Skibbereen stands upon the river Ilen, which about five miles from thence runs into Baltimore Bay; it was anciently called Stapletown, but what occasioned the change in its name, or when it took place, does not appear. It is a town of some extent, and from the number of new houses recently started up, appears to be increasing in prosperity; there are, however, whole streets, and not very short ones, consisting entirely of the wretched mud cabins of the peasants. The lands about produce a good deal of flax, and manufactories both of linen and woollen are carried on; but the principal objects of commerce in the town are corn, butter, and salted fish, of which considerable quantities are exported. The quantity of fish taken in Baltimore Bay is prodigious.
From our first setting out in the morning I found my horse very little the better for his night's stay at Ross; in short, it now appeared from the driver that he was not in the habit of going in a pleasure car, only in the common working cars, and was wholly unaccustomed to any other than the crawling foot-pace they go; but his master did not suppose I should make long days journeys, not above ten or twelve miles a day, so he thought he would answer my purpose very well. He should rather have said that he would answer his own purpose very well, for as I was to pay by the day for the use of him, he might think ten or twelve miles a sufficient day's journey. I thought quite otherwise; and having brought the man to this confession, I should have sent him back to Cork from Skibbereen could I have hired another: that I could not do, and I was obliged to take him on to Bantry, sixteen miles further. What a tedious sixteen
About two miles from the town the road comes down to the edge of the bay, and continues to coast it; along an artificial causeway thrown up at the foot of the heights, quite up to the town. About half a mile from the town is Black-Rock, the seat of Lord Bantry. This is the third Black-Rock we have seen in different parts of Ireland; — near Dublin, near Cork, and at this place; — not one of them answering to the idea which the name seems to present, of dark shaggy towering masses. The nature of the rocks in Dublin Bay has been noticed; at Cork it is a pale limestone rock, at the utmost from twenty to thirty feet above the river; and here at Bantry, though a considerable slope, the whole is covered with green meadow and wood. One is at a loss to imagine what has given occasion to the name in any of the three places. Lord Bantry's house stands upon the slope, not at a great height above the causeway, looking directly over a sort of basin which forms the upper part of the bay, being separated from the great bay by Whiddy's Island stretching nearly across, leaving only a small channel on each side; beyond are the fine bold rocks that skirt the bay. Nothing can exceed in grandeur and sublimity the scenery all round this vast inlet of the sea; rocks every where tower to a vast height above the water in a variety of forms, tracing a grand wavy outline as far as the eye can reach.
Whiddy's is a large island containing a thousand Irish acres. It is the property
The town of Bantry, which stands almost at the head of the bay, is not large, but has one good street, with a very comfortable inn. Its ancient name was Ballygobbin; it was also for a while called the Old Town, another settlement having been made to the north of it, where, in the time of Oliver Cromwell, Ireton had fortifications erected: many people in consequence emigrated from the old to the new establishment. But afterwards, when the country was restored to tranquillity, these fortifications were neglected and suffered to fall into decay, and the Old Town was found to be more eligibly situated from its immediate vicinity to the bay, so that the New Town in its turn was deserted, and the old one has ever since flourished under its present name. Near it once stood a Franciscan abbey, founded in the fifteenth century by the O'Sullivans, a sept of great distinction in the country, but no trace of it now remains.
The bay is twenty-six miles in length, and in some places nine miles over; it is esteemed the finest bay in all Ireland; the depth of water in the midst is forty fathoms. About fifty or sixty years back the town of Bantry carried on a great trade in salted herrings and pilchards, from the immense quantities taken in the bay; they were principally exported to Spain, Portugal, and Italy. It is a remarkable thing that in these hot countries, where the climate naturally produces a great propensity to thirst, the inhabitants seem particularly fond of strong thirst-creating kinds of food, such as the salted and dried herrings of our
It is needless to remark how much this bay became the subject of public notice and eager attention in the year 1796, when a French fleet was for some time moored there. I must however observe upon the extreme inaccuracy with which this circumstance is mentioned in The Traveller's Guide. It says that the fleet was fitted out by the Consulate at the solicitation of the United Irishmen. Now at that time the Consulate was not established in France, the executive government was in the Directory. Again, it says that the fleet was dispersed in the Bay of Bantry; on the contrary, they had quitted the bay before their dispersion. Having waited there in vain for the arrival of the General, Hoche, who was to command the land forces, and who was to follow the fleet in a frigate, but owing to a storm was prevented joining them, they, after expecting
The first thing to be done on arriving at Bantry was to institute an inquiry for a horse to proceed with the next day. One was at length procured; but the owner said it would be impossible to get from thence to Killarney in one day as I expected, since, from the mountainous nature of the country, an immense circuit must be made. It was determined then, after visiting Glengariff, to proceed to Kenmare town on the Kenmare river, from which place there would be an easy journey on the following day to Killarney; I might be there by twelve or one o'clock. He said that from Glengariff we must return full half way to get into the road to Kenmare, and we should then find it a bad mountain road.
In the morning we set off for Glengariff, going quite round the head of the bay, through a great deal of fine wild mountain scenery. In the bay are several little creeks or inlets; on one of them, where ten years ago was nothing but wild and desolate rocks, or bog, has Captain White formed almost a paradise. He has built a very pretty house in a spot delightfully sheltered by rocks from the north and east winds, open to the south, looking over the basin of the sea below. He has converted bogs into rich lawns and meadows, and clothed the naked rocks, which in their nudity presented the finest forms, with beautiful plantations, all looking extremely thriving and healthy. The house is not large, but an exceeding good gentleman's house, handsomely fitted up with mahogany doors, window-shutters, and window-frames to the principal rooms. The drawing-room opens into a pretty conservatory. Mrs. White, I was informed, has a fine collection of old china; but the family were at this time absent;
The little bay on which this lovely place is formed, is in itself very pretty and picturesque, having fine rocks all round it, and an insulated rock not quite in the centre, though nearly so, on which is a temple. The gardener said he lived near this place when the French fleet was in the bay, and that some of the boats would not unfrequently come into the creek, sometimes fishing, sometimes appearing to be taking soundings. He pointed out the part in which the fleet was moored, which was nearly off the entrance to the creek. Probably here was one of the spots where a landing might have been attempted with greater prospect of success than in most. From the western end of this little bay runs up a valley for about three miles, which may truly be called the Valley of Rocks, though even in this rugged place Captain White has succeeded in raising a plantation for a considerable way. From all I learnt here and at Bantry, it appeared to me that Lord Bantry and Captain White are among those truly praiseworthy gentlemen who spend the greatest part of their time upon their estates, using every exertion to improve the agriculture of the country, and to excite the industry and promote the comfort of the inhabitants: — these are the people to whom Ireland must look up for a hope of its situation ever being rendered such as philanthropy would wish; they are the true patriots of the country. When I first began to inquire at Bantry about hiring a horse, the waiter of the inn said he hardly thought I should be able to get one,
After having walked about the grounds, returning towards the house I found my servant and the driver of the car in earnest conversation with three gentlemen. As I approached, my servant came up to me, and said that those gentlemen had been very much recommending our not going back along the road we had come, and from thence taking the usual road to Kenmare town; they said it would be much better to pursue our course along the valley, and then going over the mountains that close it, we should come into a very good road all the way to Kenmare. It was, they said, a much shorter route, and we should miss an ugly place in the other road called The Priest's Leap; they had just come from Kenmare in a jingle along this road, and could assure me it was very safe and good, in one place excepted, where it was rather steep and rocky for a few yards; there it would be necessary to have a couple of men to push the car up behind, but we should go through a little village just before, and could easily get men from thence.
All this sounded so very plausible that I readily listened to it. I inquired, however, whether the way was difficult to be found? No, it was such a marked track, though not a regular made road, that it was impossible to miss it; indeed, when once over the mountain we must follow the course of the valleys into which we should descend. I had heard of The Priest's Leap, the driver
Ascending the car, then, we pursued our course along the valley very prosperously for some way through Captain White's fine plantations, till at length we came to complete wild and rocky scenery. The driver expressed much satisfaction at missing The Priest's Leap, and seemed to think there was great reason to felicitate ourselves upon the encounter with the gentlemen. However, as we advanced among the wild rocks, the road at every minute grew worse and worse; and I began to suspect that good roads meant one thing in the dictionary of the Kerry mountains, and another in the dictionaries in more general use. At length we came to the village talked of. Only one man was to be procured to help the car up the steep place, but he said some of the boys would do as well as another man; and in an instant we were surrounded by some half score ragged urchins, who among them all had scarcely so much clothing as would make one efficient suit. We pursued our way; but the further we got, the worse did we find this good road. I descended from my car, and walked on before; the driver descended and led the horse; my servant descended and helped, in conjunction with the man and boys, to push the car behind; not at one place only, but every ten or twenty yards: and all this time we were still in the valley, we were not yet come to the proper ascent of the mountain. The driver for a while seemed still happy at avoiding The Priest's Leap, and cracked his jokes with great volubility upon the road, and the vast broken masses of rock with which the valley was scattered over, encouraging the boys to exert their strength in pushing, or occasionally in holding back the car, for there were steep places to descend no less than to ascend. In one place was an immense block of stone standing up perpendicularly, probably thirty feet in length, by ten in breadth and height, a cubical parallelogram, almost as regularly formed as if it had been hewn: — "Arrah, by Jasus!" he exclaimed, "if that fellow isn't as fine a mountaineer as ever a man set his
At length, after toiling on and on without any amendment of the ways, having a terrible steep before us which must be ascended, his spirit began somewhat to be shaken, he became more grave and silent, only now and then wondering how their honours ever could recommend such a road. Indeed I was impressed with the same wonder; I should have thought their having come over it was a reason rather to warn us against it, than to advise us to follow it. To go back was, however, now as bad or worse than to go forward; and the man who accompanied us from the village, assured us that when we got to the other side of the mountain we should find the road really good, only the descent somewhat steep. In the height of his despair the poor driver was at last driven to say, "We had much better have gone by The Priest's Leap — by Jasus 'tis n't above half as bad as this." Till now, that seemed to have been in his idea the ultimatum of every thing that was to be deprecated. At length after immense toil the summit of the mountain was reached, when indeed a better prospect did present itself; it was no longer a scene of shaggy broken rocks like what we had passed over, but a level surface covered with a green turf; the descent was, however, at first so steep that I would not remount the car, but waited till we got to a more gradual declivity, when I had walked at least five miles. How a jingle ever could get along such a road I cannot to this moment comprehend; nor how three men could impose the task upon one poor horse to draw them over it; or, if they had no humanity towards the horse, how they could endure the jolting of the carriage over the blocks of stone which were very often not to be avoided.
I had collected some specimens of the rock masses immediately about Glengariff, I collected some other pieces in the course of this walk. Mr. Weld says, that the prevailing character of the rocks about Bantry Bay is an argillaceous schistus, but that he observed a great variety of stones where there was any beach, and among them many large boulders of granite; he says also that some of the summits of the mountains consist of siliceous rock. Among the pieces which I collected were some of a red sandstone, but most were argillaceous schist, some having an appearance of chlorite. Mr. Weld also says, that
The whole remainder of the route, very near to Kenmare, was through a wild and hilly region; but they were chiefly green slopes, with a smooth level road. In the midst of these wilds were a number of people, to the amount of perhaps nearly a hundred, assembled in one spot. On inquiry what had brought them together, I found it was to celebrate the day of some saint to whom a little chapel close by was dedicated. About half a mile before the bridge over the Kenmare river we came into the direct road from Cork to Kenmare. The approach to the river is very pretty, the road winding down a wooded hill, with several good views of the river. This river, as it is called, though it is difficult to say why, is another great estuary or arm of the sea, of not much less extent than Bantry Bay, with the difference, that it gradually contracts till it receives the stream, which alone should properly be called the Kenmare river. Over this part is a very picturesque bridge of two lofty arches, in a pretty little village: looking either way from this bridge a fine view presents itself; one way up the valley and mountainous country through which the stream flows, the other way looking down this grand estuary with its rocky boundaries. Kenmare town lies on the western shore of the bay, about a mile and half from this bridge. Our poor horse seemed very much tired; but he was to be forgiven, he had had a toilsome day. I do not think he would ever recommend the road through the valley of Glengariff.
Kenmare town has only within a few years been known by that name: it was formerly called Nedheen, and indeed is now almost universally called so by the country-people of the neighbourhood. The town is small, but there are some good-looking new houses. A new inn was also nearly finished, built rather upon a magnificent scale. This not being yet inhabited, I went to one close by, where were very comfortable accommodations. There is nothing striking in the country near the town; but in going down the estuary, very fine scenery is presented in many places. Mr. Weld mentions the Blackwater river and bridge over it, and gives a beautiful engraving of it; and I have an engraving of a remarkably fine rock which projects into the water. Artists say
The next day I proceeded onwards to Killarney. There are two roads, — one very mountainous, I suspect not much better than the valley of Glengariff; the other extremely circuitous, but the road good, and going all the way through valleys. For six miles it continues by the side of the Kenmare river (the river, not the estuary), to a very fine spot which may be called the head of the river, since several rills, running down from the mountains in different directions, unite to form the stream. Here is a bridge, with the water from these several rills tumbling through it over broken masses of rock, while no outlet from the valley appears: it seems as if it was closed impenetrably, that its secrets were no further to be explored. It is altogether a very fine scene. Yet on a sudden arriving at a projecting mass of rock, the road is seen to turn round it; and after a moderate ascent another valley appears running at a direct angle from the former. This is much more expanded than that just quitted, being a quarter of a mile in breadth between the rocks; the ground is very boggy and marshy. After following this for three or four miles further, the road again takes a sudden turn and descent, by a rill running down the rocks: this is the head of the Flesk river, which runs into the Lower Lake of Killarney, and from it the valley we now entered is called Glan-Flesk.
This valley is continued for seven or eight miles, and exhibits great variety of character. While on one side still rise abrupt rocks, on the other are gentle slopes, along which runs a wood continued for at least two miles. In this wood was long concealed one of the great ringleaders of the rebellion of 1798 in the south. Suspicions were always entertained that he was lurking about somewhere in these parts; yet he contrived for a considerable time to elude the vigilance of those who were in search of him, till at length he was betrayed by one of his associates acquainted with the secret of his retreat. The bottom of the valley on each side of the river is a complete marsh, having an immense quantity of the plant vulgarly called the Bog-myrtle growing in it. About half way through the wood is a cottage, the only house in the twenty-four miles from Kenmare to Killarney where it is possible to stop and bait a horse; but corn must be brought for him, there is none to be had on the spot.
After stopping about an hour we proceeded onwards, and soon came to very different scenery, the valley being bounded on each side by immense rocks, exhibiting the most various and fantastic forms; I never saw wild grandeur in higher perfection: the marsh ceases, the soil is firm, and the river runs over a fine pebbly bed. I should think it must be here, if in any part, that the stones talked of are found. This continues till within about four miles of Killarney, when on a sudden the valley ceases, the rocks on one side terminate entirely, ending in an abrupt promontory, which runs into a wide-spreading plain. On the other side the mountains turn in a different direction, and the rest of the road to Killarney is over an uninteresting flat. The plain is called Fila-Down. This entrance to Glan-Flesk is so striking, that people visiting Killarney often take a drive hither on purpose to see it.
My poor horse grew at length so weary that he could hardly get on; notwithstanding this, all my most earnest exhortations to the driver could not prevent his eternally whipping him, till I became so vexed and angry with the man, and so anxious to relieve the horse, that I flew down from the car, and walked for two miles into Killarney. Such were the adventures of my cavalry between Cork and this place. The first made me angry, for he had scarcely any but excellent road to go over; I was convinced he was a mere sluggard: the second excited only my compassion and remorse; I felt that he had not had fair usage in being made to toil through the valley of Glengariff and over that terrible mountain.