elapse before the brow of his "worthy colonel, filling a respectable
station in society," would be encircled with a baronial coronet;
little did he imagine that his "country gentleman," who "played an
obscure part" in London, was so soon to be converted into one of
the "leaders of _ton_," from amongst whom he had so flatteringly
excluded him; little did he think that his hospitable friend was
destined so soon to adorn the British peerage as Lord Dinorben.
On the 5th of August he walked, while all the rest of the family were
yet in bed, "with the charming little Fanny, the youngest daughter of
the house, who is not yet out."--"She took me," says his highness,
"round the park and garden, and showed me her dairy and aviary."
His highness then describes the dairy, which, we presume, from a
laudable desire of the "worthy colonel" to bring the article into
fashion, is surrounded with lumps of copper, forming "a gorgeous bed
for rare and curious plants." His highness enumerates the comforts
of the colonel's cocks and hens, and the ducks and the pigeons--he
feels at the sight thereof a fit of "pastoral sensibility" come over
him, and "turns homewards to get rid of his fit of romance before
breakfast:"--"Miss Fanny," he adds, "exclaimed, with true English
pathos,
'We do but row,
And we are steered by fate.'"
"Yes, indeed, thought I," says the prince, "the little philosopher
is right--things always turn out differently from what one intends,
even in such small events as these." What "the little philosopher"
meant by her pathetic exclamation, we cannot, of course, divine;
nor what his highness alludes to as an event; but the story, as his
highness has here printed and published it, may serve as a caution
to Lord Dinorben how he suffers the familiar visits of princes, and
subjects himself to the jokes of such illustrious personages as feel
themselves privileged, in return for the honour they confer upon him
by their presence, to laugh at his "want of _ton_," and ridicule the
kindnesses which "people of his class" are so apt to bestow.
After dinner the prince tells us that he mounted the colonel's
horse--"unwearied as a machine of steel,"--(copper would have been as
fair a simile):--he gallops over the stones, up hill and down,--
"leaps with undisturbed composure over the gates which
continually intercept my way across the fields and tires me long
before he feels the least fatigue himself. This, to me, is the
true pleasure of riding--[a friend's horse]--I love to traverse
mile after mile of country which I had never seen before, where I
know not whither I am going, and must find out my way back as I
can."
But will it be believed, notwithstanding the comfort, the good cheer,
the aviary, the dairy, the untireable horse, etc., etc.,--the prince,
although he had promised to stay with the "worthy colonel" for some
weeks, gets amazingly bored, and "therefore took leave;" and had
been, as he intimates, so _genêd_ by Kennell Park, that, proceeding
from it to the house of "another gentleman who had invited him," he
makes his visit "of some hours instead of days."
This grateful recipient of Cambrian hospitality is presently
discovered at the seat of Mr. Owen Williams, where he is obliged to
amuse himself "after dinner with reading the newspaper." This slur
upon the gaiety and conviviality of Mr. Williams's table must be as
groundless as is an assertion which he also hazards, that there was
nothing for dinner but fish--and that after dinner oysters formed the
dessert. But whether it be true that his highness felt dull and was
driven to the newspaper, or not, glad we are that he has said he was;
for he favours us with an extract from the journal, whatever it might
have been, which affords a new and convincing proof of the universal
correctness of his highness's information and remarks:--
"In this vast desert [the newspaper] I met with only one thing
which I think worth quoting to you. The article treated of the
speech from the throne, in which were the words 'The Speaker
is commanded to congratulate the people on their universal
prosperity.' 'This,' says the writer, 'is too insolent; openly
to make a jest of the miseries of the people.' It is indeed a
settled point, that truth is never to be expected in a speech
from the throne; and if ever a king were mad enough to wish to
speak the real truth on such an occasion, he must begin his
speech, 'My knaves and dupes,' instead of the wonted exordium,
'My lords and gentlemen.'"
That no such words appeared in any king's speech as those which his
highness is pleased to comment upon, we need not take the trouble
to say; but it is rather strange, since we have already recorded
his highness's view of the real causes of popular distress in this
country, that he should so entirely coincide in the vindictiveness of
the supposed newspaper upon the fictitious expression.
We next find the prince visiting Colonel Hughes's copper-mines; and,
while he is standing by the furnace, he receives an invitation from
the colonel's brother, the major-commandant of the loyal Chester
local militia, to dine with him. His highness not only declines the
invitation, which he was quite at liberty to do, but sneers at the
hospitality which was offered him; and forthwith starts from Lord
Dinorben's copper pots for Holyhead, to embark for Dublin; where,
after a dose of sea-sickness, he arrives in good preservation.
He says--"As I knew not what else to do--(for all the notables
who inhabit the town are in the country)--I visited a number of
show-places; and among the first was the theatre,--a very pretty
house, with a somewhat less rough and obstreperous audience than in
London!" _Eich dyn!_
The descriptions which the "attracting and attracted" prince gives to
"Julia" of his little adventures during his rides upon the horses of
his friends are edifying. In Wales he discovers a sylph weeding in
a field, half naked, but "shy as a roe, and chaste as a vestal." In
Ireland he meets with another interesting female, whose personal and
mental qualities he thus details to his "beloved soul:"--
"The scene was yet further animated by a sweet-looking young
woman, whom I discovered in this wild solitude, busied in the
humble employment of straw-plaiting. The natural grace of the
Irish peasant-women, who are often truly beautiful, is as
surprising as their dress, or rather the want of dress; for
though it was very cold on these hills, the whole clothing of
the young woman before me consisted of a large very coarse straw
hat, and literally two or three rags of the coarsest sackcloth,
suspended under the breast by a piece of cord, and more than
half disclosing her handsome person. Her conversation was
cheerful, sportive, and witty; perfectly unembarrassed, and, in
a certain sense, free; but you would fall into a great error if
you inferred from that any levity or looseness of conduct. The
women of this class in Ireland are, almost universally, extremely
chaste, and still more disinterested."
Truly, indeed, does the illustrious Goethe say, that this prince knew
how to put himself on a level with the highest and lowest. We are,
however, compelled to quit this rustic, half-clad Venus for brighter
scenes and more intellectual pleasures. On his return from his ride,
his highness proceeds to call on Lady Morgan, who receives him with
much grace and urbanity.
"I was very eager (says the distinguished stranger) to make the
acquaintance of a woman whom I rate so highly as an authoress. I
found her, however, very different from what I had pictured her
to myself. She is a little, frivolous, lively woman, apparently
between thirty and forty, neither pretty nor ugly, but by no
means disposed to resign all claim to the former, and with
really fine and expressive eyes. She has no idea of '_mauvaise
honte_' or embarrassment; her manners are not the most refined,
and affect the 'aisance' and levity of the fashionable world,
which, however, do not sit calmly or naturally upon her. She has
the English weakness, that of talking incessantly of fashionable
acquaintances, and trying to pass for very '_recherchée_,' to a
degree quite unworthy of a woman of such distinguished talents;
she is not at all aware how she thus underrates herself.
"She is not difficult to know, for, with more vivacity than good
taste, she instantly professes perfect openness, and especially
sets forth on every occasion her liberalism and her infidelity;
the latter of the somewhat obsolete school of Helvetius and
Condillac. In her writings she is far more guarded and dignified
than in her conversation. The satire of the latter is, however,
not less biting and dexterous than that of her pen, and just as
little remarkable for a conscientious regard to truth."
Now is this fair?--is this gallant?--is it princely?--is it
gentlemanlike?--hunted, followed, worshipped, and besought as
his highness was by Lady Morgan; dogged, baited, ferreted out,
and _fêted_ as he had been, was it to be expected that he would
denounce his kind hostess as frivolous, affected, a liberal and an
infidel,--(and _he_ too, of all men in the world)--with more vivacity
than taste, and no regard for truth!--and, worst of all, "neither
pretty nor ugly!"
He does, indeed, slily drop one lump of sugar into his bowl of gall,
and thinking he knows her ladyship's mind to a nicety, no doubt
believes that the one sweet drop will "property the whole." "She is
apparently between thirty and forty." Miss Owenson, however, was an
established authoress six-and-twenty years ago; and if any lady,
player's daughter or not, knew what she knew when she wrote and
published her first novels, at eight or nine years' of age, (which
Miss Owenson must have been at _that_ time, according to the prince's
calculation,) she was undoubtedly such a juvenile prodigy as would
be quite worthy to make a "case" for the _Gentleman's Magazine_, and
as fit to fill a show-waggon at Bartholomew Fair, as her ladyship's
namesake who was born with double joints, and could lift a sack of
corn with her teeth when she was only six years old.
His highness now determines to explore County Wicklow, and starts for
Bray,--"a town twenty miles from Dublin!"--having "left his carriage
and people in town."--Of this carriage and people we are often told
much, and they seem to give him no more trouble or inconvenience in
the management of them than his hat or his gloves,--when he wants
them he has them,--when he does not, they vanish into thin air. What
did he do with his "carriage and people" while he was flirting with
the barmaid at Bangor? When did they cross the water to Ireland? for
we have seen he came quite alone through Wales; and we shall see
presently that he made all his excursions in Ireland in noddies,
jingles, jaunting cars, and went back quite alone through England
upon the tops of coaches. But, not to dwell on such trifles--for we
suppose one might, without much injury, say, both of "principality"
and of "people," _de minimis non curat Prætor_--let us attend his
highness (or, to give him the exact title which the Germans bestow
on princes of this calibre, "his thorough-illustriousness,") to his
supper-table at Bray.
"I supped with a young parson of good family, who made me laugh
heartily at his orthodoxy in matters of religion, interspersed
with talk, which was by no means remarkable for severe decorum
of virtue. But such is the piety of Englishmen (_qu. ?_)--it is
to them at once a party matter and an affair of good manners;
and as in politics they follow their party implicitly, through
thick and thin, reasonable and unreasonable, because it is
their party;--as they submit to a custom for ever because it
is a custom; so they regard their religion, (without the least
tincture of poetry,) in exactly the same point of view: they go
to church on Sundays, just as regularly as they dress every day
for dinner; and regard a man who neglects church, just in the
same light as one who eats fish with a knife."
We may afford to despise this infidel's sneer at English piety. As
for his ideas of English manners, the secret of his "thorough-lustre"
on that head now begins to peep out. He had evidently been studying
the poor puppyisms of what has been well enough called "the
silver-fork school of novelists." In the genuine spirit of the
doctors of this precious "sapientia," he says,--
"The common people in England put the knife as well as the fork
to their mouths. The higher classes, on the contrary, regard this
as the true sin against the Holy Ghost, and cross themselves
internally when they see a foreign ambassador now and then eat
so;--it is an affront to the whole nation."
This specimen of his highness's "decorum" is sufficient. With
reference to his highness's horsemanship, we leave the following
exploit of the succeeding morning to the consideration of the
reader:--
"About a mile and a half farther on, the path suddenly ends in a
ha-ha, over which my horse utterly refused to leap. As the wall
was on my side, and the turf below very soft, I hit upon a new
expedient; I tied my handkerchief over the eyes of the refractory
beast, and pushed him down backwards over the wall. He was very
little frightened, and not at all hurt by the fall, as I had
expected, and grazed peaceably blindfold till I rejoined him.
This manœuvre saved me at least five miles." (No doubt German
miles.)
We presume this experiment was performed upon a friend's horse. In
the execution, however, of his "new expedient," he had, it appears,
dropped his purse: and we give the account of its restoration to its
owner in his highness's own words, in order to show the opinion his
highness entertains of the numerous fools who were civil enough to
make "feasts for him" while he was in this country.
"Scarcely had I rested myself at table (at Avoca), when I was
told that some one wished to speak to me. A young man, whom I
had never seen, was shown in, and presented to me a pocket-book,
which, to my no small astonishment, I recognized as my own;
containing, besides other important papers which I always
carry about me, all the money I had taken for my journey. I
had, Lord knows how, dropped it out of my breast-pocket; and
had, therefore, no small reason to congratulate myself on so
honourable and obliging a finder. In England I should hardly
have had the good fortune to see my pocket-book again, even if a
'gentleman' had found it; he would probably have let it lie in
peace,--or kept it."
Whatever we might have been likely to do by his pocket-book, we may,
on this particular occasion, allow his highness's tour-book to "_lie_
in peace."--He proceeds to exhibit his intimate knowledge of the
"insular life:"--
"A really poor man, who is not in a situation to contract debts,
can on no terms be a 'gentleman.' On the contrary, a rich scamp,
who has had what is called a good education, so long as he
preserves his 'character' (reputation) dexterously, passes for a
'perfect gentleman.' In the exclusive society of London there are
yet finer 'nuances.' A man, for instance, who were to manifest
any timidity or courtesy towards women, instead of treating them
in a familiar and 'nonchalant' manner, would awaken the suspicion
that he was 'no gentleman;' but should the luckless man ask twice
for soup at dinner, or appear in evening dress at a breakfast
which begins at three in the afternoon and ends at midnight, he
may be a prince and a 'millionaire,' but he is 'no gentleman.'"
Had his highness named none of his English (and Welsh) associates,
one might have found a charitable apology for the above: as it
is, we are bound to express our cordial agreement with one of his
observations--viz., that a man "may be a prince" without being a
gentleman. His highness now threads the Dargle; a coarse attack,
full of blasphemous allusions, upon Lord Powerscourt, follows;
and we then are carried to Donnybrook fair. A description of the
bestialities of that festival is given, which concludes with an
account of a flirtation, to call it by the gentlest name, between a
pair of lovers "excessively drunk,"--the whole of which is introduced
merely to usher in this remark:--"My reverence for truth compels me
to add, that not the slightest trace of English brutality was to be
perceived." We hope the Lady Janes and Lady Marys, who waltzed and
gallopaded with this "thoroughly illustrious" prince--their fathers,
whose wines he drank--and their brothers, whose horses he rode,--will
not forget this passage, in case his "noble and prepossessing aspect"
should again chance to enlighten our "insular gloom."
Once more safe in his quarters at Dublin, our Prince lays down
as an axiom that "nobody eats soup in England." "This," says his
highness, "is the reason, by-the-bye, for which my old Saxon left
me; he declared that he could not exist any longer in a state of
barbarism--without soup." Now, that his highness's "Saxon" should
have quitted "his ground" on this score seems odd,--inasmuch as
his highness himself has just before told us, that "the luckless
man who asked for soup twice at dinner" could be "no gentleman;"
in other words, that such is an usual mark of what our superfine
novelists call "vulgarity!" For the rest, his highness appears to
have lived much more in coffee-houses than anywhere else; and, as
everybody knows, whole seas of soup--black, grey, red, and green--are
daily and hourly bubbling and smoking in all such quarters. Of one
of these same coffee-houses, after denying the existence of soup,
and explaining that the Irish boil their potatoes "in water," his
highness thus continues his description:--
"But now follows the second stage:--the table-cloth is removed;
clean plate, and knife and fork laid, wine and wine-glass,
and a few miserable apples or pears, with stony ship biscuits
are brought: and now the dinner seems to begin to enjoy
tranquillity and comfort. His countenance assumes an expression
of satisfaction; apparently sunk in profound meditation, leaning
back in his chair, and looking fixedly straight before him, he
suffers a sip of wine to glide down his throat from time to time,
only breaking the death-like silence by now and then laboriously
craunching his rocky biscuits.
"When the wine is finished, follows stage the third--that of
digestion. All motion now ceases; his appetite being satiated, he
falls into a sort of magnetic sleep, only distinguishable from
the natural by the open eyes. After this has lasted for half an
hour or an hour, all at once it ceases; he cries out, as if under
the influence of some sudden possession, 'Waiter, my slippers;'
and seizing a candle, walks off gravely to his chamber to meet
his slippers and repose."
It appears to us very odd that the gallant prince should have, in
this luculent sketch of "insular life," suppressed all mention of his
"attracted" friends the chambermaids. He proceeds,--
"Englishmen who do not belong to the aristocracy, and are not
very rich, usually travel without a servant by the mail or
stage-coach, which deposits them at the inn. The man who waits
on strangers to the coach, cleans their boots, etc., has the
universal appellation of 'Boots.' It is, accordingly, 'Boots'
who brings your slippers, helps you to pull off your boots, and
then departs, first asking at what time you will have, not, as
in Germany, your coffee, but your hot water to shave. He appears
with it punctually at the appointed hour, and brings your clothes
cleanly brushed. The traveller then hastens to dress himself and
to return to his beloved coffee-room, where the ingredients of
breakfast are richly spread upon his table. To this meal he seems
to bring more animation than to any other, and indeed I think
more appetite; for the number of cups of tea, the masses of bread
and butter, eggs and cold meat, which he devours, awaken silent
envy in the breast, or rather in the stomach, of the less capable
foreigner. He is now not only permitted, but enjoined (by custom
his gospel) to read. At every cup of tea he unfolds a newspaper
of the size of a table-cloth. Not a single speech, crim. con.,
murder, or other catastrophe, invented by the 'accident maker' in
London, escapes him.
"Like one who would rather die of a surfeit than leave anything
uneaten which he had paid for, the systematic Englishman thinks
that, having called for a newspaper, he ought not to leave a
letter of it unread. By this means his breakfast lasts several
hours, and the sixth or seventh cup is drunk cold. I have seen
this glorious meal protracted so long that it blended with
dinner; and you will hardly believe me when I assure you, that a
light supper followed at midnight without the company quitting
the table."--Pp. 209-212.
The correctness of this picture is striking; but we do not exactly
trace the sequence of thought within his highness's illustrious
breast which conducts him from this analysis of coffee-house
breakfasts, through a few more uncalled-for insinuations of contempt
for the individuals at whose houses he had been visiting, to the
grand reflection with which it pleases him to close, p. 234, viz.,
"Nevertheless, the English nobleman, even the least of the lords, in
the bottom of his heart, thinks himself a better man than the king of
France." This, written A.D. 1828, appears to be gratuitous malice;
though, as to being a better man than the king of France, if there be
truth in Hennequin, we certainly hope there is hardly an Englishman,
whether great lord or little gentleman, amongst us--liable as we are
to the charge of stealing pocket-books from living princes,--who
would, in January, 1832, be ambitious to change characters with the
actual occupant of the Tuileries.
At page 218, this exemplary advocate of Popish emancipation in
Ireland, lets slip the following simple and natural observations:--
"I returned to Dublin just at the moment of a meeting of the
'Catholic Association,' and alighted at the door of their house:
unfortunately, however, neither Shiel nor O'Connell was present,
so that there was no great attraction. Heat and bad smells ('car
l'humanité Catholique pûe autant qu'une autre') drove me out in a
few minutes.
"In the evening I was better amused by the performances of some
other charlatans--a company of English horse-riders who are here."
This is complimentary, and quite consistent with what will be found
in the sequel.
The prince now starts for the south of Ireland--visiting and
ridiculing a variety of families on his route. On one particular
household he is especially jocose, and instances, in illustration of
the state of their domestic information, a "long and patient" search
which was made "in a map of Europe, for the United States!" (p. 221.)
He adds,--
"The occasion of the search was, that the old gentleman wanted to
show me Halifax and B---- town, which latter takes its name from
him."