Glenarvon seemed, however, to differ in practice from his principles; for
whilst many of those who had adopted the same language had voluntarily
thrown off their titles, and divided their property amongst their
partizans, he made a formal claim for the titles his grandfather had
forfeited; and though he had received no positive assurance that his
claim would be considered, he called himself by that name alone, and
insisted upon his followers addressing him in no other manner. This
singular personage, of whom so many, for a long period, had heard the
strangest reports, whom many imagined to be dead, and who seemed, whenever
he appeared, to make no light impression upon all those with whom he
conversed, had passed his youth in a foreign country, and had only twice
visited the abode of his ancestors until the present year.
It was amidst the ruins of ancient architecture, and the wild beauties
of Italian scenery, that his splendid genius and uncommon faculties were
first developed. Melancholy, unsocial, without a guide, he had centered
upon himself every strong interest, and every aspiring hope. Dwelling
ever in the brilliant regions of fancy, his soul turned with antipathy
from the ordinary cares of life. He deeply felt the stigma that had been
cast upon his family in the person of his grandfather, who, from the
favourite of a changing prince, had become the secret accomplice of a
bloody conspiracy. The proofs of his guilt were clear; his death was a
death of shame; and the name of traitor was handed down with the coronet
to which his only surviving heir so eagerly aspired.
By his nearest friends he was now called Glenarvon; and so jealous did he
appear of his rank, that he preferred disguise, straits and difficulties,
to a return to his own country without those titles, and that fortune,
which he considered as his due. One object of interest succeeded another;
a life of suspense was preferred to apathy; and the dark counsels of
unprincipled associates, soon led one, already disloyal in heart, to the
very brink of destruction. Flushed with the glow of intemperate heat,
or pale with the weariness of secret woe, he vainly sought in a career
of pleasure, for that happiness which his restless mind prevented him
from enjoying.
Glenarvon had embraced his father’s profession, wherein he had
distinguished himself by his courage and talent; but to obey another was
irksome; and the length of time which must elapse before he could obtain
the command of a ship, soon disgusted him with the service. He plunged,
therefore, into all the tumults of dissipation, to which a return to
Rome and Florence invited him.
He gave up his days and nights to every fierce excess; and soon the high
spirit of genius was darkened, the lofty feelings of honor were debased,
and the frame and character sunk equally dejected under the fatigue of
vigils and revels, in which reason and virtue had no share. Intervals of
gloom succeeded, till, stimulated again, his fallen countenance betrayed
a disappointed heart; and he fled from unjoyous feasts and feverish hopes
to lowliness and sullen despair. He had been wronged, and he knew not
how to pardon: he had been deceived, and he existed henceforward, but to
mislead others. His vengeance was dark and sudden—it was terrible. His
mind, from that hour, turned from the self-approving hope, the peace of
a heart at rest.
The victim of his unfortunate attachment had fallen a prey to the
revengeful jealousy of an incensed husband; but her death was not more
sudden, more secret, than that of the tyrant who had destroyed her. Every
one knew by whose hand the fair and lovely Fiorabella had perished; but
no eye bore witness against the assassin, who, in the depths of night had
immediately revenged her loss. The murderer and the murdered were both
alike involved in the impenetrable veil of mystery. The proud and noble
family who had been injured, had neither the power, nor the inclination
to seek redress. Lord Glenarvon was seen no more at Florence: he had been
the cause of this tragic scene. It afflicted his generous heart when he
reflected upon the misery he had occasioned; but not even his bitterest
enemy could have suspected him of deeper guilt. His youth was untainted
by the suspicion of crime, and the death of Giardini, with greater show
of justice, was affixed to another, and a more dangerous hand.
Fascinated with the romantic splendour of ideal liberty, and intent
upon flying from the tortures of remembrance, which the death of his
mistress, and the unpleasant circumstances attending Giardini’s murder
must naturally excite, he had visited Ireland in the spring of the year
..., and had remained there some months, unknown even to his adherents,
who flocked around him, attracted by his eloquence, and easily won by
his address. One only victim returned with him in his voluntary exile,
from his native land. One only miserable enthusiast devoted herself to
his fortunes, and accompanied him in his flight. O’Kelly, the son of a
tenant of his father’s recognized his youthful lord, and early ingratiated
himself into his favour.
With this sole attendant, and the unhappy girl who had renounced her
country and her virtue for his sake, he departed, nor was seen again at
St. Alvin Priory till the present year.
Indeed the report of his death was so often affirmed, that when he
again presented himself, so changed in manner and in form, before his
adherents, they questioned one with another whether he was in reality
their lord. “I am not what I seem,” he would frequently say; “I am not
him whom you take me for.”
Strange things were rumoured concerning this Glenarvon. There was a man
in his service who had returned with him, who spoke to none, who answered
no enquiries, who had never before been seen with him in his former
visits. It was said that he knew many things if he durst but utter them.
All feared and avoided this man. His name was Macpherson, the same whom
Gondimar had seen in town; but all felt irresistably attracted by his
youthful master. Glenarvon’s projects—his intentions were now but too
generally suspected;—it was a critical moment; and his presence at that
particular time, in Ireland, occasioned many conjectures.