy, and the Essay on the Revival of the Drama in Italy, must have been possessed.
The situation of the house is extremely good, on a considerable slope, having the smallest of the sugar-loaf mountains directly in view of the windows: it was at this time most beautifully tinted with a variety of colours from the heath-plants growing about it; the prevailing were a bright purple and a glowing yellow. The Dargle is not more than a quarter of a mile from hence; the entrance to Mr. Grattan's side of the dell, not the most frequented one, is seen from the windows of Saint Valeri. Thus near the Dargle, I had an opportunity of exploring this delightful spot much more completely than before; but I
In a plantation at the back of the house, running along the side of the road, is an ancient stone cross, of the same kind as that mentioned at Glendaloch, and of which there are several more remaining in different parts of the country. The cross at Saint Valeri was brought from a glen at some distance, and stood originally in the centre of the little paddock, round which runs the plantation. But it became so much an object of devotion among the neighbourhood, that paths without number were made over the grass to get at it; and Mr. Walker found it expedient to remove it into a situation where the devotions might be paid without trespassing on his grounds: it stands now so close to the road, though just within the fence of the plantation, that any one may kneel down and say a prayer en-passant, without turning a step out of the way. In another part of the grounds is a holy well, close by which stands a bush stuck all over with little morsels of rag, votive offerings to the saint who presides over the spot, though I really do not know who the saint is. I believe the water cures all ailments. Mr. Walker has made a gate close by the well to give free access to it; a sort of little parterre is planted with shrubs and flowers, having stone seats ranged about it; and he has chained a drinking-cup by the side of the well, to furnish the means of drinking to any one who wishes it. Some of the neighbourhood are rather scandalized at his giving so much encouragement to the Romans, (for so the Catholics are universally called) he being himself a Protestant of the Church of England: but I truly believe, that humouring to a certain extent the prejudices in which they have been educated, and showing such lenity towards them, is by far the most likely way to lead this class of people in the end to renounce their errors. Conciliate their regard by kindness, and a vast step is made towards leading them to adopt your opinions. Violence has made many a hypocrite; it never made a sincere convert; kindness has made many a one.
The Romans is so much the appellation by which the Catholics are called in Ireland, that some people seem scarcely to have an idea but that it is exclusively
The first morning of my stay at St. Valeri was spent in a visit to Loch Hela, better known by the name of Luggelaw, which sprang originally from a corrupt pronunciation of the true name. That of Loch Hela, the Lake of Hela, is now so little known, that it is very commonly called the Lake of Luggelaw. I have seen it called so under an engraving of the spot; nay, I have seen it spelt Lugula. It is about nine or ten miles from St. Valeri. After passing the finely wooded and cultivated country about Powerscourt, the road ascends to a great height among the ocean of mountains which occupies so large a part of the county of Wicklow; and the rest of the way lies entirely among these mountains. It was soon after arriving at this elevation that I saw the head of the great waterfall at Powerscourt, as mentioned in the former part of my Narrative. After going up and down among these mountains for about five miles, coasting round the base of the great sugar-loaf, at length in descending a pretty steep declivity at a sharp angle, appears far beneath what looks like a sheet of very black mud. This is the lake; but a small part of the expanse is, however, then seen, and none of the cultivated scenery around it; nothing but dark and naked rocks, which throw such a shade over the water as to deprive it in great measure of its aqueous appearance, and give it the semblance of mere slime.
In proceeding onwards down the descent, which winds round a high rock, a different scene presents itself. These wilds are the receptacle of a vast quantity of game, particularly grouse; and in this recess among the mountains, upon the borders of this lake, has Mr. Peter Latouche, the proprietor of Belle-Vue, and the Glen of the Downs, made a very pretty shooting-box. The rocks on the side of the lake down which lies the road are granite, sloping away considerably from the water. These are now entirely planted; the trees
But it must be remembered, that the borders of this lake were not always cultivated; that the whole valley was once naked, dreary, barren: — what then so natural, in the ancient times of superstition, as that this black, dark lake, surrounded with dark and barren rocks, should be fixed on as the abode of darkness, of DEATH — for such was the Hela of the ancient Danish mythology. The lake of Hela, or of Death, was an appropriate title to such a spot, given probably by the Danes while they inhabited the island, and handed down from them; though this derivation is lost in the corrupted name now so generally
The next day I went to visit the lead-mines of Shankill, not far from the Scalp. These mines lie on the County of Dublin side of this chain of mountains; and to reach them from St. Valeri, I went by a road directly over the summit of the mountain: a plain proof that there was no occasion for the Danes to have hollowed out that immense chasm, the Scalp, to establish a communication between the counties of Dublin and Wicklow. The ascent is carried in such an oblique direction along the slope of the mountain to the summit, that though long it is by no means steep. These mines were formerly abundantly productive, and might be so still, but from the little excitement to industry held out. The rocks are granite, abounding exceedingly with galena, or sulphuret of lead. I also obtained some beautiful specimens of crystallizations of carbonate of lead; others containing sulphate of barytes, others with phosphate of lead, and others again with haematite or oxyd of iron. The granite every where abounds with mica; in some places is particularly rich in it: in one specimen I got, the mica appears (if I may be allowed to use such an unmineralogical expression) almost plated over the stone. The granite of the Scalp, which is scarcely half a mile from the mines, equally abounds with mica; it sometimes assumes the character of a coarse-grained gneiss.
The road from St. Valeri to the mines skirts the domains of Powerscourt, and then passes through the village of Enniskerry, which stands very picturesquely upon the slope of a steep hill. It is seen to most advantage coming down the hill on the other side from the Scalp; the view of it is then remarkably pretty. It is one of the neatest villages to be seen in Ireland. Above the road, coming down from the Scalp side, are lofty sand-banks, things not often to be seen in this country. The remainder of my stay at St. Valeri, which was extended to five days, was spent in driving or walking about, and exploring different parts of the neighbourhood: every where it abounds with pleasant walks and drives.