we left kyle-more next morning about 8.30,—the irishman calling to us from his window, “to give his love to the bishop of london, and to ask him what he fancied for the chester cup,”—travelling on an outside car,—the most pleasant mode of conveyance for two persons, as you are thus perfectly independent, can stop when and where you please, have plenty of room, and can converse agreeably. frank looked wistfully back at the lake, like the pointer sent home at luncheon, or the hunter you have ridden as your hack to the “meet,” or (a resemblance much more to his taste), a belle, reluctantly leaving the ball-room, on the arm of her drowsy but determined pa.
now we pass through the severe and solemn scenery of the killeries, compared by inglis, barrow, and miss martineau, to a norwegian fiord, with its lakes so still, and cold, and black, and its mountains so bleak and stern, that even the sea-fowl seemed to have deserted it with the exception of a single cormorant, who looked as though he had committed himself in some disreputable way, and had been banished here for solitary confinement.
but the dreariness of the scene was soon delightfully relieved by numbers of the peasantry, on their way to the fair, or pattern as it is called, being held on the festival of some patron saint, at leenane; and the striking colours of their picturesque costume, red, white, and blue, came out most effectively against the sombre darkness of the back-ground. boats, too, were crossing the water; and a soldier in uniform, coming over in one of them, glowed on the gloomy lake, like a bed of scarlet geraniums in the middle of a fallow field. some were on foot; but more on horseback, almost every steed carrying double—husbands and wives, mothers and sons, brothers and sisters, and for aught i know, “one lovely arm was stretched for,”—nothing in particular, “and one was round her lover.” the bare feet hung gracefully down, and the eyelids, as we passed, hung gracefully down also, and hid those bright irish eyes. well, “there is a shame, which is glory and grace,” the most beautiful ornament that woman wears, and nowhere worn with a more becoming, but unaffected, dignity, than here by the maidens of connamara.
saddles did not seem to be known, and the bridles, chiefly, were of rope or twisted hay. as to the fair itself, i imagine that the meeting partook more of a social than of a commercial character, a few sheep being the principal live-stock which we saw exposed for sale. several stalls exhibited, for the refreshment of visitors, large cakes or bannocks, with currants at an incredible distance from each other (the white bread, per se, being, doubtless, a sufficient novelty and treat to many), and any amount of apples. indeed paddy seems almost as fond of pommes d'arbre as he is of pommes de terre; and in stations, steamers, and streets, they have all but a monopoly of the market.
the landlord of the neat-looking inn at leenane, a fine, tall, manly fellow, reminding us that we had now entered into the country of “big joyce,” came forth and welcomed us cheerily, as we stopped to change our horse, and almost induced us to stay and see the fun of the fair, together with “the hundred and fifty couple, which would stand up in the afternoon for a jig.” but we had no time to lose, having to meet the clifden car, at the cross roads, en route to galway; and as we saw, shortly afterwards, two waggons loaded with constables, who were going to preserve order, we did not regret our departure, nor fail to congratulate each other on the unbroken soundness of our saxon skulls.
we took with us a new driver from leenane, who seemed somewhat depressed at leaving the fair, and was the least sociable irishman i ever met. but one does not desire conversation amid this impressive scenery; and as the only information which he volunteered was this, that “hens castle,” near the mauwt hotel, was built in one night by a cock and hen grouse,—a statement which he appeared to believe implicitly,—i don't suppose that we lost much from his taciturnity. the misfortune was, that, though his tongue was tied, his hat was not,—an eccentric, light-hearted “wide-awake,” which would keep skimming past us, and hurrying back to leenane, always starting off with a fresh impetus, as the owner stooped to secure it. as time was precious, frank offered to fasten the article to his head, with a large, gold breast-pin, by way of nail, and a heavy stone, which he picked up by the wayside (during a little walk of some two miles up hill), as hammer; but he was repulsed with considerable asperity. at last, to our great delectation, the offensive head-gear was drawn out of a boggy pool, in such a limp and unpleasant condition, that the proprietor, after a brief survey, indignantly sat upon it during the remainder of our journey, vesting his cranium in a pocket-handkerchief, which was, indeed, a sight to see. with a large bunch of heather, which, i regret to confess, we could not refrain from inserting in the collar of his coat, and
“dulce est tomfoolere in loco?
he presented an appearance “well worthy of hob-servation,” (as they say at the wax-work), and which would have raised an immediate mob in any street of london.
we arrived at the cross roads, in spite of the fabian policy pursued by the volatile hat, in good time for the galway car, and soon found ourselves leaning over the pretty bridge at oughterarde, and bidding farewell to connamara. it has been, indeed, a privilege and refreshment to wander amid these glorious scenes, where
“hills peep o'er hills, and alps on alps arise,”
and where nature, with a calm, majestic dignity, which must impress, and ought to improve, claims at once our reverence and love, awes us with her grandeur, but charms us more with her smile.
the tourist readily foregoes and forgets the temporary loss of little comforts to which he has been accustomed. there is but one really great deprivation to which he is subject,—the want of ladies' society. english ladies can go, do go, and will go everywhere; but, generally speaking, they are unwilling, wisely unwilling, to encounter a wet day on an irish car, or the carpetless, comfortless rooms of the connaviara inns.
indeed, the fine gentleman, who chiefly loves the tips of his moustaches, the sleeve-links of his shirt, and the toes of his gleaming boots,—the dandy, [greek word], who can't live without his still champagne, by jove, his soups and sauces, and golden plovers, his nesselrode pudding, and petit verre en suite,—will find sad discomfiture in connamara. neither apicius coelius nor lady clutterbuck have prepared the way for his daintyship, and when the bacon, which accompanies the breastless fowls, shall display its prismatic hues, his forlorn spirit shall sigh in vain for the pleasant hams of piccadilly, while, in vain, he imprecates on the unskilful cook the fate of mr. richard rouse. 1
1 a cook, who, in the year 1530, attempted to poison fisher,
bishop of rochester, and was boiled to death—out of
compliment to his profession. see froude's history of
england, vol. i., p. 288. a writer in the athenaum (jan. 13,
1844,) remarks, in a very amusing article on the irish
census, “there is no cookery in ireland, because there is
nothing to cook. we occasionally, to be sure, throw them a
bone of contention, and they make a broil of it. their
cookery goes no further.”
at morn, moreover, lazily turning in his bed to ring for valet or waiter, how shall his superb dignity be perturbed to find, that there exists no belle alliance between the upper and lower house, and that his highness must go to the stair top, and hallo, for whatever his emergencies require. no marble bath awaits him now, with its tepidly congenial joys; but there stands at his door a little tub, which he contemplates as ruefully as the stork of the fable the shallow dish of the fox, and which just contains a sufficiency of water to perplex a rat of irresolute mind, whether he should walk or swim. the accommodation is, in fact, so limited, that frank, in attempting some daring flight of ablution, broke his tiny bath to pieces, and away streamed the water to announce the fact down stairs.
up came the astonished waiter, and surveying the wreck with a sorrowful countenance, exclaimed, “by the powers, your onner, its meary's looking-glass you've been and ruinated intirely!—and how will she kape herself nate and daysint?” subsequently explaining to us, that this vessel, filled with clear spring water, had served, prior to its dissolution, as the mirror of the pretty housemaid. i had my doubts as to the tale of a tub; but frank, at all events, thought it his duty to have an interview with the bereaved meary, and returned therefrom with one of his ears considerably enriched in colouring.
i strongly recommend the tourist to make himself a c.b., by procuring a portable bath of waterproof material, such as is now made for travellers. he will then have no difficulty to contend with beyond a slight indisposition on the part of the waiters to supply him liberally with the element required. “bedad,” said one of them to me, “if the rain's to be presarved, and carried up stairs, and trated in this fashion, i'm thinking it'ill get so mighty fond of our attintions, that it'll never lave us at all, at all!”
again, the fine gentleman may be disconcerted to find that windows very generally decline to be opened, or, being open, prefer to keep so, except in case of his looking out of them, when they are down upon his neck, like a guillotine. his looking-glass, too, just as it is brought to a convenient focus, may perhaps, dash madly round, as though urged by an anxiety, which it could not repress, to assure him, in white chalk, that it really cost three and sixpence!
but what are these trivial inconveniences, which amuse, more than they annoy, to “a man as calls himself a man,” and when he has such active, cheerful, untiring servants, ever ready to do all in their power to please him? the cuisine is certainly a little queer, but he who, with a connamara appetite, cannot enjoy connamara fare, salmon, fresh from its lakes, eggs newly laid, excellent bread and butter, the maliest of potatoes (“laughing at you, and with their coats unbuttoned from the heat,” but perhaps a trifle underboiled for our taste, until we learn to like them “with a bone in them”), together with the best of whiskey, and our burton beer; he who cannot sleep in a clean connamara bed, after a day among its mountains and lakes, nor say with bellarius,
“come; our stomach
will make what's homely savoury; weariness
can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
finds the down pillow hard,—
why he's not the man for galway, and had better keep away from it.
