Vetus opinio est, jam usque ab heroicis ducta temporibus,
Eaque et populi Romani et omnium gentium firmata
Consensu, versari quandam inter homines divinationem
Quam Græci MANTIKE appellant,
Id est, præsensionem, et scientiam rerum futurarum.
CICERO, DE DIVINATIONE.
The thirty-first day of October, _anno salutis_ sixteen hundred and
----, being the Eve of All-Hallows, happened also to be the anniversary
of the birth-day of our heroine, which was duly to be celebrated upon
this memorable day with more than its accustomed splendour, as we have
already premised in the foregoing chapter.
Adelaide had now entered her seventeenth year; so rapidly doth old
father Time speed along, borne upon his ever fugitive wings, verifying
the truly appropriate motto that we have somewhere seen engraved upon
the dial of a clock, "DUM SPECTAS, FUGIO!"--"while you look on, I fly!"
Mrs. Judith Braingwain, Lady Adelaide's nurse and foster-mother, and who
from the very beginning seemed resolved not to hold a subordinate place
in the back ground of our story, but firmly determined to carry matters
on in somewhat a consequential way, had now become her young Lady's
_femme de chambre_, and was ever and had been on the alert in instilling
into her youthful and susceptible mind the superstitions of her native
isle; and these stories, daily and hourly as they were repeated, did not
fail to make an impression upon a youthful and romantic mind. This
morning, at an early hour, she attended upon her young lady and
foster-child, a title she was pre-eminently proud of using upon all
occasions. The Irish have been ever proverbial for loving their
foster-children even beyond their own, and the ancient crone who made
her appearance was a living proof of the truth of the assertion. Mrs.
Braingwain having respectfully and affectionately congratulated her
noble foster-child upon the anniversary of her birth, entered into a
long and elaborate series of reminiscences of all the sad and mournful
events which had happened to herself and others upon the Eve of
All-Hallows. But as we are inclined to imagine that the old lady's
melancholy ditties are not very likely to awaken an interest and
sympathy in the reader's breast, we have therefore magnanimously
determined to suppress them altogether.
The loquacious old dame continued her long-winded reminiscences without
the slightest compunction of mercy or conscience, until interrupted by
the tolling forth of the breakfast bell, which luckily saved the Lady
Adelaide from further prolixity, by at once silencing the garulous old
nurse, whom she regarded from her early years, and wished not to offend.
Adelaide rejoiced at the timely interruption that cut short the prosings
of the old crone, and promptly descended to the breakfast-room.
A number of young people of both sexes were invited to dinner, to
celebrate Adelaide's birth-day; and the party was to be enlarged in the
evening by an invitation to crack nuts at the castle, which was sure to
include the _nucleus_ of a good supper. All the principal persons of
distinction for several miles around the castle were invited, and all
with alacrity obeyed the festive summons.
Lady Adelaide, although not always much interested upon such festivals,
yet upon this occasion manifested some degree of anxiety, which was
caused no doubt by that noble generosity of character which she so
eminently possessed, and ever invariably felt greater pleasure in the
gratification of her friends, than in being personally gratified.
The dinner went off with much _eclat_; pleasantry, wit, and good-humour,
all aiding with their potent charms. When the cloth was removed from the
ducal table, and the desert and wines were duly placed in order, a
stately plateau of confectionary and pastry arrived at the side-table,
which was destined for the juvenile guests, who were there seated. That
day was indeed a right busy one to all the cooks, scullions, and
kitcheners of the household. The thrifty pastry-cooks of these happy
days were most notable for, and assumed very considerable pride, in
raising those superstructures called "pastry fortifications." The
display chosen for this festival was the model of Tyrconnel Castle,
flanked by bastion, battlement, and tower; armorial flags, heraldically
emblazoned in sugar, decorated the summit of each tower and parapet; and
the fosse was floated from its parent Eske, which, instead of a
mountain-stream, supplied the said fosse with a broad and deep portion
of excellent Spanish flummery, upon which was anchored a tiny Armada;
the heights of the barbican and the embrasures of the terrace were
defended with a long train of "eatable artillery," and manned by a large
disposable garrison of sugar-almonds; the watch-towers were alternately
constructed of jelly and _blanc manger_.
The Duke now gave the word of "assault!" which command was
incontinently obeyed, the juvenile party in every direction making one
grand attack, by a general _coup de fourchette_, _de couteau_, _de
cullier_. The assault was crowned with entire success; the fosse of
Spanish flummery quickly disappeared; the whole train of "eatable
artillery" promptly were destroyed; the jelly and _blanc manger_ towers
were scaled, battered down, and swallowed in a thrice; the Armada
shattered and dispersed; the entire garrison without any remorse or
mercy were devoured, and the "pastry fortifications" completely razed,
without leaving a wreck behind! This attack upon the confectionary
_bijou_ much gratified the juvenile assailants, and highly pleased the
noble hosts, and the grave company seated at their festive board were
most marvellously entertained withal.
In some short time after, _selon des régles_, the sightless bard, old
Cormac, was led in, bearing his harp beneath his arm. He courteously
expostulated with those who would fain save him the trouble, by
observing, "that he had long borne that instrument his companion in joy
or in sorrow, his last and almost only solace upon earth; and that when
he was unable to bear his harp, his wish was then to be borne to the
grave!" Upon the entrance of the aged minstrel into the saloon, the Duke
ordered that a goblet of mead, foaming and sparkling to the brim, should
be given to old Cormac; which was accordingly done; and then the toast
of that high festival was to be drank, which he repeated: "The health of
the noble young Lady Adelaide," said the sightless bard; and to which he
was facetiously pleased to annex a friendly addition of his own, which
was, "and long may the Lady Adelaide reign!" This is a favourite
expression of fervent zeal and affection used by the warm-hearted Irish
to their superiors. Now in crowds advanced the young folks, who in
various circles thronged around old Cormac, making various inquiries,
and asking numerous questions: "Was the old man always blind?"
"Nae, nae, that I was not. I once could see, and well; and _truly the
light was sweet, and a pleasant thing it was to behold the light of the
sun_! But now all is dim and dark. Yet I trust that I shall hereafter be
permitted to behold the light of heaven! That fervent hope and my harp
are my consolations during my pilgrimage of darkness!"
It was next inquired of him how long he had been blind? He replied, "I
was of the same age that our dear and ever honoured young Lady (heaven
bless her here and hereafter!) has entered into this holy day.--I was in
my seventeenth year."
The Duke interdicted all further interruptions: "Cormac, my honest
fellow, I fear that my young friends are somewhat disposed to trespass
too much upon your time and patience; so quaff your flagon and strike
your harp. But remember, Cormac, nothing dismal upon this happy day; no
dirge--not even an overture, will be endured!"
Cormac made due obeisance; and seizing his harp, struck its accompanying
notes, while he sung the following:--
SONG.
Who would not toast that lovely maid,
And drink the health of Adelaide,
And fill a bumper round?
Who, in wandering o'er the glade,
Could meet a nymph like Adelaide?
Then fill a bumper round!
The beauties of a court would fade
When they're compared with Adelaide--
Let all fill bumpers round!
Of sweetest flowers a crown we'll braid,
To deck the brow of Adelaide,
While bumpers flow around!
Alas! old Cormac he is blind,
Or soon the flow'rets he could find
Should braid the brow and gem the breast
Of Adelaide the loveliest,
While bumpers foam'd around!
Much applause rang forth a chorus to the minstrel's impromptu
Anacreontic, and flowing bumpers were quaffed to "the health of Lady
Adelaide!" A glass of Burgundy was handed to old Cormac, which he
respectfully declined, but with the request that a glass of pure
Innishowen (whiskey) might be substituted in place of it; and with this
sturdy appendage to his request, "that it might be unadulterated!" These
demands being all strictly complied with, he most devoutly gave his
young lady's health, tossed down at the instant the pure Innishowen, and
in due approval cordially smacked his lips as the beverage disappeared.
The ladies soon retired, Adelaide deeply blushing at all the honours and
attentions bestowed this day; and felt most grateful to the sightless
old bard, who had in so feeling a manner manifested such attachment to
his young mistress.
The ceremonies of the tea-table being duly concluded, the graver portion
of the company sat down to their cards: various games were played, loo,
cribbage, gresco, ombre, and lansquenet. The Duke sat down to primero,
"which," observed his Grace, "is my favourite game, as it had been with
Lord Strafford, when he held the high station in which I am at present
placed."
The younger part of the company, in the mean time, not to discompose the
gravity of the card-playing dowagers, retired apart to the great saloon,
where were stationed all the preliminary _accessoires_ proper and duly
prepared for the mysteries of the Eve of All-Hallows, in order to
commence the various spells, tricks, sports, and charms, which national
superstition and credulity have consecrated, and hoary tradition handed
down from age to age as the records of popular faith.
"_Allons nous_," said Lady Lucy, playfully, "_allons mes enfants_!"
"Oh, for mercy's sake, dear Lucy," rejoined Lady Letitia, "pray let us
have no more of this outlandish gibberish; but I pray you let the young
folks at once begin their play, without preface or prologue."
"Thy design and intention, sweet sister of mine, displeaseth me not; for
be it known, that I also am fully possessed with a most marvellous
disposition, a wondrous curiosity for the commencement of the various
charms, or mysteries, or incantations of this memorable night, call
them by any name you think befitting; and here am I ready and willing to
be the lady mistress of the ceremonies to be done and performed--ay,
without the fee or reward of even plumb-cake or a single poesy! And now,
my merry maids all, for the full and complete execution of the important
duties attending my most consequential appointment, we shall soon
commence our ceremonies of office, and all the various charms of this
night of incantation." Then, with much sprightliness, she added, "But
where, oh, where is my wand? my wand--my kingdom for a wand! I can do
nothing with effect, unless armed with the insignia of my office."
A servant then came in, and presented a peeled wand or rod, which was
framed from a witch-hazel that had grown on the Tyraugh mountains, and
had been cut and stript of its bark at the express desire of old Cormac,
and was now assumed and wielded with all due and becoming authority.
"Yes, yes, this is _comme il faut_! this will do. Now I am the most
mysterious mistress of these enchanted revels, and this the wand of my
stately vocation! Young ladies fair, young lords so gay, hear ye, hear
ye all! In full plenitude, potency, and execution of this my office,
hear and obey the important injunctions which I have to premise to each
and to all of you--[this was expressed with much _gaieté du coeur_.]
Be it then known to you all _by these presents_, (as an old dotard once
upon a time began his will);--but I am not dead, yet my _will_ is this:
hear, hear ye all good people and true! and thus I do proclaim, amid all
our play and revels to-night, but without sound of trumpet or
kettle-drum, that there still remains a charm yet to be consummated, and
of such confessed potency too, that this night should not be passed over
without giving it a fair trial, and at once putting its efficacy to the
test! Having thus premised, it would be but foul play that my young
friends should _burst in ignorance_ as to the mode and nature of the
charm. _Eh! bien donc, mes chers enfants!_ you then must know, the fair
young lady who wishes to recognise her future spouse for life, is to
proceed at just this hour to a sequestered lime-kiln, bearing a charmed
ball of untwisted cotton thread, and strongly holding the cord, is to
fling the ball adown the cavern of the kiln; and upon its having reached
the bottom, stoutly to exclaim, 'Who holds the ball?' When this is duly
performed, the person who accomplishes it is to retire before midnight
to bed; a banquet must be spread, and a mirror in which her fortune
shall be read! Now, my gay and merry lasses all, where is to be found
that courageous one who dare do this?"
The young ladies all, as if by tacit consent, drew back, dissenting from
the proposal. But not so Lady Adelaide, who advanced: "That daring one
am I, and I accept your challenge;" seizing at the same time upon the
charmed ball of untwisted cotton which Lady Lucy then held in her hand,
and of which Lady Adelaide now became the possessor. "I hold now the
charm; it shall not perish until at least its efficacy be tried. But
remember I go alone!"
"Oh, my dearest, my best beloved Adelaide do not go!--I beseech you
that you do not go at this hour of night--at this season of the year!
storm and rain may overtake you, and cause you to lament the rashness of
your undertaking! In what I have said I wished to raise youthful
curiosity, but at the same time I likewise meant to intimidate, but not
to encourage the attempt!--Why will you go?"
"Because," rejoined Lady Adelaide, "from the very first I resolved that
I would undertake the execution of the charm; and no remonstrance, not
even force, shall compel me to relinquish my purpose; call it fate, call
it destiny; describe it as rashness; call it e'en what pleaseth thee; it
must--it shall be performed!"
"But," observed Lady Lucy, "should your absence be noticed what is then
to be done to account for it? What will the Duke say?--what will the
Duchess? And you will bring down the united raillery of all the loo,
tredrille, primero, and cribbage tables, upon your truant head for this
nocturnal adventure of romance!"
"Oh, tell the Duke and Duchess that as they know _the gods have made me
poetical_, that the fit of inspiration was upon me; and now or never! If
I were not to obey the impulse my precious verse would perish for ever!"
Adelaide then most sweetly smiling, said: "It boots not what remark may
come from the sober dowagers and solemn wig-pated personages at the loo
and ombre tables; they will be too much absorbed in their winnings and
tricks to think of me. And now I go!"
"Oh stay, I prithee, stay a moment!--just until I tell thee," said Lady
Lucy. "For before you go you must be told of what positively and fatally
happened in our own family to a kinswoman of mine own, a young lady,
upon the Eve of All-Hallows, who----"
"Not for the wide world," said Lady Adelaide, "would I hear another
word. If the story, my dear aunt, be amusing or horrific, I pray thee
tell it to my young friends, and then I shall have it told me when I
return. Now wave thy mystic wand, and like a spirit I vanish.--_Présto_
I'm gone!"
Adelaide departed. This young lady was indeed the child of romance, with
feelings the most tender and acute; and one who deeply had imbibed the
superstitions of the age in which she lived; all of which had chiefly
been instilled, even from the very cradle, by the old talkative crone,
her quondam nurse; and although possessing a strong understanding, yet
still, as the ever constant dropping of water will impress and penetrate
the hardest stone, in like manner the tales of superstition unceasingly
told, and the numerous attestations of popular faith, did not fail fully
to operate on her credulity.
Adelaide alone sallied forth from the ducal towers of Tyrconnel Castle,
with deep determination to fulfil the spell of the charmed ball. The
moon with pearly radiance shone forth on her fearless enterprise;
enthusiastic in this adventure as in every thing which she thought,
said, or did, she now boldly advanced to commence the solemn charm; and
with firm and unshaken step she proceeded to the accomplishment of her
nocturnal visit; while intently she looked around, fully to be assured
that no human eye gazed upon the orgies which she was about to perform.
Adelaide then with quickened step approached a lime-kiln. This fabric
had been for a lapse of time deserted and disused; its apex was crested
with saxifrage, snap-dragon, and foxglove, which told its desolation;
and the ivy too, in curling festoons suspended, overhung the passenger,
and undulated in the breeze. The autumnal gale in mournful gusts swept,
sighing in its course, over hill, and vale, and stream; while the owl
hooted her solitary scream as Adelaide reached this deserted pile, now
the lonely asylum of the nocturnal bat and wary field-mouse. The kiln
had been constructed at the angle of a green knoll, which served as an
ascent to it; and by this mount, or hill, Adelaide with facility
ascended to the empty crater of the lime-kiln; when duly turning her
face to the south she produced an untwisted ball of cotton thread, and
firmly holding the end of the cord, or thread, of the ball, she flung
the ball, as if a plummet, down the concavity of the kiln; when
sounding its depth she ascertained that it had duly reached the bottom,
then she undauntedly inquired in a loud and firm tone of voice--"Who
holds the ball?" The cotton cord on the instant dropped promptly from
her hand, whether by force or fear she knew not; while she thought she
heard a voice unknown ascending in hollow tones from the echoing depth
beneath, emphatically reply--"I grasp the ball!"
This might have been merely the effect of fear and mental deception, yet
still she thought she had heard the awful response. No shape, no form,
no figure, met her eye; but the words struck her ear and pierced her
heart. Adelaide stood motionless, silent, and pale, as a statue; she had
not the power to scream, articulation was totally suspended; and the
powers of locomotion too were completely paralized, her imagination
became spell-bound, her recollection was fled! At length nature
completely overpowered, she fainted; and it was not for some time that
she recovered the powers of animation, when all the solemn scene that
had so lately occurred appeared to her but as a frightful dream that
had passed in review before her deceived imagination while she slumbered
in that dreadful swoon.
For some considerable pause of time Adelaide sat motionless upon the
sward of the little knoll that adjoined that ominous fabric, where so
lately that awful charm, consecrated by the credulity of ages, had been
performed.
After much mental exertion Adelaide found upon trial that she had
sufficient bodily strength to arise; and now having stood up, she
proceeded upon her return to the castle. The moon had retired behind a
cloud, when, with a deep sigh, she exclaimed, "Oh, how much I wish that
the deed had remained undone, and then my mind would have been at rest!
But now I am sadly disquieted, and my heart is sick within me. Oh, it
was not well done!"
After a pause she continued--"But what will they all this while think of
me at the castle? How shall my absence be accounted for? Why--why do I
shudder thus in self-condemnation? This should not have been!"
Thus, in self-crimination, Adelaide vented her contrition, while with
trembling fear and step she slowly wended back her wearied way to
Tyrconnel Castle.
Still advancing, terror seemed every where to accompany her.
"Horror ubique----simul ipsa silentia terrent!"
The distant murmurs of the Eske uniting with the ocean affrighted her,
as did her footsteps,--she thought them not her own; while ever and anon
she would stop to listen; but no sounds were heard but those of the
adjoining brook brawling[20] over its rocky channel, or the autumnal
gale rustling the fallen foliage as it swept its plaintive blast along.
At times when partially the wind reposed, and all, for the interval, was
in silence lulled, still her mind was not at rest; occasionally she
would stop, and seemed to meditate to herself; then would she rehearse
the ominous incantation at the kiln, she would raise up her right arm,
bend the hand, with thumb and fore-finger conjoined together; next
suddenly dip the arm and hand, as when she plumbed the charmed ball
adown the mystic concavity of the kiln. When having violently acted
this, she would utter a piercing scream, and then awaken from her
reverie.
[20] "Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out upon the brook
that _brawls_ along this wood."
AS YOU LIKE IT.
As Adelaide was proceeding onward in her return to the castle, the sky
suddenly became deeply darkened, and a thunder-storm arose; the thunder
loudly re-echoed through the vaulted heavens, and the vivid
lightning-flash preceded each awful peal; then descended torrents of
rain, which fell with the plenitude and the force of a water-spout.
"Ah, if I had here a friend, a companion in this my hour of trial, I
then would slightly value the tempest that now surrounds me! But the
deed was all my own doing, and plaints now are of no avail. So unto the
castle with whatever remnant of strength or courage may remain.--This is
my only resource!"
All terrified, pale, and her garments deeply drenched with rain, at
length Adelaide regained the castle; where, when she had put on fresh
attire, forgetful of all the fears and perils which she had encountered,
(such and so great are the contradictions of human nature,) that she
fully, nevertheless, resolved to abide the full completion of the
mysterious charm.
The awful thunder-storm served as a well-timed explanation for the
deadly paleness of her countenance as the Lady Adelaide rejoined the
social circle. The juvenile party were employed in the various pastimes
of the night, in burning the boding nuts, while
"Some lovingly in flames consume,
Till wasting into embers grey."
Meantime others parted company, north and south, with the rapidity, if
not with the force, of a modern Congreve rocket. In others the spark
soon expired, while the gentle relict that was left behind, "like
Patience on a monument," kept stationary on her ordeal bar of trial,
tranquil and serene, until, in expiring embers she blazed, and was no
more! The melting of lead, and various other dainty devices followed.
All which were now succeeded by the grand finale of a ball, in which
minuets, cotillions, and contre-danses followed in course, and were
succeeded by a splendid supper.
The supper, which was superb and princely throughout, commenced and
ended with delight to all the guests. And while sipping the noble
beverage of the grape, pressed and brought from every generous clime,
the following erudite discussion upon presages, prophecies, and
predictions, occupied the grave and learned portion of the company:--
"Some presages," observed the Duke, "may certainly appear to have been
casual, and subsequently adapted to the occasion by the ingenuity of
others; but still there are others that appear supported by such a
connected mass of evidence, that they can be neither questioned nor
denied. Mariana, the famed historian of Spain, (A. D. 1453,) makes
mention, in speaking of the tragical end of Don Alvaro, Earl of Luna,
'that it had been foretold to Alvaro that his death would be at
Cadahalso, by which he supposed to be meant, a town he had of that
name, and therefore he never went thither; but Cadahalso, in Spanish,
means a _scaffold_,' (this prophecy thus 'paltered in a double
sense,') for upon the scaffold Alvaro suffered, and there concluded a
life eminent in glory."
"And you may recollect, my Lord," said the Duchess, "that George
Buchanan, the famed Scottish historian, relates the very remarkable
forewarning which James the Fourth of Scotland had in the church of St.
Michael, Linlithgow, from an old man of venerable aspect, and clad in
blue habiliments. This person forewarned the king from his proceeding in
his expedition against England, fore-telling to him that it would prove
his ruin. The queen also remonstrated with him against the project of
invasion, by acquainting him with the visions and frightful dreams which
she nightly encountered. But no warning could avert his destiny. And he
fell with a number of his nobility in the ever memorable field of
Flodden Sept. 9, 1513."
"There is," said the Duke, "another case in point; it is that of Walter
Devereux, Earl of Essex, who foretold that his son, Robert Devereux,
afterwards Earl of Essex, should never survive his thirty-sixth year;
observing at the same time that his father had died at that period of
life, and that he would himself die at that age. The death of his son,
Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, who was beheaded in the thirty-fourth
year of his age, 1567, is a well known and recorded fact."
Here the Duchess rejoined:--"And you may recollect too, my dear Lord,
that Mezeray, the historian of France, records, that it had been
foretold to Henry the Fourth of France and Navarre, that he should die
in a coach; so that upon the least jolt he would cry out, as if he
beheld the grave opened ready to swallow him. And it is as well known
that this prediction took place, Henry the Fourth having been
assassinated in his coach as he was proceeding to the arsenal to consult
with the immortal Sully, when he was stabbed by the knife of an
assassin, 1610."
"Sully too," rejoined Lady Lucy, "in his admirable memoirs, makes
mention of those black presages which, it is but too certain, this
unfortunate prince had of his cruel destiny; they were indeed dreadful
and surprising to the last degree!"
Lady Adelaide next paid a short tribute to this learned and mystical
investigation:--"It may not be amiss," she said, "briefly to notice the
prediction of the death of the Duke of Buckingham, as related by Lord
Clarendon in his history, _and built_, as he emphatically expresses it,
_upon better foundations of credit than usually such discourses are
founded_.--His account is strikingly remarkable; but to recount the
accompanying circumstances would occupy too much time, and seriously
intrude on the pleasantry of the company by entering into the awful and
appalling detail; I must beg, therefore, to refer those friends who may
be desirous to gratify their curiosity on this subject to consult the
pages of the noble historiographer. The presages of our poet Dryden are
deserving of notice, he was extremely addicted to judicial astrology:
upon the birth of his son he took his horoscope, and all his
calculations respecting him marvellously were accomplished; and which
are too recent in the recollection of those present to render it
necessary for me to dwell upon; only to observe, that these astrological
calculations were fulfilled with an accuracy almost amounting to
mathematical correctness."
It came next to Sir Patricius Placebo's turn to contribute to these
ghostly recollections, who began with a stately hem. "I rather think I
can notify to this noble company a very remarkable circumstance, and I
flatter myself indeed it is one not generally known. It is recorded in
the life of the very erudite and estimable scholar, John H. Hottinger,
that when he ascended the pulpit of the academy of Basle to make _a
farewell oration_ to that society previous to his departure for the city
of Leyden, where he had been appointed Professor of the Oriental
Languages at the College of Leyden, he observed a line written upon it,
which much disturbed him, and surprised the whole auditory, as being
prophetical of his death, which happened soon after. The line was from
Ovid:--
'_Carmina jam moriens, canit exequialia cygnus._'
'The dying swan his fun'ral song doth sing.'
Shortly after this the very learned and accomplished scholar was drowned
with part of his family in the river Lemit, in the year 1667. The due
application of this celebrated line, and the analogy of the water-bird
fore-telling the time and manner of his death--hem!
DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!
Yes, doubtless, there is much grave matter for deep reflection in
this well-authenticated event."
Lord Glandarah prepared to yield his contribution to the strange topic
under discussion. His Lordship had resided nearly all his life upon the
continent; he was a Roman Catholic, and this, it was believed, was the
disposing reason for his living abroad. He spoke broken English so like
a foreigner, that he might have been almost mistaken for one, as has
been already observed in a previous chapter. "Gad save my soul, my Lady
Duchess, I do remember one of a very remarkable occurrence that happened
some few years ago when I was travelling through Normandy. My Lord
Roscommon, being then a boy of ten years of age, had preternatural
intelligence of his father's death. Gad save my soul, it is the very
most extraordinary circumstance to be sure! Your Grace must know that it
happened at Caen: one day his Lordship was, as it were, madly
extravagant in playing, leaping, getting over the tables, and playing,
Gad save my soul! many other wild gambols. He was, _sans doubtè_, wont
to be sober, staid, lad enough. Those who saw him exclaimed, 'heaven
grant this bodes no ill-luck to him!' In the heat of this extravagant
fit he suddenly cried out, 'My father is dead!' And _assuremènt_, Gad
save my soul! a fortnight after accounts arrived from Ireland that the
Earl of Roscommon was dead! This account was told me, Gad save my soul,
by Mr. Knolles, who had been his governor, and at that time with him.
And, Gad save my soul! I have often heard my Lord Roscommon's relations
affirm this account to be true. Now, Gad save my soul! could any thing
be more extraordinary? _Sans doute c'est impossible!_"
The hour was indeed very late; and the guests arose, and making due
obeisance, withdrew. Adelaide, according to the good old fashion,
embraced her parents, and retired to her chamber. But she had no sooner
lain down to rest than she heartily repented of what she had done. The
tempest continued with unabated rage; so much so indeed that the guests
departed not from the Castle, but there found a safe retreat from "the
pelting of the pitiless storm." The storm still continued to increase;
the roaring waves of the Atlantic thundered against the shore, and burst
upon the firm foundations of Tyrconnel Castle.
Adelaide's chamber was ever and anon illuminated with brilliant flashes
of vivid lightning; and often did she wish the mysterious deed undone!
---- ---- ----"Oh,
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream!"
But what Adelaide saw upon that awful night ever remained untold.--She
could never be prevailed upon to divulge the tremendous and frightful
circumstances of that eventful night. The next morning, as it afterwards
appeared, she complained of being very unwell, and kept her bed for some
days. The blame was very discreetly thrown upon her having eaten too
many nuts--having danced too much; and, moreover, supper having
disagreed with her; besides a variety of _et cetera_ explanations. It
was a long period before Adelaide resumed her usual serenity and gaiety
of temper; and whenever her friends or acquaintance would interrogate
her upon the adventures of that memorable night, she would assume much
reserve, and seemed displeased: this the only occasion, it was by all
remarked, that she had ever been observed to have appeared displeased
since they first had the happiness to be acquainted with her.
The unwarrantable practice of inquiring into futurity prevailed very
generally at and before the period which we write of; and most strange
to say, at times the sacred volume of the Scriptures,[21] and at others
the poems of Virgil and Homer, were consulted for oracular purposes. The
_sortes Prenestinæ_, _sortes Homerianæ_, and _sortes Virgilianæ_, which
were modes of inquiring into the secrets of futurity, are well known to
the classic reader. A remarkable instance of the trial of this latter
sortilege occurred to King Charles I. when at the city of Oxford, during
the civil wars. Going one day to inspect the Boedlian Library, His
Majesty was shown, along with other volumes, an early copy of Virgil,
beautifully printed and exquisitely bound. Lord Falkland, to amuse the
King, insisted upon His Majesty's trying his fortune by the _sortes
Virgilianæ_; whereupon the King, opening the volume, hit upon the fourth
Æneid, line 615, which much disconcerted him.
[21] Even so recently as during Wesley's time [See Southey's Life
of Wesley] will be perceived the fondness of this celebrated
preacher for divination by lot, and by the casual opening of the
Bible, expecting thereby the peculiar and immediate guidance of
the Almighty!
The passage is prophetic of the fortunes of Æneas, and, _mutato nomine_,
it was applicable to the royal martyr.[22]
[22] For the gratification of the curious we here subjoin the
quotation from Virgil, with which is given a translation of the
remarkable lines by Dryden:--
"At bello audacis populi, vexatus et armis
Finibus extorris, complexu avulsus Juli,
Auxilium imploret; videatque indigna suorum
Funera: nec quum se sub leges pacis iniquæ
Tradiderit, regno aut optatâ luce fruatur:
Sed cadat ante diem, mediâque inhumatus arenâ."
VIRGIL Æ. IV. 1. 615.
"Yet shall a race untamed, and haughty foes,
His peaceful entrance with dire arms oppose:
Oppress'd with numbers in th' unequal field,
His men discouraged, and himself expell'd,
Let him for succour sue from place to place,
Torn from his subjects and his son's embrace.
First let him see his friends in battle slain,
And their untimely fate lament in vain:
And when at length the cruel war shall cease,
On hard conditions may he buy his peace:
Nor let him then enjoy supreme command,
But fall untimely by some hostile hand,
And lie unburied on the barren strand."
Lord Falkland, upon observing that the King was discomposed, resolved to
try his own fortune in the same manner, hoping that perchance he might
alight on some sentence that would bear no relation to his own, and
thereby turn aside the thoughts of the King from any impression the
lines might have occasioned. However, the subject of the passage upon
which he unluckily stumbled was fully as unpropitious and as applicable
as that upon which his sovereign had alighted. It was the lamentation of
Evander for the untimely death of his son, in the 11th Æneid. It is well
known that the eldest son of this nobleman, a young man of amiable
character, had been previously slain in the first battle of Newburg.
It is recorded of the famous and excellent sculptor Giovanni Lorenzi
Bernini, that upon his beholding a painting by Vandyke, which presents
three portraits of King Charles I. on the same canvass--the one a front
face, the other a half side, and the third a profile--the artist
observed: "whoever the individual be whose likeness these three
portraits represent, I am of opinion that the same will come to an
untimely end."
This painting had been expressly taken and forwarded to Rome, in order
that Bernini might, from the resemblance, sculpture a marble bust of the
King, which accordingly he did; and King Charles, the greatest and best
patron of the fine arts that England can boast of, was so much pleased
with the performance, that he sent Bernini a ring of very great value;
and said to the person who was deputed to bring it: "_Andate a coronar
quello mano, che ha fatto si bel lavorno_."[23]
[23] Le Vite de Piu celebri Architecti, &c.--_Pagina 358, Roma
1768._
All attempts to inquire into and penetrate the secrets of futurity are
highly to be condemned, as they are nothing less than tempting the
Almighty; it is not for frail man to anticipate the ways of Providence,
and discover these events that heaven always in its wisdom, and often in
its mercy, withholds from mortal eyes. But it is indeed full time to
close (as we apprehend we have trespassed too long on our reader's
forbearance)
----"The day to superstition dear,
* * * * *
Hallow'd and reverenc'd in the olden time,
Sacred to every saint of every clime."