Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
Researches in the South of Ireland (Author: Thomas Crofton Croker)

section 15

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The River Lee

    1. The river side I choose
      And all its mazes, from the secret spring
      Along the grassy bank and shrubby bourne
      By cliff and crag, to where the freighted barque
      Rides fearless.
Millikin's River Side.

A pilgrimage to the source of the River Lee is one frequently performed by two very different classes of persons, the superstitious and the curious; the first led by a traditional sanctity attached to the place, the latter by the reputed sublimity of its scenery, and a desire of witnessing the religious assemblies and ceremonies of the peasantry.

This river, the Luvius of Ptolemy, has its origin thirty-three miles west of Cork, in a lake called Gougaun Barra, in English, Barry's Hermitage; St. Fineen Bar, or Barry, having, it is said, lived a recluse here, before he founded the cathedral of Cork. A popular legend ascribes the foundation of that building to the following circumstance: St. Patrick, at his general banishment of all venemous creatures out of Ireland, forgot an enormous monster described as a

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dragon or winged serpent, which wasted the surrounding country, and power was deputed to a holy man named Fineen Bar, to drown this monster in Gougaun Lake, on the condition of his erecting a church where its waters met the tide; and the saint, having destroyed the monster, fulfilled the agreement by founding the present cathedral of Cork.

The scenery of Gougaun Lake is bold and rugged, yet will scarcely afford the artist a suitable return for the labour of his journey. Surrounded by rocky and barren mountains, which rise with an air of desolate grandeur above the lake, in its centre is a small and solitary island, connected with the shore by a narrow artificial causeway, constructed to facilitate the rites of religious devotees, who annually flock thither on the 24th of June, (St. John's day,) to the celebration of a pious festival.

On this island, shaded by a few fine trees, some old walls may be seen, chiefly the work of an ascetic named O'Mahony, who retired from the world, and dwelt a recluse here for eight-and-twenty years, and who lies buried under a little arched recess on the shore of the lake.

Smith, in his History of Cork, mentions an inscription on this tomb, which I copy from that author, but could not discover the original. Hoc sibi et successoribus suis in câdem vocatione monumentum imposuit dominus Doctor Dyonisius O'Mahony presbyter licet indignus, An. Dom. 1700.’’

Smith, History of Cork. (1750)

The principal building on the island is a rudely formed circular wall of considerable solidity, in the thickness of which are nine arched recesses or cells, called chapels, severally dedicated to particular saints, with a plain flag stone set up in each as an altar.

In the centre of this enclosure, on a grassy elevation, that appears to have been formerly surrounded by stone steps, stands a wooden pole, the upright remains of a large cross, braced with many pieces

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of iron. Hundreds of votive rags and bandages are nailed against it, and hung upon it, by those whose faith has made them whole, intended as acknowledgments of their cure. Also the spancels of cattle that have been driven through the lake, as a preventive against the murrain.

Without this circular wall are the ruins of Father O'Mahony's dwelling; the gable ends and tottering chimneys still remain, covered with stonecrop, a variety of rich lichens, and that hardy little plant the London pride, which is here indigenous, and seems to grow more luxuriantly in the crevices and upon the naked rocks about Gougaun Lake, than when cultivated in a garden. The digitalis also flourishes profusely on the neighbouring mountains.

My first visit to Gougaun Lake was on the 23d of June, 1813, the eve of St. John. Feeling a strong wish to be present at the celebration of an Irish patron, or religious meeting in remembrance of a particular saint — a mere boy at the time, I had toiled through a long and an arduous walk in company with one whose pen would more ably than mine have done justice to the scene.

For the last three miles, our road, or rather path, was up the side of steep acclivities, thence upon ranges of stone steps, over dreary mountainous swamps, and we were frequently obliged to quit the common track, in order to seek amongst the rushes for more secure footing. Large blocks of schistus rock lay scattered around, many of which at a little distance appeared like vast ruins; nor was there one tree or bush within view to destroy the appearance of entire neglect and desolation. After a walk of about seven Irish miles from the village of Inchegeela, we gained the brow of a mountain, and beheld the Lake of Gougaun with its little wooded island beneath us; one spot on its shore, swarming with people, appeared, from our elevated situation, to be a dark mass surrounded by moving specks, which continually merged into it. On our descent we caught the distant and indistinct murmur of the multitude; and as we approached and

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forded the eastern extremity of the lake, where its waters discharge themselves through a narrow and precipitous channel, an unseemly uproar burst upon us, though at a distance of nearly half a mile from the assembly. It was not without difficulty that we forced our way through the crowd on the shore of the lake, to the wall of the chapels on the island, where we stood amid an immense concourse of people: the interior of the cells were filled with men and women in various acts of devotion, almost all of them on their knees; some, with hands uplifted, prayed in loud voices, using considerable gesticulation, and others, in a less noisy manner, rapidly counted the beads of their rosary, or, as it is called by the Irish peasant, their pathereen, with much apparent fervour; or, as a substitute for beads, threw from one hand into the other, small pebbles to mark the number of prayers they had repeated; whilst such of the men as were not furnished with other means kept their reckoning by cutting a notch on their cudgel, or on a piece of stick provided for the purpose.

To a piece of rusty iron, shaped thus, considerable importance seems to have been attached; it passed from one devotee to another with much ceremony. The form consisted in placing it three times, with a short prayer, across the head of the nearest person, to whom it was then handed, and who went through the same ceremony with the next to him, and thus it circulated from one to the other.

The crowd in the chapels every moment increasing, it became a matter of labour to force our way towards the shore, through the throng that covered the causeway. Adjoining the causeway, part of the water of the lake was inclosed and covered in as a well, by which name it was distinguished. On gaining the back of the well we observed a man, apparently of the mendicant order, describing, on a particular stone in its wall, the figure of a cross, with small pieces of

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slate, which he afterwards sold to such devotees as were desirous of possessing these relics.38Small printed Prayers were also sold at these meetings; one which I purchased is copied verbatim.

‘Copy of a prayer to be said at the well of St. John's.’

‘O almighty God, as I have undertaken this journey by way of Pilgrimage in and through a penitential spirit, in the first place, I hope to render myself worthy of the favor I mean to ask, to avoid drunkenness, and licentiousness, and hope to find favor in thy sight. I therefore pay this tribute and fulfil the promise I have made, I ask you, therefore, thro' the intercession of Saint John, to grant me the following favor — (here mention your ailment, the particular favor you stand in need of) — I know how unworthy I am of being heard, but I resolve, with thy gracious assistance, henceforward to render myself worthy of your favor, I implore this gift, through the intercession of St. John, and the sufferings of Christ our Lord. Amen.’

‘N.B. You must be careful to avoid all excess in drinking — dancing in tents — for it is impossible characters can find favor in the sight of God, such as these. — Fasting going there had formerly been the custom.’

The number of slates thus treated at various periods, had worn in the stone to which they were applied a cross nearly two inches in depth, and which every new sign served to deepen. The door or opening to the front of the well was so narrow as scarcely to admit two persons at the same time. Within, the well was crowded to excess, probably seven or eight persons, some with their arms, some with their legs thrust down into the water, exhibiting the most disgusting sores and shocking infirmities. When those within came out, their places were as instantly filled by others. Some there were who had waited two or three hours before they could obtain access to this ‘healing fount.’ The blind, the cripple, and the infirm jostled and retarded each other in their efforts to approach; whilst women and boys forced their way about, offering the polluted water of the well for sale, in little glass bottles, the bottom of broken jugs and scallop shells, to those whose strength did not permit them to gain this sacred spot. The water so offered was eagerly purchased, in

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some instances applied to the diseased part, and in others drank with the eagerness of enthusiasm. In the crowd, mothers stood with their naked children in their arms, anxiously waiting the moment when an opening might allow them to plunge their struggling and shrieking infants into the waters of the well. Were this all, I could have beheld the assembly with feelings of devotion mixed with regret at their infatuation and delusion; but drunken men and the most depraved women mingled with those whose ideas of piety brought them to this spot; and a confused uproar of prayers and oaths, of sanctity and blasphemy sounded in the same instant on the ear.

We left this scene, so calculated to excite compassion and horror, and turned towards the banks of the lake, where whiskey, porter, bread and salmon were sold in booths or tents resembling a gipsy encampment, and formed by means of poles or branches of trees meeting at angles, over which were thrown the proprietor's great coat, his wife's cloak, old blankets, quilts, and occasionally a little straw. Above the entrance of each was suspended the name of the owner, if he happened to possess a license; when this was not the case, a jug, a bottle, or pipe were displayed to indicate that spirits and porter might be had within, and not unfrequently were added a piece of ribbon, and an old shoe, the first to distinguish some popular party, the latter emblematic of dancing, to which amusement the lower orders of Irish are immoderately attached.

Almost every tent had its piper, and two or three young men and women dancing the jig, or a peculiar kind of dance, called the rinkafadah, which consists of movements by no means graceless or inelegant. The women invariably selected their partners, and went up to the man of their choice, to whom they freely presented their hand. After the dance was concluded, the men dropped a penny each, or, such as were inclined to display their liberality, something more, into an old hat which lay at the piper's feet, or in a hollow made in the ground for the purpose. The piper, who seldom makes

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a moment's pause, continues playing, and another dance immediately commences. I recollect having seen, in Cork, a painting by Grogan, (a native artist,) of the breaking up of an Irish fair, in which he has happily expressed the ceaseless motion of the musician's fingers on such occasions by the introduction of a man holding a jug of porter to the piper's lips, which he drinks without interruption to the dance.

The tents are generally so crowded that the dancers have scarcely room for their performance: from twenty to thirty men and women are often huddled together in each, and the circulation of porter and whiskey amongst the various groups is soon evident in its effects. All become actors, — none spectators, — rebellious songs, in the Irish language, are loudly vociferated, and received with yells of applause: towards evening the tumult increases, and intoxication becomes almost universal. Cudgels are brandished, the shrieks of women and the piercing cry of children thrill painfully upon the ear in the riot and uproar of the scene; indeed the distraction and tumult of a patron cannot be described. At midnight the assembly became somewhat less noisy and confused, but the chapels were still crowded: on the shore, people lay ‘heads and points’ so closely, that it was impossible to move without trampling on them; the washing and bathing in the well still continued, and the dancing, drinking, roaring, and singing were, in some degree, kept up throughout the night. The effect produced by fires lighted early in the evening on the highest points of the surrounding mountains, and reflected in the dark bosom of the lake, was very impressive. Lighting fires, however, on the eve of St. John has not any peculiar reference to the celebration of the patron, being a popular custom of remote antiquity and a remain of Pagan rites in honour of the sun. The eve of St. John, (the longest day,) and May eve, are still marked by a variety of superstitious ceremonies. Formerly, the fire in every peasant's habitation was extinguished on the annual festival of May eve, and

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rekindled with a spark obtained from the sacred fire of Beal, so was the Spirit of Flame termed, and hence the month of May is called, in the Irish language, ‘mi na Beal-tine.’ This scene I have minutely described, as it affords a faithful picture of the patron, or well-worship of the Irish peasantry. In the rural superstition attached to wells there is something highly poetic; and however these ceremonies may have fallen into abuse, I cannot regard with indifference or scepticism the devotional rites performed by the humble cottager at those sequestered spots. The belief of a latent healing virtue in the trickling lymph of a fountain is that of a mind naturally innocent and pious. In the early ages of Christianity such lonely places, remote from the hand of persecution, were selected by the inspired teachers of religion to unfold their glorious doctrine, and at these primitive fonts converts received the first rites of the church.

‘Hence came those wells in many countries to bear the name of some patron saint, who, while the gorgeous temples of the earth were devoted to falsehood and licentiousness, e'rected on their grassy margin the shrine of immortality.’

Consecrated or holy wells are very numerous throughout Ireland, and are usually situated in solitary nooks, shaded by a group of venerable ash, elm, or sycamore trees; the spring is walled, or, if I might use the term, hooded over; and above the entrance is a large flag-stone embedded in the wall, marked with the figure of a cross or some piece of devout sculpture; near these wells little altars or shrines are frequently constructed, often in the rudest manner, and, kneeling before them, the Irish peasant is seen offering up his prayers with that worldly abstraction which proceeds only from the strength of religious faith, undisturbed by the casual visitor, and seemingly unconscious of the presence of an intrusive spectator. There is so little ostentation in these rites, and so much solemnity, silence, and beauty in the secluded scenes where they are performed, that the heart cannot refuse to sympathize in feelings of devotion: but these

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are destroyed by the disgraceful riot of the patron, a meeting that seems established only to profane all that is impressive, simple, and pious.

On my second visit to Gougaun, in 1815, I perceived a large stone which had been set up on the island, with a long inscription stating the number of prayers to be repeated at each of the cells, or chapels, and other directions of a similar kind: but about this time, these meetings were publicly discountenanced by the Roman Catholic clergy, and in 1818, Dr. Murphy, the titular Bishop of Cork, expressly forbad that of Gougaun. This special interference became necessary, from the fatal consequences attendant on them, as one seldom concluded without the loss of many lives; and patrons were professedly selected for the purpose of contest, by hostile factions or clans that met, and, when the rites of devotion were ended, fought

    1. in all the rage
      Of family dissension kindled fell,
      Through wide-extended consanguinity!

The rocky outlet of the water of the lake, in some places, is not more than three or four feet wide

    1. Amid heaps
      Of mountain wreck, on either side thrown high,
      The wide-spread traces of its wintry might,
      The tortuous channel winds o'er beds of sand:
      Here silently it flows — there from the rock
      Rebutted, curls and eddies — plunges here
      Precipitate — there, roaring among crags,
      It leaps and foams and whirls and hurries on.

This stream is increased by the accession of several mountain rills, which after heavy rains become formidable torrents, and proceeding over a tract of low ground spreads into a large sheet of water, called Lough Allua or Lua, extending nearly four miles in

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length, and in some parts about a mile in breadth. The new road to Bantry winds beautifully along the shore of this lake, but the want of wood and cultivation give an air of savageness to the scenery. Having a boy with us who carried a blunderbuss, we tried the effect of several discharges at Gougaun Lake, and found the echo produced by the reverberations astonishingly fine; the sound rolling like peals of the loudest thunder around the whole amphitheatre of mountains, again and again returning, until at last it died away in the distance. We proved the power of the echoes from almost every position on the surrounding hills; the best appeared to be from the point whence we first saw the lake.

It is remarkable, that the river Lee, as far as Inchegeela, is never muddy, even in the most violent floods; the cause is probably owing to the rocky nature of the ground through which its course lies. The little village of Inchegeela, as nearly as I can judge, is distant from Gougaun Lake ten English miles, and is the usual approach to it. The walls of a barrack, which has been long disused, are all that speak the former consequence of Inchegeela; its church and parsonage are inconsiderable and ruinous, and at the distance of a mile, on a small height above the river, stands the Castle of Carrinacurra, now called Castle Masters, being the property of Mr. Masters, who built a dwelling house close by. It is backed by considerable mountains; the most prominent is Sheehy, whose blue peak A doubtful object mingling with the clouds!’’

towers above all the others, the chief of which are Douse, an enormous and heavy lump, and Coolnagreenane, or the mountain unknown to the sunbeams, a name highly descriptive of its general gloomy appearance: behind these, the rugged points of Carrigaprehaun, or the Raven's Rock, may be distinguished boldly eminent over Lough Lua.

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Carrinacurra Castle belonged to the O'Learies, and the barony of Ivelary, in which it is situated, has received its name from this family, notwithstanding the Learies were a dependent or minor clan, having neither numbers nor possessions sufficient to render them important.

Dermot Oge O'Leary, of Carrinacurra, was accused of being concerned in the Earl of Desmond's rebellion; and, in 1588, was attainted, amongst others, by act of parliament: and Conogher O'Leary again forfeited this castle and estate in 1641, when it was garrisoned by order of Cromwell.

Following the course of the river Lee, in its progress nearly due east towards the ocean, the ruins of Drumcaragh Castle may be seen, another fortress erected by the O'Learies; and not far distant is Toomb Bridge, a long and narrow pass over an extensive and swampy flat, through which the Lee meanders, embracing numerous little islands covered with the bog myrtle and stunted timber. Rising above Toomb Bridge is a steep and considerable hill, on the top of which stands Dundarerk Castle, built by the Mac Carthies, and forfeited by Dermot Mac Carty in 1641. It commands a view of an immense tract of country, in which the appearance of cultivation is scattered and unequal.

    1. To the extended gaze
      Is seen the river wandering far away
      Through sun and shade, with peopled bank or bare,
      Verdant, or brown.

Leaving the Lee for a short space, as its course here becomes less interesting, and descending the opposite side of the hill, the river Sullane, which falls into the Lee below Macroom, appears winding through the low ground beneath, and not far from its craggy channel the ruin of a large square tower becomes an imposing and important object. This ruin is the Castle of Carrig a Phooky, or the

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Rock of the Spirit, a fortress of the Mac Carthies, to which the repentant Teg Mac Cormac Carty retreated, after his desertion to the Spaniards at Kinsale, and from whence he petitioned Sir George Carew, the Lord President of Munster, for pardon; which was followed by the impeachment of his cousin, the Lord Muskery. A rocky stream, called the Foherish, not far distant, falls into the Sullane, and affords many picturesque subjects for the pencil.

Macroom, eighteen miles west of Cork, is a straggling town composed almost entirely of mud cabins. Its castle, bridge and church, however, form rather a respectable group. The castle is a considerable pile, and its building has been attributed to King John, when he visited Ireland; soon after, it became a fortress of the Mac Carthies, Lords of Muskery, and its history is identified with the fortunes of that family.

The mail coach road to Cork from Macroom runs on the south side of the River Lee, and passes near the walls of Castle More, an extensive ruin formerly belonging to the clan of Barrett. There is also a road on the north of the river, which leads through a wooded and romantic defile, called Glen Caum or the crooked Glen, to the miserable village of Carrigadrohid, or the rock of the bridge, where the walls of a castle stand on a rock in the centre of the river, over which is a stone bridge that adjoins the castle.

Conflicting traditions name Carrigadrohid Castle as belonging both to the Mac Carthies and to the O'Learies, and it does not appear improbable that both may be correct, as the O'Learies, compared with the Mac Carthies, were an inconsiderable clan and dependent on them; this castle, therefore, may have been bestowed by the former, to secure the attachment of the latter. The choice of the situation is attributed in a chivalric anecdote to the lady O'Carroll, wife of one of the Mac Carthies. In 1641, Carrigadrohid, according to Smith, was considered a pass of much importance, and was often taken and retaken by the contending parties of that period.

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Crossing the river Lee, and following the mail coach road to Cork, the castle and abbey of Kilcrea are seen on the southern bank of the River Bride, which falls into the Lee at Inniscarra.

Kilcrea Abbey was founded by Cormac Lord Muskery, towards the close of the fifteenth century, for Franciscans, and is an extensive building without much architectural embellishment. It seems to have been the favourite burial-place of most of the neighbouring Irish septs, the Mac Carthies, Barretts, O'Learies, Reardins, and Sweenys having tombs here. The grave of Arthur O'Leary, the outlaw, is particularly pointed out to the attention of visitors; and there is a long epitaph in verse engraven on it:

    1. Low Arthur Leary, handsome, young and brave,
      Slain in his prime, lies in this lowly grave, [&c.]

The early part of O'Leary's life was spent in the military service of France. He returned to his native country about fifty years since, and soon possessed so much influence amongst the peasantry, as to excite the jealousy of a gentleman named Morris; a quarrel originating in some private circumstances ensued, which terminated in the most deadly enmity on the part of Mr. Morris towards O'Leary.

By the penal laws against the Catholics, it was forbidden any one of that persuasion to possess a horse whose value should be more than five pounds; and this law, though it had fallen into disuse, remained unrepealed.

O'Leary was a Catholic, and distinguished for his skill in horsemanship, as well as being the owner of the finest and most spirited horse in the country.

Mr. Morris, in company with a party of his friends, meeting

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O'Leary on some public occasion, rode up to him, and in the most taunting manner offered him five pounds, and desired him to dismount.

O'Leary refused to comply with this insulting proposal, a struggle followed, and he, being surrounded by the friends of Mr. Morris, was glad to owe his escape to the speed of the animal he rode; but this rencounter, being represented to government in the light of a violent and open resistance to the laws, O'Leary was proclaimed an outlaw, and a considerable reward offered for his apprehension; notwithstanding which, he continued for many months to ride publicly through the country, armed at all points, and even appeared in the city of Cork, where he attempted to assassinate Mr. Morris, as he stood at the window of his lodgings in Duncan Street, by firing a pistol at him.39

So beloved was O'Leary amongst the peasantry, that it became impossible to take him, although his retreats were well known to the military and police; and for three or four years, his popularity baffled the most active efforts of the parties constantly in pursuit of him. He was at last surprized near Macroom, but soon distanced his pursuers by such a space, that he conceived himself completely out of reach of their muskets, when, turning round, he waved his hat in token of defiance, and in that act was shot through the heart by a soldier.

An avenue of fine old trees leads to the entrance of Kilcrea Abbey, close to which are piled up a vast number of skulls and bones. The castle is near the abbey, and appears to have been built to protect it.

The course of the River Bride is through a small village called the Ovens, and opposite its junction with the Lee, stands the parish

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church of Inniscarra, beautifully situated on a bend of that river, its spire rising gracefully out of a clump of trees. The ancient name of Inniscarra was Tuaimnava, and here the celebrated St. Senant of Inniscattery founded a house, in which he placed eight of his austere disciples, but not the slightest vestige of this establishment can now be traced. Behind the church, rises an extensive and uncultivated hill called Gorrovagh, signifying in English rugged; I was told it was once the property of a gentleman named Dwyer, who, continued the narrator, ‘drank it acre by acre, your honour.’ ‘How could that be?’ ‘Why he just sold acre after acre for drink, until he did not leave himself one foot of all the ground as far as you can see.’

At Ballincollig, about four miles from Cork, are extensive artillery barracks, and a manufactory of gunpowder; there is also the ruin of a considerable castle that belonged to the Barretts, and was garrisoned both in the wars of Cromwell and of James II.

Carrigrohan Castle, a mile and a half nearer Cork than that of Ballincollig, is a castellated house, and stands on an abrupt rocky eminence over the Lee, from which it probably derives its name; Carrigrohan signifying in English a rocky, sharp pointed hill. It suffered considerable dilapidation in the disturbances of 1641, but was shortly after repaired, and became the residence of Captain Cape, a notorious Tory or Rapparee, who with a gang of desperate associates plundered travellers, and laid the neighbouring country under contribution in the most daring manner.

About twenty years since, a remarkably fine sycamore tree stood near it.

In this neighbourhood, a curious fragment, now in my possession, was dug up; it is a grotesque carving minutely executed on bone, (supposed to have been part of a human skull,) representing a dragon stirring with a pole an emaciated human figure or corpse, and between them is a label bearing the legend ‘mittet malos in caminuignis.’

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To assign correctly the object or use of this piece of monkish labour is now a matter of impossibility, although it may once have attained extensive celebrity.

The view from Carrigrohan Castle is very pleasing. On the opposite hill are some respectable seats, and through a richly planted glen murmurs the Awbeg, a stream that passes near Blarney and falls into the Lee, which holds its tranquil course towards Cork, where Spencer, with topographical accuracy, describes

    1. The spreading Lee, that like an island fair
      Encloseth Cork with his divided flood.