The Sunny Side of Ireland: How to see it by the Great Southern and Western Railway

In Short

Designed as a comprehensive companion for the Edwardian-era traveler, this guidebook navigates the landscapes, towns, and antiquities served by the Great Southern and Western Railway. It blends logistical advice—train schedules, hotel recommendations, and sports itineraries—with rich folklore and historical context. Beyond its function as a transit aid, the writing captures the spirit of the Irish countryside through evocative descriptions of its rivers, mountains, and ruined abbeys. It remains a fascinating artifact, detailing a world where steam power opened the wilder provinces to the leisurely curiosity of the visitor.

The Story

The narrative begins in Dublin, the gateway to the kingdom, where the reader is encouraged to look past the capital’s immediate charms toward the Kingsbridge Terminus. The journey moves outward, following the railway’s expansion into the provinces of Munster and Connaught. As the tracks cut through the landscape, the text acts as a rolling commentary, stopping at thriving industrial hubs like Inchicore, then shifting gears to explore the "Pillar Towers" of Clondalkin or the sulphur spas of Lucan. Each stop serves as a portal into a deeper layer of Irish life, whether it is the scholarly quiet of Maynooth or the hunting traditions of the Kildare countryside.

As the railway pushes further south, the focus transitions from domestic pastoralism to the dramatic, storm-swept edges of the island. The book dwells on the "City of the Broken Treaty," Limerick, retelling the heroic defense led by the Earl of Lucan against the forces of William of Orange. It treats the landscape as a repository of memory, where every mountain range and ruined castle—such as the "Baalbec of Ireland" at Kilmallock—tells a story of medieval power, rebellion, or early Christian piety.

The arc reaches its most lyrical peak in the Kerry and Glengarriff districts. Here, the railway gives way to the carriage and the boat, guiding the reader into the "delicious realm" of Killarney, where the scenery is defined by the contrast between the placid lakes and the noisy, rushing mountain streams. The guide details the "sacred" yew trees and the monasteries of the Trappist monks at Mount Melleray, framing the land as a place of spiritual and natural refuge.

The journey concludes by widening its scope to the rugged, untamed West. It describes the archipelago of the Skelligs, where ancient beehive cells cling to the cliffs, and the dramatic coastline of Connemara, where the "Twelve Bens" rise like stone lances. Through an added chapter on natural history, the book reframes the entire region as a unique biological sanctuary, highlighting rare plants and wildlife that link Ireland to the distant Mediterranean. The final sections offer pragmatic advice for the modern tourist—golfing, fishing, and cycling routes—ensuring that the traveler is equipped not just to view the landscape, but to inhabit it, whether by climbing the slopes of Croagh Patrick or seeking out the quiet, forgotten ruins of Shanid Castle.

How It Unfolds

The point of departure The journey initiates at the Kingsbridge Terminus in Dublin, serving as the strategic launchpad for exploring the interior. The text immediately establishes the railway as the essential vehicle for navigating the "Garden of Erin."

The historic interior The route traverses the plains of Kildare and the banks of the Shannon, pausing at sites of ancient learning and Norman fortification. These stops ground the traveler in the deep, layered history of the Irish midlands.

The shift to Munster The narrative moves into the rich agricultural and historical heart of the south. The atmosphere changes as the text details the sieges of Limerick and the architectural marvels of the "White Knight's" country.

The sublime west The final chapters focus on the raw geography of Kerry, Connemara, and Sligo. The focus shifts from the train car to the coach and the boat, emphasizing the wildness of the Atlantic coast.

The traveler's manual The conclusion provides a wealth of logistical appendices. It categorizes opportunities for sport, from golf courses in the midlands to wildfowl shooting along the western estuaries.

The People

The book populates the landscape with figures from both legend and record. The Earl of Lucan, Patrick Sarsfield, stands as the central heroic figure, a "large-limbed, brawny soldier" whose defense of Limerick defines the city’s identity. Opposing him are the "Roundhead" generals and the Williamite forces, whose presence colors the ruins of the seventeenth century.

The reader also encounters figures like the "Old Countess of Desmond," a woman of astonishing longevity who reportedly climbed nut trees at nearly 140 years of age, and the "Galloping O'Hogan," a local hero whose exploits during the sieges add a layer of mythic bravado to the historical narrative. In the clerical sphere, figures like Bishop Terence Albertus O'Brien represent the tragic martyrs of the Commonwealth wars, while the "generous Brothers" of Mount Melleray provide a living, hospitable face to the religious traditions of the region. Grace O’Malley, the pirate queen of the west, looms over the landscape of Connemara, characterized by the author as one who "fought, and sailed, and ruled."

In Its Own Voice

"Everywhere within its broad borders, swift-rushing rivers, mirror-like lakes, and mountains tiaraed in the skies, delight the vision and gladden the heart."

(This serves as the author's introduction to the natural beauty of the Irish landscape.)

"In the quiet watered land, the land of roses, Stands Saint Kieran's city fair."

(The author uses this poetic verse to describe the area near the Shannon.)

"The Gaelic names of places are usually word pictures reflecting with fidelity the physical features of each place, or 'tell sad stories of the death of kings.'"

(The author explains the etymological significance of Irish place names.)

What It's Really About

The book argues that Ireland is not a singular destination, but a mosaic of distinct provinces best understood through their geography and history. It positions the Great Southern and Western Railway as a civilizing force that makes this depth accessible. The underlying inquiry is how a landscape so defined by tragedy, rebellion, and ancient ruin can also be a site of profound sensory pleasure. By weaving together the technical details of travel with the lyrical remnants of Gaelic poetry and natural science, the book posits that the true "sunny side" of the country is found in the synthesis of its wild, natural beauty and its long, persistent memory.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the intersection of travel writing and history will find this a captivating, if dated, experience. It offers a glimpse into a time when a guidebook was a robust companion, filled with as much poetry as it was with hotel tariffs and steamship schedules. The prose is earnest and warm, reflecting a Victorian sensibility that finds beauty in both "palatial mansions" and the simple, homespun "bawneens" of the rural peasantry.

A modern reader must be prepared for the period-specific attitudes, particularly the author’s romanticized and occasionally florid descriptions of historical conflicts. The long, dense paragraphs regarding local antiquities may feel heavy to those accustomed to the brevity of digital-age travel blogs, but they are rewarding for anyone who enjoys a slow, thorough immersion in a sense of place. The inclusion of the natural history chapter adds an unexpected, enduring value, as the scientific observations regarding the "Pyrenean" flora of the west remain fascinating. Ultimately, the book is a time capsule—a reminder of the rhythm of travel when the train was the primary pulse of the nation, inviting the reader to stop, listen to the local legends, and look closely at the "mirror-like lakes" that still define the Irish west.