Part 3

There are hills and lakes, rivers and glades, of most exquisite beauty, profusely scattered over the country--far away from the highroads, in the fastnesses of the mountains--and even within hearing of the roar of the wild ocean are dells and little valleys, cascades, lawns of greenest hue and softest grass, where Druids’ altars hang upon their mysterious points of rest, and the breeze whispers amid mouldering towers--memorials of the troubled past. Still, eyes accustomed from their opening to really fine scenery are not likely to be satisfied with aught that falls short of perfection; and, as I have said, I find such of my countrymen as really love art very hard to please in landscape, particularly in Irish landscape: they have become familiar with the same scenes from many points of view--the artist can only record one, and it is at least likely that _the_ one he has chosen is not the favourite.

Still, I fear, the _chief_ cause why art has not flourished hitherto, must be attributed to the continued excitement of religion and politics; to judge from collateral evidence, the influence of this excitement is happily on the decrease, for I have seen framed prints in several cottages, and observed in many dwellings, where paintings would be an extravagance, volumes of beautiful engravings displayed as the chief treasures of their country homes.

On our late pilgrimage through the beautiful and romantic “Kingdom of Kerry” we encountered a native artist, who beguiled us of an hour, and interested us deeply. We had lingered long in the beautiful vale of Glengariff, and still longer on the mountain road which commands a view of the magic bay and its golden islands, that seem lifted by earth towards heaven as a peace-offering; and when we passed through the tunnel, which is still regarded by the mountaineers with evident astonishment, the sun was sinking behind the huge range of Kerry mountains, which looked the more bleak when contrasted with the memory of the exceeding fertility of Glengariff. We were then literally _amid_ both clouds and mountains, and the only sound that disturbed the awful stillness of the scene was the scream of an eagle, which issued from behind a tower-like assemblage of barren rocks, where most probably the eyrie of the royal bird was placed; the sound added greatly to the effect of the scenery, and we drew up that we might listen to it more attentively; it was several times repeated, and almost at the same instant a fresh breeze dispersed the mists which had in some degree obscured the glory of the departing sun; and the valley beneath the pass became literally illuminated wherever the breaks or fissures in the opposite mountains permitted the brightness of the sun, as it were, to pass through. I had never seen such an effect of light and shade before, for the mountain shadows were heavy as night itself; I feel I cannot describe either the brightness of the one or the intenseness of the other. I am sure the scene could not be painted so as to convey any idea of its reality. Any attempt to depict the extravagance of nature is always deemed unnatural.

We are weak enough to bound the Almighty’s works by what has come within the sphere of our own finite observations. How paltry this must seem to those who dwell amongst the mountains, and read the book of ever varying nature amid the silent places of the earth!

I had been gazing so earnestly upon the scene below and around us, that I had not noted the sudden appearance of a lad upon a bank, a little to the left of the place on which we stood; but my attention was attracted by his clasping his hands together, and laughing, or rather shouting loudly, in evident delight at the scene. There was nothing in his appearance different from that of many young goatherds we had passed, and who hardly raised their heads from the purple heath to gaze at our progress. His sun-burnt limbs were bare below the knee; but his long brown hair had been cared for, and flowed beneath a wide-leafed hat, which was garnished, not untastefully, with a couple of wreaths of spreading fern. His garments were in sufficient disorder to satisfy the most enthusiastic admirer of “the picturesque;” and although we called to him repeatedly, it was not until a sudden diffusion of cloud had interfered between him and the sunset, so as to diminish the light, and of course lessen the effect of the shadows, that he noticed us in the least; indeed, I do not think he would have done so at all, but for the unexpected appearance of another “child of the mist,” in the person of a little _tangled-looking_, bright-eyed girl--literally one mass of tatters--who sprang to where the boy stood, and seizing his hand, pointed silently to us. He descended immediately, followed by the little girl, and after removing his hat, stood by the side of our carriage, into which he peered with genuine Irish curiosity.

To our question of “Where do you live?” the mountain maid replied, “Neen English,” which experience had previously taught us signified that she did not understand our language. We then addressed ourselves to the boy, when the girl placed her hands on her lips, then to her ears, and finally shook her head. “Deaf and dumb?” I said. Upon which she replied, “Ay, ay, deaf, dumb--deaf, dumb.” The little creature having so said, regarded him with one of those quick looks so eloquent of infant love; and seizing his hand, lifted up her rosy face to be kissed. He patted her head impatiently, but was too occupied examining the contents of our carriage to heed her affectionate request. His eye glanced over our packages without much interest, until they rested upon a small black portfolio, and then he leaped, and clapped his hands, making us understand he wanted to inspect _that_. His little companion had evidently some idea that this was an intrusion, and intimated so to the boy; but he pushed her from him, determined, with true masculine spirit, to have his own way. Nothing could exceed his delight while turning over a few sketches and some engravings. He gave us clearly to understand that he comprehended their intent--looking from our puny outlines to the magnificent mountains by which we were surrounded, and smiling thereat in a way that even our self-love could not construe into a compliment; he evinced more satisfaction at a sketch of Glengariff, pointed towards the district, and intimated that he knew it well; but his decided preference was given to sundry most exquisite drawings, from the pencil of Mr Nicoll, of the ruins of Aghadoe, Mucross Abbey, and a passage in the gap of Dunloe. I never understood before the power of “mute eloquence.” I am sure the boy would have knelt before the objects of his idolatry until every gleam of light had faded from the sky, if he had been permitted so to do.

Nor was his enthusiasm less extraordinary than the purity of his taste; for he turned over several coloured engravings, brilliant though they were, of ladies’ costumes, after a mere glance at each, while he returned again and again to the drawings that were really worthy of attention.

While he was thus occupied, his little companion, struck by some sudden thought, bounded up the almost perpendicular mountain with the grace and agility of a true-born Kerry maiden, until she disappeared; but she soon returned, springing from rock to rock, and holding the remnants of her tattered apron together with evident care. When she descended, she displayed its contents, which interested us greatly, for they were her brother’s sketches, five or six in number, made on the torn-out leaves of an old copy-book in pale ink, or with a still paler pencil. Two were tinged with colour extracted from plants that grew upon the mountain; and though rude, there were evidences of a talent the more rare, when the circumstances attendant upon its birth were taken into consideration. The lad could have had no instruction--he had never been to school, though schools, thank God! are now to be found in the fastnesses of Kerry--the copy-book was the property of his eldest brother, and he had abducted the leaves to record upon them his silent observations of the magnificence of Nature, whose power had elevated and instructed his mind, closed as it was by the misfortune of being born deaf and dumb, against such knowledge as he could acquire in so wild a district. We should not have read even this line of his simple history, but for the opportune passing of a “Kerry dragoon”--a wild, brigand-looking young fellow, mounted between his market-panniers on his rough pony--who proved to be the lad’s brother, although he did not at first tell us so.

“We all,” he said, “live high up in de mountain; but I can’t trust Mogue to look after de goats by himself. His whole delight is puttin’ down upon a bit of paper or a slate whatever he sees. I’d ha’ broke him off it long agone; but he was his mother’s darlin’, and she’s wid de blessed Vargin these seven years, so I don’t like to cross his fancy; besides, de Lord’s hand has been heavy on him already, and it does no harm, no more than himself, except when any of de childre brake what he do be doing; den he goes mad intirely, and strays I dunna where; though, to be sure, de Almighty has his eye over him, for he’s sure to come back well and quiet.”

The lad at last closed our portfolio with a heavy sigh, and did not perceive until he had done so that his little sister had spread out his own productions on the heather which grew so abundantly by the road-side. He pointed to them with something of the exaltation of spirit which is so natural to us all when we think our exertions are about to be appreciated, and he bent over them as a mother would over a cherished child. His triumph, however, was but momentary--it was evident that his having seen better things rendered him discontented with his own, for while gathering them hastily together, he burst into tears.

Poor mountain boy! I do not think his tears were excited by envy, for he returned to our folio in a few moments with the same delight as before; but his feelings were the more intense because he could not express them; and he had been taught his inferiority, a bitter lesson, the remembrance of which nothing but hope, all-glorious hope, that manifestation of immortality, can efface.

We gave him some paper and pencils, together with a few engravings, and had soon looked our last at Mogue Murphy, as he stood, his little sister clinging to his side, waving his hat on a promontory, while we were rapidly descending into the valley. I thought the memory of such a meeting in the mountains was worthy of preservation.

IMPROPER CONDUCT IN PUBLIC PLACES.

There is scarcely anything by which a stranger is more forcibly struck on visiting Paris and other continental cities, than meeting at the museums, libraries, palaces, menageries, and other places of exhibition, crowds of private soldiers, artizans, and persons of inferior degree, who with the greatest attention, and in the most decorous and orderly manner, inspect the various objects presented to their notice; and who, judging from the intelligent manner in which they discuss the merits of these objects, would appear to derive the greatest possible advantage from the privileges they enjoy. Amongst this crowd of people it was not an unfrequent sight, a year or two since, to observe some well-dressed individual poking at a picture with his fingers, as if his eyes were on the points of them, teasing the animals in the menagerie, or possibly inscribing his worthless name on some pillar or statue. You might have safely addressed the person whom you saw thus employed in English as one from our own dominions; and if you looked around, you would have seen an expression of anger in the countenances of the native spectators, or have heard them muttering their just contempt of the ignorance and rudeness displayed in thus wantonly injuring or defacing that which, being publicly exhibited for general advantage, becomes so far public property as to appeal strongly to the _honour_ of all well-thinking individuals for its protection. In our own country, a few years since, it required no ordinary generosity, and no little sacrifice of selfishness, to place within the reach of our people any works of art or curiosity in the shape of exhibitions; and our government contributed very little assistance towards forwarding the great work of national improvement by such means. Truly melancholy was it then to see the mischief wantonly done to the property of the few liberal individuals who offered to share their pleasures with their less fortunate fellows; one instance of which (probably one that has wrought much to induce good conduct) may perhaps be worth narrating here. In certain beautiful pleasure grounds, freely opened to the public, there was to be seen, a few years since, a board bearing the following inscription:--“This mound was planted with evergreens three times, and as often trampled down by thoughtless individuals admitted to walk in the grounds: it is now planted a fourth time.” This was the delicate but touching reproof of the worthy proprietor, who may now, however (having suffered in a good cause), congratulate himself on the amended habits of the people, brought about by the increasing enlightenment on the subject of the necessity and utility of admitting the humbler orders to places of rational and instructive recreation, aided by their improved education and temperate habits, which hold forth great encouragement to those who possess the power to extend the privileges still too scantily accorded. We are indeed satisfied that a most decided improvement in the habits and feelings of the humbler classes of the community has really taken place within the last few years, and that under judicious arrangements they might now be admitted safely even to exhibitions of objects of great intrinsic value; and in proof of this opinion we may state, that about two years since, when, on the occasion of the Queen’s coronation, the Royal Hibernian Academy opened the doors of their annual exhibition to the public gratuitously for one day, though thousands took advantage of this free admission, not the slightest accident to the property or impropriety of any kind whatever occurred.

If proofs of the utility of thus disposing of the spare time of the people be required, one answer will be, that they are thus at least “kept out of harm’s way;” and in accomplishing this (quite a sufficient object for exertion when man’s propensities to evil are taken into account), a great deal more of good is achieved, for a spirit of inquiry is thus induced, and a talent for observation cultivated, which are the parents of true knowledge, and which, combined with the habit of concentrating thought and reflection, must open up the sources of wisdom, and produce an enlargement of understanding in the fortunate possessor, which older and still too prevalent methods of education are eminently calculated to repress. It has been observed, until the observation has become trite, that “knowledge is power,” and it is therefore the duty of all who are sensible of the value of mental development to encourage whatever tends to promote it; though, unfortunately, there still exists a class of men who seek to maintain undeserved superiority, by keeping all persons subordinate to them in ignorance, instead of generously extending to them such help as would enable them to advance in intelligence. How different was the feeling of him who said, that if permitted to have his wishes accomplished he would ask but for two: the first, that he might possess all knowledge that man in his finite nature can or ought to possess; and the second, that having attained this knowledge, all his fellow-creatures might be admitted to a participation of it.

The value of observation as an accessible source of information to all, must be obvious; the infant observes before he reasons, and reason advances with the powers of observing. When the man becomes a sage, he may theorise; but he must first test his wisdom by observation, which would thus appear to be the fulcrum on which mind must depend to raise itself; and as opportunities of observation are now daily increasing, it becomes a matter of importance to aid those who are inclined, by showing them how to observe, and to draw out the latent talent in those who, having eyes, yet see not; and there is no mode in which this can be more effectually and agreeably done than by drawing their attention to those natural objects by which they are surrounded. The sacred writers were well aware of the value of thus directing the mind; and our poets have in many instances derived applause and celebrity from their power of accurately observing and faithfully describing the phenomena of nature.

To aid the people in the acquirement of knowledge so desirable, our best efforts shall not be wanting, and we propose to ourselves accordingly to give a series of papers on Natural History, pointing out, in a popular manner, what all who have eyes may see, and, seeing, profit by.

B.

ANSALDO AND THE CATS.

Everybody, we presume, has heard or read the story of “Whittington and his Cat,” which is an especial favourite with the worthy citizens of “London town,” where it is matter of history that the once poor and friendless little boy rose to be thrice Lord Mayor; but from the tale quoted below, it would seem that the Italians are not without a version of their own on the subject. Which of the two is the most ancient or original, we confess our inability to decide, but it is a matter of very little consequence, as the moral in each is similar, namely, that perseverance and industry will generally meet their just reward, while the endeavours of an idle and improvident man to realise a great fortune all at once, by some wild and desperate speculation, pretty much the same as gambling, or even, as we may add, by that detestable and degrading vice itself, rarely fails to involve the rash projector in ruin and disgrace. However, without fatiguing the reader with further preface, we will present him with the following literal translation from the Italian of Lorenzo Magaletti:--

“About the time when our Amerigo Vespucci discovered the new world, there was a merchant in our town whose name was Messer Ansaldo degli Ormani, who, though he had become very rich, but yet desirous to double his wealth, chartered a very large ship, and began to trade with his merchandise in the newly-discovered regions of the West. Having already made two or three prosperous voyages, he wished to return thither once more; but scarcely had he left Cadiz when there arose a most furious gale, which drove him along for several days, without his knowing where he was; but at length fortune was so kind as to enable him to reach an island called Canaria. He had no sooner done so than the king, being informed of the arrival of a vessel, went down to the port with all his nobles, and gave Messer Ansaldo a kind reception: he then conducted him to the royal palace, to show his joy at his arrival. Dinner was then prepared in the most sumptuous style, and he sat down with Messer Ansaldo, who was surprised to see a great number of youths who held in their hands long sticks, similar to those used by penitents; but no sooner were the viands served up than he understood fast enough the meaning of such attendance, for

‘Not Xerxes led so many into Greece, Nor numerous thus the myrmidonic bands, As on the scene their countless hosts appeared!’

BERNI.

In fact, so many and so large were the rats which came in from all quarters, that it was really wonderful to see them. Thereupon the youths aforesaid took to their sticks, and with great labour defended the dish from which the king and Messer Ansaldo were eating. When the latter had heard and seen the multitudes of those filthy animals which were innumerable in that island (nor had any means been found to extirpate them), he sought to make the king understand by signs that he wished to provide him with a remedy by means of which he might be freed from such horrid creatures; and running quickly to the ship, he took two very fine cats, male and female, and brought them to the king, saying that on the next occasion they should be put upon the table. As soon therefore as the smell of the meat began to diffuse itself, the usual procession made its appearance, when the cats seeing it began to scatter them so bravely that there was very soon a prodigious slaughter of the enemy.

On seeing this, the delighted king, wishing to remunerate Ansaldo, sent for many strings of pearls, with gold, silver, and rare precious stones, which he presented to Messer Ansaldo, who, thinking he had made a good profit of his merchandise, spread his sails to the wind, prosecuted his voyage, and returned home immensely rich.

Some time afterwards, he was relating what had occurred between himself and the King of Canaria to a circle of his friends, when one of them, named Giocondo dé Finfali, was seized with a desire to make the voyage to Canaria himself, to try his fortune also; and in order to do so, sold an estate he had in the Val d’Elsa, and invested the money in a great quantity of jewels, together with rings and bracelets of immense value; and having given out that he intended to go to the Holy Land, lest any should blame his resolution, he repaired to Cadiz, where he embarked, and soon arrived at Canaria. He presented his riches to the king, reasoning in this manner--‘If Messer Ansaldo got so much for a paltry pair of cats, how much more will be my just recompence for what I have brought his majesty!’ But the poor man deceived himself, because the King of Canaria, who highly esteemed the present of Giocondo, did not think he could make him a fairer exchange than by giving him _a cat_; so having sent for a very fine one, son to those which Ansaldo had given him, he presented it to Giocondo; but he, thinking himself insulted, returned miserably poor to Florence, continually cursing the King of Canaria, the rats, and Messer Ansaldo and his cats; but he was wrong, because that good king, in making him a present of a cat, gave him what he considered the most valuable thing in his dominions.”

W. S. T.

INSCRIPTION ON A TOMBSTONE IN THE CHURCHYARD OF YOUGHAL, OF ANNE MARIA CAREW, AGED 24.

’Tis ever thus, ’tis ever thus, when hope hath built a bow’r Like that of Eden, wreathed about with many a thornless flow’r, To dwell therein securely, the self-deceivers trust-- A whirlwind from the desert comes, and all is in the dust.

’Tis ever thus, ’tis ever thus, that when the poor heart clings With all its finest tendrils, with all its flexile rings, That goodly thing it cleaveth to so fondly and so fast, Is struck to earth by lightning, or shattered by the blast.

’Tis ever thus, ’tis ever thus, with beams of mortal bliss, With looks too bright and beautiful for such a world as this, One moment round about us their angel light wings play; Then down the veil of darkness drops, and all is passed away.

’Tis ever thus, ’tis ever thus, with creatures heavenly fair, Too finely formed to bear the brunt more earthly natures bear-- A little while they dwell with us, blest ministers of love, Then spread the wings we had not seen, and seek their homes above.

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Printed and Published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane, College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley, Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street, Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; J. DRAKE, Birmingham; M. BINGHAM, Broad Street, Bristol; FRASER and CRAWFORD, George Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID ROBERTSON, Trongate, Glasgow.