and a romance _a-piece_ must be the result of such "means and
appliances" as a glance from Lord Kenmare's park, across the lower
Lake, promise for our _coup d'essai_ on the morrow. Mine is rather a
situation of responsibility, for, in addition to my _own_ loves, should
these bowers inspire the tender passion, I feel a God-fatherly sort
of security called for on my part, that the new guests shall conduct
themselves so as to return well pleased, and pleasing, to the last. In
short, though, like Mrs. Gilpin we are "on pleasure bent," it must be
to resemble her discretion also, "with a prudent mind," and I clearly
perceive that I shall have to enact the part of a male _duenna_.
The appointed hour found all ready, and M'Carty More, that noble
_savage_ before-mentioned, who claims to be king of the boatmen, was
the first object that we beheld on issuing from our _malapardis_. This
man is quite a character, and so strikingly fine a specimen of rude,
but manly beauty, that were he a little less weather-beaten, he might
stand for a Hercules to Canova, were he alive again, or to Chauntry.
His _calling_ renders him quite familiar with his superiors, and he
takes the command of his party as a pilot does of the ship, _pro
tempore_. Mrs. Fitzroy, whose animation is very inspiriting, and whose
enthusiasm I told you in a former despatch is glowing for the Irish
character, chose him for her _Cicerone_, and, taking him by the arm,
led the van towards the scene of embarkation.
If you wish to know, as that mad-cap Melville used to say, "who and who
were together," you may _enfilade_ us as follows. Next to M'Carty More
and Mrs. Fitzroy marched my aunt, leaning on the arm of Frederick, who,
I believe, in the midst of all the beauty that Circassia could boast,
and all the fashion that London and Paris exhibit, would still be found
his mother's prop: on her left side Bentley the elder with his hands
tight in his breeches pockets, as though he feared that their contents
were going to fly away, _paddled_ along, with unequal steps. Mr. Otway
took charge of Emily; and I observed that a simultaneous movement of
that slow and fearful nature that scarcely indicates design, incited
at the same identical moment Bentley the younger and Annesley to wish
that the disengaged hand of my cousin were safely lodged under the
protective care of a right arm belonging to them, though neither had
courage to step forward and offer himself as a candidate for the honour
to which both aspired. Moreover I made a second observation; and though
these sapient remarks were formed _in transitu_ from the threshhold of
the inn to the street, I'll be sworn that I am right. "But what was
your second observation?" quoth you. Why, it was, that the _mauvaise
honte_ which prevented our rival _beaux_ from interfering with Mr.
Otway's exclusive possession of the fair one's attention, arose from
different causes, and produced different effects in the minds of the
disappointed knights. Annesley's timidity lay in his breast, where, if
he has made the confession to himself, he has truly said that Emily's
is the character, of all he has ever seen, which comes nearest to his
abstract of perfection in woman. On this _beau idéal_ I have heard him
dilate, and thus far can decide upon his feelings. _He_ then was moved
by an incipient desire to improve acquaintance, and secure a sort of
prescriptive right to be Emily's _particular_ in our wanderings by
"wood and lake;" but the thought, though proceeding from preference
established since the day of his arrival, was an _impromptu_ of the
instant in its present shape, and the reality of the sentiment which
gave birth to the wish, confounded its ready expression; whereas in
Bentley's manner I could trace more of the guardian than the lover; he
was less anxious to appropriate Emily's society exclusively to himself,
than to prevent its being appropriated by another, and this again was
less dictated by a jealous or churlish feeling, than by a strictness
of opinion on the subject of a young lady's walking arm-in-arm with a
stranger. All this I read at a glance, and perhaps you will tell me
that such profound skill in what the French call _le metaphysique de
l'amour_, could only be learnt in Cupid's court; but the fact is, that
I am _only_ in love with the entire family, and therefore safe for the
_present_, at least, from the imputation of having been a _booby_ till
the blind god had sharpened my penetration.
Charlotte and Fanny were hooked upon my arms; Russell keeping a steady
eye upon the former's left side, which he contrived to secure as
soon as we had cleared the door; and our brace of _shy_ youths were
presently resolved into _unattached flankers_, who changed sides, fell
back, or pushed forward, as pigs, dogs, children, &c. interrupted our
progress to the water's edge. At length we were seated in our barge,
and Cleopatra on the silver Cydnus could never have swung the oar more
gallantly than we did from Ross Castle. I shall not favour you with the
history of tenfold reverberations, which you will hear when you visit
this scene of enchantment; nor shall I think it necessary to give you
such details as if I were going to raise the wind in these book-making
days by publishing, "A Companion to the Lakes of Killarney," but
hastening to our first _stop_, land you on the exquisite island of
Innisfallen, where we lingered for hours, unable to tear ourselves
from its tiny shores, every little pebbled indenture of which might
represent that where Ellen is described by the northern bard to have
landed from her skiff in Loch Cattrine.
This Killarney is a centre of legendary lore, and the lovely islet on
which we first touched _terra firma_ from our boat, was the depository
of those annals which bear its name. Domine, who did not appear in our
procession from the inn, because he had walked alone to the castle
that he might try the echo at his leisure before we came up, told us a
thousand interesting particulars of this spot, and entertained us with
various stories, rich in fabulous, as well as real events, of the olden
time. Why does not that wizard Scott, draw from a source so worthy of
his magic pen? He has been here, but passed, I am told, through Ireland
gnerally with such rapidity, that his carriage wheels hardly seemed
to come in contact with the earth. Positively, unless he can endure it
to be thought that with a few lithographic sketches in his hand, he
skimmed over the country, contracting for views _as per sample_, like a
corn merchant bargaining to replenish his stores, the author of Waverly
_must_ shew signs of having visited this little focus of imagery by
dressing one of his matchless casts in the drapery with which Killarney
could furnish his splendid powers of tasteful decoration.
Will that genius, who can transform into gems the commonest minerals
produced in a desert, and give with African prodigality, the purest
gold in return for rusty nails, and beads of glass; will _he_ permit
Erin to draw the ungracious inference from his silence, that she could
supply _no_ materials for his laboratory? and while so many immortal
records of Scotland's fame and England's glory, have been charmed
from their dark retreats by his necromantic spells, shall Ireland,
the fertile Isle of Emerald glow,--the island of saints,--the land of
heroes,--the fane of learning, piety, and music,--be left to rest
on the divided property in Fingal for all poetical memorial of her
traditional celebrity? Forbid it justice! forbid it gratitude! Let not
a people who have so liberally bestowed their praise on those numbers
in which their neighbours have been so sweetly harmonized, remain
themselves unsung!
Some of our party eloquently urging the claims of Hibernia to a
niche in the temple of Apollo, Russell, addressing himself to Mr.
Oliphant, said, "I hope that you will not mistake my object in asking
you a question which I have often heard triumphantly asked, and
never answered, namely, if Ireland was really, at a former peroid
distinguished as a seat of learning, virtue, and genius, where are her
credentials? What is become of her buildings? Where are her documents
of proof to support these fond pretensions? Now I echo this inquiry not
in the spirit of a sceptic, but because I can never in future listen to
such interrogatories with the phlegm of indifference, and I wish to be
provided with an argument to rebut the conclusion which is frequently
drawn from silence on this subject."
"Indeed, my dear sir," answered Mr. Oliphant, "I have always thought
the question very irrelevant, and the triumph very unfair. If we
boasted that Ireland had produced the finest architects in the world,
we might be desired to shew the monuments of their skill. If we
arrogated the fame of wealth, we might be challenged to point out the
palaces in which the splendid of past days had held their revels; but
we lay claim to none of these things. Our pride consists in having
been a learned and pious people. Now piety and scholarship are not so
often allied to worldly distinction in _this_ age of mankind, that we
should associate them in a _past_ time through any existing analogy.
That Ireland was resorted to for education; that she produced men
remarkable for knowledge and virtues; that her _magi_ were held in
repute and invited into other countries, to impart the treasures of
superior light; that her ambassadors took precedence upon different
occasions, of those sent by the sister kingdom, to continental courts
and councils, are matters of historical record which we have no right
to contradict, unless we can prove their falsehood; and as to the
remnants of antiquity, which are insisted upon, we may collect ample
testimony to evince a high state of former cultivation, if we make due
allowance for poverty, subsequent civil wars, and the dilapidating
influence of a damp climate. The language of Ireland bears evidence of
ancient date. Every letter in the alphabet is in itself _the name of a
tree_, which leads to the inference of originality in its design. The
round towers of this country, many of which are in the highest state of
preservation, baffle the utmost skill in research to account for their
purpose, and determine their age. Of one thing only are we certain,
and that is, of their great duration, and that, as far as present
information extends upon the subject, Persia is the only country,
besides Ireland, where buildings of this remarkable structure have been
found. Our Druidical remains are in fine preservation, in various parts
of the island. The names of several of our elevated promontories,
with other circumstances, mark the fire-worship of eastern usage
to have prevailed here. In many parts of the kingdom, ornaments in
gold and silver have been discovered, of the purest metal, and most
elaborate workmanship. I have seen some lately that were dug up in the
neighbourhood of Dublin, which, for beauty in execution and elegance
of device, may vie with any modern manufacture, and which, likewise,
are identified with eastern fashion, as the decorations to which I
allude were exactly similar to the Indian bangles, and must have been
employed as such, to deck the ancles of the wearer. In our search after
mines, we have come upon ancient excavations, and often found tools of
brass which bore testimony to the former working in different places,
and at a period so remote that the instruments used for the purpose
are formed of a material, and exhibit shapes totally unlike any of our
modern implements. In this very county are to be found curious remains
of two spacious amphitheatres which, if discovered in any other country
of the earth, would excite the liveliest competition of industry to
explain; but because these things are discovered in Ireland instead of
Tartary or Siberia, ridicule and contempt are their portion. However,
as the one flows from ignorance, and the other from coldheartedness
or jealousy, and neither affords demonstration, we may hope that they
will cease, and that a land, too fertile of soil, too rich in the
finest harbours in Europe, to have been overlooked in early times, will
regain her character which has been lost through the misfortunes of her
history. You must bear in mind that in the very remote periods of which
our accounts are scanty and imperfect, the religion of this country
was not Roman Catholic. It was a much purer faith, and free altogether
from those superstitions which now disfigure the Popish ritual. The
poor Waldenses in their vallies of Piedmont, though they have lost
much of their original simplicity in a necessary communion from time
to time with the Protestants of Geneva, still preserve, I believe the
nearest approach of any mode of worship extant, to what _was_ our creed
about the time of Saint Patrick, whose _purgatory_ was instituted many
centuries after his death. In _those_ days then, the magnificent piles
which owe their existence to the zeal of papal devotion, would not have
been erected here, whatever might have been the pecuniary abundance of
the people; and at a later time, when abuses crept in, and the pure
faith was exchanged for that inconsistent mass of human invention
appended by bigotry and avarice to gospel truth, Ireland was too poor,
and too savage a nation, to raise such mighty altars as bear witness to
the former wealth and glory of your beautiful England.
"_Some_ remnants we do possess of ancient grandeur, and we can still
shew you specimens both of Saxon and Gothic architecture, which are
worthy of your highest admiration, though they not numerous, I confess.
"Lord Elgin has transplanted much of the Athenian Parthenon into the
heart of London; what he left, is daily suffering deterioration, and
diminution. If the pride of Greece, the classic, the inimitable Athens,
should vanish, and, like the Golgotha of Troy, only exhibit the
_place_ where once stood in unrivalled grace and splendor, would you
not still declare that her temples and her statues, though crumbling in
the dust, proclaim that Pericles and Phidias _once_ had being.
"If but a single column of the once astonishing Pæstum now survived the
decay of time and the barbarism of man, would you suffer incredulity to
take her stand amid the ruins, and fulminate her tasteless anathemas
from the very scene of whilom greatness? _We_ only crave a measure of
the same candour which you liberally employ on other occasions. Let
our round towers and cromlechs, our castles and abbeys, be allowed in
evidence of our not being a nation just sprung from the sea; and suffer
our annals and chronicles to be received in testimony of our having
sent forth pious and learned men, when less favoured countries sought
our assistance. Come now, and I will shew you a fine Saxon arch in this
wee island."
As we moved on towards the ruin, we found some of our party gazing
on the lake below, from a little rocky eminence on which they were
seated, and here we caught Mrs. Fitzroy and old Bentley in furious
debate. He is an odd sort of _restive_ old fellow; sharp, clear
sighted, and very bitter in his remarks; but withal good-natured, and,
though rough, by no means implacable. Mrs. Fitzroy had been, I suppose,
expressing some sentiment in favour of the Irish peasantry, perhaps in
praise of the Herculean M'Carty; for just as we reached the spot where
the antagonists were contending, Bentley exclaimed with stentorian
vehemence, "Madam, I tell you that they are rascals, one and all. It is
a mere fiction to talk of the Irish as you do. I know them better. They
are a cringing lying race; and as to your admired M'Carty More, he is a
drunken dissolute dog; and you spoil him by letting him prate for your
diversion."
"Upon my word, Mr. Bentley," answered his adversary, "your abuse is
wholesale, and spreads over too large a surface to cut deeply. I do not
agree with you; and I repeat, that such is my preference for the people
of this country, that I shall beg my friends Mrs. Douglas and Mr.
Otway to be on the look out for a cottage to suit me in their vicinity
at Glenalta."
"No, no, madam, you will do no such thing," retorted the cynic; "you
are acting more wisely. Believe me, that the most knowing people are
those who _travel about, if society be their object_. By change of
place, you come in for the best of every stage at which you halt. You
skim the cream as it were, and ought never to rest long enough any
where to alter your opinions of people, very few of whom, be assured,
will stand the test of intimacy. There is nothing truer than that
Alexander was no hero to his valet-de-chambre, and the maxim applies as
forcibly to nations as to individuals. You will tire of us, if you know
us better, and look back upon your present judgment as mere poetry.
Every oyster is made up of the fish and its shells. Swallow the one and
get rid of the others as fast as you can: they are not worth keeping,
and you will do well to throw them away."
"Not with _my_ charitable feelings," said Mrs. Fitzroy, "pounded oyster
shells are a fine corrective of acid. I would reserve them for the
good of all who require alteratives, and you should have a Benjamin's
dose."
Old Bentley is a merry wight, with all his acerbity, and as this _hit_
was made with perfect good-humour, and a playful countenance, it had a
happy effect, and seemed to raise his estimation of the powers of mind
opposed to him.
"Madam," answered he, "I thank you for your desire to make me better,
though your _sweetners_ should not succeed. I pique myself on seeing
things as they _are_, and set my face always steadily against every
species of romance."
In so saying, he gave a consequential _hem_, and turned his eyes
towards "poor George," his nephew, whose nerves are, luckily for
himself, not externally perturbable, and though I am certain he _felt_
that "more was meant than met the ear," he continued, as calmly
as possible, to converse with my aunt, whom he had engaged in a
_tête-à-tête_.
We were now reminded by M'Carthy More that Innisfallen was only the
beginning, not the end of our progress; and, regaining our barge, we
were again embarked. This may be a proper place to tell you, lest I
should forget it here-after, that to prevent any unavailing efforts on
your part at tracing the pedigree of so great a personage as the said
King of our Killarney lake-men, the word _More_, which appears like a
sirname, is in reality the Irish for _Great_, as _Beg_ is for _Little_:
so that M'Carthy More means the great or chief M'Carthy.
We now bent our course towards Glena. If you were not coming one of
these days to see with your own eyes, and hear with your own ears, the
wonders of this little elysium, I should send you my journal at once,
where almost every tree is registered as if I were an Irish tenant,
and had planted them myself; but of description you will not have much
in my letter, or it would swell to a volume; and, as it is, you would
be bankrupt, were it not for your good luck, which again presents a
private opportunity of sending a packet to you.
At Glena we landed, and here the arbutus arrested our steps, and fixed
the party for some time in amazement at its quantity and size. Here
too, our _Monarch_ informed us that we should fish for our dinner,
inviting us to watch the process of drawing a net. Broken into groups,
we seated ourselves along the margin of the lake, and I for one could
have believed myself translated into some happier region, _at least_
intermediate between heaven and earth. As I muttered something to this
effect, I heard a sound behind me resembling the growl of a dog who
is not quite sure whether he should bark or not. I turned round, and
beheld old Bentley at my heels; and this movement had the effect which
it would have operated on one of the canine species in giving voice to
the _grumble_.
"Aye, aye, poetry and sentiment--romance and delusion! But yours, Mr.
Howard, is the natural age for all these humbugs. You will come to your
senses before your glass runs out, and find that you are mistaken in
your views of happiness."
"Well, sir," said I, "it is some comfort that at my time of life you
_admit_ of my being deceived into bliss; and as life is short, as
well as precarious, it is a great matter to be delighted even with
_shadows_. But why do you set your face, Mr. Bentley, against nature,
and insist upon forestalling the season of care, and laying burthens
of anxiety on shoulders not fitted to the toil of supporting them? The
colt in the forest is allowed to range at liberty till his strength is
matured, and he can bear the load that is destined for his back. Do
you really think that it is right to anticipate evil, and never enjoy
present good?"
"No, sir," replied Mr. Bentley; "but a wise man removes the veil from
his eyes as soon as possible, and endeavours to see through the mists
of folly and prejudice which obscure his horizon. He directs all his
energies to the pole star of truth, which will quickly place the things
of this world in their just light to his understanding, and teach him
that what is called society is a foul cheat; a dishonest compact, by
which people agree to jockey each other, and pass, like counterfeit
coin, for the things that they are not; assuming manners, professing
regard, and displaying dispositions the very opposite of those that are
exhibited when the mask is taken off in the privacy of retirement.
Then, as to sunshine, and fine scenery, let people enjoy them for the
_time_ if they will, but not imagine that a cloudless sky or perennial
green would change the heart of man and make him contented. No, sir,
independence is the only positive good of merely earthly origin; it
gives us the power of being useful to others, and of being disengaged
from the trammels of the world ourselves."
"And pray," said Mrs. Fitzroy, who leaned on my right arm, while Emily
occupied the left, Mr. Otway and George Bentley bringing up the rear
of _our_ division, "are such feelings as you express likely to lead to
your conclusion? Will riches be employed for the relief of others who
want their aid, by a man who thinks of his fellow-creatures as you do,
and looks at creation through a jaundiced medium?"
"Perhaps not always with _intention_, madam," said old _Crabstick_;
"but the beauty of money is that it works without impulse, and _must_
do good in spite of its possessor. Even a miser, who expends only
enough to preserve life, is hoarding that which, if useless now, will
circulate here-after for the benefit of mankind. And this is an extreme
case: there are few misers in the community."
"I conclude then," said Mrs. Fitzroy, "that you approve of money
matches as they are called, and would not readily forgive a son of
yours if you had one, for marrying badly, in a worldly sense?"
"Certainly, madam," answered old Bentley, with great animation, and
apparently charmed with having an opportunity in this natural manner
of giving out the whole "head and front" of his opinion upon so
important a subject, _perhaps_ with a secret view of regulating the
conduct of his nephew, "You are perfectly right, very right indeed in
your supposition, Mrs. Fitzroy. Money matches are the _only matches_.
Money meets money, there is no deception in that sympathy, all else
is balderdash; and except in a very few remarkable cases of happy
marriage, which like the flowers of the aloë, bloom only once in a
hundred years, you may pick out and select with all your care the
finest ingredients of learning, taste, accomplishments, and so forth. I
give you _carte blanche_ in your choice, but bring them together at the
altar, and in a year you will have a dish of _sour crout_ as the result
of your compound."
"How _can_ you hold such opinions of your fellow-creatures, Mr.
Bentley? It is surely you yourself that convert all mankind into acids,
by looking on them. I should be afraid if you walked into my dairy,
that the very milk-pans would turn to curds and whey on your entrance,"
answered Mrs. Fitzroy; "but were the fact really as you describe, I
should like, for the sake of curiosity, to hear how you account for
this transmuting effect of marriage on the human mind?"