Ah! si mon coeur osoit encore se renflammer!
Ne sentirai-je plus de charme qui m'arrÍte?
Ai-je passÈ le temps d'aimer?
LA FONTAINE.
When the ladies entered their breakfasting room the morning after their
arrival in Dublin, they found it fragrant with the most delightful
flowers; and the tables presented specimens of the finest fruits this
city could boast of. Adelaide quickly recognized Colonel Desmond's
habitual attention to the fair sex; whilst Mrs. Sullivan exclaimed, "A
fine bill I'll varrant me for all these here kick-shaws:--I'll ring for
the waiter to take them away." Her hand was on the bell, when Cecilia
stopped her, by declaring she could eat nothing but fruit. "Who would
have dreamt of seeing hot-house fruit in _Ireland_! Those flowers will
keep me from fainting this hot day; don't send them away, mama:--unless
I have every agreement you can procure me, I shan't be able to exist in
the odious country you have dragged me over to." By this time Adelaide
descried a note directed to herself on the breakfast table; the stalk of
a _rose unique_ was slipped into it, and on the outside was written in
pencil, "Herself a fairer flower." She smiled at the gallant colonel's
compliment, and found her note contained a polite _congÈ_ from Mrs. St.
Orme, who much regretted being obliged to leave Dublin at too early an
hour to bid her adieu in person; but expressed a flattering wish, that
an opportunity might occur for cultivating their further acquaintance.
Adelaide, throwing down her note on the table as soon as she had read
it, turned to examine the beautiful bouquets that adorned the flower
stands; and every individual of the Webberly family took the
opportunity of making themselves _au fait_ of its contents. Had they
been caught in the fact, they would hardly have felt ashamed, for any
thing short of a _letter_, their code of the laws of honour permitted
them to peruse. "A _letter_ they would not read for the world"--when any
body was looking at them!
Breakfast was scarcely finished when Mrs. Sullivan's servant entered the
room, to know if she was at home to Colonel Desmond and Mr. Donolan? An
answer being given in the affirmative, they quickly made their
appearance. Mr. Donolan was nephew by marriage to Colonel Desmond's
elder brother; but though this connection made them sometimes associate
together, they were as completely dissimilar in mind as they were in
person. Mr. Donolan was, as Cecilia called him, "a very pretty man." His
hand rivalled her own in whiteness; his hair was not less carefully cut,
combed, and curled in the most becoming manner; and the fair Cecilia
might have worn his delicate pink waistcoat and worked shirt collar, as
elegant and suitable accompaniments to her riding-habit, without the
most scrutinizing eye discovering they had ever formed a part of male
attire. This Hibernian Jessamy was the only child of a wealthy Catholic
merchant of Dublin: the youth being too precious to be exposed to the
hardships of a school, was nurtured at home by an obsequious tutor and a
doting mother, in the most inordinate vanity. That vivacity of mind,
with which nature usually endows his countrymen, fell to his lot also;
and had it been properly directed, might have procured him well-earned
fame; but unfortunately it only served as an impetus to his self-love,
in a never-ceasing career of egotism, which made him prefer the casual
"_succËs de sociÈtÈ_," to the lasting benefit to be derived from
solitary study. The reward of scholarship was of too tedious attainment
for this impatient genius, who, without ceremony, dubbed himself a
"_dilettante_," a title universally conceded to him by his Irish
acquaintance, who took the liberty of quizzing him most unmercifully.
Young Donolan did not fail to take advantage of the opportunity the
general peace afforded for visiting the continent; he had there acquired
a knowledge of the fine arts, which was just sufficient to enable him to
interlard his conversation with those technical terms of
connoisseurship, which, as "The Diversions of Purley" observe, commonly
serve but as a veil to cover the ignorance of those who use them, and to
privilege him to treat with sovereign contempt all the 'Aborigines of
West Barbary,' as he most patriotically termed such of his countrymen
and women, as had not redeemed the original sin of their birth, by at
least a six week's visit to England or France. Mr. Donolan's manners
corresponded to the double refined tone of his mind, (we are bound to
apologize to him for using this term, as it betrays his father's
_ci-devant_ trade of sugar-baking): he stood on the threshold of
fashion, and finding he could never be admitted into the sanctuary of
the _bona dea_, was content to copy from a distance those more
conspicuous embellishments of the object of his adoration, which, being
singled from the finer web on which they are originally engrafted by the
mystery of art, become deformities when deprived of their connecting,
though almost invisible thread; and, thus detached, start forward in
unmeaning caricature. But so little was he conscious of his _outrÈ_
travesty "_du bel air_," that in the plenitude of his folly he had
applied to himself Frederic the Great's description of the Prince de
Salm: "Il est pÈtri de gr‚ces; tous ses gestes sont d'une ÈlÈgance
recherchÈe; ses moindres paroles, des Ènigmes. Il discute et approfondit
les bagatelles avec une dextÈritÈ infinie, et possÈde la caste de
l'empire du tendre, mieux que tous les Scuderi de l'univers[10]."
[Footnote 10: He is saturated with graces! His every gesture is of
refined elegance; his every word an enigma. He investigates and
discusses trifles with infinite dexterity, and is more completely master
of the etiquette of gallantry than all the Scuderies of the universe.]
Mr. Donolan owed his introduction to our travellers to having
accidentally met Colonel Desmond that morning at the Commercial
Buildings in Dame-street; an elegant establishment, something of the
nature of the Adelphi in London; and the place in the Irish capital
where the wanderer is most likely to meet his acquaintances. In answer
to some of Colonel Desmond's interrogatories, Mr. Donolan mentioned
having just received a pressing invitation to visit Bogberry Hall, but
that he was afraid it would not be in his power to visit Connaught this
summer. "Certainly a journey there is a much more serious undertaking,
than crossing the Alps was before we were indebted to Buonaparte for the
Simplon road," replied Colonel Desmond laughing; "but you must some time
or other be doomed to remain in this limbo for a short time. You had
better encounter its apathetic powers now;--I am going to escort Mr.
O'Sullivan's English connections to Ballinamoyle: perhaps they may
enable you to support your penance with tolerable ease." "_Ah ma foi!
maintenant c'est toute autre chose_, as the French say," replied Mr.
Donolan: "I think I will visit my aunt. And you know," continued he,
bowing to the exact angle which the upper part of the body of the most
fashionable Parisian dancing-master forms with his lower, "more than one
specimen of an accomplished gentleman will be necessary to convince the
strangers, who have done our country the honour of visiting it, that
there are some Irish not deserving the appellation of Goths and
Vandals." "Really, my good fellow, you do me too much honour," replied
Colonel Desmond; "only your modesty could induce you to place me on a
par with yourself." "_Point de tout, mon cher, point de tout!_ You, like
me, have had the advantage of travelling; nobody could suspect either of
_us_ of being Irish." Provoked by this last observation, Colonel
Desmond, as they left the coffee-house, hummed the air of the song which
begins thus:--
"When Jacky Bull sets out for France,
The gosling you discover;
When taught to ride, to fence, to dance,
The finish'd goose comes over,
With his tierce and his quarte Áa, Áa,
And his cotillon so smart, O la!
He charms each female heart, ha! ha!
When Jacky returns from Dover."
Perhaps the satirical expression of his countenance had not entirely
passed away, when he introduced Mr. Felix Donolan to the ladies of the
Webberly party, as an "amateur and connoisseur of the fine arts, and an
adept in chemistry, mineralogy, botany, and craniology." Colonel Desmond
begged to know how he might be of use to the travellers, either as
regarded their stay in Dublin, or their journey to Ballinamoyle,
reminding Mrs. Sullivan of the permission she had granted him the day
before, to escort her thither, and requesting her leave to constitute
Mr. Donolan another knight-errant in the service of the fair itinerants.
Mr. Donolan's vanity acted in two ways regarding his country: it
prompted him to use every _secret_ endeavour to make it appear in the
best point of view to strangers, whilst it led him to assert his own
superior refinement by pretending to despise it. He recollected that
Irish posting was famous and infamous, but that an English tourist of
much celebrity had spoken in high terms of the packet-boats on the
canals which lead to the interior; he therefore strongly advised Mrs.
Sullivan to proceed as far as she could by this mode of conveyance.
Colonel Desmond said in reply, "I don't think, Felix, that method of
travelling has any thing to recommend it, except its extreme cheapness."
The two words, _extreme cheapness_, conveyed an argument to Mrs.
Sullivan's ear, that was not to be refuted by the powers of the most
able logician; therefore it was agreed, that the next day but one they
should proceed in the manner Mr. Donolan advised. It was also settled,
that the mean time should be spent in seeing as much of Dublin as they
could; and Colonel Desmond left them to procure the Provost's permission
to show them the college of Dublin to the best advantage, by introducing
them to such parts of the library, &c., as he only can admit strangers
to see. The _dilettante_ was highly delighted with the party. Mrs.
Sullivan's cockney dialect he designated as "Anglicisms," and therefore
much to be preferred to the most classical English, that could be
conveyed to his ear, degraded by that peculiar accent of his country
called the _brogue_. He was completely at a loss, whether most to admire
Miss Cecilia Webberly's London airs, or Miss Wildenheim's foreign
graces; and on leaving the room, said to himself, with the most affected
tone and gesture imaginable,
"How happy could I be with either,
Were t'other dear charmer away!"
Colonel Desmond, on his return, found the ladies and Mr. Webberly
prepared to attend him to the college, where they proceeded on foot.
This building stands in front of a small park, called the college
gardens, appropriated to the students, who are in number about five
hundred. The college presents a handsome front, of the Corinthian order,
constructed with Portland stone, forming the base of a place of
triangular form, named College Green, which, besides the edifice which
designates it, boasts of the late beautiful Parliament House, that still
continues to adorn the land it once benefited: _Stat magni nominis
umbra_. The interior of Trinity College corresponds with its external
elegance. The travellers visited the museum, the library, the chapel,
the hall for examinations, and the provost's fine house and gardens. In
the library they saw, with the compassion her name always excites, the
hand-writing of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, in a Sallust she
gave her sons and read, with unmixed horror, a letter of her great
grandson, James the second, commanding the cruelties of the siege of
Londonderry. Colonel Desmond did not fail to point out the exquisite
botanical drawings of the celebrated Anna Maria Schurman, and Quin's
bequest, which, besides many other bibliothecal rarities, is supposed to
contain the finest copy of Virgil extant. As the party passed through
the college yard, they were much surprised at the extreme youth of some
of the students, who seemed scarcely old enough to have reached the
higher forms of a grammar school; and Colonel Desmond told them the
remarkable fact, that a few years ago, two boys entered the college on
the same day, one from the north of Ireland, of thirteen, the other from
the south, of eleven years of age. The former had been, long before this
period, fitted to enter on his academical course; but his father not
being sufficiently rich to send him, he was, for a considerable time,
usher at a grammar school, till a subscription was raised by the
publication of his juvenile poems, which enabled him to enter Trinity
college. After leaving the college, our party proceeded down Dame
Street, so called from the monastery of St. Mary les Dames, founded in
the year 1146, by Dermot M'Murrough, king of Leinster, which stood on
this spot. Dame Street is the Bond Street of Dublin; and here, at
least, that want of crowds and equipages, so melancholy in many parts of
that city, more especially at this season of the year, is not
perceptible. The multitude of beggars has long formed a prominent
feature in the aspect of the Irish capital; and from their mouths the
traveller generally receives his first impression of the energy of
language possessed by the lower Irish. No unaccustomed ear can listen
without emotion to the awful words in which they clothe their
benedictions. Were they of as moving power in Heaven, as on earth, they
would be cheaply purchased by the alms of the passing stranger. Our
party met with many such petitioners, whose prayers were proffered in
words too solemn to be here transcribed. A woman, who called herself
"The gentle Eliza," was recorded never to have asked in vain; she seemed
once to have filled a higher station, for her figure was elegant, and
her voice soft and musical, though a dejection, verging on madness, was
depicted in her countenance. She appealed first to the heart, and if
there she knocked in vain, she successfully addressed the vanity of her
hearers, in a strain of varied flattery. Her life was irreproachable,
and her history unknown.
Adelaide's attention was soon however diverted from this interesting
object, by another of a very different description. A squalid looking
woman, in the garments of extreme poverty, was leading her child by the
hand, whose spotless skin, as white as snow, and its clean neat clothes,
formed a surprising contrast to the mother's tattered filthy
habiliments, Some hasty passenger knocked the poor infant
down.--Adelaide raised it up, and as she beheld the countenance of a
cherub, exclaimed, "What a beautiful creature!" The starving mother's
mouth had opened to demand her charity, but her maternal pride made her
forget her misery. "Troth, she is a beautiful cratur; she's the joy of
my heart, and the light of my eyes; many's the long mile I've carried
her, and thought it no toil; she makes me kindly welcome wherever I go;
it was the Lord God sent her to me, an angel of comfort in my trouble:
and may you never know trouble, dear; but my blessing, and the Lord's,
be about you, when you get up, and when you lie down, and in your dying
hour[11]." Adelaide felt her heart thrill within her, at this
unpurchased benediction; she had scarcely given her all the silver in
her purse, and less than she wished to bestow, when Colonel Desmond's
sleeve was twitched by a venerable looking old gentleman, who begged to
speak a word to him.--His countenance was uncommonly fine; he had
"The eye which tells
How much of mind within it dwells;"
his reverend temples were adorned with the most beautiful flowing silver
locks; his language and manners spoke the gentleman and the scholar;
his threadbare coat alone told that he too was a mendicant! Colonel
Desmond satisfied his usual demand of "Will you lend me a guinea?"
without looking up to behold the blush that crimsoned his aged cheek;
and with no other commentary than a deep sigh, rejoined his party.
[Footnote 11: _Verbatim._]
This unfortunate man was of a respectable English family: in his youth
he had embraced the clerical profession, and was one of the most
eloquent preachers of his day; persuasion hung upon his lips; but, as
has been said of individuals of his sacred order, he served only as a
finger-post, to point out to others the path he did not tread himself.
His talents and his interest procured him considerable church preferment
in Ireland, which his extravagance and bad conduct ere long deprived him
of. After spending some years in a prison, he repaired to the Irish
capital, to live from day to day by any expedient that might occur.
Here he partly supported himself, by being what is called in Ireland a
"buckle-beggar," that is, a clergyman who solemnizes irregular
marriages; partly by begging, under the pretence of borrowing, from any
acquaintance he might happen to meet. He was now old and infirm, and
would, five days out of six, have wanted a dinner, but that one of his
former friends, who had, in better days, partaken of the charms of his
wit at his hospitable board, most humanely requested him, in his decay
of fortune and intellect, to share, at his table, a meal he could not
otherwise have procured.
When the ladies were tired of their promenade, they returned towards
their hotel. As Mr. Donolan took care of both the Miss Webberlys,
Colonel Desmond could not do less than offer his arm to Mrs. Sullivan,
Adelaide therefore was obliged to prefer the disagreeable necessity of
accepting Mr. Webberly's, to the more flattering prudery of declining
it: thus honoured, he walked along in triumph, looking from side to
side, to see who admired his lovely charge, and anticipating the moment
when she would be wholly and solely his. The _dilettante_, as they
passed under the admired portico of the House of Commons, took the
delightful opportunity of expatiating on the "_cyma recta_," and "_cyma
reversa_," in an architectural combat with Miss Webberly, in which she
met his triglyphs and metopes, with toruses, astragals, and plinths;
whilst Cecilia much enjoyed their loud talking, as it attracted the eyes
of numerous gentlemen to herself, who seldom failed to pass some audible
encomium on her beauty as they walked by. Mrs. Sullivan, mentally
lamenting the expenditure she had, in the course of their walk, made in
_charity_, feelingly inquired of Colonel Desmond, if there were no
asylums allotted to the poor in Dublin? "I believe, my dear madam,"
replied he, "no city, of the same size and wealth, is better provided
with charitable establishments; but our poor have an unconquerable
aversion to avail themselves of the relief thus afforded. As I went
towards the Commercial Buildings this morning, I met a remarkably fine
young man, who demanded alms; I remonstrated with him, and told him,
what I supposed him ignorant of, that employment for every artisan in
want was supplied at the House of Industry; he indignantly
replied,--'It's myself that knows that right well! is it a dacent
cratur, like me, you'd send to the House of Industry? Civil words eat no
bread; and if you keep your charity, don't demane me by making a pauper
of me!'"--Thus conversing, they reached the hotel.
Adelaide was not a little pleased to see Colonel Desmond and Mr. Donolan
join their circle at dinner. In the evening they were entertained with a
variety of itinerant musicians, whom the former collected from all
quarters of the town for their amusement.
Mrs. Sullivan's stay in Dublin was too short to admit of her party
visiting more of its public buildings; but the following day they
repaired to the fine botanical gardens in its neighbourhood; and ended
their morning excursion by driving through the Phoenix Park.