It is now more than twenty years since the late Lord Londonderry was,
for the first time, on a visit to a gentleman in the north of Ireland.
The mansion was such a one as spectres are fabled to inhabit. It was
associated with many recollections of historic times, and the sombre
character of its architecture, and the wildness of its surrounding
scenery, were calculated to impress the soul with that tone of
melancholy and elevation, which,--if it be not considered as a
predisposition to welcome the visitation of those unearthly substances
that are impalpable to our sight in moments of less hallowed
sentiment,--is indisputably the state of mind in which the imagination
is most readily excited, and the understanding most favourably inclined
to grant a credulous reception to its visions. The apartment also which
was appropriated to Lord Londonderry, was calculated to foster such a
tone of feeling. From its antique appointments; from the dark and
richly-carved panels of its wainscot; from its yawning width and height
of chimney--looking like the open entrance to a tomb, of which the
surrounding ornaments appeared to form the sculptures and the
entablature;--from the portraits of grim men and severe-eyed women,
arrayed in orderly procession along the walls, and scowling a
contemptuous enmity against the degenerate invader of their gloomy
bowers and venerable halls; from the vast, dusky, ponderous, and
complicated draperies that concealed the windows, and hung with the
gloomy grandeur of funereal trappings about the hearse-like piece of
furniture that was destined for his bed,--Lord L., on entering his
apartment, might be conscious of some mental depression, and surrounded
by such a world of melancholy images, might, perhaps, feel himself more
than usually inclined to submit to the influences of superstition. It is
not possible that these sentiments should have been allied to any
feelings of apprehension. Fear is acknowledged to be a most mighty
master over the visions of the imagination. It can "call spirits from
the vasty deep"--and they do come, when it does call for them. It
trembles at the anticipation of approaching evil, and then encounters in
every passing shadow the substance of the dream it trembled at. But such
could not have been the origin of the form which addressed itself to the
view of Lord Londonderry. Fear is a quality that was never known to
mingle in the character of a Stewart. Lord Londonderry examined his
chamber--he made himself acquainted with the forms and faces of the
ancient possessors of the mansion, who sat up right in their ebony
frames to receive his salutation; and then, after dismissing his valet,
he retired to bed. His candles had not been long extinguished, when he
perceived a light gleaming on the draperies of the lofty canopy over his
head. Conscious that there was no fire in the grate--that the curtains
were closed--that the chamber had been in perfect darkness but a few
moments before, he supposed that some intruder must have accidentally
entered his apartment; and, turning hastily round to the side from which
the light proceeded--saw--to his infinite astonishment--not the form of
any human visiter--but the figure of a fair boy, who seemed to be
garmented in rays of mild and tempered glory, which beamed palely from
his slender form, like the faint light of the declining moon, and
rendered the objects which were nearest to him dimly and indistinctly
visible. The spirit stood at some short distance from the side of the
bed. Certain that his own faculties were not deceiving him, but
suspecting that he might be imposed upon by the ingenuity of some of the
numerous guests who were then visiting in the same house, Lord
Londonderry proceeded towards the figure. It retreated before him. As he
slowly advanced, the form, with equal paces, slowly retired. It entered
the vast arch of the capacious chimney, and then sunk into the earth.
Lord L. returned to his bed; but not to rest. His mind was harassed by
the consideration of the extraordinary event which had occurred to him.
Was it real?--was it the work of imagination?--was it the result of
imposture?--It was all incomprehensible. He resolved in the morning not
to mention the appearance till he should have well observed the manners
and the countenances of the family: he was conscious that, if any
deception had been practised, its authors would be too delighted with
their success to conceal the vanity of their triumph. When the guests
assembled at the breakfast-table, the eye of Lord Londonderry searched
in vain for those latent smiles--those cunning looks--that silent
communication between the parties--by which the authors and abettors of
such domestic conspiracies are generally betrayed. Every thing
apparently proceeded in its ordinary course. The conversation flowed
rapidly along from the subjects afforded at the moment, without any of
the constraint which marks a party intent upon some secret and more
interesting argument, and endeavouring to afford an opportunity for its
introduction. At last the hero of the tale found himself compelled to
mention the occurrences of the night. It was most extraordinary--he
feared that he should not be credited: and then, after all due
preparation, the story was related. Those among his auditors who, like
himself, were strangers and visiters in the house, were certain that
some delusion must have been practised. The family alone seemed
perfectly composed and calm. At last, the gentleman whom Lord
Londonderry was visiting, interrupted their various surmises on the
subject by saying:--"The circumstance which you have just recounted must
naturally appear most extraordinary to those who have not long been
inmates of my dwelling, and are not conversant with the legends
connected with my family; to those who are, the event which has happened
will only serve as the corroboration of an old tradition that long has
been related of the apartment in which you slept. You have seen _the
Radiant Boy_; and it is an omen of prosperous fortunes;--I would rather
that this subject should no more be mentioned."
The above adventure is one very commonly reported of the late Marquis of
Londonderry; and is given on the authority of a gentleman, to whom that
nobleman himself related it.--_The Album_.
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