In the morning I awoke with a confused notion that something
extraordinary had happened; but it was a good while before I recollected
myself sufficiently to be perfectly sensible of the absolute and
irrevocable change in my circumstances. An inn may not appear the best
possible place for meditation, especially if the moralizer’s bedchamber
be next the yard where carriages roll, and hostlers swear perpetually;
yet so situated, I, this morning as I lay awake in my bed, thought so
abstractedly and attentively, that I heard neither wheels nor
hostlers. I reviewed the whole of my past life; I regretted bitterly my
extravagance, my dissipation, my waste of time; I considered how small a
share of enjoyment my wealth had procured, either for myself or others;
how little advantage I had derived from my education, and from all
my opportunities of acquiring knowledge. It had been in my power
to associate with persons of the highest talents, and of the best
information, in the British dominions; yet I had devoted my youth to
loungers, and gamesters, and epicures, and knew that scarcely a trace
of my existence remained in the minds of those selfish beings, who once
called themselves my friends. I wished that I could live my life over
again; and I felt that, were it in my power, I should live in a manner
very different from that in which I had fooled away existence. In the
midst of my self-reproaches, however, I had some consolation in the
idea that I had never been guilty of any base or dishonourable action.
I recollected, with satisfaction, my behaviour to Lady Glenthorn, when
I discovered her misconduct; I recollected that I had always shown
gratitude to poor Ellinor for her kindness; I recollected with pleasure,
that when trusted with power I had not used it tyrannically. My
exertions in favour of my foster-brother, when he was oppressed, I
remembered with much satisfaction; and the steadiness with which
I behaved, when a conspiracy was formed against my life, gave me
confidence in my own courage; and, after having sacrificed my vast
possessions to a sense of justice, no mortal could doubt my integrity:
so that upon the whole, notwithstanding my past follies, I had a
tolerably good opinion of myself, or rather good hopes for the future.
I was certain, that there was more in me than the world had seen; and I
was ambitious of proving that I had some personal merit, independently
of the adventitious circumstances of rank and fortune. But how was I to
distinguish myself?
Just as I came to this difficult question, the chambermaid interrupted
my reverie, by warning me in a shrill voice, that it was very late, and
that she had called me above two hours before.
“Where’s my man! send up my man. Oh! I beg your pardon--nothing at all:
only, my good girl, I should be obliged to you if you could let me have
a little warm water, that I may shave myself.”
It was new and rather strange to me to be without attendants; but I
found that, when I was forced to it, I could do things admirably
well for myself, that I had never suspected I could perform without
assistance. After I had travelled two days without servants, how I
had travelled with them was the wonder. I once caught myself saying of
myself, “that careless blockhead has forgotten my nightcap.” For some
time I was liable to make odd blunders about my own identity; I was apt
to mistake between my old and my new habits, so that when I spoke in the
tone and imperative mood in which Lord Glenthorn had been accustomed
to speak, people stared at me as if I were mad, and I in my turn was
frequently astonished by their astonishment, and perplexed by their ease
of behaviour in my presence.
Upon my arrival in Dublin, I went to a small lodging which Mr. M’Leod
had recommended to me; it was such as suited my reduced finances; but,
at first view, it was not much to my taste; however, I ate with a good
appetite my very frugal supper, upon a little table, covered with a
little table-cloth, on which I could not wipe my mouth without
stooping low. The mistress of the house, a North-country woman, was
so condescending as to blow my fire, remarking, at the same time, that
coals were _a very scarce article_; she begged to know whether I would
choose a fire in my bed-room, and what quantity of coals she should lay
in; she added many questions about boarding, and small-beer, and tea,
and sugar, and butter, and blankets, and sheets, and washerwomen, which
almost overwhelmed my spirits.
“And must I think of all these things for myself?” said I, in a
lamentable tone, and I suppose with a most deplorable length of face,
for the woman could not refrain from laughing: as she left the room, I
heard her exclaim, “Lord help him, he looks as much astray as if he was
just new from the Isle of Skye.”
The cares of life were coming fast upon me, and I was terrified by the
idea of a host of petty evils; I sat ruminating, with my feet upon the
bars of the grate, till past midnight, when my landlady, who seemed
to think it incumbent upon her to supply me with common sense, came to
inform me that there was a good fire burning to waste in the bed-room,
and that I should find myself a great deal better there than sitting
over the cinders. I suffered myself to be removed to the bedchamber, and
again established my feet upon the upper bar of the grate.
“Lack! sir, you’ll burn your boots,” said my careful landlady; who,
after bidding me good night, put her head back into the room, to beg I
would be sure to rake the fire, and throw up the ashes safe, before I
went to bed. Left to my own meditations, I confess I did feel rather
forlorn. I reflected upon my helplessness in all the common business
of life; and the more I considered that I was totally unfit for any
employment or profession, by which I could either earn money, or
distinguish myself, the deeper became my despondency. I passed a
sleepless night, vainly regretting the time that never could be
recalled.
In the morning, my landlady gave me some letters, which had been
forwarded for me from Glenthorn Castle; the direction to the Earl of
Glenthorn scratched out, and in its place inserted my new address, “_C.
O’Donoghoe, Esq., No. 6, Duke-street, Dublin_.” I remember, I held the
letters in my hand, contemplating the direction for some minutes, and
at length reading it aloud repeatedly, to my landlady’s infinite
amusement:--she knew nothing of my history, and seemed in doubt whether
to think me extremely silly or mad. One of my letters was from Lord
Y----, an Irish nobleman, with whom I was not personally acquainted, but
for whose amiable character and literary reputation I had always, even
during my days of dissipation, peculiar respect. He wrote to me to
make inquiries respecting the character of a Mr. Lyddell, who had just
proposed himself as tutor to the son of one of his friends. Mr. Lyddell
had formerly been my favourite tutor, the man who had encouraged me in
every species of ignorance and idleness. In my present state of mind I
was not disposed to speak favourably of this gentleman, and I resolved
that I would not be instrumental in placing another young nobleman under
his guidance. I wrote an explicit, indignant, and I will say eloquent
letter upon this occasion; but, when I came to the signature, I felt a
repugnance to signing myself, C. O’Donoghoe; and I recollected, that as
my history could not yet be public, Lord Y---- would be puzzled by
this strange name, and would be unable to comprehend this answer to his
letter. I therefore determined to wait upon his lordship, and to make my
explanations in person: besides my other reasons for determining on
this visit, I had a strong desire to become personally acquainted with
a nobleman of whom I had heard so much. His lordship’s porter was not
quite so insolent as some of his brethren; and though I did not come
in a showy equipage, and though I had no laced footmen to enforce my
rights, I gained admission. I passed through a gallery of fine statues,
to a magnificent library, which I admired till the master of the house
appeared, and from that moment he commanded, or rather captivated, my
attention.
Lord Y---- was at this time an elderly gentleman. In his address, there
was a becoming mixture of ease and dignity; he was not what the French
call _maniéré_; his politeness was not of any particular school, but
founded on those general principles of good taste, good sense, and
good-nature, which must succeed in all times, places, and seasons. His
desire to please evidently arose not from vanity but benevolence. In
his conversation, there was neither the pedantry of a recluse, nor
the coxcombry of a man of the world: his knowledge was select; his wit
without effort, the play of a cultivated imagination: the happiness of
his expressions did not seem the result of care; and his allusions were
at once so apposite and elegant, as to charm both the learned and the
unlearned: all he said was sufficiently clear and just to strike
every person of plain sense and natural feeling, while to the man of
literature it had often a further power to please, by its less obvious
meaning. Lord Y----‘s superiority never depressed those with whom he
conversed; on the contrary, they felt themselves raised by the magic of
politeness to his level; instead of being compelled to pay tribute, they
seemed invited to share his intellectual dominion, and to enjoy with him
the delightful pre-eminence of genius and virtue.
I shall be forgiven for pausing in my own insignificant story, to dwell
on the noble character of a departed friend. That he permitted me to
call him my friend, I think the greatest honour of my life. But let me,
if I can, go on regularly with my narrative.
Lord Y---- took it for granted, during our first half-hour’s
conversation, that he was speaking to the Earl of Glenthorn: he thanked
me with much warmth for putting him on his guard against the character
of Mr. Lyddell: and his lordship was also pleased to thank me for making
him acquainted, as he said, with my own character; for convincing him
how ill it had been appreciated by those who imagined that wealth and
title were the only distinctions which the Earl of Glenthorn might
claim. This compliment went nearer to my heart than Lord Y---- could
guess.
“My character,” said I, “since your lordship encourages me to speak of
myself with freedom, my character has, I hope, been much changed and
improved by circumstances; and perhaps those which might at present
be deemed the most unfortunate, may ultimately prove of the greatest
advantage, by urging me to exertion.--Your lordship is not aware of what
I allude to; a late event in my singular history,” continued I, taking
up the newspapers which lay on his library table--“my singular history
has not yet, I fancy, got into the public newspapers. Perhaps you will
hear it most favourably from myself.”
Lord Y---- was politely, benevolently attentive, whilst I related to him
the sudden and singular change in my fortune: when I gave an account
of the manner in which I had conducted myself after the discovery of my
birth, tears of generous feeling filled his eyes; he laid his hand upon
mine when I paused--
“Whatever you have lost,” said he, “you have gained a friend. Do not be
surprised,” continued he, “by this sudden declaration. Before I saw
you this morning, your real character was better known to me than you
imagine. I learnt it from a particular friend of mine, of whose judgment
and abilities I have the highest opinion, Mr. Cecil Devereux; I saw
him just after his marriage; and the very evening before they sailed,
I remember, when Lady Geraldine and he were talking of the regret they
felt in leaving Ireland, among the friends whom they lamented that
they should not see again, perhaps for years, you were mentioned
with peculiar esteem and affection. They called you their generous
benefactor, and fully explained to me the claim you had to this title--a
title which never can be lost. But Mr. Devereux was anxious to convince
me that he was not influenced by the partiality of gratitude in his
opinion of his benefactor’s talents. He repeated an assertion, that was
supported with much energy by the charming Lady Geraldine, that Lord
Glenthorn had _abilities to be any thing Tie pleased_; and the high
terms in which they spoke of his talents, and the strong proofs they
adduced of the generosity of his character, excited in my mind a
warm desire to cultivate his acquaintance; a desire which has been
considerably increased within this last hour. May I hope that the Irish
rapidity with which I have passed from acquaintance to friendship may
not shock English habits of reserve; and may not induce you to doubt
the sincerity of the man, who has ventured with so little hesitation or
ceremony to declare himself your friend?”
I was so much moved by this unexpected kindness, that, though I felt how
much more was requisite, I could answer only with a bow; and I was glad
to make my retreat as soon as possible. The very next day, his lordship
returned my visit, to my landlady’s irrecoverable astonishment; and I
had increasing reason to regard him with admiration and affection. He
convinced me, that I had interested him in my concerns, and told me, I
must forgive him if he spoke to me with the freedom of a friend: thus I
was encouraged to consult him respecting my future plans. Plans,
indeed, I had none regularly formed; but Lord Y----, by his judicious
suggestions, settled and directed my ideas without overpowering me
by the formality of advice. My ambition was excited to deserve his
friendship, and to accomplish his predictions. The profession of the law
was that to which he advised me to turn my thoughts: he predicted, that,
if for five years I would persevere in application to the necessary
preparatory studies, I should afterwards distinguish myself at the
bar, more than I had ever been distinguished by the title of Earl of
Glenthorn. Five years of hard labour! the idea alarmed, but did not
utterly appal my imagination; and to prevent my dwelling upon it too
long at the first, Lord Y---- suddenly changed the conversation; and,
in a playful tone, said, “Before you immerse yourself in your studies, I
must, however, claim some of your time. You must permit me to carry you
home with me to-day, to introduce you to two ladies of my acquaintance:
the one prudent and old--if a lady can ever be old; the other, young,
and beautiful, and graceful, and witty, and wise, and reasonable. One
of these ladies is much prepossessed in your favour, the other strongly
prejudiced against you--for the best of all possible reasons, because
she does not know you.”
I accepted Lord Y----‘s invitation; not a little curious to know whether
it was the old and prudent, or the young, beautiful, graceful, witty,
wise, and reasonable lady, who was much prepossessed in my favour.
Notwithstanding my usual indifference to the whole race of _very
agreeable young ladies_, I remember trying to form a picture in my
imagination of this all-accomplished female.