by _la madre_, who imparted Lady Bilton's intelligence with becoming
gravity, and sundry comments on the pain to _delicate feelings_,
produced by talking people; the necessity of being more circumspect,
her own disinterested sentiments, desire for her daughter's happiness,
dread of Adelaide's affections being engaged; all which matter,
judiciously interlarded with my uncle's great riches, speedy return,
devoted attachment to his brother's children, and her own fears that
his generosity would be so profuse as to bring all the fortune-hunting
tribe to torment us, operated so powerfully on my Lord, added to
the surprise of his _capture_ on entering the house, that the whole
matter was arranged, Ady was sent for, mamma vanished, the proposal
was made, and accepted, the horrid business-people are put in motion,
and you must come over, not only to take your seat amongst the musty
parchments, but likewise to go through the silly form of giving your
sister away. This latter ceremony is much more appropriate to the old
Indian Plutus; but there are two reasons against waiting his arrival.
One is, that we are not sure but he may leave us in the lurch; and,
secondly, he may possibly be such an outlandish sort of animal, that
we shall find it advisable to keep him in the shade. Now, it _may
be_, that if you proclaim all that I am telling you, to the tiresome
_primitives_, whose notions you seem to adopt with a degree of zeal,
which I can assure you gains no credit _here_, I dare say that the
eyes of your pious relatives will turn as naturally to the _new_, as
the sun-flower does to the _old_ light, and the blue, green, grey,
or hazel, which may distinguish the organs of your serious aunt and
cousins from each other, will be lost in the general _field argent_,
as their pupils become heaven-directed, and the white of their eyes
alone remain visible, like the sculptured orbs of so many statues.
You will then hear a volley of methodistic nonsence,--of "fraud,"
"take in," "future unhappiness," and such like mawkish stuff, which
I protest makes me feel, while I am writing, as if I had swallowed a
score of ipecacuanha lozenges; _therefore_ it will be wiser of you
to say nothing of what I have mentioned. It will be quite enough to
tell Mrs. Douglas and her gawky lasses, that affairs of importance
demand your presence in England, and that, having been cured of your
cough, the object of your visit to them is accomplished. We are the
more anxious that you should act promptly, because Russell, and that
blockhead Annesley, are gone to see Killarney, the Giant's Causeway,
and whatever other odds and ends, in the way of _lionizing_ that savage
island may offer. Now, if they _poke_ you out from the hole in which
you are buried, or stumble upon you in a bog, the ass, alias Annesley,
will begin to bray; he will tell the antediluvians of Glenalta that
Crayton is not exactly such a puritan as he is himself; that he has
gambled away money enough to build four-and-twenty chapels all in a
row. Every irregularity of his life will be dragged into notice, and
as your _good_ people are stubborn as mules in performing what they
call their "_duty_," we shall have postage to pay for some of your
aunt's homilies, and not only that, but folks who know nothing of the
world, act so entirely without line or compass, that I should not be
surprised if she took up her pen, and committed the monstrous absurdity
of addressing a _tract_ to Crayton himself.
To prevent such an absurdity must be our care, and silence is the only
plan to pursue with your Kerry relations. If possible, your mother will
write a few lines herself, but lest she should be hindered from doing
so, I may as well mention that Lady Araminta Sandes strongly recommends
a practice of which she has lately set the example, insisting on the
insertion of a clause in every modern marriage settlement, to secure a
proper provision for the lady, in case of a _separation_. I think the
council _so_ good, that whenever it comes to _my_ turn, I am resolved
to stipulate for at least a thousand a year.
The Duchess of Naresbury has fitted up her _pallazo_ in the best style,
and intends to be very splendid; but she will never _be one of us_,
with all her endeavours. She is to be "at home" on the twenty-first of
next month, and Crayton asked her permission to take young Fancourt,
who is just come back from his travels, along with him to her house.
The Duchess forgot who he was, and when _Cray._ had _ticketed_ him like
a geranium in the conservatory, "honorable Augustus, second son to Lord
Alison, a very fine young man, and my particular friend," her Grace
drew herself up with as much dignity as if she was going to pronounce
sentence, and answered, "Lord Crayton, I make it a point not to give
any encouragement to younger brothers, 'tis a dangerous folly, of which
sooner or later one has to repent. I am sorry for it, but I cannot make
exceptions. I _cannot_ receive Mr. Augustus Fancourt." Now, the rule is
certainly _sound_, though this was rather an extreme case; but you know
that our charming Byron says, somewhere or other,--I forget the lines,
----And pious mothers
Inquired had they fortunes, and if they had brothers.
Well, Crayton was _piqued_, and as he would have felt it quite
a personal thing had he not succeeded in taking Fancourt to
Naresburg-House, he essayed again, and with great presence of mind
calmly replied, "I beg a thousand pardons, for my presumption, but I
thought your Grace liked talents, and Fancourt is an acquisition any
where. He is just come from Greece, and his _book_ comes out in six
weeks." "Oh! that is _toute autre chose_," said the Duchess; "I like
clever people excessively. You know I patronize authors, and have a
host of _protegés_ continually about me. Lord Crayton, this is quite
another view of the matter. Pray bring Mr. Fancourt; I shall be glad
to see him, and wish that he was _out_. He should have brought his
materials all ready for the press. He will be late for the season in
town. Tell him so from me, and bid him print without delay. I will
speak of his book. I will announce it to night at the Duchess of L--'s."
So ended the dialogue, and Cray. came off with flying colours. I was
interrupted here by his entrance. Poor fellow! he looked pensive I
thought; but I fancy he had a double dose of Burgundy at Lord Morley's
yesterday, and _who_ does not _wince_ at sight of the sable squadron
in perspective, of those terrible law folks with their long bills,
and yellow faces? It was not a week ago since Crayton was laughing
heartily at a monstrous sum which rich Burton of Norfolk had to pay to
his solicitors for some black letter job. Amongst the items in account
was, "To anxiety for my client, March the tenth, two pound fifteen."
How very good! When the affair was nearly at an end, old Burton thought
it would be a clever thing to spur Rosinante, and accordingly ordered
his coach and four to stop, at the "special Attorney's," persuading
Mrs. Burton, that a _friendly call_ on _market-day_, carriage and
liveries at the _door_, would diminish the bill by a cool hundred at
_least_. Mrs. B----waddled out of the coach in a full suit of green
with yellow ribbons, like a walking bank of daffodils, and spoke most
condescendingly to Mr. Pim and Mrs. Pim, and the Miss Pims, and the
Master Pims, but notwithstanding, and nevertheless, the last entry in
the account when it came in was, "To a long and tedious conversation
with Mr. and Mrs. Burton, thirteen and fourpence." Crayton is so funny!
He tells a story when he is in spirits so well!
Here comes _La Madre_ with her letter, and so _Adio_. Adelaide would
send her love, but we are to _suppose_ that she has none to spare.
_By and by_, I dare say, that she will have plenty on hand; but that
is _selon les regles_. The only danger is, that what goes _out_ love,
may come _back_ hatred. Well, Rochefaucauld says, that "hatred is
distempered love," so 'tis all the same thing in the end. I am growing
_prosy_, but do you know that the foolish story I told you in my former
letter has made such a noise, that I am provoked, and shall begin to
turn _blue_ in earnest to vex the blocks. Old Pagoda is at hand, or
I assure you it is well if my "Ostracism" were not to send _me_ into
banishment. It was rather an unlucky hit, half the young men in town
do not understand it, and it is voted a _poser_. Crayton tells me that
money is lost and won upon it daily in St. James's Street. When my
uncle is fairly come, and I have touched the rupees, and golden maures,
I will positively not keep my wits under _hatches_ any longer. After
all, it is egregious folly to give opiates to one's brains because our
exquisites are unfurnished in the upper story. I must, however, take
the matter quietly, for _under_ a hundred thousand, it will not do to
use a word of more than two syllables in length, or _any_ dimensions
_at all_ in _height_ or _depth_; but you shall see what revenge I will
have when, like the princess in the fairy tale, my "thread-papers are
made of bank-notes, and my favorite spaniel drinks out of a diamond
cup." I will then ransack Johnson's _folio_, and oblige every aspirant
to come to my levees with the pocket Lexicon in his bosom. Remember
what I have said--mum is the word. Let us not have a commission to
try whether we are of sane, or insane mind, nor yet be forced, like
Rodolpho, to seek our wits in the moon, for I promise you we should not
find a Pegasus to mount so high now-a-days. _Encore, adieu._
Yours, ever,
L. H.
LETTER XVI.
MRS. HOWARD TO ARTHUR HOWARD, ESQ.
(_Inclosed in the preceding._)
My dear Boy,
I am so full of business that I can only send you a few lines. I
rejoice to hear that you are quite well, and that "Richard is himself
again." Come to me _directly_. Adelaide's approaching marriage
requires your immediate presence, and as you are within a few weeks
of your majority, you will be able to enter into all my views for the
establishment of your sister. You know _what_ a mother I have been--how
entirely devoted to the interests of my children; and I hope, my
dear love, that I shall find you, on the present momentous occasion,
ready to give your best aid in raising money for an immediate supply.
You will feel with me, the propriety of a suitable outfit; and I am
sure that it would be as painful to your mind as to my own, were our
dear girl to want any proper accompaniment of her new dignity. The
Granvilles too (Crayton's sister, you know is Lady G.) are people of
such connection, that we must make an effort extra-ordinary, and I do
not think it will be possible to get through the necessary expenses
for less than five thousand pounds for present use. I want you also
on Louisa's account; and, _entre nous_, feel very uneasy at a silly
flight of her's the other evening. She was in high spirits at our
Thursday's _soirée_, and imprudently _let fly_ a scrap of history. As
_really_ very few young men now read any thing but the Morning Post,
and the Novel of the day, it is not surprising that Louisa's learning
confounded the party. I was much vexed, but it cannot be helped. When
_you_ come, you may be of use, in assuring all your acquaintance that
she has not a particle of _blue_ in her whole composition, and that
the long word which has made such a sensation, was picked up from
Blackwood, or the New Quarterly; that she never reads history, and
knows no more of the Greeks than of a plum-pudding. Nothing alarms me
more, than the apprehension of her taking to literature in a fit of
disgust. You see how much we have for you to do. Commend me to Mrs.
Henry Douglas and her family. They are very good people I am sure, and
I feel much obliged by their attentions to you. It is a great comfort
when folks are doomed to live in retirement, to see them enjoy it;
and nothing can be wiser than your aunt's determination to remain in
her present abode; but I need not, my dear Arthur, I am _convinced_,
impress upon your mind the absurdity of taking up such notions as
are highly commendable as well as suitable to Ireland, and confined
circumstances. You are born in another _sphere_ altogether, and must
leave your Kerry ways behind you. Lady Cantaloupe and the Comtesse de
Soissons just come! I must see them. Dear Arthur,
Your affectionate mother,
MARIANNE HOWARD.
P.S. I had a great deal to say of my dear brother the General, but will
postpone. _Au revoir._
LETTER XVII.
ARTHUR HOWARD TO MISS HOWARD.
Dearest Louisa,
On my return from Killarney, I find your packet, and hasten to say
to my mother and you, that I shall obey your summons with as little
delay as possible, consistently with all that I owe to the beloved
friends whom I am about to leave. So many conflicting thoughts press
for utterance, that I know not how or where to begin. Louisa, you will
find me a very different being from the Arthur of your recollection;
and I fear that at first the change which has been wrought in me will
not please you. If you disliked my friendship with Falkland, and less
powerful, yet still strong, regard for Annesley, what will you think
of a devotion which can only end with life for my aunt Douglas, her
children, and her friend Mr. Otway?
Yes, I own it to you. At Glenalta, in this despised and remote corner
of Ireland, which you and I have so often ignorantly ridiculed, I have
met with the most perfect happiness which it has ever fallen to my lot
to enjoy. At Glenalta I have found the kindest affection, the most
genuine refinement, not confined to mere exterior observance assumed
for strangers, but originating in the heart, and living in every
action. I have been instructed and amused; and while each hour has done
something towards the cultivation of feelings and powers which I did
not imagine I possessed, I have never been once a prey to _ennui_, that
constant and wearisome associate of my former life.
Dear Louisa, you have a good understanding and your heart is
naturally lively, and even _kind_, if you were not perverted by the
precepts, creeds, and example of that most dogmatizing of all human
teachers--Fashion. Why not break the bonds that shackle your every
thought, as well as action? Why not exchange the coarse, (alas, yes, I
_must_ speak truth) I say the coarse, unfeminine language of your last
letter for that of true delicacy and female softness? My ears are new
strung I suppose, for sounds which scarcely made a passing impression
before I came to Ireland, now grate upon the organs of sense, and
vibrate painfully to my heart.
When I picture to my mind the scene which is now acting in Grosvenor
Square, I confess that I feel disgusted almost to estrangement from
those who are the chief performers in such a drama; and you are very
right in the belief that were there any means by which without lowering
a mother's character, I could inform that _arch_-blockhead, whom she
has entrapped, of the fraud that has been employed to take him in, I
would certainly, in humbling his vanity, remove his blindness, and
charitably catch him from the brink of a precipice. What a marriage you
are _brewing_ amongst you! Were _you_ the victim about to be sacrificed
on the altar of folly, I could not restrain my feelings, which would
burst into immediate counteraction of a plot to destroy all happiness
and respectability; and I am more quiescent on _this_ occasion, _not_
because I have always loved you so much better than Adelaide, but that
I question the utility of endeavouring to snatch _her_ from the evil
to come. She has no strength of character: her mind is a mere machine,
ready and willing to be worked upon by the arts of any juggler who can
produce a certificate of skill in the only science respected by a world
holding all things in abhorrence that do not present themselves clad in
the trappings of rank and fortune.
If Adelaide were saved from falling into the hands of _one_ profligate
coxcomb, she would quickly throw herself into the arms of _another_.
Crayton is not a designing man, and that is the only redeeming
circumstance that I can see in his character--if the word character
have any meaning when applied to a person who has _none_.
Say to my mother that, as a point of duty, I shall obey her mandate,
and as soon as I am legally empowered to act, will do any thing to
assist her which can be done without injuring a property too heavily
burthened already. But, dear Louisa, you must prepare her, Adelaide,
and yourself for my absence at the marriage ceremony: I cannot perform
the part assigned to me. My mind revolts from participating in a
_trick_, and I will never sanction the fraud by becoming a witness. I
warn you of the evil, and I can do no more. We are totally unacquainted
with my uncle, who may never give us a shilling, who may dislike when
he is acquainted with his relations, and either marry, adopt a stranger
for his heir, or leave his wealth to public charities. In short, we
know nothing about him, and if it should turn out that the golden
dreams with which my mother has dazzled the imagination of a man who
has wasted his patrimony, and involved himself almost in ruin, melt in
empty air, what consequences may not be anticipated? I turn with horror
from the perspective, and dare not tell you _all_ my fears! Crayton
has an uncle too, and one from whom he expects the fortune, upon a
reversionary hope of which, he has, to my knowledge, been trading for a
long time past to supply the exigencies of the gambling table, to which
he is obstinately addicted; and the pale face which you visited on a
double dole of Burgundy, was probably attributable to a loss at play
which, under existing circumstances, it would not be pleasant to reveal.
I have now said enough to put my mother and Adelaide on their guard.
A little _candour_ would easily bring the matter to a conclusion,
and prevent the mischief which is likely to ensue; but it rests with
them to determine. I am not asked to advise, and do not say that I
am qualified to act as counsel for any one. I trust, however, that
I may be forgiven for this unsolicited interference, on the score
of brotherly feelings, which _shrink_ from the projected alliance,
splendid as it appears.
Louisa, should the day arrive, in which you become acquainted with the
Douglas family, I am not without hope of your proselytism. What joy it
would give me to see you like these charming girls, and I am the more
impatient that it _should be so_, because you have all the materials
which might promise a rich harvest, were they but used to advantage. I
would stake more than I shall ever be worth, that you will delight in
the society of our aunt and cousins, if you are ever introduced to them.
Say all that is affectionate to my mother and Adelaide, and add, that I
give them present pain, to avoid for them a severer future pang. Adieu.
Your affectionate,
ARTHUR HOWARD.
LETTER XVIII.
ARTHUR HOWARD TO CHARLES FALKLAND.
My dear Falkland,
I commence my Killarney _advices_ on the first evening of my arrival
there, or I should despair of sending you the promised packet on my
return to Glenalta. We reached our inn in gay spirits, having come
over bad and good roads alternately, and through a barren wild looking
country; but a party, composed of such agreeable ingredients, and
affording so much variety as ours did, is very independent of external
scenery. If beautiful, it affords an additional source of pleasure,
and _one_ topic more for occasional comment; if otherwise, one can
_do without_ it: the latter was our case. Having once exclaimed, How
desolate! we thought no more about the grievance of an ugly country,
but laughed and talked, exchanged places--some riding, some driving,
till we found ourselves at our journey's end, after performing
five-and-thirty miles without any misadventure. Mr. Otway had written
on before to provide "entertainment for man and horse;" so when we
arrived we had the satisfaction of finding ourselves _expected_, which
makes a _difference_ everywhere, but particularly in a situation which
cannot afford to relax in a single instance the discipline which
keeps up some appearance of order and cleanliness; however, I do not
mean to throw aspersions on our _hotelerie_, and am not one of those
who consider it fair to abuse unmercifully whatever we find near
home, while with something _more_ than philosophy, we _revel_ in the
_desagrémens_ of foreign countries, preferring dirt and inconvenience
abroad to all the luxuries of _comfortable_ England.
In ten minutes after our arrival we were assailed by all sorts of
people; boatmen wishing to engage our large party, musicians desirous
of attending us on the lakes, beggars hoping to receive charity, with
sundry applicants bringing boxes made of the red deer-hoofs, which are
very neatly manufactured here, and various cups, goblets, and other
utensils formed from the arbutus, which grows at this place in lavish
profusion; all anxious to sell their wares, and all clamorous to
recommend them.
Mr. Otway, who knows the genius of the place, and is well known here
and loved everywhere, undertook to direct our operations; and, singling
out a remarkably fine looking man from the rough personages by whom
we were surrounded, addressed him by the name of M'Carty More, and
ordered him to be ready with all possible punctuality and accommodation
at seven o'clock on the following day at Ross Castle, where we were
to embark. The workers in red deer-hoofs and arbutus, were ordered
to bring large supplies of the toys in which they dealt on the day
preceding our departure, and the beggars were dispersed with a promise
that they should have _a scramble_ when we were going away, for which
these ill-fed, worse clothed, cheerful, and easily-satisfied beings,
were as grateful as if every want had been supplied at the present and
prevented for the future.
After this _clearance_, we sat down to a repast rendered delightful by
companionship, had it been less intrinsically excellent; but Killarney
salmon ought to have a place in my journal, and should be farther
noticed _here_, were it not not to figure on the scene again. After
dinner we walked to Lord Kenmare's, and amused ourselves in his demesne,
during two or three hours, my aunt having insisted on our leaving her
at the inn, as she complained of being fatigued; and those who were
best acquainted with all her feelings, suspecting that to be left
_alone_ would soothe them, no offer was made to remain with her by any
of the group.
On our return to the inn, we were surprised to find an elderly
gentleman sitting with her, who proved to be old Bentley, and never
did I see more evident annoyance expressed in a countenance, than was
depicted in the nephew's at sight of his uncle. They met, however,
with cordiality _too_, but the younger of them, though singularly
unexcitable in general, changed colour upon the present occasion,
and appeared suddenly cast down by this accession to our party:
however, we were sufficiently numerous to prevent any _downright_
awkwardness, whatever might be the existing cause of young Bentley's
uneasy sensations; and his uncle explained his sudden appearance by
telling us, that having reached his home too late on the preceding
evening to disturb the families at Glenalta and Lisfarne, he delayed
announcing his return till the following day, when, having learned our
_elopement_, he resolved on not being left behind.
You may fancy us rather closely packed in our _dormitories_: Russell,
Annesley, and I, were crammed into a hole just large enough to hold
three small camp-beds, no bigger than births on board a Holyhead
packet: we could neither toss nor tumble, for the best possible reason,
we had not _room_ for such indications of restlessness; but we lay
quietly as sleeplessly we "chewed the cud of sweet and bitter fancy"
upon all that we had seen and heard in company with each other since
the "_English foreigners_," as old Lawrence calls them, had been at
Glenalta. In the pauses which will occur, even in the best supported
colloquy, sundry sighs, which had not quite so far to travel as from
"Indus to the Pole," were borne right into my bed by the _impetus_
with which they were sent from Russell's, and a certain melancholy
expression, which even a sigh can convey to a _finely constructed_ ear,
convinced me that my friend had lost his heart, or at least _mislaid_
it since he came amongst us. While exercising my ingenuity a little
farther, to determine the person who had committed grand larceny on
his affections, a few notes whistled from time to time, _sotto voce_,
assured me that Charlotte was the thief, and that her Irish melodies
lived in the memory of my poor _chum_. Annesley is such a sensitive
fellow, that if his heart is anything the worse for the wear since he
came to Ireland, I have it to discover; but from the specimen which I
have given above, I flatter myself that you have already decreed my
sagacity to be worthy of apotheosis, even amongst the North American
Indians.