SCENES ON THE SHORES OF THE ATLANTIC
Is the narrative of an autumn residence at Kilkee, a small but growing bathing-p'ace in County Clare, at the mouth of the Shannon, remarkable for the wildness and variety of its water and land scenery, the cheap- ness of its fish, the Spanish-like air and beauty of the peasantry, and the picturesqueness of the female costume. An immense halibut- a species of fish which Quin pronounced the most luscious and exquisite delicacy that comes out of the sea—was bought for four shillings; turbot, cod, and so forth, may be had for little more than a song, just fresh too from their native element. The Atlantic continually rolls its mighty waves upon the iron-bound coast ; forming one of the finest accessible sea- studies in the United Kingdom. Cliffs, or rather black rocks, rising from common heights to nearly a thousand feet, thrill the wandering spectator with fear and wonder; whilst the ocean, often raging and ever rushing against them, forms pictures surpassing the most elaborate waterworks, with a sense of power and danger that distance every effort of art. The action of the Atlantic waters or of volcanic fires has fashioned these rocks into every variety of wondrous and magnificent forms; whilst caves, accessible only from the sea, have been scooped by nature in their very bowels. Ruins, with legends attached, are within easy distance of Kilkee, including the holy Isle, which Moore has com- memorated in his Melodies ; the country, though seemingly Irish and uncultivated, has yet a marked character of its own ; the place, we infer from the writer's description, is not without a deep Orange-coloured reli- gion, and plenty of tracts; thought some of the agnimens of a watering- place seem to be growing up. Lastly, Kilkee is reached by the steamers of the Shannon ; and once run a railway from the Irish Channel to that great inland line of water-communication, and the beauties and wonders of the Western coast, the " Shores of the Atlantic " would be as accessible to the Cockney as Boulogne.
In despite of guide-books and the scampering tours that have been made through Ireland, the subject of County Clare and its coasts is still fresh, especially when handled by a resident who is herself an Irishwoman and familiar with the neighbourhood. Scenes on the Shores of the Atlantic is not, however, either a book of travels or a guide; though not without use for time last object. Sketches is the true character of the volumes. The staple matter of Scenes an the Shores of the Atlantic is description of scenery and figures—for the authoress has a painter's eye for form and colour, and brings live and dead stock before the reader as well as their owners ; accounts of the different excursions her party made, and the incidents they encountered, generally exhibitive of Irish peasant life and character ; traits and stories of the people, from an illus- trative anecdote to a tale ; with legends not overdone, and reveries that might be spared.
In point of literary character, the texture of the work is loose, and the book lengthy in proportion to its matter; the quality, too, is rather of the lightest. Notwithstanding these objections, Scenes on the Shores of the Atlantic is a very pleasant and even interesting series of sketches, and might have been made still more so by judicious pruning. The authoress has a woman's quickness and delicacy of perception, with the sex's ease and refinement of touch and graceful buoyancy of style. She also possesses the Irish geniality of disposition ; which, doubtless, enabled her to see more of the poor people than the sedater English- woman, not merely by repelling less, but by encouraging confidence. These qualifications not only give a character to her work, but have en- abled her to transfer the Irish character into her pages: we have nowhere had so distinct an idea of the foreign appearance of the Connaught pea- santry, or such a vivid impression that the Irish, compared with Britain or the more advancing parts of time Continent, are a people of the past. At the same time, the writer paints rather couleur de rose: we see poverty and privation, but in their picturesque aspect, with less than is usual of actual misery.
We have intimated that slightness is a characteristic of Scenes on the Shores of the Atlantic. As far as this is an idiosyncracy of the authoress and typical of the woman, it could not be changed without injury where the matter is real ; but we should recommend the writer to eschew fancying a story from the sight of a groupe; and though we do not say strike out every reflection at once, yet we should recommend her to " advise " upon the matter.
One of the most striking spots on the coast of Clare is the cliffs of Moher, rising dark and frowning nine hundred and thirty feet above the ocean. In these the sea-eagle builds her nest; the cliffs are also frequented by sea-fowl, which are caught by the hardy peasantry in the usual way on bold shores,—the fowlers suspended over the face of the rock and carrying on their vocation in mid-air, when they reach a slender foot-hold in the vicinity of their prey. On these occasions they are sometimes attacked by the sea-eagles, and run fearful risks ; the story of one of which our authoress has preserved.
" They [the eagles] are very ferocious and bold, and sometimes make despe- rate attacks upon the bird-catchers, flying at them as they descend the cliffs, with beak and claws, and directing their fury against the eyes of the intruders. To defend themselves against these formidable enemies, the men carry long knives; and a story is told of a desperate encounter that took place some six or eight years since between a bird-catcher and one of these sea-eagles, which was well nigh terminating fatally to the former. " The man had been lowered from the top, and hung suspended from the over- hanging precipice, when an eagle darted at him from out of a fissure in the rock, and commenced a furious attack. The bird-catcher drew his knife and defended himself; but his feathered assailant eluded for a long time every blow. At length, however, finding himself closely pressed, and maddened by repeated slight stabs of the knife, the enraged bird gathered up his powers for a last desperate dart at the man. The latter saw the impending danger; and, blind to everything but the necessity of a vigorous effort to parry the attack, raised his knife, and aimed a furious blow at the eagle. It took effect but too well! the stroke that freed the bird-catcher from his fierce antagonist severed at the same moment almost in twain the rope to which he was attached, leaving the unfortunate man suspended by but a single thread or twist of the cable over the yawning abyss. " In this dreadful extremity there was nothing left him but to give the signal by which his companions overhead would understand that he wished to be drawn up. Most providentially, they perceived his awful predicament, and slowly and with the greatest caution commenced pulling in the rope. It was so slender that there seemed scarcely a possibility that the almost severed thread could last until the wretched man reached the top; and with sickening suspense and dread,
he felt the frail link that still bound him to life, and saved him from the horrible gulf below, stretch and crack beneath his weight. It required, too, the utmost skill and caution on the part of those overhead to keep the fractured portion of the rope from chafing against the sharp knife-like edge of the projecting rocks: and between the agony of seeing the fragile thread gradually attenuate and be- come every moment weaker and weaker from the contumed pressure, and the ne- cessity of drawing it very slowly lest some unforeseen shock should cause it to snap suddenly and hurl the victim into the abyss, the men on the cliff were in a state of scarcely less suspense than the object of their anxiety.
" At length the unfortunate bird-catcher neared the brow of the precipice: his companions redoubled their efforts, for the rope was every instant showing in- creased symptoms of giving way. It snapped gust as he was within an inch of the top; but not before one of the men had seized a firm grasp of his clothes, by which he was enabled to drag him triumphantly over the brink. At the sight of their comrade in safety, the men, among whom a breathless silence had hitherto prevailed, raised a loud shout: but he beard it not. The awful situation in which he had been so long suspended was too much for the poor bird-catcher: he lay, stretched on the grass without sense or motion. For a long time, so pro- found was his insensibility, his companions thought he was dead: but he reco- vered at length; though he has never, it is said, completely gotten over the effects of that fearful hoar."
The improvidence, or rather the aversion to change involving trouble and consideration, which forms so strong a feature of the Celtic race, is marked by our authoress in despite of all her partialities.
" Besides their affected naiveté, which makes it difficult to deal with the lower orders of Irish, there is another grievous obstacle in the path of those desirous of improving their condition. This is their own indifference to everything cal- culated to increase their comfort- Of comfort, indeed, or neatness, they have no idea; and their indolent, improvident, easy, contented, pleasure-loving dispositions, cause them to set no value on any improvement that puts them out of their way or gives them any trouble. "A clergyman in a neighbouring county to this offered a receipt in full to all his parishioners whose tithes amounted to but eight shillings, on the condition that they should whitewash their houses. The cost of this whitewashing would have been about sixpence; and yet but one man availed himself of the offer. They all paid the whole debt in preference; and this, doubtless, more from in- dolence than any other cause.
"Sir J. —, who applied himself with great zeal to the improvement of his tenantry and their abodes, and who finally, notwithstanding all difficulties, suc- ceeded in making them comfortable and orderly in spite of themselves, had his patience often sorely tried in the beginning.
" One morning he was out riding over his estate, when his attention was at- tracted by a thick smoke in the distance. It was in the direction of a row of cot- tages which he had just finished rebuilding and putting into order. His first impression was that one of these must be on fire; and putting spurs to his horse, he rode forward towards the place in some alarm. When the gentleman reached the cottages, he beheld a dense volume of smoke rolling slowly from out of the open door of one of them; at a little distance was its owner, quietly seated on a large stone, his arms folded, and apparently looking on at his smoking domicile with considerable satisfaction.
"`What is the matter here?' cried the landlord.
" 'Nothing in life, please your honour; nothing at all the matter or out of the way. You see they went and whitened the house upon me, Sir, inside and out: and what with the light, and the whiteness, and being always used since we were born to the place being black, we were nigh distracted. 1he eyes were sore and burnt out of us with looking round about at them staring walls. They'll be nice and black and wholesome now, your honour. I've lighted a heap of straw and
tato storks inside; and when the smoke clears away, by-and-by, 'twill do a y's heart good to see the fine colour that it will leave behind it.'"
Previous page
