on Frederick, setting his voice to a very different modulation from
that in which he first spoke and resting his chin on the staff which he
now stuck into the ground, he replied, "Why then, indeed, I'd do more
than that for ye. Go down till you see the smoke, then turn to the left
and face north'ards; turn again to the west, and you'll find a track
that will bring you out at the kiln by a short cut, and then you can't
miss your way any more, but will get down into the _illegant_ new road,
along the upper lake which is so lonesome, and smothered in trees, that
you might be _murthered_ there in all aise, and pitched over into the
lake, and no one know what become of you during ash nor oak."
"And pray," said Frederick, "how am I to find out north and west in
this strange place."
"Then sure, your honour, I suppose, isn't such a poor scholar as that
you wouldn't know very well by the sun."
Fred. gave the poor fellow a shilling, and encouraged with this
agreeable notice, of the perfect _convenience_ with which we could
be "_murthered_," we pursued our route; and found the instructions
which he had received, accurate to a tittle. The smoke, which was the
first finger-post in the journey, brought us into a deep ravine, wild,
barren, and silent as the grave, yet judging by the wreaths that seemed
to be sent up from numerous chimnies that were invisible, populous of
human life. We looked for habitations but there was not a single roof
to be seen, nor an individual to be met with. Curiosity prompted us
to approach nearer to this uncommon defile; and here we found numbers
of poor creatures, who, terrified at the sound of so many horses'
feet, and dreading a visit from the police, were employed in hastily
extinguishing their fires. We speedily tranquillized their minds, and
then received that generous welcome and hospitality which the poorest
sons and daughters of Erin, never fail to extend to the stranger.
To be a _stranger_, far from exciting suspicion here, is a free
passport to the best which these kind people possess. Whiskey was
all which these had to offer, for this was a little colony of illicit
distillers. We tasted their _pottein_ (their name here for the purest
spirit) to oblige our hosts, and scattering a few pieces of silver
amongst them, turned to the left, then to the north, made for the kiln,
and were just descending from the moor, into something resembling a
road, when a figure stalking along the horizon, of apparently gigantic
stature, arrested our attention; we drew up, and as he _neared_ us, we
beheld indeed a prodigious form of at least six feet in height, black
as Erebus, skin, clothes, and all; and armed with a pole of fully ten
feet in length, terminated by an immense bush of holly. Warned by the
former incivility which he had excited, Russell now thought proper
to leave all enquiries to Frederick, who with a kind, "good morrow
my lad," begged to know where this Patagonian was going, and why so
accoutered?
"Plase your honour," answered the spectre, "I am the sweep o'the
mountains, and I'm going yander to clane some chimblies for the
people."
What grotesque habits, and how extra-ordinary the mixture in this
country of barbarism and civilization!
Arrived at length, we found all the pleasure of joining such a circle
as we had left behind, doubled by our short absence.
An excursion such as this to Killarney, brings the people who are
included in it, so informally and so constantly together as to preclude
the possibility, I should think, of neutral feelings at parting. This
is a strong proof, one would imagine, that a state of life mid-way
between poverty and riches is the surest soil of domestic felicity.
Rise _above_ this middle standard, and you soar beyond the want of
sympathy, and owe your principal gratifications, it may be, to fortune
alone. Fall _below_ the medium, and the anxieties of life press so
painfully as to annihilate, from an opposite cause, that dependence on
each other, which constitutes the perfection of human happiness.
Falkland, did you ever expect to hear these sentiments from your friend
Arthur Howard?
We had now passed ten days in an intercourse so intimate, so
intellectual, the tastes, the faculties, of each individual had been
brought into such activity, that, like the manufacturers of soda water
who compress three or four atmospheres into a pint bottle, we seemed to
have condensed into one short fortnight, more solid enjoyment of life,
than would eke out half a century in the vapid inanity of fashionable
routine. During this blissful dream, we had known nothing of factitious
wants, nor artificial accommodations. There was a simplicity, a reality
in our pleasures which deluded us into forgetfulness that the "sweetest
are still the fleetest," because they seemed so natural that one did
not see _why_ they were to cease; and when the last evening actually
arrived, it came with a shock as dreadful, as if entirely unexpected.
The fastidiousness of former habits had vanished. Our apartments were
large, and numerous enough, our cold dinners were eaten with appetite.
We had felt no blank, and we desired no accession to our comforts.
Such are the charms of _that_ society which I reviled, because I did
not comprehend, and was unable at first to appreciate its value. Alas!
I know it now too well; and yet I am better off than my neighbours. I
may hope to pass much of my time with the Douglas family, while poor
Russell and Annesley, who are certainly minus a heart each, may never
see them again. The former will not leave Glenalta, for which place we
set out to-morrow without trying his fate. A few short months ago, and
I should have ridiculed the idea of Russell's being refused by one of
my country cousins. Handsome, gay, musical, sought after, with fair
prospects, and good connections, that Russell could not command any
possible Miss Douglas, or Miss any thing else, possessing no more than
five or six thousand pounds, was I confess what never occurred to me
as matter of doubt. I now feel apprehensions that my friend may suffer
disappointment, as with all the penetration which I can exercise, I
perceive nothing in Charlotte's manner beyond easy kindness and polite
attention.
Annesley is not a free agent: _his_ views are lost in clouds; and
should little Kepple live to be of age, his father may levy fines, and
cut off the entail which will otherwise give the estate of Compton to
Frank, who will have little or nothing, except in this event, and he
will therefore never betray his feelings towards Emily. Perhaps he may
hope that in absence they will wear away; but were this not the case,
Annesley has great self-command, and would suffer much rather than
commit himself. I know too that he has pride, which would ill brook
defeat, and in his present circumstances he could not expect to be
successful.
I think that I can perceive a knitting of your brow, and can also tell
the cause of it. I anticipate your question, and reply, before it is
asked, No, there is not the slightest tendency in my cousin's manner
indicating that Annesley's departure will leave a single pang in her
breast. Emily is free as the air of her mountains; so let your forehead
resume its unruffled serenity.
How various were the feelings of the individuals that composed our
party, and how different from those which accompanied us when we left
that place a fortnight ago. In my aunt's face I read the word _home_
written in every direction. Spite of all her efforts to be cheerful,
suppressed pain sat on every feature during her stay at Killarney;
and spite of all the natural glow which beamed in the countenances of
her children amid the pure pleasures of that enchanting scene, their
mother's looks so far alloyed their happiness as to make them sometimes
long for return on _her_ account, and therefore on their own. Mr.
Otway, too, retraced the road to Lisfarne with calm satisfaction; but
for the younger members of the group (and I believe that I may also
include Mrs. Fitzroy) the prospect of a _break-up_, the certainty of
parting, and the uncertainty of meeting again, corroded every heart.
We reached Glenalta in a beautiful sun-set, but the letters which
awaited our return have so completely absorbed my thoughts, that I pass
over sufficient materials, _at our_ rate of corresponding, to furnish
half a quire of paper, and hasten to say that a few lines from Louisa
bring me the disagreeable intelligence that I have offended my mother,
who desires me not to go to town, but to set out directly for the
Continent and join you. This I shall only do in case of finding that my
presence in London is of no use; and thither I must fly. Mrs. Fitzroy
offers me a seat in her caleche if I remain here another week; and as
there is nothing to prevent this short delay, I have arranged to be her
companion. Russell and Annesley leave this in two days, and you will
probably meet them ere long; at all events they will take care that
this packet reaches you in safety. I have inclosed for your amusement
the letter to which Mr. Otway alluded at Glena, when the conversation
between Mrs. Fitzroy and old Bentley induced him to mention having
lately received it. Mrs. Fitzroy desired a copy, and permits me to
send it to you, provided that you return it whenever you have an
opportunity. I inclose you also Louisa's letter.
You shall hear from me after I reach Grosvenor-square, and will not
envy my feelings in the interim.
Adieu, my dear Falkland!
I am ever your affectionate,
ARTHUR HOWARD.
LETTER XIX.
MISS HOWARD TO A. HOWARD, Esq.
(_Inclosed in the preceding._)
My dear Arthur,
Your letter has made me gloomy, and my mother's temper does not improve
my spirits: she is very angry with you, and so offended by the style
of your remarks on Adelaide's approaching marriage, that so far from
wishing your presence, I am commissioned to say, it is my mother's
express desire that you should not come to town till the ceremony
is over. As you are not yet _quite_ of age, you could not be of any
absolute use at present; and she will contrive, upon the good faith
of your assistance when you are enabled to give your aid, to supply
the immediate necessity for money by borrowing on bond. This is her
message; but as her anxiety that you should quit your present situation
is fully equal to her wish that you should not come here, she would
be glad if you were to _go_ to the Continent; and as your friend
Falkland is somewhere in Italy, and his company may be an inducement to
_immediate_ arrangements, she has no objection to your joining him and
his tutor wherever they may be. It is my mother's design to hasten the
marriage as quickly as possible. She means to inform Crayton that you
have seriously hurt your leg, which will be sufficient excuse for your
non-appearance; and should he ever discover that you have left Glenalta
to go abroad while it might be supposed that you could not stir from
your sofa, it will be easy to make out a new _version_; or if the
wedding is _over_, as soon as we hope that it _will_ be, we shall not
care much about a slight inconsistency which will not signify a _rush_
when the deed is done.
You look grave, but really it cannot be helped. Nothing could be worse
than any interruption to the nuptials of Clayton and Adelaide; it must
not be; and though I _believe_ him to be a gambler, and _know_ him to
be a dunce, our sister is willing to wear his coronet, and excuse his
errors and deficiencies. For myself, I am not sorry that the bustle
of coachmakers, jewellers, milliners, &c. in which we are involved,
prevents my having time to _think_ much, for I am low, and quite out
of humour. What you say of the world is true enough, and no one feels
_how_ true except he is carried round like a fly upon its wheel; but
to stand still is worse: it makes one's head giddy to pause; and the
country after all is so flat, so utterly devoid of interest, that
tiresome as I _confess_ a London life to be, any thing is better than
the cobwebs of retirement. A rural bower sets one to sleep, even in
imagination, and the only part of the system kept _alive_ in retreat is
the muscular apparatus by which we yawn.
If I could find out any "Royal road" to happiness, I should like to cut
many of my acquaintances; but till I do, they must be endured, idle and
silly as they are.
Here comes a man with Ady's diamonds, and I am called to council. I
will write a line to Paris, _poste restante_; so as you will probably
make at once for the French capital, as a central point; you will there
receive intelligence of _our advancement_ to _the peerage_. I will send
you the newspapers that you may see how the paragraph _runs_. Old Lord
Hawkston, being our hundred and fiftieth cousin, _La Madre_ applies to
him to act your part in giving the bride away.
Called again. Coming! coming!
Yours, ever affectionately,
L. HOWARD.
LETTER XX.
[Alluded to by Mr. Otway, addressed to him, and inclosed to Charles
Falkland.]
My dear Friend,
I hasten to obey your injunctions, and give you some account of your
amiable kinswoman, Clara Browne. On reaching York, I found a letter
from her so earnestly praying me to visit at her house, and so warmly
expressive of her wishes to make, as she kindly called me, "one of her
oldest and most valued friends" acquainted with her husband, that I
prepared as soon as I could to accept the invitation, and set out for
Stockton. I found Clara the picture of contentment, and surrounded by
all the substantial comforts and rational elegancies of life. Nothing
could exceed the openness and affection with which she received me;
and I was welcomed by Mr. Browne in such a manner as to assure me,
in the most gratifying language, that I was not a stranger to him. In
a few days after my arrival at his house, a letter on urgent business
required his presence in a distant part of the country; and I yielded
to the united entreaties of my two friends that I would take care of
Clara till his return in two days from D----.
Clara and her sister were now my only companions; and upon the first
opportunity which occurred in a _tête-à-tête_ walk, the former demanded
of me a full, free, and candid declaration of my opinion respecting
the object of her choice. I told her truly that I liked her husband
extremely, and congratulated her with all my heart on having united
herself to a man of high principle and worth; adding, that the suavity
of his temper, mildness of his manners, and polite acquaintance with
the world, attracted my admiration as sincerely as the graver qualities
of his mind commanded my esteem and respect.
"Clara," said I, "you know that I was always a plain man, and as I am
an old fellow, too, and used to abuse your fastidiousness in days of
yore, I have the more pleasure in praising now the sensible, excellent
person with whom you have allied yourself. There _was_ a time when
nothing short of a galaxy of light, a constellation of genius and
talent, would have satisfied you. I often told you then that you would
one day or other discover your mistake, and I hoped not experimentally.
I told you that good sense and a sweet disposition were of more value
than all the _brilliants_ upon which you set so high a price. May I not
now wish to hear from your own lips that you have proved the truth of
my doctrine?"
"Yes," answered Clara, "I glory in my renunciation of the follies which
marked my youth; and, as dear Edward Otway will take the same interest
that you do in my change, I shall egotize a little, and through
you make confession to him of the motives which produced it. You
remember, both of you, how I worshipped intellect, and if I am not too
insignificant to have made so lasting an impression, you may recollect
the silly energy with which I used to descant on moral virtue, and say
that, like air and water, it was certainly indispensably necessary,
but so common--so entirely a thing _of course_, that it slipped out
of calculation, and only served as a vehicle for the ingredients of
happiness, without ever presuming to be an item in the recipe. In
short, all the truly valuable parts of human character were mere
_negatives_ in my flippant creed, while to genius, intellect, and
splendid abilities, did I hold mankind to be indebted for whatever
exalts the human species. Under this delusion I passed my early years,
that period of life which the French call "_La premiere jeunesse_;" and
at five-and-twenty was still as much inclined as ever to be a dreamer,
if the marriage of my two dearest associates to what the world styles
_prodigiously clever men_, had not awakened me to clearer views, and,
by a striking practical lesson, caused me to understand that it was
possible to shine brightly as the glow-worm at a distance, and be a
sightless grub, when brought close to the eye. As one experimental
fact is better than a world of theory, I began to apply the melancholy
instruction which I derived from the unhappiness of my friends, to
my own profit. The result was a firm conviction that plain sense, and
gentle temper, resting on the foundation of a sincerely religious and
moral character, are the very best ingredients to depend upon in the
cup of domestic union; and that with a few beautiful but very rare
exceptions, the worst companion of earth at a family fire-side, is a
_man of genius_. I know that an instance now and then occurs to prove
the _possibility_ of higher things. I know that minds have sometimes
met, bringing the richest gifts of head and heart in heavenly communion
to the altar; such signal deviations, however, from the common history
of mankind, but serve to establish the opposite rule, repressing those
visions of romance, which only entail disappointment.
"When I had paid a visit of some months to each of my friends, I
perceived that their husbands were men of whom they might be _vain_
but could not be _fond_. Isabella, the eldest, had married one of your
"admirable Creighton" sort of people. He was a Mr. Mills, and set up
for a person of universal science, taste, and talent. There was nothing
too high or too low for the omnivorous appetite of his ambition; and he
has often reminded me of Johnson's sarcasm directed against Goldsmith,
"Sir, he would be jealous of Punch;" and so would Mr. Mills. There was
no trial of skill, however humble its object, in which he would not
exert his powers for the pleasure of a triumph. He knew every thing,
at least superficially, and astonished every society of which he was
a member. How clever! what talents! such a memory! such universal
information! echoed from room to room whenever he appeared; and the
sweet savour of this incense is the food upon which he lives, it is
his daily bread, and to purchase it his continual employment. How Mr.
Mills should ever have married, would surprise, had it not been that
the general habit of mankind protesting against single blessedness, he
thought it necessary to prove that he possessed superlative powers of
captivation, and accordingly set his eye on my poor friend, who, in an
hour of infatuation, consented to be his bride. That purpose being
accomplished, some newer project succeeded. He lives as if the world
were indeed a stage, and he a player, continually occupied in learning
or rehearsing a part for the next exhibition, and his wife is no better
in his eyes than candle-snuffer to the theatre (though far surpassing
him in all that gives solid dignity to human character), because she is
too wise and too honest to flatter him.
"My younger friend, Lavinia, is just as miserably yoked as her sister,
though Mr. Dormer does not resemble Mr. Mills. The latter hates
society as much as the former courts it; and _his_ weakness is that of
authorship. He writes for every newspaper, magazine, and review, that
will give a place to his lucubrations. He worries all the members of
parliament with prosing dissertations on political economy, finance,
agriculture, and commerce; he wastes his property in trying experiments
which never come to good. The restless activity of Mr. Dormer never
slumbers, and is exhibited in endless schemes, the utter failure of
which has no influence in deterring him from new attempts. He set
up a school at considerable expense, hired a master and mistress at
a large salary, to teach in a method of his own device, and found at
the end of three years, that the children had not learned to spell.
His sheep were all shorn in the winter to prove the excellence of a
theory on the fineness of wool; but, as might naturally be expected,
the poor animals all died. He plants trees at mid-summer to demonstrate
that those people are mistaken who prefer spring and autumn for the
purpose, but as you may easily anticipate, never beholds a leaf on any
of his ill-fated groves, which, after a few months of "hope deferred,"
are consigned to the oven. He drowned a favourite dog the other day
in trying a life-boat of his own construction; and broke his arm last
year by a fall from a balloon which he had inflated with some new gas,
and Icarus-like, would essay himself with _such_ success as attended
the first flight of the Dædalian wings. Though he lives at home, all
the endearing relations of life are despised and neglected. He hates
the sight of two lovely children, because they interrupt him; and
though I passed four months with Lavinia, I never saw her husband
come but twice to the room where she and I sat in the mornings: oh
the first occasion, to ask for one of her harp strings, with which to
make experiment on a new theory of vibration; and upon the second, to
beg a bit of gum from his wife's drawing-box, with which, to secure
one of his retorts. Always in a hurry, he makes a perpetual _breeze_
through the house, by the rapidity of his motions; and, as his hands
are generally imbrued in chemical compounds, not of Arabian odour,
I cannot say that the gale thus stirred, wafts perfume on its wing.
Nothing can rouse his attention to his own affairs, which would fall
into utter confusion were it not for the good sense of his wife. He
dislikes the neighbouring gentry, because he does not consider them
people of _talent_; and expends his money without any reference either
to ornament or real utility, but simply with the vain-glorious hope of
advancing his individual fame as a man of genius.
"Thus instructed by the shipwreck of others, I did not dare to fancy
that my bark would escape where goodlier vessels had foundered. I
therefore resolved, that should it be my fate to encounter the voyage
of matrimony, I would try another course; and though sunken rocks might
mar my hopes, I determined that I would steer clear of the quicksands
which had been fatal to my friends. It is but justice to the long
contemned counsel of you and my valuable Edward Otway, to finish my
story with a tribute to _him_ who furnished the comment on your text.