* * * * *
You see, then, that it is not events themselves, so much as your own
view of them, which years have tinged with a more gloomy colour. But
alas! this is the most irremediable of all evils! We are not what we
were; and the one eternal and universal error remains--that we think we
can help ourselves by an exertion of strength, when the strength is no
longer there:--as soon can we be or look young again! I too begin to
feel traces of this--but only there, where the world lays its fetters
around me; when alone with God and nature, the gloomiest horizon has no
power to darken my inner sun.
I accompanied Lady B----, of whom I have already spoken, to breakfast
to-day at the country-house of a much admired young lady. The master of
the house excused himself on the plea of headache, and I was therefore
left to take a long walk in the grounds with the two ladies alone. On
our arrival at the gate which was to lead us to one of the most
beautiful parts of the wood, it was locked--no key to be found; and
according to the report of the old gardener, the lady's maid had gone
in, and taken it away with her. A servant was ordered to jump over the
wall, and to seek the offender: he came back, however, without any
tidings of her. I now got a ladder, and helped my laughing companions to
climb over the wall; they professed great awkwardness, but acquitted
themselves most gracefully. After walking a quarter of an hour we met
the unfortunate lady's maid, and--as she thought herself safe--not
alone: it may be imagined in what company. A mute domestic scene
followed: and as I am too good natured to laugh, it really grieved me
that my ladder had been the cause of such distress. I declined staying
to dinner, and hastened back to town to call on Lady M----, to whom I
had a letter of introduction, and who had already sent me a polite
invitation which I had not been able to accept. I was very eager to make
the acquaintance of a woman whom I rate so highly as an authoress. I
found her, however, very different from what I had pictured her to
myself. She is a little, frivolous, lively woman, apparently between
thirty and forty, neither pretty nor ugly, but by no means disposed to
resign all claim to the former, and with really fine and expressive
eyes. She has no idea of 'mauvaise honte' or embarrassment; her manners
are not the most refined, and affect the 'aisance' and levity of the
fashionable world, which, however, do not sit calmly or naturally upon
her. She has the English weakness,--that of talking incessantly of
fashionable acquaintances, and trying to pass for very 'recherché' to a
degree quite unworthy of a woman of such distinguished talents; and she
is not at all aware how she thus underrates herself.
She is not difficult to know, for with more vivacity than good taste,
she instantly professes perfect openness, and especially sets forth on
every occasion her liberalism and her infidelity; the latter of the
somewhat obsolete school of Helvetius and Condillac. In her writings she
is far more guarded and dignified than in her conversation. The satire
of the latter is, however, not less biting and dexterous than that of
her pen, and just as little remarkable for a conscientious regard to
truth. You may think that with all these elements two hours flew rapidly
away. I had enthusiasm enough to be able to utter some 'à propos' which
pleased her, and she treated me with marked attention: first, because I
happened to have a distinguished title; and secondly, because she had
seen my name as dancing at Almacks, and as present at several 'fêtes' of
the great leaders of Ton--a circumstance which appeared so important in
her eyes, that she repeatedly recurred to it.
_August 20th._
Yesterday evening I was engaged to a 'soirée' at Lord C----'s, the head
of a new family, but one of the oldest 'wits' of Dublin. I was invited
to accompany his friend lady M----, but was prevented by a tragi-comical
incident. I had ridden out to visit Mr L---- at his country-seat (a
trouble which between ourselves neither he nor his family deserved), and
it was late when I set out on my return. To save time, I took my way
across the country, 'à la Seidlitz.' For some miles all went on
capitally, till just at twilight I came to a very wide ditch, the
opposite bank of which was considerably lower than the one on which I
stood, and surrounded a broad meadow. I leaped into this enclosure; but
on trying to get out on the other side, my horse refused, and all my
efforts to bring him to obedience were vain. I alighted to lead him,
mounted again to try to leap him at another place,--tried fair means and
foul; all equally in vain: till at length he made an awkward attempt at
a leap, fell with me into the muddy water, and with some difficulty
scrambled back again to the inner and lower bank. All hope of getting
out of the enchanted spot in which I was caught as in a mouse-trap, was
now lost:--it was become quite dark, I was wet through, and extremely
heated; and was at last obliged to come to the determination of leaving
my horse, getting over the fatal ditch, 'tant bien que mal,' on foot,
and seeking help and shelter where I could. The moon came kindly from
behind the clouds, and aided me with her welcome light. After a most
toilsome walk of half an hour over ploughed land and through high wet
grass, I reached a miserable hut, in which every body was already
asleep. I walked in, (for the houses here are never fastened;) a couple
of pigs grunted under my feet, and near them lay the master of the
house. With some difficulty I made him understand my request, which I
enforced by jingling some silver close to his ear. This universal
language awakened him more effectually than my invocations; he sprang
up, called a comrade, and went out to my 'Didone abbandonata.' Irishmen
are never at a loss for expedients; they found a broken and deserted
wooden bridge near at hand, laid it across the ditch, and I at length
found myself on the high road with my liberated steed. I reached home so
late, and in such a plight, that I desired nothing but rest, and was
sorry to hear that lady M---- had been to fetch me, and had driven away
in great vexation an hour ago.
The next morning I went to make my excuses. She pardoned me graciously,
but assured me that I had lost a _great deal_, for that all the rank and
fashion of the town were there. I assured her with great sincerity that
I regretted nothing but the loss of her society, but that I hoped to be
indemnified for that as soon as I had made my 'sentimental journey' to
the county of Wicklow, for which my German romantic soul ardently
thirsted, and which I intended to commence the following morning on
horseback. The conversation became very gay,--for she likes that; and at
last ended so petulantly, that she exclaimed, 'Finissez!' when you come
back I shall receive you just like an elder sister: to which I answered,
laughing, 'That I cannot agree to;--je craindrais le sort d'Abufar.'
Addressed to Lady M---- this was certainly rather a 'fade' joke.
The continuation of my adventures you will receive from the midst of
rocks and mountains. Adieu! may heaven send you serenity and peace, and
may every word of my letters whisper to you 'true love till death.'
Your L----.