The moon calmly sleeps on the ocean,And tinges each white bosom'd sail;The bark, scarcely conscious of motion,Glides slowly before the soft gale.How vain are the charms they discover,My heart from its sorrows to draw!Whilst memory carries me overToMa cailin beog chruite nambo.
The moon calmly sleeps on the ocean,And tinges each white bosom'd sail;The bark, scarcely conscious of motion,Glides slowly before the soft gale.
How vain are the charms they discover,My heart from its sorrows to draw!Whilst memory carries me overToMa cailin beog chruite nambo.
Adelaide thought the sound of his well remembered voice "pleasant and mournful to the soul, like the memory of joys that are past;" and it was insensibly leading her into a train of ideas, which she was not sorry to have interrupted by general conversation. How much did she enjoy the delightful freshness of the night, and the enlivening sallies of her animated companions; they were, however, at length terminated by Mr. St. Orme complaining of the increasing chilliness of the air, and proposing that she and her fair companion should take refuge from it in the body of her barouche, which was on deck. There they passed the remainder of the night most comfortably; and, when the sun rose, Miss Wildenheim was very sorry to hear they were entering the bay of Dublin, as she recollected her landing would put an end to the temporary release the packet had afforded her from the annoyances of the Webberly family.
To sail in unknown seas,To land in countries hitherto unseen,To breathe a fresh invigorating air:——All this, I am convinced,Will renovate me a second time,To be what once I was.Lloyd's Myrha.
To sail in unknown seas,To land in countries hitherto unseen,To breathe a fresh invigorating air:——All this, I am convinced,Will renovate me a second time,To be what once I was.
Lloyd's Myrha.
Before any of the other passengers came on deck, Mrs. St. Orme and Adelaide contrived to make their morning toilet quitecomme il faut, and when it was finished, and their dressing-boxes were repacked, they drew up the blinds of the carriage, and beheld a most beautiful scene.
The sun was shining in all his brightness, and seemed to exult on beholding the fair isle, that, cheered by his smiles, was venturing to raise her lovely face from beneath its misty veil, no longer fearful of beholding the dark visage of Night, who, sullenly retreating from his glorious foe, had turned his louring brow on other daughters of the sea. The hill of Howth rose proudly from the bosom of the deep; and whilst its rocky sides, from age to age, beheld unmoved the fury of the sounding surge, the pointed summits of the distant Wicklow mountains courted the beams of morn and the dews of evening, ere they descended to visit the plains beneath. The bold promontory of Bray rushed to meet the foaming waves; and by its side the beautiful bay of Killina retreated from their half spent rage; whilst in the distant sky a darkened line of smoke pointed out the site of the fine city of Dublin. "Dear Ireland!" exclaimed Mrs. St. Orme, whilst the tear of feeling and the smile of joy struggled for mastery in her beaming eyes—"Oh! only those who have pined for their native land beneath a stranger sky, whose eye has been long unblessed by her loved face, whose ear has vainly paused to hear once again her kindly, though unpolished accents; who have held her—
'dear by every tieWhich binds us to our infancy,By weeping Mem'ry's fondest claims,By nature's holiest highest names;'
'dear by every tieWhich binds us to our infancy,By weeping Mem'ry's fondest claims,By nature's holiest highest names;'
can feel their souls moved to sympathy at the sight of her children's emotions, when they at last behold her cherished soil." Poor Adelaide! she felt the current of life retire from her chilled heart, as it was oppressed by the sad thought, that no revered parent or beloved sister would receive her in the arms of affectionate love, when she landed on the smiling shore, that spread before her sight. She gazed on the countless dwellings, that met her view, with a bitterness of sorrow that was faithfully depicted in her speaking countenance. In every mourner Mrs. St. Orme saw a friend; and understanding the nature of her companion's affliction, from a conversation she had the evening before with Colonel Desmond, she pressed her hand, saying in the kindest tones of benevolence, "You will find friends every where; in that hospitable land there are many warm hearts, to whom you will quickly be dear." The expression of Adelaide's gratitude, though mute, was eloquent, and she soon recovered herself sufficiently to answer, with apparent ease, the various inquiries put to her by Mr. St. Orme and Colonel Desmond, who now appeared to offer their services.
About nine o'clock all was again commotion in the ship; many a strange figure might have been seen in the cabins below. Here Mr. Webberly, doffing his white cotton nightcap, and reeling on the floor, was cut short in the ecstasy of a yawn, and of an outstretched arm, and balancing opposite leg, by a return of the sickness, which had kept him below stairs all night, to Adelaide's great joy. There a fop was calmly settling his hat, so as to display the glossy curls, that were to appear below its edge, to the utmost advantage. Behind that white dimity curtain a lady is viewing herself in a pocket glass, and laments her bilious complexion; but quickly comforts herself with the reflection, that she can wear a veil, and in a day or two she shall be ten times fairer than ever. One gentleman is damning the steward for suffering his sea store to be demolished, who appeases him by saying he will give him another hamper to ransack. There is the wag of a mail coach, continuing his jokes with a fat cook, whose tongue has seldom ceased since they left London, in the endeavour to persuade every one she met that she was a lady of great consequence, and who literally talked all night, to the edification of the people in the cabin with her. An odd looking man is running about with a box of artificial flowers, tormenting every body, by asking if the custom-house officers will seize them; and to every reply rejoining, "I'll just give them a trifle, just a trifle. Do you think they'll search my night sack?" Lastly, the English Abigails loudly declare they shall die; and the Irish that theywilldie, whilst in the intervals of sickness they endeavour to quiet a set of squalling children.
When these motley groupes assembled on deck, it was agreed by most it would be much better to take boats to Dunleary, than to wait for the returning tide to land at the Pigeon House, which is the regular station appointed for the packets.
Adelaide now offered her arm to Mrs. Sullivan, who had just ascended the cabin stairs in a rueful condition. Her face was indeed the emblem of "green and yellow melancholy." Somebody had done her the favour to sit upon her hat, and had bent its white plume in every direction; her habit was crumpled up in a thousand folds, and the queen of Otaheite herself could not have boasted of more feathers than adorned it in detached spots. Mr. Webberly, who accompanied his mother and sisters upon deck, as he looked at Adelaide's lovely face, blooming with the freshness of the sea air, said to himself, "Well, Miss Wildenheim must have his Majesty's patent in her pocket to be so beautiful, when all the other women look so bad. Sister Cilly is as ugly as old Mother Shipton this morning; and as for Meely, she's enough to frighten the crows. I wonder what business that Colonel Desmond has to talk to Miss Wildenheim so—he's too civil by half; I've a month's mind to tell him so; and how she does smile and show her white teeth at him. I see nothing so diverting about him, not I."
"Jack!" said his mother, interrupting his reverie, "Miss Wildenheim has dissuaded me to go in that 'ere boat;—do get our band-boxes put in it. They say we mustn't take none of our trunks, neither one of the carriages. I suspect me they're playing tricks upon travellers; and if so be, I'll take the law of them as sure as my name's Hannah Silliwan. The ship may sail away with all our things afore ever we can send the constables after it.—They say the Irish are a sad set of rogues. I vish I vas safe back in Lunnon again."
The party were soon summoned to the boat, and quickly reached the pier of Dunleary in safety. This place is merely a fishing village, chiefly inhabited by those amphibious animals called bathing women, whose appearance renders their sex nearly as dubious as their occupation makes it difficult to decide whether they mostly inhabit the land or the water. A crowd of these strange looking creatures assembled about the newly arrived ladies. Adelaide involuntarily shrunk from one of them, whose complexion was at least three shades darker than fashionable mahogany, who had but one furious black eye, and was of a stature that promised the power of carrying into execution the evil designs, which seemed painted in that eye. This woman's voice, when she spoke, was nearly as appalling as her aspect when silent; but yet she was perfectly harmless, and had never been known to injure any human being.—"Clear the way there, Moll Kelly! Don't you see you're putting the ladies all through other? Can't ye lend a hand to the spalpeen while you're doing nothing? Or do the t'other thing, and take yourself aff clane and clever?" said a good-natured looking man, who formed one of the crowd of idlers, who stood wrapped up in great coats (a hot day in June), with their backs propped against the pier, or the walls of the houses opposite to it. "It's myself that would be sore and sorry not to be agreeable to them. I just stepped down to take a peep at their sweet faces, God bless them!" said she. Adelaide, shocked at the repugnance her countenance had involuntarily expressed to this unoffending mortal; made theamende honorableby slipping into her hand, as she passed close by, a piece of silver, accompanied by a smile of conciliation. "Och, its yourself that's the real quality;—and did ye look on the like of me, jewel?—I'm entirely obliged to your ladyship." A number of men now came up, saying, "I'll whip your honour up to Dublin in a crack." "Plase your honour, mine's the best going gingle on all the Black Rock road." "Arrah, hould your palaver, Barny," said a third; "didn't my Padderene mare beat the Bang-up coach to tatters the day Mr. Shorly broke his arm; when the gingle, for no rason in life, upset? The Lord spare him to his childer, poor gintleman." Colonel Desmond now came forward to explain what this might mean—namely, that there was no other conveyance to Dublin except the carriages he pointed out, which were sufficiently expeditious, and perfectly safe, if their drivers would not insist on running races with the stage coaches. Accordingly the party were stowed into these gingles, which more nearly resemble sociables in miniature than any other vehicle; but their backs, instead of being solid wood, are railed. They are totally uncushioned, and are drawn by one stout, though ill-conditioned horse. They soon struck into a very fine road, sufficiently broad to lead to a city twice the size of Dublin, on which numberless cars, carts, and carriages, of all descriptions, passed each other, without the smallest inconvenience, except from clouds of white dust, peculiarly distressing from the nature of the soil. The views on all sides were exquisite, combining the various beauties of marine and mountain scenery, ornamented with abundance of wood and an appearance of high cultivation. The peculiarly vivid green of the grass justified to our travellers the appellation of "the emerald isle," which Ireland has long possessed. They saw at a distance many beautiful seats; but were not a little diverted by the names of the diminutive villas which rose close to the road. Three houses, built in a row, had in large letters on their walls,Anne's Hill, ManyVale, and Ballynacleigh. A house was perched on a little mount, glorying in three lilacs and a laburnum; on its gate was engravedVal ombrosa. Another, with half an acre of ground and a single row of trees before the door, was called Wood Park: and they observed more than one Frescati and Marino. The proprietor of one of these abodes did not consider his house sufficiently near the road, though within a stone's throw, therefore had erected a brick and mortar building, the size and shape of a sentry box, resting on the wall which divided his domain from the road, so as to overhang it; and at the moment the gingles drove past, he was enjoying the delights of this "happy rural seat of various view" reading the newspapers in the moments he could spare from watching the company who drove by. Our travellers were much pleased with the regular and beautiful appearance of Dublin, as this entrance into it is not defaced by any mean hovels, the abode of squalid poverty, which are the too frequent preludes of many a magnificent capital. Entering at once into Bagot-street, which is handsome and well built, they drove through several fine streets and squares, caught a glimpse of some elegant public buildings, such as the college, theci-devantparliament-house, and the rotunda, and at last stopped at Layton's hotel, in Sackville-street, which is inferior to few in London.
And oh! the luxury of comfortable quiet rooms and beds, after being condemned to the turmoil of a Holyhead packet, and exposed to the dislocating powers of a Black Rock gingle! Our travellers retired at an early hour, to profit by these lately unknown comforts; and here, wishing them sound sleep and pleasant dreams, we bid them "good night."
Ah! si mon cœur osoit encore se renflammer!Ne sentirai-je plus de charme qui m'arrête?Ai-je passé le temps d'aimer?La Fontaine.
Ah! si mon cœur osoit encore se renflammer!Ne sentirai-je plus de charme qui m'arrête?Ai-je passé le temps d'aimer?
La Fontaine.
When the ladies entered their breakfasting room the morning after their arrival in Dublin, they found it fragrant with the most delightful flowers; and the tables presented specimens of the finest fruits this city could boast of. Adelaide quickly recognized Colonel Desmond's habitual attention to the fair sex; whilst Mrs. Sullivan exclaimed, "A fine bill I'll varrant me for all these here kick-shaws:—I'll ring for the waiter to take them away." Her hand was on the bell, when Cecilia stopped her, by declaring she could eat nothing but fruit. "Who would have dreamt of seeing hot-house fruit inIreland! Those flowers will keep me from fainting this hot day; don't send them away, mama:—unless I have every agreement you can procure me, I shan't be able to exist in the odious country you have dragged me over to." By this time Adelaide descried a note directed to herself on the breakfast table; the stalk of arose uniquewas slipped into it, and on the outside was written in pencil, "Herself a fairer flower." She smiled at the gallant colonel's compliment, and found her note contained a politecongéfrom Mrs. St. Orme, who much regretted being obliged to leave Dublin at too early an hour to bid her adieu in person; but expressed a flattering wish, that an opportunity might occur for cultivating their further acquaintance. Adelaide, throwing down her note on the table as soon as she had read it, turned to examine the beautiful bouquets that adorned the flower stands; and every individual of the Webberly family took the opportunity of making themselvesau faitof its contents. Had they been caught in the fact, they would hardly have felt ashamed, for any thing short of aletter, their code of the laws of honour permitted them to peruse. "Aletterthey would not read for the world"—when any body was looking at them!
Breakfast was scarcely finished when Mrs. Sullivan's servant entered the room, to know if she was at home to Colonel Desmond and Mr. Donolan? An answer being given in the affirmative, they quickly made their appearance. Mr. Donolan was nephew by marriage to Colonel Desmond's elder brother; but though this connection made them sometimes associate together, they were as completely dissimilar in mind as they were in person. Mr. Donolan was, as Cecilia called him, "a very pretty man." His hand rivalled her own in whiteness; his hair was not less carefully cut, combed, and curled in the most becoming manner; and the fair Cecilia might have worn his delicate pink waistcoat and worked shirt collar, as elegant and suitable accompaniments to her riding-habit, without the most scrutinizing eye discovering they had ever formed a part of male attire. This Hibernian Jessamy was the only child of a wealthy Catholic merchant of Dublin: the youth being too precious to be exposed to the hardships of a school, was nurtured at home by an obsequious tutor and a doting mother, in the most inordinate vanity. That vivacity of mind, with which nature usually endows his countrymen, fell to his lot also; and had it been properly directed, might have procured him well-earned fame; but unfortunately it only served as an impetus to his self-love, in a never-ceasing career of egotism, which made him prefer the casual "succès de société," to the lasting benefit to be derived from solitary study. The reward of scholarship was of too tedious attainment for this impatient genius, who, without ceremony, dubbed himself a "dilettante," a title universally conceded to him by his Irish acquaintance, who took the liberty of quizzing him most unmercifully. Young Donolan did not fail to take advantage of the opportunity the general peace afforded for visiting the continent; he had there acquired a knowledge of the fine arts, which was just sufficient to enable him to interlard his conversation with those technical terms of connoisseurship, which, as "The Diversions of Purley" observe, commonly serve but as a veil to cover the ignorance of those who use them, and to privilege him to treat with sovereign contempt all the 'Aborigines of West Barbary,' as he most patriotically termed such of his countrymen and women, as had not redeemed the original sin of their birth, by at least a six week's visit to England or France. Mr. Donolan's manners corresponded to the double refined tone of his mind, (we are bound to apologize to him for using this term, as it betrays his father'sci-devanttrade of sugar-baking): he stood on the threshold of fashion, and finding he could never be admitted into the sanctuary of thebona dea, was content to copy from a distance those more conspicuous embellishments of the object of his adoration, which, being singled from the finer web on which they are originally engrafted by the mystery of art, become deformities when deprived of their connecting, though almost invisible thread; and, thus detached, start forward in unmeaning caricature. But so little was he conscious of hisoutrétravesty "du bel air," that in the plenitude of his folly he had applied to himself Frederic the Great's description of the Prince de Salm: "Il est pétri de grâces; tous ses gestes sont d'une élégance recherchée; ses moindres paroles, des énigmes. Il discute et approfondit les bagatelles avec une dextérité infinie, et posséde la caste de l'empire du tendre, mieux que tous les Scuderi de l'univers[10]."
Mr. Donolan owed his introduction to our travellers to having accidentally met Colonel Desmond that morning at the Commercial Buildings in Dame-street; an elegant establishment, something of the nature of the Adelphi in London; and the place in the Irish capital where the wanderer is most likely to meet his acquaintances. In answer to some of Colonel Desmond's interrogatories, Mr. Donolan mentioned having just received a pressing invitation to visit Bogberry Hall, but that he was afraid it would not be in his power to visit Connaught this summer. "Certainly a journey there is a much more serious undertaking, than crossing the Alps was before we were indebted to Buonaparte for the Simplon road," replied Colonel Desmond laughing; "but you must some time or other be doomed to remain in this limbo for a short time. You had better encounter its apathetic powers now;—I am going to escort Mr. O'Sullivan's English connections to Ballinamoyle: perhaps they may enable you to support your penance with tolerable ease." "Ah ma foi! maintenant c'est toute autre chose, as the French say," replied Mr. Donolan: "I think I will visit my aunt. And you know," continued he, bowing to the exact angle which the upper part of the body of the most fashionable Parisian dancing-master forms with his lower, "more than one specimen of an accomplished gentleman will be necessary to convince the strangers, who have done our country the honour of visiting it, that there are some Irish not deserving the appellation of Goths and Vandals." "Really, my good fellow, you do me too much honour," replied Colonel Desmond; "only your modesty could induce you to place me on a par with yourself." "Point de tout, mon cher, point de tout!You, like me, have had the advantage of travelling; nobody could suspect either ofusof being Irish." Provoked by this last observation, Colonel Desmond, as they left the coffee-house, hummed the air of the song which begins thus:—
"When Jacky Bull sets out for France,The gosling you discover;When taught to ride, to fence, to dance,The finish'd goose comes over,With his tierce and his quarte ça, ça,And his cotillon so smart, O la!He charms each female heart, ha! ha!When Jacky returns from Dover."
"When Jacky Bull sets out for France,The gosling you discover;When taught to ride, to fence, to dance,The finish'd goose comes over,With his tierce and his quarte ça, ça,And his cotillon so smart, O la!He charms each female heart, ha! ha!When Jacky returns from Dover."
Perhaps the satirical expression of his countenance had not entirely passed away, when he introduced Mr. Felix Donolan to the ladies of the Webberly party, as an "amateur and connoisseur of the fine arts, and an adept in chemistry, mineralogy, botany, and craniology." Colonel Desmond begged to know how he might be of use to the travellers, either as regarded their stay in Dublin, or their journey to Ballinamoyle, reminding Mrs. Sullivan of the permission she had granted him the day before, to escort her thither, and requesting her leave to constitute Mr. Donolan another knight-errant in the service of the fair itinerants.
Mr. Donolan's vanity acted in two ways regarding his country: it prompted him to use everysecretendeavour to make it appear in the best point of view to strangers, whilst it led him to assert his own superior refinement by pretending to despise it. He recollected that Irish posting was famous and infamous, but that an English tourist of much celebrity had spoken in high terms of the packet-boats on the canals which lead to the interior; he therefore strongly advised Mrs. Sullivan to proceed as far as she could by this mode of conveyance. Colonel Desmond said in reply, "I don't think, Felix, that method of travelling has any thing to recommend it, except its extreme cheapness." The two words,extreme cheapness, conveyed an argument to Mrs. Sullivan's ear, that was not to be refuted by the powers of the most able logician; therefore it was agreed, that the next day but one they should proceed in the manner Mr. Donolan advised. It was also settled, that the mean time should be spent in seeing as much of Dublin as they could; and Colonel Desmond left them to procure the Provost's permission to show them the college of Dublin to the best advantage, by introducing them to such parts of the library, &c., as he only can admit strangers to see. Thedilettantewas highly delighted with the party. Mrs. Sullivan's cockney dialect he designated as "Anglicisms," and therefore much to be preferred to the most classical English, that could be conveyed to his ear, degraded by that peculiar accent of his country called thebrogue. He was completely at a loss, whether most to admire Miss Cecilia Webberly's London airs, or Miss Wildenheim's foreign graces; and on leaving the room, said to himself, with the most affected tone and gesture imaginable,
"How happy could I be with either,Were t'other dear charmer away!"
"How happy could I be with either,Were t'other dear charmer away!"
Colonel Desmond, on his return, found the ladies and Mr. Webberly prepared to attend him to the college, where they proceeded on foot. This building stands in front of a small park, called the college gardens, appropriated to the students, who are in number about five hundred. The college presents a handsome front, of the Corinthian order, constructed with Portland stone, forming the base of a place of triangular form, named College Green, which, besides the edifice which designates it, boasts of the late beautiful Parliament House, that still continues to adorn the land it once benefited:Stat magni nominis umbra. The interior of Trinity College corresponds with its external elegance. The travellers visited the museum, the library, the chapel, the hall for examinations, and the provost's fine house and gardens. In the library they saw, with the compassion her name always excites, the hand-writing of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, in a Sallust she gave her sons and read, with unmixed horror, a letter of her great grandson, James the second, commanding the cruelties of the siege of Londonderry. Colonel Desmond did not fail to point out the exquisite botanical drawings of the celebrated Anna Maria Schurman, and Quin's bequest, which, besides many other bibliothecal rarities, is supposed to contain the finest copy of Virgil extant. As the party passed through the college yard, they were much surprised at the extreme youth of some of the students, who seemed scarcely old enough to have reached the higher forms of a grammar school; and Colonel Desmond told them the remarkable fact, that a few years ago, two boys entered the college on the same day, one from the north of Ireland, of thirteen, the other from the south, of eleven years of age. The former had been, long before this period, fitted to enter on his academical course; but his father not being sufficiently rich to send him, he was, for a considerable time, usher at a grammar school, till a subscription was raised by the publication of his juvenile poems, which enabled him to enter Trinity college. After leaving the college, our party proceeded down Dame Street, so called from the monastery of St. Mary les Dames, founded in the year 1146, by Dermot M'Murrough, king of Leinster, which stood on this spot. Dame Street is the Bond Street of Dublin; and here, at least, that want of crowds and equipages, so melancholy in many parts of that city, more especially at this season of the year, is not perceptible. The multitude of beggars has long formed a prominent feature in the aspect of the Irish capital; and from their mouths the traveller generally receives his first impression of the energy of language possessed by the lower Irish. No unaccustomed ear can listen without emotion to the awful words in which they clothe their benedictions. Were they of as moving power in Heaven, as on earth, they would be cheaply purchased by the alms of the passing stranger. Our party met with many such petitioners, whose prayers were proffered in words too solemn to be here transcribed. A woman, who called herself "The gentle Eliza," was recorded never to have asked in vain; she seemed once to have filled a higher station, for her figure was elegant, and her voice soft and musical, though a dejection, verging on madness, was depicted in her countenance. She appealed first to the heart, and if there she knocked in vain, she successfully addressed the vanity of her hearers, in a strain of varied flattery. Her life was irreproachable, and her history unknown.
Adelaide's attention was soon however diverted from this interesting object, by another of a very different description. A squalid looking woman, in the garments of extreme poverty, was leading her child by the hand, whose spotless skin, as white as snow, and its clean neat clothes, formed a surprising contrast to the mother's tattered filthy habiliments, Some hasty passenger knocked the poor infant down.—Adelaide raised it up, and as she beheld the countenance of a cherub, exclaimed, "What a beautiful creature!" The starving mother's mouth had opened to demand her charity, but her maternal pride made her forget her misery. "Troth, she is a beautiful cratur; she's the joy of my heart, and the light of my eyes; many's the long mile I've carried her, and thought it no toil; she makes me kindly welcome wherever I go; it was the Lord God sent her to me, an angel of comfort in my trouble: and may you never know trouble, dear; but my blessing, and the Lord's, be about you, when you get up, and when you lie down, and in your dying hour[11]." Adelaide felt her heart thrill within her, at this unpurchased benediction; she had scarcely given her all the silver in her purse, and less than she wished to bestow, when Colonel Desmond's sleeve was twitched by a venerable looking old gentleman, who begged to speak a word to him.—His countenance was uncommonly fine; he had
"The eye which tellsHow much of mind within it dwells;"
"The eye which tellsHow much of mind within it dwells;"
his reverend temples were adorned with the most beautiful flowing silver locks; his language and manners spoke the gentleman and the scholar; his threadbare coat alone told that he too was a mendicant! Colonel Desmond satisfied his usual demand of "Will you lend me a guinea?" without looking up to behold the blush that crimsoned his aged cheek; and with no other commentary than a deep sigh, rejoined his party.
This unfortunate man was of a respectable English family: in his youth he had embraced the clerical profession, and was one of the most eloquent preachers of his day; persuasion hung upon his lips; but, as has been said of individuals of his sacred order, he served only as a finger-post, to point out to others the path he did not tread himself. His talents and his interest procured him considerable church preferment in Ireland, which his extravagance and bad conduct ere long deprived him of. After spending some years in a prison, he repaired to the Irish capital, to live from day to day by any expedient that might occur. Here he partly supported himself, by being what is called in Ireland a "buckle-beggar," that is, a clergyman who solemnizes irregular marriages; partly by begging, under the pretence of borrowing, from any acquaintance he might happen to meet. He was now old and infirm, and would, five days out of six, have wanted a dinner, but that one of his former friends, who had, in better days, partaken of the charms of his wit at his hospitable board, most humanely requested him, in his decay of fortune and intellect, to share, at his table, a meal he could not otherwise have procured.
When the ladies were tired of their promenade, they returned towards their hotel. As Mr. Donolan took care of both the Miss Webberlys, Colonel Desmond could not do less than offer his arm to Mrs. Sullivan, Adelaide therefore was obliged to prefer the disagreeable necessity of accepting Mr. Webberly's, to the more flattering prudery of declining it: thus honoured, he walked along in triumph, looking from side to side, to see who admired his lovely charge, and anticipating the moment when she would be wholly and solely his. Thedilettante, as they passed under the admired portico of the House of Commons, took the delightful opportunity of expatiating on the "cyma recta," and "cyma reversa," in an architectural combat with Miss Webberly, in which she met his triglyphs and metopes, with toruses, astragals, and plinths; whilst Cecilia much enjoyed their loud talking, as it attracted the eyes of numerous gentlemen to herself, who seldom failed to pass some audible encomium on her beauty as they walked by. Mrs. Sullivan, mentally lamenting the expenditure she had, in the course of their walk, made incharity, feelingly inquired of Colonel Desmond, if there were no asylums allotted to the poor in Dublin? "I believe, my dear madam," replied he, "no city, of the same size and wealth, is better provided with charitable establishments; but our poor have an unconquerable aversion to avail themselves of the relief thus afforded. As I went towards the Commercial Buildings this morning, I met a remarkably fine young man, who demanded alms; I remonstrated with him, and told him, what I supposed him ignorant of, that employment for every artisan in want was supplied at the House of Industry; he indignantly replied,—'It's myself that knows that right well! is it a dacent cratur, like me, you'd send to the House of Industry? Civil words eat no bread; and if you keep your charity, don't demane me by making a pauper of me!'"—Thus conversing, they reached the hotel.
Adelaide was not a little pleased to see Colonel Desmond and Mr. Donolan join their circle at dinner. In the evening they were entertained with a variety of itinerant musicians, whom the former collected from all quarters of the town for their amusement.
Mrs. Sullivan's stay in Dublin was too short to admit of her party visiting more of its public buildings; but the following day they repaired to the fine botanical gardens in its neighbourhood; and ended their morning excursion by driving through the Phœnix Park.
Pray now, the news?You've made fair work, I fear me: pray, your news?Coriolanus.
Pray now, the news?You've made fair work, I fear me: pray, your news?
Coriolanus.
Mrs. Sullivan had agreed to leave Dublin in that packet boat which proceeds westward, at nine o'clock in the morning, and which would take her party to the Canal Inn to sleep, the same night: they were to spend the second at some convenient resting place on the borders of Connaught, and early on the morning of the third day expected to reach Ballinamoyle.
Adelaide had employed herself the evening previous to their departure, in writing Mrs. Temple an account of all she had seen worthy of remark in the Irish capital, not forgetting to make honourable mention of her friend Colonel Desmond. This letter was written in much better spirits than the one she had sent from Shrewsbury by Lamotte; and when it reached Mrs. Temple, she was as much gratified by observing this circumstance, as by the tone of affectionate gratitude towards herself and her husband, which pervaded it throughout.
At half past nine o'clock the bustle of leaving Dublin had completely subsided, and the party assembled on the deck of the packet boat had full leisure to view each other, and the surrounding country. As they passed slowly along, one fine seat after another presented itself to their eyes. The country being, hereabouts, principally laid out in parks, lawns, and plantations; that want of wood is not felt for the first twenty miles from Dublin, in this direction, which renders a large proportion of Ireland so desolate to an eye accustomed to woodland scenery. The boat was towed along by two stout horses; but the poor animals were scarcely equal to the laborious task assigned them, and went sideling along in a manner most painful to a humane eye to see. They were driven by giddy boys, and some faint hearts on board quaked lest any accident should occur from their carelessness. Passing the locks is by no means a pleasant operation: you are shut up for a few minutes between massive stonewalls, with a watery abyss beneath, which seems to threaten to swallow you up; and one or other of your fellow passengers is sure to take that opportunity of informing you, that a packet boat was once upset passing a lock, that every soul on board perished, by a variety of deaths, more or less horrible, according to the vivacity of the imagination which the relater may happen to possess. The bell which announces the arrival of the packet boat at the places appointed for changing horses, assembles every individual within reach of its sound, who can accomplish reaching the spot ere its departure. Men, women, and children, of all descriptions, throng to gaze at the passengers, and inquire the news from Dublin. Here are to be seen the landlord, the physician, and the curate of the district, debating the politics of the day. Some passenger gives them the newspapers, or reads an extract from a pamphlet just come out, or relates rumours in direct contradiction to those they heard the day before, which however reign with unquestioned credit, till the next diurnal importation of lies reaches them, which banish, in turn, their ephemeral predecessors, and are themselves dispossessed of their authority by as short-lived usurpers.
Colonel Desmond, as our party passed along, pointed out every thing worthy of notice. He was an excellentcicerone, and there were few questions asked he could not satisfactorily answer. Mrs. Sullivan was much delighted with the good natured attention he paid her, partly from his natural urbanity, partly from his regard for Adelaide, and for his deceased friend, whose widow and child he could not see without wishing to serve them.
Mrs. Sullivan, looking on him quite as a friend, made him the confidant of her suspicions regarding Miss Wildenheim's birth, which she had resolved to keep secret in Ireland, lest they should tempt her brother-in-law to bequeath any part of his fortune from Caroline. In answer to a long string of interrogatories, respecting her late husband's life abroad, Colonel Desmond laughingly replied, "I really can't affirm that poor Maurice was always immaculate, but he certainly was guiltless of the sin of giving birth to this angelic girl. And I must, as a friend, inform you, that his brother would more easily pardon his presenting to him a dozen such claimants to multiply his name, than you for taking a single letter from it: if you don't call your daughter Miss O—Sullivan, she will never possess an acre of the Ballinamoyle estate, which, I assure you, is well worth having, though it should entail the ugliest name in the world." Mrs. Sullivan thanked him; and, profiting by the hint, there was such a practising of the most pathetic of interjections that day, that a stranger might have supposed, some half dozen of the party were in the last agonies; or that they were a set of strolling comedians, rehearsing for a tragedy, whereas they were only getting up the farce, which was to be played at Ballinamoyle.
The Miss Webberlys were as much pleased with Mr. Donolan as their mother was with Colonel Desmond. He was the first gentleman they had ever associated with, in Adelaide's company, who did not prefer her to them. Thedilettante, a few degrees higher than Mr. Webberly in the scale of intellect, appreciated Miss Wildenheim's merits sufficiently to dread the use she might make of her talents; he felt her superiority, though he did not confess, even to himself, that he did so: it is true, she listened to him, when he spoke, with extreme politeness, but her replies betrayed no sister vanity, that encouraged him to display his own. Besides, she was better acquainted with the continent than himself, therefore he could not hope to astonish her by his relations of the wonders of foreign parts. He therefore transferred all his attentions to the Miss Webberlys, paying them the most exaggerated compliments, which they received as unblushingly as he bestowed. When he, for instance, called the one Venus and the other Minerva, Amelia said in reply, "Now, if Juno had but black hair, Miss Wildenheim there (pointing to Adelaide) would do for her; and then we'd be the three Graces!!!" Colonel Desmond having sufficiently paid his devoirs to Mrs. Sullivan, left her in earnest conversation with a woman, not more elegant in appearance than herself, who was entertaining her with an enumeration of the titled guests she received at her house, whilst at every high sounding name Mrs. Sullivan's reverence, and her companion's consequence, visibly increased. Adelaide's friend, happy to be thus released, seated himself beside her, and entered into conversation immediately. Mr. Webberly, who had exhausted all the tender speeches he had conned for that morning, was standing near her in total silence:
"His eye, in a fine stupor caught,Implied a plenteous lack of thought;And not one line his whole face seen in,That could be justly charg'd with meaning."
"His eye, in a fine stupor caught,Implied a plenteous lack of thought;And not one line his whole face seen in,That could be justly charg'd with meaning."
Notwithstanding he was so much displeased at Colonel Desmond's thus engrossing the object of hisspeechlesspassion, that, unable to bear the odious sight of his rival, he repaired to another part of the boat, to listen to some young Irishmen, who were canvassing the conduct of ministry with more warmth than wisdom. Colonel Desmond and Adelaide rapidly passed from one subject to another: in the course of their conversation he abruptly asked her what she thought of young Donolan? She blushed deeply, and he saw her meek brow bend to chide the arch smile that seemed to bid her lips pronounce words partaking of its own nature.—"Come, come," said he, as she hesitated to reply, "out with it Adel—Miss Wildenheim I mean: you were not always so prudent, but used to trust the friend of your infancy with the first thoughts that rose in your mind, without considering and reconsidering them; I am afraid your residence in England has made you very reserved." "Indeed you mistake me, Colonel Desmond," she replied: "the fact is, I am almost as much ashamed to acknowledge any inclination to satire to myself as to you. If I were once to give way to that propensity, I have so many provocatives to indulge it in my present companions, I should never afterwards get rid of the habit; and no heart or understanding can long withstand the destroying powers of a love of ridicule. If you would permit me to parody Shakspeare, I would say that the spirit of personal satire 'Is indeed twice curs'd:' it often abashes the modesty of worth, and paralyses the energy of genius; but oh! how surely does it, with tenfold sterility, blast every generous feeling in the mind it inhabits—first destroying integrity, for no retailer of bon-mots and ludicrous narrations will long respect the rigid exactitude of truth; then the feelings of benevolence fall its sacrifice; and finally, it perverts the understanding, which, having exercised itself more willingly in detecting absurdity than in discovering truth, soon becomes incapable of relishing any serious reflection; and thus this fatal talent, like the flame which dazzles our eyes by its vivid lustre, ends by consuming the substance from which it derived its brilliancy."
"And pray, may I ask," said Colonel Desmond, with an arch, incredulous smile, "how happens it that your present theory and former practice differ so widely? You surely never could have suffered in your own person from the effects of satire; no understanding could be so inept, no heart so cold, as to aim atyouthe shafts of ridicule; to what cause am I indebted for this eloquent tirade?" "I have indeed," replied Adelaide, blushing no less at his encomiums than at the confession she was about to make, "suffered severely from the effects of satire: those 'Best can paint them who shall feel them most.' You may remember, that very early in life I was suffered to be present at those assemblies of literary characters, who used to meet in my happy home at Vienna." Here she sighed, and paused for an instant, then repressing the starting tear, continued, "Incapable of appreciating their merit, or understanding their conversation, I was fully alive to the peculiarities of their manners, so different from the model of refined elegance I had daily before my eyes. Somehow the frankétourderieof my remarks amused; and the smiling pardon, that was granted to the folly of a mere child, I mistook for an applause bestowed on wit. My first sallies proceeded from the gaiety of a guileless heart, accustomed to express every idea as it rose to the most indulgent parent and partial friend; but, as I grew older, abesoin de brillerseized me, and I was on the point of becoming one of that despicable class, who, while they importune the goodness of Heaven for their daily bread, apply no less earnestly to the weaknesses of their best friends for their daily sarcasm, and rejoice more on finding one foible than ninety-nine good qualities; when my enlightened monitor awakened me to a sense of my danger. And now may I pronounce youau faitof the cause to which you are indebted for my 'eloquent tirade' against satire?"
"If you don't convince," said Colonel Desmond, "you at least persuade: but, you know, there is no general rule without exception; so do be ill-natured for once, and let me know what you were thinking of Felix, when I detected those tell-tale smiles." "Well then," said she, "since I must satisfy you, I will at least only be satirical at second-hand, and answer you in the words of Mondon,
Adolescent qui s'érige en barbon,Jeune écolier qui vous parle en Caton,Est en mon sens un animal bernable:Et j'aime mieux l'air fou, que l'air capable;Il est trop fat.[12]"
Adolescent qui s'érige en barbon,Jeune écolier qui vous parle en Caton,Est en mon sens un animal bernable:Et j'aime mieux l'air fou, que l'air capable;Il est trop fat.[12]"
"A propos des fous," replied Colonel Desmond, taking advantage of that language in which so much can be conveyed to the mind without shocking the ear, "ce Monsieur la," looking towards Mr. Webberly, "est amoureux—cela ce peut bien; mais Mademoiselle est elle amoureuse?" "Ah! Dieu l'en garde!"[13]exclaimed Adelaide, with unfeigned horror, involuntarily raising her hands, lowering her brows, and throwing back her head. "Tant mieux!then I will act the part of Wall in this new tragi-comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe; Pyramus shall truly say, 'O! wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss,' and will perhaps find our entertainment 'Very tragical mirth.'" Colonel Desmond faithfully kept the promise thus conveyed; and, when present, completely shielded Adelaide from Mr. Webberly's conceited love, and thus saved her the trouble of standing on the defensive herself. And though the captivating youth would willingly have sent his rival, like the pious Æneas, to visit his father in the realms below; yet such was the unwilling respect that rival's manners extorted, that he never presumed openly to manifest his real sentiments. All this time Caroline had been sitting at Adelaide's feet on one of the small packages, dressing and undressing a huge wax doll, which was her usual travelling companion, and occasionally reading to it the "Memoirs of Dick the Pony," which her indulgent friend had bought for her in Dublin. Colonel Desmond was delightedly listening to her gay laugh, and watching her infantine merriment, when her mother called her over, in order to display her beauty to the obsequious acquaintance she was so much pleased with, who had been profuse in Caroline's praise. As the little girl skipped along, with the favourite doll closely pressed to her innocent heart by one hand, and the open book in the other, her eyes dancing with delight at the thoughts of Dick's adventures, he said to Miss Wildenheim, "I am surprised to see how little Mrs. Sullivan notices that charming child; every body but you seems to treat her with absolute unkindness." "I assure you," replied she, "you do Mrs. Sullivan great injustice; she does not behaveunkindlyto Caroline, though certainly she is not too prodigal of her caresses to the dear infant. I have heard this indifference is not uncommon towards the offspring of second marriages. I really believe some people's affections are of the oyster kind, sticking through life to the spot they were first deposited on, without ever having exercised the smallest volition in the affair." "I beg," said he, laughing, "that when you undertake to give my character in short hand, you will recollect that 'No heart or understanding can long withstand the destroying powers of a love of ridicule.'" "Thank you for the memento," she replied, with one of her sweetest smiles; "the habit I deprecate gains strength but too quickly."
Colonel Desmond now pointed out to Adelaide's notice the hill of Allen, from whence the bog so called takes its appellation. The English name of "Isle of Allen" is only a corruption of the IrishHy alain, that is, the district of the great plain country. This bog contains three hundred thousand acres, extending through parts of the King's and Queen's counties, and those of Kildare, Meath, Westmeath, Roscommon, Galway, and Tipperary. The hill of Allen, according to the traditions of the country, is the scene of action of Ossian's poem of Temora. On the south declivity of the hill is said to be the cave where Oscar's body was laid immediately after his death, over which his faithful dog Bran watched, as so beautifully described by the poet. A few feet from the front of the cave is a well, sacred to his manes, which is still much frequented by pilgrims: on the same declivity is the tomb of the hero, marked by one gray stone: through the valley below runs the rivulet, near which the battle was fought in which he lost his life; and to the west of the cave is seen the extensive plain of Molena, in the King's county, from which rises the ancient Cromla, now called Croan Hill. Colonel Desmond produced a beautiful edition of Ossian he had bought for his niece Miss Desmond, and reading parts of Temora, pointed out these coincidencies to Adelaide; who, when he had done, begged to look at the volume, and happening to turn to the episode of Oithona, read the following passage with no common interest: "Why camest thou over the dark blue waves to Nuath's mournful daughter? Why did I not pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock, that lifts its fair head unseen, and strews its withered leaves on the blast?" As he marked the altered hue and mournful expression of her angelic countenance, he accused himself of cruel thoughtlessness in having raised painful associations in her mind; now recollecting, that though Baron Wildenheim never spoke the language, yet he was well acquainted with English literature, and that Ossian was his favourite poet, whose sombre images peculiarly accorded with the dark melancholy that seemed to overshadow his soul. "Happy the man," thought Desmond, as he gazed on Adelaide, "who shall dry the tears I see from time to time rise in those beautiful eyes! How different is she now from what she was at Vienna! Then her brilliant charms dazzled the eye and the mind; but though her youthful bloom and her playful vivacity seem to have been laid in her father's grave, yet she is more lovely than ever: she is, as Ossian says in the poem she has now turned to, 'Like a spirit of Heaven half-folded in the skirt of a cloud.'"
A summons to dinner now assembled together below all the front cabin passengers, and there was collected together such a groupe as none of the young ladies had ever before seen, but which is to be met with at any stage-coach dinner. Mrs. Sullivan and her new friend laboured to outvie each other in airs of consequence, whilst some would-be beaux put their gallantry on active service, to be overpoweringly civil to the ladies in general, and to Cecilia Webberly and Miss Wildenheim in particular. One little smirking man was peculiarly sweet upon Adelaide, watching each word she spoke, and helping her to every thing she even looked near. When she first applied to Colonel Desmond, who sat next her, for the salt cellar, her inamorato seized the only one within reach, and presenting it to her, said with a facetious grin, as he leaned across Desmond with his chin projecting six inches out of his well-tied cravat, "Excuse me for not helping you to it, Miss; it's the only service you could require I would not with all the pleasure in life perform, but should be loath for us to quarrel; they say salt is very unlucky in parting friends." At the moment in which she bowed her thanks to this dapper wight, a very tall man stood up to help himself to something at the extreme end of the table from that where he was placed: somehow his foot slipped, he reeled a few paces back, and, in his retreat, effectually stopped Mrs. Sullivan's mouth with his elbow, who had just opened it to its utmost extension, in the endeavour to raise her dignity to a par with that of her companion, who the instant before asserted "She had every thing in the highest style at her house, and hoped to have the pleasure of seeing her there soon;" her auditor, in emulation, was just proceeding to vaunt the glories of Webberly House, when the thread of her discourse was broken off in the unexpected manner just mentioned.
The moment the cloth was removed, the ladies made their escape from the cabin, Mrs. Sullivan exclaiming, "My ocular faculties can't stand the smell of the hung beef, and the cabbage, and the mutton, and the blacking, not to disparage the gentlemen's boots; and except that fat lady in the yellow poplin pelisse and blue satin bonnet, they are all such low-lived people as I never see'd before in my born days." Her "ocular faculties," (by which we rather suppose she meant the "olfactory nerves," which Miss Webberly had remarked to thedilettanteat dinner "were much offended by the hydrogen and ammonia emitted from the viands," in order to tally with his scientific recommendation of "carbonic acid gas, in the shape of bottled porter,") were, however, not much better off above than below. The smoke of the fire by which the dinner had been dressed filled all the deck; the servants were at their meal in the second cabin, from whence proceeded another edition of the beef and cabbage, et cetera, with the addition of the fumes of tobacco and whisky punch. Adelaide's admirer presently appeared on deck, bearing a great jug in one hand and a glass in the other: he addressed her saying, "I have brought you some real ladies' punch, sweet to your heart's content, and strong enough by Jasus to make any man in the packet drunk, if he would only take enough of it." In vain Adelaide declined the cup her Ganymede presented. "Don't be dashed," reiterated he; "it won't do you a ha'porth of harm: a good beginning makes a good ending. If you'll only set the example, I'll be bound to say all the ladies will keep you in countenance. It's the true Inisowen, I'll take my Davy it is?" "The true Inisowen" is a sort of smoked whisky, whose smell is the most horridly sickening thing that can be fancied to those unaccustomed to it. Adelaide found it quite overcoming, but luckily espying Colonel Desmond ascending the ladder signed to him to come to her relief, and when he obeyed, said, "Will you have the goodness to assure this polite gentleman, I am no lover of ladies' punch?" so saying, she removed to another part of the deck, to escape the odour of the "true Inisowen." The disappointed youth retreated on Colonel Desmond's remonstrance, saying, "No offence I hope, sir, to you nor the lady neither:" and, as he went down below, muttered, "With all her delicate airs, by my conscience if she was behind the cabin door she'd take agoodswig of it."
The travellers had now fairly entered on the dreary bog of Allen. No human form or habitation met their sight. Its only vegetable productions were a little heath, sedgy grass, or bog myrtle, which were crossed here and there by a half-starved cow or sheep; but they sometimes proceeded miles without even seeing one of these, to remind them that the world contained other living beings besides those in the boat. The road seemed to shake as the horses passed over this