Romantic Ireland; volume 2/2

by M. F. Mansfield; Blanche McManus

There are traditions without end which attempt to account for this wonderful natural production of the Causeway itself, but one shall suffice here. If the reader wants more he can get them without number and without end if he will but listen to the voluble guides of the neighbourhood. The Giant Fin M’Coul was the champion of Ireland, and felt very much aggrieved at the insolent boasting of a certain Caledonian giant, who offered to beat all who came before him, and even dared to tell Fin that if it weren’t for the wetting of himself, he would swim over and give him a drubbing. Fin at last applied to the king, who, not daring, perhaps, to question the doings of such a weighty man, gave him leave to construct a causeway right to Scotland, on which the Scot walked over and fought the Irishman. Fin turned out victor, and with an amount of generosity quite becoming his Hibernian descent, kindly allowed his former rival to marry and settle in Ireland, which the Scot was not loath to do, seeing that at that time living in Scotland was none of the best, and everybody knows that Ireland was always the richest country in the world. Since the death of the giants, the Causeway, being no longer wanted, has sunk under the sea, only leaving a portion of itself visible here, a little at the island of Rathlin, and the portals of the grand gate on Staffa off the Scottish coast.

This certainly seems an acceptably plausible legend, so far as legends can meet those conditions. It is certainly a picturesque one, and the great gateway of the island of Staffa has much if not all the attributes of its brother across the sea.

As a whole, the Causeways and their attributes are indeed suggestive—as has been said before by some discerning person—of a scene from Dante’s Inferno. More particularly they might be likened to a drawing of Gustave Doré’s, illustrating that immortal poem, as we have mostly drawn our conception of what that land was like from his work, rather than from Dante’s descriptions.

At all events, it is a huge nightmare of scenic effect, although a pleasant one.

Between Portrush, really the seaport of Coleraine, and the Giant’s Causeway is Dunluce Castle, “the most picturesque ruin ever beheld,” said an enthusiastic Irishman. As the Scot will tell you the same of Melrose, the statement may well be left in doubt.

At any rate, Dunluce, like Dunseverick, the ancient seat of the O’Cahans or O’Kanes, has been in part hewn out of the coast-line rocks, and possesses a precipitous and jagged barrier which might well be expected to forbid any attack by sea. It is, moreover, entirely separated from the mainland, though at low water connected therewith by a miniature causeway in much the same manner as was originally the famous abbey of Mont St. Michel in Normandy.

Among the ruins is a small vaulted chamber in which, it is believed by a great many folk around about, a banshee resides. The reason assigned for this belief is that the floor is always perfectly clean. It is difficult to follow this line of reasoning; more probably the true solution of the problem is that the wind, having free access to and egress from the apartment, carries dust and dirt before it. Another chamber in the northeast side has fearful attractions for the venturesome. The rock which formerly supported this room has fallen away, and, like a dovecot, it is suspended in the air only by its attachment to the main building.

The erection of Dunluce Castle has been assigned to De Courcy, Earl of Ulster, and the castle was in the hands of the English in the fifteenth century. In 1580, or thereabouts, Colonel M’Donald, the founder of the family of MacDonnells of Antrim, came to Ireland to assist Tyrconnel against the O’Neill, a powerful chieftain, and was hospitably entertained by M’Quillan, the Lord of Dunluce, whom he assisted in subduing his savage neighbours. Being successful in their enterprise, M’Donald returned to Dunluce, and was pressed to winter in the castle, having his men quartered on the vassals of M’Quillan. M’Donald, however, took advantage of his position as a guest, says history, and privately married the daughter of his host. Upon this marriage the MacDonnells afterward rested their claim to M’Quillan’s territory. A conspiracy among the Irish to murder the Scottish chief and his followers was discovered by his wife, and they made their escape, but returned afterward and came to possess a considerable portion of the county of Antrim. The affairs of the M’Quillans and their successors, the MacDonnells, have left endless traditions, but the descendants of the former are now no more known as “kings and lords,” having fallen to the condition of “hewers of wood and drawers of water,” says a local historian. The Scottish family became lords of Antrim and Dunluce.

In the autumn of 1814 a visit was paid to the ruins of Dunluce by Sir Walter Scott, who observed a great resemblance in it to Dunottar Castle in Kincardineshire. A detailed description of the ruins is given in his diary.

Just off the Giant’s Causeway is Rathlin Island, between which and the Mull of Cantyre on the Scottish coast all the Clyde-bound ships feel their way and the traveller by sea knows that he is well in toward the Firth of Clyde. Rathlin Island may naturally enough be presumed to be of the same strata of rocky formation of which the Causeway is built, practically a link which once may have bound Ireland and Scotland.