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diff --git a/old/54683-0.txt b/old/54683-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f42d47d..0000000 --- a/old/54683-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11376 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wild Irish Girl, Vol. I and II, by -(AKA Sydney Owenson) Lady Sydney Morgan - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Wild Irish Girl, Vol. I and II - A National Tale, In Two Volumes - -Author: (AKA Sydney Owenson) Lady Sydney Morgan - -Release Date: May 8, 2017 [EBook #54683] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILD IRISH GIRL, VOL. I AND II *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -THE WILD IRISH GIRL - -By Lady Sydney Morgan - -INTRODUCTORY LETTERS. - - - -THE EARL OF M-------- - -TO THE HONORABLE HORATIO M--------, KING’S BENCH. - -Castle M--------, Leicestershire, - -Feb. ----, 17------. - -If there are certain circumstances under which a fond father -can address an imprisoned son without suffering the bitterest -heart-rendings of paternal agony, such are not those under which I -now address you. To sustain the loss of the most precious of all human -rights, and forfeit our liberty at the shrine of virtue, in defence of -our country abroad, or of our public integrity and principles at home, -brings to the heart of the sufferer’s dearest sympathising friend a -soothing solace, almost concomitant to the poignancy of his afflictions; -and leaves the decision difficult, whether in the scale of human -feelings, triumphant pride or affectionate regret preponderate. - -“I would not,” said the old earl of Ormond, “give up my dead son for -twenty living ones.” Oh! how I envy such a father the possession, and -even the _loss_ of such a child: with what eagerness my heart rushes -back to that period when _I_ too triumphed in my son; when I beheld him -glowing in all the unadulterated virtues of the happiest nature, flushed -with the proud consciousness of superior genius, refined by a taste -intuitively elegant, and warmed by an enthusiasm constitutionally -ardent; his character indeed tinctured with the bright colouring of -romantic eccentricity, but marked by the indelible traces of innate -rectitude, and ennobled by the purest principles of native generosity, -the proudest sense of inviolable honour, I beheld him rush eagerly on -life, enamoured of its seeming good, incredulous of its latent evils, -till fatally fascinated by the magic spell of the former, he fell -an early victim to the successful lures of the latter. The growing -influence of his passions kept pace with the expansion of his mind, and -the moral powers of the _man of genius_, gave way to the overwhelming -propensities of the _man of pleasure_. Yet in the midst of those exotic -vices (for as such even yet I would consider them,) he continued at once -the object of my parental partiality and anxious solicitude; I admired -while I condemned, I pitied while I reproved. - -***** - -The rights of primogeniture, and the mild and prudent cast of your -brother’s character, left me no cares either for his worldly interest -or moral welfare: born to titled affluence, his destination in life was -ascertained previous to his entrance on its chequered scene; and equally -free from passions to mislead, or talents to stimulate, he promised to -his father that series of temperate satisfaction which, unillumined by -those coruscations, _your_ superior and promising genius flashed on the -parental heart, could not prepare for its sanguine feelings that mortal -disappointment with which _you_ have destroyed all its hopes. On the -recent death of my father I found myself possessed of a very large -but incumbered property: it was requisite I should make the same -establishment for my eldest son, that my father had made for me; while -I was conscious that my youngest was in some degree to stand indebted to -his own exertions, for independence as well as elevation in life. - -You may recollect that during your first college vacation, we conversed -on the subject of that liberal profession I had chosen for you, and you -agreed with me, that it was congenial to your powers, and not inimical -to your taste; while the part I was anxious you should take in the -legislation of your country, seemed at once to rouse and gratify your -ambition; but the pure flame of laudable emulation was soon extinguished -in the destructive atmosphere of pleasure, and while I beheld you, in -the visionary hopes of my parental ambition, invested with the crimson -robe of legal dignity, or shining brightly conspicuous in the splendid -galaxy of senatorial luminaries, _you_ were idly presiding as the high -priest of libertinism at the nocturnal orgies of vitiated dissipation, -or indolently lingering out your life in elegant but unprofitable -pursuits. - -It were as vain as impossible to trace you through every degree of error -on the scale of folly and imprudence, and such a repetition would be -more heart wounding to me than painful to you, were it even made under -the most extenuating bias of parental fondness. - -I have only to add, that though already greatly distressed by the -liquidation of your debts, at a time when I am singularly circumstanced -with respect to pecuniary resources, I will make a struggle to free you -from the chains of this your present _iron_-hearted creditor, through -the retrenchment of my _own_ expenses, and my temporary retreat to the -solitute of my Irish estate must be the result; provided that by this -sacrifice I purchace your acquiescence to my wishes respecting the -destiny of your future life, and an unreserved abjuration of the follies -which have governed your past. - -Yours, &c. &c. - -M------. - - - -TO THE EARL OF M-------- - -My Lord, - -Suffer me, in the fullness of my heart, and in the language of one -prodigal and penitent as myself, to say, “I have sinned against Heaven -and thee, and am no longer worthy to be called thy son.” Abandon -me then, I beseech you, as such; deliver me up to the destiny, that -involves me to the complicated tissue of errors and follies I have so -industriously woven with my own hands; for though I am equal to sustain -the judgment my own vices have drawn down upon me, I cannot support the -cruel mercy with which your goodness endeavours to avert its weight. - -Among the numerous catalogues of my faults, a sordid selfishness finds -no place. Yet I should deservedly incur its imputation, were I to accept -of freedom on such terms as you are so generous to offer. No, my Lord, -continue to adorn that high and polished circle in which you are so -eminently calculated to move; nor think so lowly of one, who, with all -his faults, is _your son_, as to believe him ready to purchase _his_ -liberty at the expense of _your_ banishment from your native country. - -I am, &c. &c. - -_King’s Bench_. H. M. - - - -TO THE HON. HORATIO M--------. - -An act to which the exaggeration of _your_ feelings gives the epithet -of banishment, I shall consider as a voluntary sequestration from scenes -of which I am weary, to scenes which, though thrice visited, still -preserve the poignant charms of novelty and interest. Your hasty and -undigested answer to my letter (written in the prompt emotion of the -moment, ere the probable consequence of a romantic rejection to an -offer not unreflectingly made, could be duly weighed or coolly examined) -convinces me experience has contributed little to the modification of -your feelings, or the prudent regulation of your conduct. It is this -promptitude of feeling, this contempt of prudence, that formed the -predisposing cause of your errors and your follies. Dazzled by the -brilliant glare of the splendid virtues, you saw not, you would not see, -that prudence was among the first of moral excellences; the director, -the regulator, the standard of them all; that it is in fact the -corrector of virtue herself; for even _virtue_, like the _sun_, has her -_solstice_, beyond which she ought not to move. - -If you would retribute what you seem to lament, and unite restitution -to penitence, leave this country for a short time, and abandon with the -haunts of your former blameable pursuits, those associates who were at -once the cause and punishment of your errors. I myself will become your -partner in exile, for it is to my estate in Ireland I _banish_ you for -the summer. You have already got through the “first rough brakes” of -your profession: as you can now serve the last term of this season, I -see no cause why _Coke upon Lyttleton_ cannot be as well studied amidst -the wild seclusion of Connaught scenery, and on the solitary shores of -the “steep Atlantic,” as in the busy bustling precincts of the Temple. - -I have only to add, that I shall expect your undivided attention will -be given up to your professional studies; that you will for a short -interval resign the fascinating pursuits of polite literature and belles -lettres, from which even the syren spell of pleasure could not tear you, -and which snatched from vice many of those hours I believed devoted -to more serious studies. I know you will find it no less difficult to -resign the elegant theories of your favourite _Lavater_, for the dry -facts of law reports, than to exchange your duodecimo editions of -the amatory poets, for heavy tomes of cold legal disquisitions; -but happiness is to be purchased, and labour is the price; fame and -independence are the result of talent united to great exertion, and the -elegant enjoyments of literary leisure are never so keenly relished as -when tasted under the shade of that flourishing laurel which our own -efforts have reared to mature perfection. Farewell! My agent has -orders respecting the arrangement of your affairs. You must excuse the -procrastination of our interview till we meet in Ireland, which I fear -will not be so immediate as my wishes would incline. I shall write to my -banker in Dublin to replenish your purse on your arrival in Ireland, -and to my Connaught steward, to prepare for your reception at M-------- -house. Write to me by return. - -Once more farewell! - -M--------. - - - -TO THE EARL OF M-------- - -My Lord, - -He who agonized on the bed of Procrostus reposed on a couch of down, -compared to the sufferings of him who in the heart he has stabbed, -beholds the pulse of generous affection still beating with an invariable -throb for the being who has inflicted the wound. - -I shall offer you no thanks, my Lord, for the generosity of your -conduct, nor any extenuation for the errors of mine. - -The gratitude the one has given birth to--the remorse which the other -has awakened, bid equal defiance to expression. I have only (fearfully) -to hope, that you will not deny my almost forfeited claim to the title -of your son. - -H. M. - - - -TO J. D., ESQ., M. P. - -_Holyhead._ - -We are told in the splendid Apocrypha of ancient Irish fable, that -when one of the learned was missing on the Continent of Europe, it was -proverbially said, - -“_Amandatus est ad disciplinum in Hibernia_” - -But I cannot recollect that in its fabulous or veracious history, -Ireland was ever the mart of voluntary exile to the man of pleasure; so -that when you and the rest of my precious associates miss the track of -my footsteps in the oft trod path of dissipation, you will never think -of tracing its pressure to the wildest of the Irish shores, and exclaim, -“_Amandatus est ad, &c. &c. &c._” - -However, I am so far advanced in the land of _Druidism_, on my way to -the “Island of Saints,” while you, in the emporium of the world, are -drinking from the cup of conjugal love a temporary oblivion to your -past sins and wickedness, and revelling in the first golden dreams of -matrimonial illusion. - -I suppose an account of my high crimes and misdemeanours, banishment, -&c. &c. have already reached your ears; but while my brethren in -transportation are offering up their wishes and their hopes on the -shore, to the unpropitious god of winds, indulge me in the garrulity of -egotism, and suffer me to correct the overcharged picture of that arch -charicature _report_, by giving you a correct _ebauche_ of the recent -circumstances of my useless life. - -When I gave you convoy as far as Dover, on your way to France, I -returned to London, to - - “Surfeit on the same - - and yawn my joys----” - -And was again soon plunged in that dreadful vacillation of mind from -which your society and conversation had so lately redeemed me. - -Vibrating between an innate propensity to _rights_ and an habitual -adherence to _wrong_; sick of pursuits I was too indolent to relinqush, -and linked to vice, yet still enamoured of virtue; weary of the useless, -joyless inanity of my existence, yet without energy, without power to -regenerate my worthless being; daily losing ground in the minds of -the inestimable few who were still interested for my welfare; nor -compensating for the loss, by the gratification of any one feeling in -my own heart, and held up as an object of fashionable popularity for -sustaining that character, which of all others I most despised; my taste -impoverished by a vicious indulgence, my senses palled by repletion, my -heart chill and unawakened, every appetite depraved and pampered into -satiety, I fled from myself, as the object of my own utter contempt and -detestation, and found a transient pleasurable inebriety in the well -practised blandishments of Lady C----. - -You who alone know me, who alone have _openly_ condemned, and _secretly_ -esteemed me, you who have wisely culled the blossom of pleasure, while I -have sucked its poison, know that I am rather a _méchant par air_, than -from any irresistible propensity to indiscriminate libertinism. In fact, -the _original sin_ of my nature militates against the hackneyed modes of -hackneyed licentiousness; for I am too profound a voluptuary to feel -any exquisite gratification from such gross pursuits as the “_swinish -multitude_” of fashion ennoble with that name of little understood, -_pleasure_. Misled in my earliest youth by “passion’s meteor ray,” even -then my heart called (but called in vain,) for a thousand delicious -refinements to give poignancy to the mere transient impulse of sense. - -Oh! my dear friend, if in that sunny season of existence when the -ardours of youth nourish in our bosom a thousand indescribable emotions -of tenderness and love, it had been _my_ fortunate destiny to have -met with a being, who--but this is an idle regret, perhaps an idle -supposition;---the moment of ardent susceptibility is over, when woman -becomes the sole spell which lures us to good or ill, and when -her omnipotence, according to the bias of her own nature, and the -organization of those feelings on which it operates, determines, in -a certain degree our destiny through life--leads the mind through the -medium of the heart to the noblest pursuits, or seduces it through the -medium of the passions to the basest career. - -That I became the dupe of Lady C----, and her artful predecessor, arose -from the want of that “something still unpossessed,” to fill my life’s -dreadful void. I sensibly felt the want of an object to interest my -feelings, and laboured under that dreadful interregnum of the heart, -reason and ambition; which leaves the craving passions open to every -invader. Lady C---- perceived the situation of my mind, and--but spare -me the detail of a connexion which even in memory, produces a _nausea_ -of every sense and feeling. Suffice it to say, that equally the victim -of the husband’s villainy as the wife’s artifice, I stifled on its birth -a threatened prosecution, by giving my bond for a sum I was unable to -liquidate: it was given as for a gambling debt, but my father, who had -long suspected, and endeavoured to break this fatal connexion, guessed -at the truth, and suffered me to become a guest (_mal voluntaire_) in -the King’s Bench. This unusual severity on his part, lessened not on -mine the sense of his indulgence to my former boundless extravagance, -and I determined to remain a prisoner for life, rather than owe my -liberty to a new imposition on his tenderness, by such solicitings as -have hitherto been invariably crowned with success, though answered with -reprehension. - -I had been already six weeks a prisoner, deserted by those gay moths -that had fluttered round the beam of my transient prosperity; delivered -up to all the maddening meditation of remorse, when I received a letter -from my father (then with my brother in Leicestershire,) couched in his -usual terms of reprehension, and intervals of tenderness; ascertaining -every error with judicial exactitude, and associating every fault with -some ideal excellence of parental creation, alternately the father and -the judge; and as you once said, when I accused him of partiality to his -eldest born, “talking _best_ of Edward was _most_ of me.” - -In a word, he has behaved like an Angel. So well, that by Heavens! I can -scarcely bear to think of it. A spurious half-bred generosity--a little -tincture of illiberality on his side, would have been Balm of Gillead to -my wounded conscience; but with unqualified goodness he has paid all my -debts, supplied my purse beyond my wants, and only asks in return, that -I will retire for a few months to Ireland, and this I believe merely to -wean me from the presence of an object which he falsely believes still -hangs about my heart with no moderate influence. - -And yet I wish his mercy had flowed in any other channel, even though -more confined and less liberal. - -Had he banished me to the savage desolations of Siberia, my exile would -have had some character; had he even transported me to a South Sea -Island, or threw me into an Esquimaux hut, my new species of being would -have been touched with some interest; for in fact, the present relaxed -state of my intellectual system requires some strong transition of -place, circumstance, and manners, to wind it up to its native tone, to -rouse it to energy, or awaken it to exertion. - -But sent to a country against which I have a decided prejudice--which -I suppose semi-barbarous, semi-civilized; has lost the strong and -hardy features of savage life, without acquiring those graces which -distinguish polished society--I shall neither participate in the -poignant pleasure of awakened curiosity and acquired information, nor -taste the least of those enjoyments which courted my acceptance in my -native land. Enjoyments did I say! And were they indeed enjoyments? How -readily the mind adopts the phraseology of habit, when the sentiment it -once clothed no longer exists. Would that my past pursuits were even in -_recollection_, the aspect of enjoyments. But even my memory has lost -its character of energy, and the past, like the present, appears -one unwearied scence of chill and vapid existence. No sweet point of -reflection seizes on the recollective powers. No actual joy woos my -heart’s participation, and no prospect of future felicity glows on -the distant vista of life, or awakens the quick throb of hope and -expectation; all is cold, sullen and dreary. - -_Laval_ seems to entertain no less prejudice against this country than -his master, he has therefore begged leave of absence until my father -comes over. Pray have the goodness to send me by him a box of Italian -crayons, and a good thermometer; for I must have something to relieve -the _tedium vitae_ of my exiled days; and in my articles of stipulation -with my father, chemistry and belles lettres are _specially_ prohibited. -It was a useless prohibition, for Heaven knows, chemistry would have -been the last study I should have flown to in my present state of mind. -For how can he look minutely into the intimate structure of things, -and resolve them into their simple and elementary substance, whose own -disordered mind is incapable of analyzing the passions by which it is -agitated, of ascertaining the reciprocal relation of its incoherent -ideas, or combining them in different proportions (from those by which -they were united by chance,) in order to join a new and useful compound -for the benefit of future life? As for belles lettres! so blunted are -all those powers once so - - “Active and strong, and feelingly alive, - - To each fine impulse,” - -that not _one “pansee coleur de rose”_ lingers on the surface of my -faded imagination, and I should turn with as much apathy from the -sentimental sorcery of _Rosseau_, as from the volumnious verbosity of -an High German doctor; yawn over “The Pleasures of Memory,” and run the -risk of falling fast asleep with the brilliant _Madame de Sevigne_ in my -hand. So send me a Fahrenheit, that I may bend the few coldly mechanical -powers left me, to ascertain the temperature of my wild western -_territories_, and expect my letters from thence to be only filled with -the summary results of metoric instruments, and synoptical views of -common phenomena. - -Adieu. - -H. M. - - - -THE WILD IRISH GIRL. - - - -LETTER I. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -_Dublin, March_, ----, 17---- - -I remember, when I was a boy, meeting somewhere with the quaintly -written travels of _Moryson_ through Ireland, and being particularly -struck with his assertion, that so late as the days of Elizabeth, an -Irish chieftain and his family were frequently seen seated round their -domestic fire in a state of perfect nudity. This singular anecdote (so -illustrative of the barbarity of the Irish, at a period when -civilization had made such a wonderful progress even in its sister -countries,) fastened so strongly on my boyish imagination, that whenever -the _Irish_ were mentioned in my presence, an _Esquimaux_ group circling -round the fire which was to dress a dinner, or broil an enemy, was the -image which presented itself to my mind; and in this trivial source, I -believe, originated that early formed opinion of Irish ferocity, which -has since been nurtured into a _confirmed prejudice_. So true it is, -that almost all the erroneous principles which influence our maturer -being, are to be traced to some fatal association of ideas received and -formed in early life. But whatever maybe the _cause_, I feel the -strongest objection to becoming a resident in the remote part of a -country which is still shaken by the convulsions of an anarchical -spirit; where for a series of ages the olive of peace has not been -suffered to shoot forth _one_ sweet blossom of national concord, which -the sword of civil dissension has not cropt almost in the germ; and the -natural character of whose factious sons, as we are still taught to -believe, is turbulent, faithless, intemperate, and cruel; formerly -destitute of arts, letters, or civilization, and still but slowly -submitting to their salutary and ennobling influence. - -To confess the truth, I had so far suffered prejudice to get the start -of unbiassed liberality, that I had almost assigned to these rude -people scenes appropriately barbarous; and never was more pleasantly -astonished, than when the morning’s dawn gave to my view one of the -most splendid spectacles in the scene of picturesque creation I had ever -beheld, or indeed ever conceived--the bay of Dublin. - -A foreigner on board the packet compared the view to that which the bay -of Naples affords: I cannot judge of the justness of the comparison, -though I am told one very general and commonplace; but if the scenic -beauties of the Irish bay are exceeded by those of the Neapolitan, my -fancy falls short in a just conception of its charms. The springing up -of a contrary wind kept us for a considerable time beating about this -enchanting coast; the weather suddenly changed, the rain poured in -torrents, a storm arose, and the beautiful prospect which had fascinated -our gaze, vanished in the mists of impenetrable obscurity. - -As we had the mail on board, a boat was sent out to receive it, the -oars of which were plied by six men, whose statures, limbs, and features -declared them the lingering progeny of the once formidable race of Irish -giants, Bare headed, they “bided the pelting of the pitiless storm,” - with no other barrier to its fury, than what tattered check trousers, -and shirts open at neck, and tucked above the elbows afforded; and which -thus disposed, betrayed the sinewy contexture of forms, which might have -individually afforded a model to sculpture, for the colossal statue of -an Hercules, under all the different aspects of strength and exertion. * - - * This little marine sketch is by no means a fancy picture; - it was actually copied from the life, in the summer of 1806. - -A few of the passengers proposing to venture in the boat, I listlessly -followed, and found myself seated by one of these sea monsters, who, in -an accent that made me startle, addressed me in English at least as pure -and correct as a Thames’ boatman would use; and with so much courtesy, -cheerfulness, and respect, that I was at a loss to reconcile such -civilization of manner to such ferocity of appearance; while his -companions as they stemmed the mountainous waves, or plied their heavy -oars, displayed such a vein of low humour and quaint drollery, and in -a language so curiously expressive and original, that no longer able to -suppress my surprise, I betrayed it to a gentleman who sat near me, and -by whom I was assured that this species of colloquial wit was peculiar -to the lower class of the Irish, who borrowed much of their curious -phraseology from the peculiar idiom of their own tongue, and the -cheeriness of manner from the native exility of their temperament; “and -as for their courteousness.” he continued, “you will find them on a -further intercourse, civil even to _adulation_, as long as you treat -them with apparent kindness, but an opposite conduct will prove their -manner proportionably uncivilized.” - -“It is very excusable,” said I, “they are of a class in society to which -the modification of the feelings are unknown, and to be sensibly alive -to _kindness or to unkindness_, is, in my opinion, a noble trait in the -national character of an unsophisticated people.” - -While we spoke, we landed, and for the something like pleasurable -emotion, which the first on my list of Irish acquaintance produced in my -mind, I distributed among these “sons of the waves,” more silver than I -believe they expected Had I bestowed a principality on an Englishman -of the same rank, he would have been less lavish of the _eloquence_ -of gratitude on his benefactor, though he might equally have felt the -_sentiment_.--So much for my voyage _across the Channel!_ - -This city is to London like a small temple of the Ionic order, whose -proportions are delicate, whose character is elegance, compared to -a vast palace, whose Corinthian pillars at once denote strength and -magnificence. - -The wondrous extent of London excites our amazement; the compact -uniformity of Dublin our admiration. But a dispersion is less within the -_coup-d’oil_ of observance, than aggregation, the small, but harmonious -features of Dublin sieze at once on the eye, while the scattered but -splendid traits of London, excite a less immediate and more progressive -admiration, which is often lost in the intervals that occur between -those objects which are calculated to excite it. - -In London, the miserable shop of a gin seller, and the magnificent -palace of a Duke, alternately create disgust, or awaken approbation. - -In Dublin the buildings are not arranged upon such democratic -principles. The plebian hut offers no foil to the patrician edifice, -while their splendid and beautiful public structures are so closely -connected, as with _some_ degree of policy to strike _at once_ upon the -eye in the happiest combination. * - - * Although in one point of view, there may be a policy in - this close association of splendid objects, yet it is a - circumstance of general and just condemnation to all - strangers who are not confined to a partial survey of the - city. - -In other respects this city appears to me to be the miniature copy of -our imperial original, though minutely imitative in show and -glare. Something less observant of life’s prime luxuries, order and -cleanliness, there are a certain class of wretches who haunt the streets -of Dublin, so emblematic of vice, poverty, idleness, and filth, that -disgust and pity frequently succeed in the minds of the stranger to -sentiments of pleasure, surprise, and admiration. For the origin of this -evil, I must refer you to the supreme police of the city; but whatever -may be the cause, the effects (to an Englishman especially) are dreadful -and disgusting beyond all expression. - -Although my father has a large connexion here, yet he only gave me a -letter to his banker, who has forced me to make his house my home for -the few days I shall remain in Dublin, and whose cordiality and kindness -sanctions all that has ever been circulated of Irish hospitality. - -In the present state of my feelings, however, a party on the banks of -the _Ohio_, with a tribe of Indian hunters, would be more consonant to -my inclinations than the refined pleasures of the most polished circles -in the world. Yet these warm-hearted people, who find in the name of -stranger an irresistible lure to every kind attention, will force me to -be happy in despite of myself, and overwhelm me with invitations, some -of which it is impossible to resist. My prejudices have received some -mortal strokes, when I perceived that the natives of this barbarous -country have got goal for goal with us, in every elegant refinement of -life and manners; the only difference I can perceive between a London -and a Dublin _rout_ is, that here, amongst the first class, there is a -warmth and cordiality of address, which, though perhaps not more -sincere than the cold formality of British ceremony, is certainly more -fascinating. * - - * “Every unprejudiced traveller who visits them [the Irish] - will be as much pleased with their cheerfulness as obliged - by their hospitality; and will find them a brave, polite, - and liberal people.”--Philosophical Survey through Ireland - by Mr. Young. - -It is not, however, in Dublin I shall expect to find the tone of -national character and manner; in the first circles of all great cities -(as in courts) the native features of national character are softened -into general uniformity, and the genuine feelings of nature are -suppressed or exchanged for a political compliance with the reigning -modes and customs, which hold their tenure from the sanction and -example of the seat of government. Before I close this, I must make -one observation, which I think will speak more than volumes for the -refinement of these people. - -During my short residence here, I have been forced, in true spirit of -Irish dissipation, into three parties of a night; and I have upon these -occasions observed that the most courted objects of popular attention, -were those whose talents alone endowed them with distinction. Besides -amateurs, I have met with many professional persons, whom I knew in -London as public characters, and who are here incorporated in the first -and most brilliant circles, appearing to feel no other inequality, than -what their own superiority of genius confers. - -I leave Dublin to-morrow for M-------- house. It is situated in the -county of ------------, on the northwest coast of Connaught, which I -am told is the classic ground of Ireland. The native Irish, pursued by -religious and political bigotry, made it the asylum of their sufferings, -and were separated by a provincial barrier from an intercourse with the -rest of Ireland, until after the Restoration; so I shall have a fair -opportunity of beholding the Irish character in all its _primeval_ -ferocity. - -Direct your next to Bally--------, which I find is the nearest post -town to my _Kamskatkan palace_, where with no other society than that -of Black stone and Co. I shall lead such a life of animal existence, as -Prior gives to his Contented Couple-- - - “They ate, and drank, and slept--what then? - - Why, slept, and drank, and ate again.”-- - -Adieu. H. M. - - - -LETTER II. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -_M-------- House_. - - -In the various modes of penance invented by the various _penance -mongers_ of pious austerity, did you ever hear the travelling in an -_Irish postchaise_ enumerated as a punishment, which by far exceeds -horse-hair shirts and voluntary flagelation? - -My first day’s journey from Dublin being as wet a one as this moist -climate and capricious season ever produced, my berlin answered all the -purposes of a _shower bath_, while the ventillating principles on which -the windows were constructed, gave me all the benefit to be derived from -the _breathy_ influence of the four cardinal points. - -Unable any longer to sit tamely enduring the “_penalty of Adam, -the season’s change_,” or to sustain any longer the “hair-breadth -’scapes,” which the most dismantled of vehicles afforded me, together -with delays and stoppages of every species to be found in the catalogue -of procrastination and mischance, I took my seat in a mail coach which I -met at my third stage, and which was going to a town within twenty miles -of Bally--------. These twenty miles, by far the most agreeable of -my journey, I performed as we once (in days of boyish errantry) -accomplished a tour to Wales--on foot. - -I had previously sent my baggage, and was happily unincumbered with a -servant, for the fastidious delicacy of Monsieur Laval would never have -been adequate to the fatigues of a pedestrian tour through a country -wild and mountainous as his own native _Savoy_. But to me every -difficulty was an effort of some good _genius_ chasing the demon of -lethargy from the usurpations of my mind’s empire. Every obstacle that -called for exertion was a temporary revival of latent energy; and every -unforced effort worth an age of indolent indulgence. - -To him who derives gratification from the embellished labours of art, -rather than the simple but sublime operation of nature, _Irish_ scenery -will afford little interest; but the bold features of its varying -landscape, the stupendous attitude of its “cloud capt” mountains, the -impervious gloom of its deep embosomed glens, the savage desolation of -its uncultivated heaths, and boundless bogs, with those rich veins of -a picturesque champaigne, thrown at intervals into gay expansion by the -hand of nature, awaken in the mind of the poetic or pictoral traveller, -all the pleasures of tasteful enjoyment, all the sublime emotions of a -rapt imagination. And if the glowing fancy of Claude Loraine would have -dwelt enraptured on the paradisial charms of English landscape, the -superior genius of Salvator Rosa would have reposed its eagle wing -amidst those scenes of mysterious sublimity, with which the wildly -magnificent landscape of Ireland abounds. But the liberality of nature -appears to me to be here but frugally assisted by the donations of art. -Here _agriculture_ appears in the least felicitous of he! aspects. The -rich treasures of Ceres seldom wave their golden heads over the earth’s -fertile bosom; the verdant drapery of young plantations rarely skreens -out the coarser features of a rigid soil, the cheerless aspect of a -gloomy bog; while the unvaried surface of the perpetual pasturage which -satisfies the eye of the interested grazier, disappoints the glance of -the tasteful spectator. - -Within twenty miles of Bally-------- I was literally dropt by the -stage at the foot of a mountain, to which your native _Wrekin_ is but a -hillock. The dawn was just risen, and flung its gray and reserved tints -on a scene of which the mountainous region of Capel Cerig will give you -the most adequate idea. - -Mountain rising over mountain, swelled like an amphitheatre to those -clouds which, faintly tinged with the sun’s prelusive beams, and rising -from the earthly summits where they had reposed, incorporated with the -kindling æther of a purer atmosphere. - -All was silent and solitary--a tranquility tinged with terror, a sort of -“delightful horror,” breathed on every side.--I was alone, and felt like -the presiding genius of desolation! - -As I had previously learned my route, after a minute’s contemplation -of the scene before me, I pursued my solitary ramble along a steep and -trackless path, which wound gradually down towards a great lake, an -almost miniature sea, that lay embosomed amidst those stupendous heights -whose rugged forms, now bare, desolate, and barren, now clothed with -yellow furze and creeping underwood, or crowned with misnic forests, -appeared towering above my head in endless variety. The progress of the -sun convinced me that _mine_ must have been slow, as it was perpetually -interrupted by pauses of curiosity and admiration, and by long and many -lapses of thoughtful reverie; and fearing that I had lost my way (as I -had not yet caught a view of the village, in which, seven miles distant -from the spot where I had left the stage, I was assured I should find an -excellent breakfast,) I ascended that part of the mountain where, on one -of its vivid points, a something like a human habitation hung suspended, -and where I hoped to obtain a _carte du pays_: the exterior of this -_hut_, or _cabin_, as it is called, like the few I had seen which were -not built of mud, resembled in one instance the magic palace of Chaucer, -and was erected with loose stones, - - “Which, cunningly, were without mortar laid.” - -thinly thatched with straw; an aperture in the roof served rather to -_admit_ the air than _emit_ the smoke, a circumstance to which the -wretched inhabitants of those wretched hovels seem so perfectly -naturalized, that they live in a constant state of fumigation; and -a fracture in the side wall (meant I suppose as a substitute for a -casement) was stuffed with straw, while the door, off its hinges, was -laid across the threshhold, as a barrier to a little crying boy, who -sitting within, bemoaned his captivity in a tone of voice not quite so -mellifluous as that which Mons. Sanctyon ascribes to the crying children -of a certain district in Persia, but perfectly in unison with the -vocal exertions of the companion of his imprisonment, a large sow. -I approached--removed the barrier: the boy and the animal escaped -together, and I found myself alone in the centre of this miserable -asylum of human wretchedness--the residence of an _Irish peasant_. -To those who have only contemplated this useful order of society in -England, “where every rood of ground maintains its man,” and where the -peasant liberally enjoys the _comforts_ as well as the necessaries -of life, the wretched picture which the interior of an _Irish_ cabin -presents, would be at once an object of compassion and disgust. * - - * Sometimes excavated from a hill, sometimes erected with - loose stones, but most generally built of mud, the cabin is - divided into two apartments, the one littered with straw and - coarse rugs, and sometimes, (but very rarely) furnished with - the luxury of a chaff bed, serves as a dormitory not only - to the family of both sexes, but in general to any animal - they are so fortunate as to possess; the other chamber - answers for every purpose of domesticity, though almost - destitute of every domestic implement, except the iron pot - in which the potatoes are boiled, and the stool on which - they are flung. From those wretched hovels (which often - appears amidst scenes that might furnish the richest models - to poetic imitation) it is common to behold a group of - children rush forth at the sound of a horse’s foot, or - carriage wheel, regardless of the season’s rigours, in a - perfect state of nudity, or covered with the drapery of - wretchedness, which gives to their appearance a still - stronger character of poverty; yet even in these miserable - huts you will seldom find the spirit of urbanity absent--the - genius of hospitality never. I remember meeting with an - instance of both, that made a deep impression on my heart; - in the autumn of 1804, in the course of a morning ramble - with a charming Englishwoman, in the county of Sligo, I - stopped to rest myself in a cabin, while she proceeded to - pay a visit to the respectable family of the O’H------s, of - Nymph’s Field: when I entered I found it occupied by an old - woman and her three granddaughters; two of the young women - were employed scutching flax, the other in some domestic - employment. I was instantly hailed with the most cordial - welcome; the hearth was cleared, the old woman’s seat forced - on me, eggs and potatoes roasted, and an apology for the - deficiency of bread politely made, while the manners of my - hostesses betrayed a courtesy that almost amounted to - adulation. They had all laid by their work on my entrance, - and when I requested I might not interrupt their avocations, - one of them replied “I hope we know better--we can work any - day, but we cannot any day have such a body as you under our - roof.” Surely this was not the manners of a cabin but a - court. - -Almost suffocated, and not surprised that it was deserted _pro tempo_, I -hastened away, and was attracted towards a ruinous barn by a full chorus -of female voices--where a group of young females were seated round -an old hag who formed the centre of the circle; they were all busily -employed at their _wheels_, which I observed went merrily round in exact -time with their song, and so intently were they engaged by both, that -my proximity was unperceived. At last the song ceased--the wheel stood -still--and every eye was fixed on the old _primum mobile_ of the circle, -who, after a short pause, began a _solo_ that gave much satisfaction to -her young auditors, and taking up the strain, they again turned their -wheels round in unison.--The whole was sung in Irish, and as soon as I -was observed, suddenly ceased; the girls looked down and tittered--and -the old woman addressed me _sans ceremonie_, and in a language I now -heard for the first time. - -Supposing that some one among the number must understand English, I -explained with all possible politeness the cause of my intrusion on this -little harmonic society. The old woman looked up in my face and shook -her head; I thought contemptuously--while the young ones, stifling their -smiles, exchanged looks of compassion doubtlessly at my ignorance of -their language. - -“So many languages a man knows,” said Charles V., “so many times is he -a man,” and it is certain I never felt myself less invested with the -dignity of one, than while I stood twirling my stick, and “biding the -encounter of the eyes,” and smiles of these “spinners in the sun.” Here -you will say was prejudice opposed to prejudice with a vengeance; but I -comforted myself with the idea that the natives of Greenland, the most -gross and savage of mortals, compliment a stranger by saying, “he is as -well bred as a Greenlander.” - -While thus situated, a sturdy looking young fellow with that figure and -openness of countenance so peculiar to the young Irish peasants, and -with his hose and brogues suspended from a stick over his shoulder, -approached and hailed the party in Irish: the girls instantly pointed -his attention towards me; he courteously accosted me in English, and -having learnt the nature of my dilemma, offered to be my guide--“it will -not take me above a mile out of my way, and if it did _two_, it would -make no _odds_,” said he. I accepted his offer, and we proceeded -together over the summit of the mountain. - -In the course of our conversation (which was very fluently supported on -his side,) I learnt, that few strangers ever passing through this remote -part of the province, and even very many of the gentry here speaking -Irish, it was a rare thing to meet with any one wholly unacquainted with -the language, which accounted for the surprise, and I believe contempt, -my ignorance had excited. - -When I enquired into the nature of those choral strains I had heard, he -replied--“O! as to that, it is according to the old woman’s fancy and -in fact I learnt that Ireland, like Italy, has its _improvisatores_, and -that those who are gifted with the impromptu talent are highly estimated -by their rustic compatriots;” and by what he added, I discovered that -their inspirations are either drawn from the circumstances of the -moment, from one striking excellence or palpable defect in some of -the company present, or from some humourous incident, or local event -generally known. - -As soon as we arrived at the little _auberge_ of the little village, I -ordered my courteous guide his breakfast, and having done all due honour -to my own, we parted. - -My route from the village to Bally-------- lay partly through a desolate -bog, whose burning surface, heated by a vertical sun, gave me no -inadequate idea of _Arabia Deserta_; and the pangs of an acute headache, -brought on by exercise more violent than my still delicate constitution -was equal to support, determined me to defer my journey until the -meridian ardours were abated; and taking your Horace from my pocket, I -wandered into a shady path, “impervious to the noontide ray.” Throwing -my “listless length” at the foot of a spreading beech, I had already got -to that sweet ode to Lydia, which Scaliger in his enthusiasm declares he -would rather have written than to have possessed the monarchy of Naples, -when somebody accosted me in Irish, and then with a “God save you, -Sir!” I raised my eyes, and beheld a poor peasant, driving, or rather -soliciting, a sorry lame cow to proceed. - -“May be,” said he, taking off his hat, “your Honour would be after -telling me what’s the hour?” “Later than I supposed, my good friend,” - replied I, rising, “it is past two.” He bowed low, and stroking the face -of his companion, added, “well, the day is yet young, but you and I have -a long journey before us, my poor Driminduath.” - -“And how far are you going, my friend?” - -“Please your Honour, two miles beyond Bally-------.” - -“It is my road exactly, and you, Driminduath, and I, may perform the -journey together.” The poor fellow seemed touched and surprised by my -condescension, and profoundly bowed his sense of it, while the curious -_triumviri_ set off on their pedestrian tour together. - -I now cast an eye over the person of my _compagnon de voyage_. It was -a tall, thin, athletic figure, “bony and gaunt,” with an expressive -countenance, marked features, a livid complexion, and a quantity of -coarse black hair hanging about the face; the drapery was perfectly -appropriate to the wearer--an under garment composed of “_shreds_ and -_patches_,” was partially covered with an old great coat of coarse -frieze, fastened on the breast with a large wooden skewer, the sleeves -hanging down on either side unoccupied, * and a pair of yarn hose which -scarcely reached _midleg_, left the ankle and foot naked. - - * This manner of wearing the coat, so genera, among the - peasantry, is deemed by the natives of the county of Galway - a remnant of the Spanish mode. - -_Driminduath_ seemed to share in the obvious poverty of her master--she -was almost an anatomy, and scarcely able to crawl. “Poor beast!” said -he, observing I looked at her, “Poor beast! little she dreamed of coming -back the road she went, and little able is she to go it, poor soul; not -that I am _overly_ sorry I could not get nobody to take her off my hands -at all at all; though to-be-sure ’tis better to lose one’s cow than -one’s wife, any day in the year.” - -“And had you no alternative?” I asked. - -“Anan!” exclaimed he, starting. - -“Were you obliged to part with one or the other?” Sorrow is garrulous, -and in the natural selfishness of its suffering, seeks to lessen the -weight of its woe by participation. In a few minutes I was master of -Murtoch O’Shaughnassey’s story: * he was the husband of a sick wife; the -father of six children, and a labourer, or _cotter_, who worked daily -throughout the year for the hut that sheltered the heads, and the little -potatoe rick which was the sole subsistence of his family. - - * Neither the rencontre with, nor the character or story of - Murtoch, partakes in the least degree of fiction. - -He had taken a few acres of ground, he said, from his employer’s -steward, to set grass potatoes in, by which he hoped to make something -handsome; that to enable himself to pay for them he had gone to work in -Leinster during the last harvest, “where, please your Honour,” he added, -“a poor man gets more for his labour than in Connaught; * but there it -was my luck (and bad luck it was) to get the shaking fever upon me, so -that I returned sick and sore to my poor people without a cross to bless -myself with, and then there was an end to my fine grass potatoes, for -devil receive the sort they’d let me dig till I paid for the ground; -and what was worse, the steward was going to turn us out of our cabin, -because I had not worked out the rent with him as usual, and not a -potatoe had I for the children; besides finding my wife and two boys in -a fever: the boys got well, but my poor wife has been decaying away ever -since; so I was fain to sell my poor Driminduath here, which was left -me by my gossip, in order to pay my rent and get some nourishment for my -poor woman, who I believe is just weak at heart for the want of it; -and so, as I was after telling your Honour, I left home yesterday for a -_fair_ twenty-five good miles off, but my poor Driminduath has got such -bad usage of late, and was in such sad plight, that nobody would bid -nothing for her, and so we are both returning home as we went, with full -hearts and empty stomachs.” - - * It is well known that within these last thirty years the - Connaught peasant laboured for _threepence_ a day and two - meals of potatoes and milk, and four pence when he - maintained himself; while in Leinster the harvest hire rose - from eight pence to a shilling. Riding out one day near the - village of Castletown Delvin, in Westmeath, in company with - the younger branches of the respectable family of the F----ns, - of that county, we observed two young men lying at a - little distance from each other in a dry ditch, with some - lighted turf burning near them; they both seemed on the - verge of eternity, and we learned from a peasant who was - passing, that they were Connaught men who had come to - Leinster to work; that they had been disappointed, and owing - to want and fatigue, had been first attacked with ague and - then with fevers of so fatal a nature, that no one would - suffer them to remain in their cabins: owing to the - benevolent exertions of my young friends, we however found - an asylum for these unfortunates, and had the happiness of - seeing them return comparatively well and happy to their - native province. - -This was uttered with an air of despondency that touched my very soul, -and I involuntarily presented him some sea biscuit I had in my pocket. -He thanked me, and carelessly added, “that it was the first morsel he -had tasted for twenty-four hours; * not,” said he, “but I can fast -with any one, and well it is for me I can.” He continued brushing an -intrusive tear from his eye; and the next moment whistling a lively air, -he advanced to his cow, talking to her in Irish, in a soothing tone, and -presenting her with such wild flowers and blades of grass as the scanty -vegetation of the bog afforded, turned round to me with a smile of -self-satisfaction and said, “One can better suffer themselves a thousand -times over, than see one’s poor dumb beast want: it is next, please your -Honour, to seeing one’s child in want--God help him who has witnessed -both!” - - * The temperance of an Irish peasant in this respect is - almost incredible; many of them are satisfied with one meal - a day--none of them exceed two--breakfast and supper; which - invariably consists of potatoes, sometimes with, sometimes - without milk. One of the rules observed by the Finian Band, - an ancient militia of Ireland, was to eat but once in the - twenty-four hours.--See Keating’s History of Ireland. - -“And art thou then (I mentally exclaimed) that intemperate, cruel, idle -savage, an Irish peasant? with a heart thus tenderly alive to the finest -feelings of humanity; patiently labouring with daily exertion for what -can scarcely afford thee a bare subsistence; sustaining the -unsatisfied wants of nature without a murmur; nurtured in the hope (the -_disappointed hope_) of procuring nourishment for _her_, dearer to -thee than thyself, tender of thy animal as thy child, and suffering the -consciousness of _their_ wants to absorb all consideration of thy own; -and resignation smooths the furrow which affliction has traced upon thy -brow, and the national exility of thy character cheers and supports the -natural susceptibility of thy heart.” In fact, he was at this moment -humming an Irish song by my side. - -I need not tell you that the first village we arrived at, I furnished -him with the means of procuring him a comfortable dinner for himself and -Driminduath, and advice and medicine from the village apothecary for his -wife. Poor fellow! his surprise and gratitude was expressed in the true -hyperbola of Irish emotion. - -Meantime I walked on to examine the ruins of an abbey, where in about -half an hour I was joined by Murtoch and his patient companion, whom he -assured me he had regaled with some hay, as he had himself with a glass -of whisky.--What a dinner for a famishing man! - -“It is a dreadful habit, Murtoch,” said I. - -“It is so, please your Honour,” replied he, “but then it is meat, drink, -and clothes to us, for we forget we have but little of one and less of -the other, when we get _the drop_ within us; Och, long life to them that -lightened the tax on the whiskey, for by my safe conscience, if they had -left it on another year we should have forgotten how to drink it.” - -I shall make no comment on Murtoch’s unconscious phillippic against the -legislature, but surely a government has little right to complain of -those popular disorders to which in a certain degree it may be deemed -accessory, by removing the strongest barrier that confines within moral -bounds the turbulent passions of the lower orders of society. - -To my astonishment, I found that Murtoch had only purchased for his sick -wife a little wine and a small piece of bacon: * both, he assured me, -were universal and sovereign remedies, and better than any thing the -_phisicianers_ could prescribe, to keep the disorder _from the heart_ ** -The spirits of Murtoch were now quite afloat, and during the rest of -our journey the vehemence, pliancy, and ardour of the Irish character -strongly betrayed itself in the manners of this poor unmodified -Irishman; while the natural facetiousness of a temperament -“complexionably pleasant,” was frequently succeeded by such heartrending -accounts of poverty and distress, as shed involuntary tears on those -cheeks which but a moment before were distended by the exertions of a -boisterous laugh. - - * It is common to see them come to gentlemen’s houses with a - little vial bottle to beg a table spoonful of wine (for a - sick relative,) which they esteem the elixir of life. - - ** To be able to keep any disorder from the heart, is - supposed, (by the lower orders of the Irish,) to be the - secret of longevity. - -Nothing could be more wildly sweet than the whistle or song of the -ploughman or labourer as we passed along; it was of so singular a -nature, that I frequently paused to catch it; it is a species of -voluntary recitative, and so melancholy, that every plaintive note -breathes on the heart of the auditor a tale of hopeless despondency or -incurable woe. By heavens! I could have wept as I listened, and found a -luxury in tears. * - - * Mr. Walker, in his Historical Memoir of the Irish Bards, - has given a specimen of the Irish plough-tune? and adds, - “While the Irish ploughman drives his team, and the female - peasant milks her cow, they warble a succession of wild - notes which bids defiance to the rules of composition, yet - are inexpressibly sweet.” - -The evening was closing in fast, and we were within a mile of -Bally--------, when, to a day singularly fine, succeeded one of the -most violent storms of rain and wind I had ever witnessed. Murtoch, who -seemed only to regard it on my account, insisted on throwing his great -coat over me, and pointed to a cabin at a little distance, where, he -said, “if my Honour would demean myself so far, I could get good shelter -for the night.” - -“Are you sure of that, Murtoch?” said I. - -Murtoch shook his head, and looking full in my face, said something in -Irish; which at my request he translated--the words were--“Happy are -_they_ whose roof shelters the head of the traveller. - -“And is it indeed a source of happiness to you, Murtoch?” - -Murtoch endeavoured to convince me it _was_, even upon a _selfish_ -principle: “For (said he) it is thought right lucky to have a stranger -sleep beneath one’s roof.” - -If superstition was ever thus on the side of benevolence, even reason -herself would hesitate to depose her. We had now reached the door of the -cabin, which Murtoch opened without ceremony, saying as he entered--“May -God and the Virgin Mary pour a blessing on this house!” The family, -who were all circled round a fine turf fire that blazed on the earthen -hearth, replied, “Come in, and a thousand welcomes”--for Murtoch served -as interpreter, and translated as they were spoken these warm effusions -of Irish cordiality. The master of the house, a venerable old man, -perceiving me, made a low bow, and added, “You are welcome, and ten -thousand welcomes, _gentleman._” * - - * “Failte augus cead ro ag duine nasal.” The term gentleman, - however, is a very inadequate version of the Irish nasal, - which is an epitthet of superiority that indicates more than - mere gentility of birth can bestow, although that requisite - is also included. In a curious dialogue between Ossian and - St. Patrick, in an old Irish poem, in which the former - relates the combat between Oscar and Ilian, St, Patrick - solicits him to the detail, addressing him as “Ossian uasal, - a mhic Fionne”, “Ossian the Noble--the son of Fingal.” - -So you see I hold my letter patent of nobility in my countenance, for I -had not yet divested myself of Murtoch’s costume--while in the act, the -best stool was wiped for me, the best seat at the fire forced on me, and -on being admitted into the social circle, I found its central point was -a round oaken stool heaped with smoking potatoes thrown promiscuously -over it. - -To partake of this national diet I was strongly and courteously -solicited, while as an incentive to an appetite that needed none, -the old dame produced what she called a _madder_ of sweet milk, in -contradistinction to the sour milk of which the rest partook; while the -cow that sup plied the luxury slumbered most amicably with a large pig -at no great distance from where I sat, and Murtoch glancing an eye at -_both_, and then looking at me, seemed to say, “You see into what snug -quarters we have got.” While I (as I sat with my damp clothes smoking -by the turf fire, my madder of milk in one hand, and hot potatoe in the -other) assured him by a responsible glance, that I was fully sensible of -the comforts of our situation. - -As soon as supper was finished the old man said grace, the family -piously blessed themselves, and the stool being removed, the hearth -swept, and the fire replenished from the bog, Murtoch threw himself -on his back along a bench, * and unasked began a song, the wild and -plaintive melody of which went at once to the soul. - -When he had concluded, I was told it was the lamentation of the poor -Irish for the loss of their _glibbs_ or long tresses, of which they were -deprived by the arbitrary will of Henry VIII.--The song (composed in his -reign) is called the _Coulin_ ** which I am told is literally, the fair -ringlet. - - * This curious vocal position is of very ancient origin in - Connaught, though by no means prevalent. Formerly the - songster not only lay on his back, but had a weight pressed - on his chest. The author’s father recollects having seen a - man in the county of Mayo, of the name of O’Melvill, who - sung for him in this position some years back. - - ** The Cualin is one of the most popular and beautiful - Irish airs estant. - -When the English had drawn a pale round their conquests in this country, -such of the inhabitants as were compelled to drag on their existence -beyond the barrier, could no longer afford to cover their heads with -metal, and were necessitated to rely on the resistance of their matted -locks. At length this necessity became “the fashion of their choice.” - -The partiality of the ancient Irish to long hair is still to be traced -in their descendants of both sexes, the women in particular; for -I observed that the young ones only wore their “native ornament of -_hair_,” which sometimes flows over their shoulders, sometimes is -fastened up in tresses, with a pin or bodkin. A fashion more in unison -with grace and nature, though less in point of formal neatness, than the -round-eared caps and large hats of our rustic fair of England. - -Almost every word of Murtoch’s lamentation was accompanied by the sighs -and mournful lamentations of his auditors, who seemed to sympathize -as tenderly in the sufferings of their progenitors, as though they had -themselves been the victims of the tyranny which had caused them. The -arch policy of “the ruthless king,” who destroyed at once the records of -a nation’s woes, by extirpating “the tuneful race,” whose art would have -perpetuated them to posterity, never appeared to me in greater force -than at that moment. - -In the midst, however, of the melancholy which involved the mourning -auditors of Murtoch, a piper entered and seated himself by the fire, -_sans façon_, drew his pipes from under his coat, and struck up an Irish -lilt of such inspiring animation, as might have served St. Basil of -Limoges, the merry patron of dancing, for a jubilate. - -In a moment, in the true pliability of Irish temperament, the whole -pensive group cheered up, flung away their stools, and as if bit to -merry madness by a tarantula, set to dancing jigs with all their hearts, -and all their _strength_ into the bargain. Murtoch appeared not less -skilled in the dance than song; and every one (according to the just -description of Goldsmith, who was a native of this province,) seemed - - “To seek renown, - - By holding out to tire each other down.” - -Although much amused by this novel style of devotion at the shrine -of Terpsichore, yet as the night was now calm, and an unclouded moon -dispersed the gloom of twilight obscurity, I arose to pursue my journey. -Murtoch would accompany me, though our hospitable friends did their -utmost to prevail on both to remain for the night. - -When I insisted on my host receiving a trifle, I observed poverty -struggling with pride, and gratitude superior to both: he at last -reluctantly consented to be prevailed on, by my assurance of forgetting -to call on them again when I passed that way, if I were now denied. I -was followed for several paces by the whole family, who parted _with_, -as they _received_ me, with blessings,--for their courtesy upon all -occasions, seems interwoven with their religion, and not to be pious in -their forms of etiquette, is not to be polite. - -Benevolent and generous beings! whose hard labour - - “Just gives what life requires, but gives no more,” - -yet who, with the ever ready smile of heart-felt welcome, are willing -to share that hard earned little, with the weary traveller whom chance -conducts to your threshold, or the solitary wanderer whom necessity -throws upon your bounty. How did my heart smite me, while I received the -cordial rites of hospitality from your hands, for the prejudices I had -hitherto nurtured against your characters. But your smiling welcome, and -parting benediction, retributed my error--in the feeling of remorse they -awakened. - -It was late when I reached Bally--------, a large, ugly, irregular -town, near the sea coast; but fortunately meeting with a chaise, I -threw myself into it, gave Murtoch my address, (who was all amazement -at discovering I was son to the Lord of the Manor,) and arrived without -further adventure at this antique _chateau_, more gratified by the -result of my little pedestrian tour, than if (at least in the present -state of my feelings,) I had performed it Sesostris-like, in a triumphal -chariot, drawn by kings; for “so weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,” - appear to me the tasteless pleasures of the world I have left, that -every sense, every feeling, is in a state of revolt against its -sickening joys, and their concomitant sufferings. - -Adieu! I am sending this off by a courier extraordinary, to the next -post-town, in the hope of receiving one from you by the same hand. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER III. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -I perceive my father emulates the policy of the British Legislature, -and delegates English ministers to govern his Irish domains. Who do -you think is his _fac totum_ here? The rascally son of his cunning -Leicestershire steward, who unites all his father’s artifice to a -proportionable share of roguery of his own, I have had some reason -to know the fellow; but his servility of manner, and apparent rigid -discharge of his duties, has imposed on my father; who, with all his -superior mind, is to be imposed on, by those who know how to find out -the clew to his fallibility: his noble soul can never stoop to dive into -the minute vices of a rascal of this description. - -Mr. Clendinning was absent from M-------- house when I arrived, but -attended me the next morning at breakfast, with that fawning civility of -manner I abhor, and which, contrasted with the manly courteousness of my -late companion, never appeared more grossly obvious. He endeavoured to -amuse me with a detail of the ferocity, cruelty, and uncivilized state -of those among whom (as he hinted,) I was banished for my sins. He had -now, he said, been near five years among them, and had never met an -individual of the lower order, who did not deserve a halter at least: -for his part, he had kept a tight hand over them, and he was justified -in so doing, or his lord would be the sufferer; for few of them would -pay their rents till their cattle were driven, or some such measure was -taken with them. And as for the labourers and workmen, a slave-driver -was the only man fit to deal with them; they were all rebellious, idle, -cruel, and treacherous; and for his part, he never expected to leave the -country with his life. - -It is not possible a better defence for the imputed turbulence of the -Irish peasantry could be made, than that which lurked in the unprovoked -accusations of this narrow-minded sordid steward, who, it is evident, -wished to forestall the complaints of those on whom he had exercised the -native tyranny of his disposition (even according to his own account,) -by every species of harrassing oppression within the compass of his -ability. For if power is a dangerous gift even in the regulated mind -of elevated rank, what does it be come in the delegated authority of -ignorance, meanness, and illiberality? * - - * A horde of tyrants exist in Ireland, in a class of men - that are unknown in England, in the multitude of agents of - absentees, small proprietors, who are the pure Irish - squires, middle men, who take large farms, and squeeze out a - forced kind of profit by letting them in small parcels; - lastly, the little farmers themselves, who exercise the same - insolence they receive from their superiors, on those - unfortunate beings who are placed at the extremity of the - scale of degradation--the Irish peasantry.--An Enquiry into - the Causes of Popular Discontents in Ireland. - -My father, however, by frequent visitations to his Irish estates (within -these few years at least,) must afford to his suffering tenantry an -opportunity of redress; for who that ever approached him with a _tear_ -of suffering, but left his presence with a tear of gratitude! But many, -very many of the English nobility who hold immense tracts of land -in this country, and draw from hence in part the suppliance of their -luxuries, have never visited their estates, since conquest first put -them in the possession of their ancestors. Ours, you know, fell to us -in the Cromwellian wars, but since the time of General M--------, who -earned them by the sword, my father, his lineal descendant, is the first -of the family who ever visited them. And certainly, a wish to conciliate -the affections of his tenantry, could alone induce him to spend so much -of his time here as he has done; for the situation of this place is -bleak and solitary, and the old mansion, like the old manor houses -of England, has neither the architectural character of an antique -structure, nor the accommodation of a modern one. - - “_Ayant l’air delabri, sans l’air antique_.” - -On enquiring for the key of the library, Mr. Clendinning informed me -his lord always took it with him, but that a box of books had come from -England a few days before my arrival. - -As I suspected, they were all law books--well, be it so; there are few -sufferings more acute than those which forbid complaint, because they -are self-created. - -Four days have elapsed since I began this letter, and I have been -prevented from continuing it merely for want of something to say. - -I cannot now sit down, as I once did, and give you a history of my -ideas or sensations, in the deficiency of fact or incident; for I have -survived my sensations, and my ideas are dry and exhausted. - -I cannot now trace my joys to their source, or my sorrows to their -spring, for I am destitute of their present, and insensible to their -former existence. The energy of youthful feeling is subdued, and the -vivacity of warm emotion worn out by its own violence. I have lived too -fast in a moral as well as a physical sense, and the principles of -my intellectual, as well as my natural constitution are, I fear, fast -hastening to decay I live the tomb of my expiring mind, and preserve -only the consciousness of my wretched state, without the power, and -almost without the wish to be otherwise than what I am. And yet, God -knows, I am nothing less than contented. - -Would you hear my journal? I rise late to my solitary breakfast, because -it is solitary; then to study, or rather to yawn over _Giles_ versus -_Haystack_, until (to check the creeping effects of lethargy) I rise -from my reading desk, and lounge to a window, which commands a boundless -view of a boundless bog; then, “with what appetite I may,” sit down to a -joyless dinner. Sometimes, when seduced by the blandishments of an even -ing singularly beautiful, I quit my _den_ and _prowl_ down to the sea -shore where, throwing myself at the foot of some cliff that “battles -o’er the deep,” I fix my vacant eye on the stealing waves that - - “Idly swell against the rocky coast, - - And break--as break those glittering shadows, - - Human joys.” - -Then wet with the ocean spray and evening dew, return to my bed, merely -to avoid the intrusive civilities of Mr. Clendinning. Thus wear the -hours away.” - -I had heard that the neighbourhood about M-------- house was good: I -can answer for its being populous. Although I took every precaution to -prevent my arrival being known, yet the natives have come down on me in -hordes, and this in all the form of _haut ton_, as the innumerable -cards of the clans of Os and Macs evince. I have, however, neither -been visible to the visitants, nor accepted their invitations: for “man -delights me not, nor woman either.” Nor woman either! Oh! uncertainty -of all human propensities! Yet so it is, that every letter that composes -the word _woman!_ seems cabalistical, and rouses every principle of -aversion and disgust within me; while I often ask myself with Tasso, - - “Se pur ve nelle amor alcun dileito.” - -It is certain, that the diminutive body of our worthy steward, is the -abode of the transmigrated soul of some _West Indian_ planter. I have -been engaged these two days in listening to, and retributing those -injuries his tyranny has inflicted, in spite of his rage, eloquence, and -threats, none of which have been spared. The victims of his oppression -haunt me in my walks, fearful lest their complaints should come to the -knowledge of this puissant _major domo_. - -“But why,” said I to one of the sufferers, after a detail of seized -geese, pounded cows, extra labour cruelly extorted, ejectments, &c. -&c.. given in all the tedious circumlocution of Irish oratory,--“why not -complain to my father when he comes among you?” - -“Becaise, please your Honour, my Lord stays but a few days at a time -here together, nor that same neither; besides, we be loth to trouble his -Lordship, for feard it would be after coming to Measther Clendinning’s -ears, which would be the ruination of us all; and then when my Lord is -at the Lodge, which he mostly is, he is always out amongst the quality, -so he is.” - -“What Lodge?” said I. - -“Why, please your Honour, where my Lord mostly takes up when he comes -here, the place that belonged to Measther Clendinning, who call ed it -the _Lodge_, becaise the good old Irish name that was upon it did not -suit his fancy.” - -In the evening I asked Mr. Clendinning if my father did not sometimes -reside at the Lodge? He seemed surprised at my information, and said, -that was the name he had given to a ruinous old place which, with a -few acres of indifferent land, he had purchased of his hard labour, and -which his Lord having taken an unaccountable liking to, rented from him, -and was actually the tenant of his own steward. - -O! what arms of recrimination I should be furnished with against my -rigidly moral father, should I discover this remote _Cassino_, (for -remote I understand it is) to be the _harem_ of some wild Irish -_Sultana_; for I strongly suspect “that metal more attractive” than the -cause he assigns, induces him to pay an annual visit to a country -to which, till within these few years, he nurtured the strongest -prejudices. You know there are but nineteen years between him and my -brother; and his feelings are so unblunted by vicious pursuits, his life -has been guided by such epicurian principles of enjoyment, that he still -retains much of the first warm flush of juvenile existence, and has -only sacrificed to time, its follies and its ignorance. I swear, at this -moment he is a younger man than either of his sons; the one chilled -by the coldness of an icy temperament into premature old age, and the -other!!!------Murtoch has been to see me. I have procured him a little -farm, and am answerable for the rent. I sent his wife some rich wine; -she is recovering very fast. Murtoch is all gratitude for the wine, but -I perceive his faith still lies in the _bacon!_ - - - -LETTER IV. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -I can support this wretched state of non-existence, this _articula -mortis_, no longer. I cannot read--I cannot think--nothing touches, -nothing interests me; neither is it permitted me to indulge my -sufferings in solitude. These hospitable people still weary me -with their attentions, though they must consider me as a sullen -misanthropist, for I persist in my invisibility. I can escape them no -longer but by flight--professional study is out of the question, for -a time at least. I mean, therefore, to “take the wings of” some -fine morning, and seek a change of being in a change of place; for -a perpetual state of evaga-tion alone, keeps up the flow and ebb of -existence in my languid frame. My father’s last letter informs me he is -obliged by business to postpone his journey for a month; this leaves me -so much the longer master of myself. By the time we meet, my mind may -have regained its native tone. _Laval_ too, writes for a longer leave -of absence, which I most willingly grant. It is a weight removed off my -shoulders; I would be savagely free. - -I thank you for your welcome letters, and will do what I can to satisfy -your antiquarian taste; and I would take your advice and study the Irish -language, were my powers of comprehension equal to the least of the -philological excellences of _Tom Thumb_ or _Goody Two Shoes_,--but -alas! - - “Se perchetto a me Stesso quale acquisto, - - Firo mai che me piaccia.” * - - * “Torquatto Tasso.” - - - -_Villa di Marino, Atlantic Ocean_ - -Having told Mr. Clendinning, that I should spend a few days in -wandering about the country, I mounted my horse. So I determined to roam -free and unrestrained by the presence of a servant, to Mr. Clendinning’s -utter amazement, I ordered a few changes of linen, my drawing-book, -and pocket escritoire, to be put in a small valice, which, with all due -humility, I had strapped on the back of my steed, whom, by the bye, I -expect will be as celebrated as the _Rozinante_ of Don Quixote, or -the _Beltenbros L’Amadis de Gaul_; and thus accoutred set off on my -peregrination, the most listless knight that ever entered on the lists -of errantry. - -You will smile, when I tell you my first point of attraction was the -_Lodge_; to which (though with some difficulty) I found my way; for -it lies in a most wild and unfrequented direction, but so infinitely -superior in situation to M------ house, that I no longer wonder at my -father’s preference. Every feature that constitutes either the beauty -or sublime of landscape, is here finely combined. Groves druidically -venerable--mountains of Alpine elevation--expansive lakes, and the -boldest and most romantic sea-coast I ever beheld, alternately diversify -and enrich its scenery; while a number of young and flourishing -plantations evince the exertion of taste in my father, he certainly has -not betrayed in the disposition of his hereditary domains. I found this -_Tusculum_ inhabited only by a decent old man and his superannuated -wife. Without informing them who I was, I made a feigning wish to make -the place a pretext for visiting it. The old man smiled at the idea, -and shook his head, presuming that I must be indeed a stranger in the -country, as my accent denoted, for that this spot belonged to a great -_English Lord_, whom he verily believed would not resign it for his own -fine place some miles off; but when, with some jesuitical artifice I -endeavoured to trace the cause of this attachment, he said it was his -Lordship’s fancy, and that there was no accounting for people’s fancies. - -“That is all very true,” said I, “but is it the house only that seized -on your Lord’s fancy?” - -“Nay, for the matter of that,” said he, “the lands are far more finer; -the house, though large, being no great things.” I begged in this -instance to judge for myself, and a few shillings procured me not only -free egress, but the confidence of the ancient _Cicerone_. - -This fancied _harem_, however, I found not only divested of its expected -fair inhabitant, but wholly destitute of furniture, except what filled a -bedroom occupied by my father, and an apartment which was _locked_. -The old man with some tardiness produced the key, and I found this -mysterious chamber was only a study; but closer inspection discovered -that almost all the books related to the language, history, and -antiquities of Ireland. - -So you see, in fact, my father’s _Sultana_ is no other than the _Irish -Muse_; and never was son so tempted to become the rival of his father, -since the days of Antiochus and Stratonice. For, at a moment when -my taste, like my senses, is flat and palled, nothing can operate so -strongly as an incentive, as novelty. I strongly suspect that my father -was aware of this, and that he had despoiled the temple, to prevent me -becoming a worshipper at the same shrine. For the old man said he had -received a letter from his Lord, ordering away all the furniture (except -that of his own bed-room and study) to the manor house; the study and -bed-room, however, will suffice me, and here I shall certainly pitch my -head-quarters until my father’s arrival. - -I have already had some occasions to remark, that the warm susceptible -character of the Irish is open to the least indication of courtesy and -kindness. - -My _politesse_ to this old man, opened every sluice of confidence in his -breast, and, as we walked down the avenue together, having thrown the -bridle over my horse’s neck, and offered him my arm, for he was lame, I -enquired how this beautiful farm fell into the hands of Lord M--------, -still concealing from him that it was his son who demanded the question. - -“Why, your Honour,” said he, “the farm, though beautiful is small; -however, it made the best part of what remained of the patrimony of the -Prince, when--------” - -“What Prince?” interrupted I, amazed. - -“Why, the Prince of Inismore, to be sure, jewel, whose great forefathers -once owned the half of the barony, from the Red Bog to the sea-coast. -Och! it is a long story, but I heard my grandfather tell it a thousand -times, how a great Prince of Inismore in the wars of Queen Elizabeth, -had here a castle and a great tract of land on the _borders_, of which -he was deprived, as the story runs, becaise he would neither cut his -_glibbs_, shave his upper lip, nor shorten his shirt; * and so he was -driven, with the rest of us beyond the _pale_. The family, however, -after a while, flourished greater nor ever. Och, and it is themselves -that might, for they were true Milesians bread and born, every mother’s -soul of them. O not a drop of _Strongbonean_ flowed in their Irish -veins, agrah! - - * From the earliest settlement of the English in this - country, an inquisitorial persecution had been carried on - against the national costume. In the reign of Henry V. there - was an act passed against even the English colonists wearing - a whisker on the upper lip, like the Irish; and in 1616, the - Lord Deputy, in his instructions to the Lord President and - Council, directed, that such as appeared in the Irish robes - or mantles, should be punished by fine and imprisonment. - -“Well, as I was after telling your Honour, the family flourished, and -beat all before them, for they had an army of _galloglasses_ at -their back, * until the Cromwellian wars broke out, and those same -cold-hearted Presbyterians, battered the fine _old ancient_ castle of -Inismore, and left in the condition it now stands; and what was worse -nor that, the poor old Prince was put to death in the arms of his fine -young son, who tried to save him, and that by one of Cromwell’s English -Generals, who received the town lands of Inismore, which lie near -Bally--------, as his reward. Now this English General who murdered the -Prince, was no other than the ancestor of my Lord, to whom these estates -descended from father to son. Ay, you may well start, Sir, it was a -woful piece of business; for of all their fine estates, nothing was left -to the Princes of Inismore, but the ruins of their old castle, and the -rocks that surround it; except this tight little bit of an estate here, -on which the father of the present Prince built this house; becaise his -Lady, with whom he got a handsome fortune, and who was descended from -the Kings of Connaught, took a dislike to the castle; the story going -that it was haunted by the murdered Prince; and what with building of -this house, and living like an Irish Prince, as he was every inch of -him, and spending 3000 l. a year out of 300 l., when he died (and the -sun never shone on such a funeral; the whiskey ran about like _ditch -water_, and the country was stocked with pipes and tobacco for many a -long year after. For the present Prince, his son, would not be a bit -behind his father in any thing, and so signs on him, for he is not worth -one guinea this blessed day, Christ save him;)--well, as I was saying, -when he died, he left things in a sad way, which his son is not the man -to mend, for he was the spirit of a king, and lives in as much state as -one to this day.” - - * The second order of military in Ireland. - -“But where, where does he live?” interrupted I, with breathless -impatience. - -“Why,” continued this living chronicle, in the true spirit of Irish -replication, “he did live there in that Lodge, as they call it now, and -in that room where my Lord keeps his books, was our young Princess born; -her father never had but her, and loves her better than his own heart’s -blood, and well he may, the blessing of the Virgin Mary and the Twelve -Apostles light on her sweet head. Well, the Prince would never let it -come near him, that things were not going on well, and continued to take -at great rents, farms that brought him in little; for being a Prince and -a Milesian, it did not become him to look after such matters, and every -thing was left to stewards and the like, until things coming to the -worst, a rich English gentleman, as it was said, come over here and -offered the Prince, through his steward, a good round sum of money -on this place, which the Prince, being harrassed by his _spalpeen_ -creditors, and wanting a little ready money more than any other earthly -thing, consented to receive; the gentleman sending him word he should -have his own time; but scarcely was the mortgage a year old, when -this same Englishman, (Oh, my curse lie about him, Christ pardon me,) -foreclosed it, and the fine old Prince not having as much as a shed -to shelter his gray hairs under, was forced to fit up part of the old -ruined castle, and open those rooms which it had been said were haunted. -Discharging many of his old servants, he was accompanied to the castle -by the family steward, the _fosterers_, the _nurse_ * the harper, and -Father John, the chaplain. - - * The custom of retaining the nurse who reared the - children, has ever been, and is still in force among the - most respectable families in Ireland, as it is still in - modern, and was formerly in ancient Greece, and they are - probably both derived from the same origin. We read, that - when Rebecca left her father’s house to marry Isaac at - Beersheba, the nurse was sent to accompany her. But in - Ireland, not only the nurse herself, but her husband and - children are objects of peculiar regard and attention, and - are called fosterers. The claims of these fosterers - frequently descend from generation to generation, and the - tie which unite? them is indissoluble. - -“Och, it was a piteous sight the day he left this: he was leaning on the -Lady Glorvina’s arm as he walked out to the chaise, ‘James Tyral,’ says -he to me in Irish, for I caught his eye; ‘James Tyral,’ but he could -say no more, for the old tenants kept crying about him, and he put -his mantle to his eyes and hurried into the chaise; the Lady Glorvina -kissing her hand to us all, and crying bitterly till she was out of -sight. But then, Sir, what would you have of it; the Prince shortly -after found out that this same Mr. _Mortgagee_, was no other than a -spalpeen steward of Lord M--------‘s. It was thought he would have run -mad when he found that almost the last acre of his hereditary lands was -in the possession of the servant of his hereditary enemy; for so deadly -is the hatred he bears to my Lord, that upon my conscience, I believe -the young Prince who held the bleeding body of his murdered father in -his arms, felt not greater for the murderer, than our Prince does for -that murder’s descendant. - -“Now my Lord is just such a man as God never made better, and wishing -with all the veins in his heart to serve the old Prince, and do away all -difference between them, what does he do, jewel, but writes him a mighty -pretty letter, offering this house and a part of the lands a present. -O! divil a word of lie I’m after telling you; but what would you have -of it, but this offer sets the Prince madder than all; for you know that -this was an insult on his honour, which warmed every drop of Milesian -blood in his body for he would rather starve to death all his life, -than have it thought he would be obligated to any body at all at all for -wherewithal to support him; so with that the Prince writes him a letter: -it was brought by the old steward, who knew every line of the contents -of it, though divil a line in it but two, and that same was but one and -a half, as one may say, and this it was, as the old steward told me: - -“The son of the son of the son’s son of Bryan, Prince of Inismore, can -receive no favour from the descendant of his ancestor’s murderer.” - -“Now it was plain enough to be seen, that my Lord took this to heart, -as well he might, faith; however, he considered that it came from a -misfortunate Prince, he let it drop, and so this was all that ever -passed between them; however, he was angry enough with his steward, but -Measther Clendinning put his _comehither_ on him, and convinced him that -the biggest rogue alive was an honest man.” - -“And the Prince!” I interrupted eagerly. - -“Och, jewel, the prince lives away in the old Irish fashion, only he has -not a Christian soul now at all at all, most of the old Milesian gentry -having quit the country; besides, the Prince being in a bad state of -health, and having nearly lost the use of his limbs, and his heart -being heavy, and his purse light; for all that he keeps up the old -Irish customs and dress, letting nobody eat at the same table but his -daughter, * not even his Lady when she was alive.” - - * M’Dermot, Prince of Coolavin, never suffered his wife to - sit at table with him; although his daughter-in-law was - permitted to that honour, as she was the descendant from the - royal family of the O’Connor. - -“And do you think the son of Lord M-------- would have no chance of -obtaining an audience from the Prince?” - -“What the young gentleman that they say is come to M-------- house? why -about as much chance as his father, but by my conscience, that’s a bad -one.” - -“And your young Princess, is she as implacable as her father?” - -“Why, faith! I cannot well tell you what the Lady Glorvina is, for she -is like nothing upon the face of God’s creation but herself. I do not -know how it comes to pass, that every mother’s soul of us loves her -better nor the Prince; ay, by my conscience, and fear her too; for well -may they fear her, on the score of her great learning, being brought up -by Father John, the chaplain, and spouting Latin faster nor the priest -of the parish: and we may well love her, for she is a saint upon earth, -and a great _physicianer_ to boot; curing all the sick and maimed for -twenty miles round. Then she is so proud, that divil a one soul of the -quality will she visit in the whole barony, though she will sit in a -smoky cabin for hours together, to talk to the poor: besides all this, -she will sit for hours at her Latin and Greek, after the family are gone -to bed, and yet you will see her up with the dawn, running like a doe -about the rocks; her fine yellow hair streaming in the wind, for all the -world like a mermaid. - -“Och! my blessing light on her every day she sees the light, for she is -the jewel of a child.” - -“A child! say you!” - -“Why, to be sure I think her one; for many a time I carried her in these -arms, and taught her to bless herself in Irish; but she is no child -either, for as one of our old Irish songs says, ‘Upon her cheek we see -love’s letter sealed with a damask rose.’ * But if your Honour has -any curiosity you may judge for yourself; for matins and vespers are -celebrated every day in the year, in the old chapel belonging to the -castle, and the whole family attend.” - - * This is a line of a song of one Dignum, who composed in - his native language, but could neither read nor write nor - spoke any language but his own. “I have seen,” said the - celebrated Edmund Burke (who in his boyish days had known - him) “some of his effusions translated into English, but was - assured, by judges, that they fell far short of the - originals; yet they contained some graces, ‘snatched beyond - the reach of ark’ “--Vide Life of Burke. - -“And are strangers also permitted?” - -“Faith and it’s themselves that are; but few indeed trouble them, though -none are denied. I used to get to mass myself sometimes, but it is now -too far to walk for me.” - -This was sufficient, I waited to hear no more, but repaid my -communicative companion for his information, and rode off, having -inquired the road to Inismore from the first man I met. - -It would be vain, it would be impossible to describe the emotion which -the simple tale of this old man awakened. The descendant of a murderer! -The very scoundrel steward of my father revelling in the property of a -man who shelters his aged head beneath the ruins of those walls where -his ancestors bled under the uplifted sword of mine. - -Why this, you will say, is the romance of a novel-read schoolboy. Are we -not all, the little and the great, descended from assassins; was not -the first born man a fratricide? and still, on the field of unappeased -contention, does not “man the murderer, meet the murderer, man?” - -Yes, yes, ‘tis all true; humanity acknowledges it and shudders. But -still I wish _my_ family had never possessed an acre of ground in this -country, or possessed it on other terms. I always knew the estate fell -into our family in the civil wars of Cromwell, and, in the world’s -language, was the well-earned meed of my progenitor’s valour; but I -seemed to hear it now for the first time. - -I am glad, however, that this old Irish chieftain is such a ferocious -savage; that the pity his fate awakens is qualified by aversion for -his implacable, irascible disposition. I am glad his daughter is _red -headed_, a pedant, and a romp; that she spouts Latin like the priest -of the parish, and cures sore fingers; that she avoids genteel society, -where her ideal rank would procure her no respect, and her unpolished -ignorance, by force of contrast, make her feel her real inferiority; -that she gossips among the poor peasants, over whom she can reign liege -Lady; and, that she has been brought up by a jesuitical priest, who has -doubtlessly rendered her as bigoted and illiberal as himself. All this -soothes my conscientous throes of feeling and compassion; for oh! if -this savage chief was generous and benevolent, as he is independent and -spirited; if this daughter was amiable and intelligent, as she must -be simple and unvitiated! But I dare not pursue the supposition, It is -better as it is. - -You would certainly never guess that the _Villa di Marino_, from whence -I date the continuation of my letter, was simply a _fisherman’s hut_ on -the seacoast, half way between the Lodge and Castle of Inismore, that -is, seven miles distant from each. Determined on attending vespers at -Inismore, I was puzzling my brain to think where or how I should pass -the night, when this hut caught my eye, and I rode up to it to inquire -if there was any inn in the neighbourhood, where a _chevalier errant_ -could shelter his adventurous head for a night; but I was informed -the nearest inn was fifteen miles distant, so I bespoke a little fresh -straw, and a clean blanket which hung airing on some fishing tackle -outside the door of this _marine hotel_, in preference to riding so -far for a bed, at so late an hour as that in which the vespers would be -concluded. - -This mine host of the Atlantic promised me, pointing to a little board -suspended over the door, on which was written: - -“Good Dry Lodging.” - -My landlord, however, convinced me his hotel afforded something better -than good dry lodging; for entreating me to alight, till a shower passed -over which was beginning to fall, I entered the hut, and found his wife, -a sturdy lad their eldest son, and two naked little ones, seated at -their dinner, and enjoying such a feast, as Apicius, who sailed to -Africa from Rome to eat good oysters, would gladly have voyaged from -Rome to Ireland to have partaken of; for they were absolutely dining -on an immense turbot (whose fellow-sufferers were floundering in a boat -that lay anchored near the door.) A most cordial invitation on their -part, and a most willing compliance on mine, was the ceremony of a -moment; and never did an English alderman on turtle day, or Roman -emperor on lampreys and peacocks’ livers, make a more delicious repast, -than the chance guest of these good people, on their boiled turbot and -roasted potatoes, which was quaffed down by the pure phalernian of a -neighbouring spring. - -Having learnt that the son was going with the compeers of the demolished -turbot to Bally--------, - -I took out my little escritoire to write you an account of the first -adventure of my chivalrous tour; while one of spring’s most grateful -sunny show ers, is pattering on the leaves of the only tree that shades -this simple dwelling, and my _Rosinante_ is nibbling a scanty dinner -from the patches of vegetation that sprinkle the surrounding cliffs. -Adieu! the vesper hour arrives. In all “my orisons thy sins shall be -remembered.” The spirit of adventure wholly possesses me, and on the -dusky horizon of life, some little glimmering of light begins to dawn. - -Encore adieu. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER V. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -_Castle of Inismore, Barony of --------_. - -Ay, ‘tis even so--point your glasses--and rub your eyes, ‘tis all one; -here I am, and here I am likely to remain for some time, but whether a -prisoner of war, taken up on a suspicion of espionage, or to be offered -as an appeasing sacrifice to the _manes_ of the old Prince of Inismore, -you must for a while suspend your patience to learn. - -According to the _carte du pays_ laid out for me by the fisherman, I -left the shore and crossed the summit of a mountain that “battled o’er -the deep,” and which after an hour’s ascension, I found sloped almost -perpendicularly down to a bold and rocky coast, its base terminating in -a peninsula, that advanced for near half a mile into the ocean. Towards -the extreme western point of this peninsula, which was wildly romantic -beyond all description, arose a vast and grotesque pile of rocks, which -at once formed the site and fortifications of the noblest mass of ruins -on which my eye ever rested. Grand even in desolation, and magnificent -in decay--it was the Castle of Inismore. The setting sun shone brightly -on its mouldering turrets, and the waves which bathed its rocky basis, -reflected on their swelling bosoms the dark outlines of its awful ruins. * - - * Those who have visited the Castle of Dunluce, near the - Giant’s Causeway, may, perhaps, have some idea of its - striking features in this rude draught of the Castle of - Inismore. - -As I descended the mountain’s brow I observed that the little isthmus -which joined the peninsula to the main land had been cut away, and -a curious danger-threatening bridge was rudely thrown across the -intervening gulf, flung from the rocks on one side to an angle of the -mountain on the other, leaving a yawning chasm of some fathoms deep -beneath the foot of the wary passenger. This must have been a very -perilous pass in the days of civil warfare; and in the intrepidity of -my daring ancestor, I almost forgot his crime. Amidst the interstices -of the rocks which skirted the shores of this interesting peninsula, -patches of the richest vegetation were to be seen, and the trees which -sprung wildly among its venerable ruins, were bursting into all the -vernal luxuriancy of spring. In the course of my descent, several cabins -of a better description than I had yet seen, appeared scattered beneath -the shelter of the mountain’s innumerable projections; while in the air -and dress of the inhabitants (which the sound of my horse’s feet brought -to their respective doors,) I evidently perceived a something original -and primitive, I had never noticed before in this class of persons here. - -They appeared to me, I know not why, to be in their holiday garb, -and their dress, though grotesque and coarse, was cleanly and -characteristic. I observed that round the heads of the elderly dames -were folded several wreaths of white or coloured linen, * and others -had hand kerchiefs ** lightly folded round their brows, and curiously -fastened under the chin; while the young wore their hair fastened up -with wooden bodkins. They were all enveloped in large shapeless mantles -of blue frieze, and most of them had a rosary hanging on their arm, from -whence I inferred they were on the point of attending vespers at the -chapel of Inismore. - - * “The women’s ancient headdress so perfectly resembles that - of the Egyptian Isis, that it cannot be doubted but that the - modes of Egypt were preserved among the Irish.”--Walker on - the Ancient Irish dress, p. 62. - - ** These handkerchiefs they call “Binnogues,” it is a remnant - of a very ancient mode. - -I alighted at the door of a cabin a few paces distant from the Alpine -bridge, and entreated a shed for my horse, while I performed my -devotions. The man to whom I addressed myself, seemed the only one of -several who surrounded me that understood English, and appeared much -edified by my pious intention, saying, “that God would prosper my -Honour’s journey, and that I was welcome to a shed for my horse, and a -night’s lodging for myself into the bargain.” He then offered to be my -guide, and as we crossed the drawbridge, he told me I was out of luck by -not coming earlier, for that high mass had been celebrated that morning -for the repose of the soul of a Prince of Inismore, who had been -murdered on this very day of the month. “And when this day comes -round,” he added, “we all attend dressed in our best; for my part, I -never wear my poor old grandfather’s _berrad_ but on the like occasion,” - taking off a curious cap of a conical form, which he twirled round his -hand and regarded with much satisfaction. * - - * A few years back, Hugh Dugan, a peasant of the county of - Kilkenny, who affected the ancient Irish dress, seldom - appeared without his berrad. - -By heavens! as I breathed this region of superstition, so strongly was -I infected, that my usual scepticism was scarcely proof against my -inclination to mount my horse and gallop off, as I shudderingly -pronounced, “I am then entering the castle of Inismore on the -anniversary of that day on which my ancestors took the life of its -venerable Prince!” - -You see, my good friend, how much we are the creatures of situation and -circumstance, and with what pliant servility the mind resigns itself to -the impressions of the senses, or the illusions of the imagination. - -We had now reached the ruined cloisters of the chapel, I paused to -examine their curious but dilapidated architecture when my guide, -hurrying me on, said, “if I did not quicken my pace, I should miss -getting a good view of the Prince,” who was just entering by a door -opposite to that we had passed through. Behold me then mingling among -a group of peasantry, and, like them, straining my eyes to that magnet -which fascinated every glance. - -And sure, fancy, in her boldest flight, never gave to the fairy vision -of poetic dreams, a combination of images more poetically fine, more -strikingly picturesque, or more impressively touching. Nearly one half -of the chapel of Inismore has fallen into decay, and the ocean breeze -as it rushed through the fractured roof, wafted the torn banners of -the family which hung along its dismantled walls. The red beams of the -sinking sun shone on the glittering tabernacle which stood on the altar, -and touched with their golden light the sacerdotal vestments of the two -officiating priests, who ascended its broken steps at the moment that -the Prince and his family entered. - -The first of this most singular and interesting group, was the venerable -Father John, the chaplain. Religious enthusiasm never gave to the -fancied form of the first of the patriarchs, a countenance of more -holy expression or divine resignation; a figure more touching by its -dignified simplicity, or an air more beneficently mild, more meekly -good. He was dressed in his pontificals, and, with his eyes bent to the -earth, his hands spread upon his breast, he joined his coadjutors. - -What a contrast to this saintly being now struck my view; a form almost -gigantic in stature, yet gently thrown forward by evident infirmity; -limbs of herculean mould, and a countenance rather furrowed by the -inroads of vehement passions, than the deep trace of years. Eyes still -emanating the ferocity of an unsubdued spirit, yet tempered by a strong -trait of benevolence; which, like a glory, irradiated a broad expansive -brow, a mouth on which even yet the spirit of convivial enjoyment seemed -to hover, though shaded by two large whiskers on the upper lip, * which -still preserved their ebon hue; while time or grief had bleached the -scattered hairs which hung their snows upon the manly temple. The -drapery which covered this striking figure was singularly appropriate, -and, as I have since been told, strictly conformable to the ancient -costume of the Irish nobles. - - * “I have been confidently assured, that the granfather of - the present Rt. Hon. John O’Neal, (great grandfather to the - present Lord O’Neal) the elegant and accomplished owner of - Shane’s Castle, wore his beard after the prohibited Irish - mode.”--Walker, p. 62. - -The only part of the under garment visible, was the ancient Irish -_truis_, which closely adhering to the limbs from the waist to the -ancle, includes the pantaloon and hose, and terminates in a buskin not -dissimilar to the Roman _perones_. A triangular mantle of bright scarlet -cloth, embroidered and fringed round the edges, fell from his shoulders -to the ground, and was fastened at the breast with a large circular -golden brooch, of a workmanship most curiously beautiful; round his neck -hung a golden collar, which seemed to denote the wearer of some order -of knighthood, probably hereditary in his family; a dagger, called a -_skiene_ (for my guide explained every article of the dress to me,) was -sheathed in his girdle, and was discerned by the sunbeam that played on -its brilliant haft. And as he entered the chapel, he removed from his -venerable head a cap or berrad, of the same form as that I had noticed -with my guide, but made of velvet, richly embroidered. - -The chieftain moved with dignity--yet with difficulty--and his colossal, -but infirm frame, seemed to claim support from a form so almost -impalpably delicate, that as it floated on the gaze, it seemed like -the incarnation of some pure ethereal spirit, which a sigh, too roughly -breathed, would dissolve into its kindred air; yet to this sylphid -elegance of spheral beauty was united all that symmetrical _contour_ -which constitutes the luxury of human loveliness. This scarcely “mortal -mixture of earth’s mould,” was vested in a robe of vestal white, which -was enfolded beneath the bosom with a narrow girdle embossed with -precious stones. - -From the shoulder fell a mantle of scarlet silk, fastened at the neck -with a silver bodkin, while the fine turned head was enveloped in a veil -of point lace, bound round the brow with a band or diadem, ornamented -with the same description of jewels as encircled her arms. * - - * This was, with a little variation, the general costume of - the female noblesse of Ireland from a very early period. In - the fifteenth century the veil was very prevalent, and was - termed fillag, or scarf; the Irish ladies, like those of - ancient and modern Greece, seldom appearing. As the veil - made no part of the Celtic costume, its origin was probably - merely oriental. - - The great love of ornaments betrayed by the Irish ladies of - other times, “the beauties of the heroes of old,” art thus - described by a quaint and ancient author:--“Their necks are - hung with chains and carkanets--their arms wreathed with - many bracelets.” - -Such was the _figure_ of the Princess of Inis-more! But oh! not once -was the face turned round towards that side where I stood. And when -I shifted my position, the envious veil intercepted the ardent glance -which eagerly sought the fancied charms it concealed: for was it -possible to doubt the face would not “keep the promise that the form had -made.” - -The group that followed was grotesque beyond all powers of description. -The ancient bard, whose long white beard - - “Descending, swept his aged breast,” - -the incongruous costume--half modern, half antique, of the bare footed -domestics, the ostensible steward, who closed the procession--and above -all, the dignified importance of the _nurse_, who took the lead in it -immediately after her young lady; her air, form, countenance, and dress, -were indeed so singularly fantastic and _outre_, that the genius -of masquerade might have adopted her figure as the finest model of -grotesque caricature. - -Conceive for a moment a form whose longitude bore no degree of -proportion to her latitude; dressed in a short jacket of brown cloth, -with loose sleeves from the elbow to the wrist, made of red camblet -striped with green, and turned up with a broad cuff--a petticoat of -scarlet frieze, covered by an apron of green serge, longitudinally -striped with scarlet tape, and sufficiently short to betray an ancle -that sanctioned all the libels ever uttered against the ancles of the -Irish fair--true national brogues set off her blue worsted stockings, -and her yellow hair, dragged over a high roll, was covered on the summit -with a little coiff, over which was flung a scarlet handkerchief, which -fastened in a large bow under her rubicund chin. - -As this singular and interesting group advanced up the central aisle of -the chapel, reverence and affection were evidently blended in the looks -of the multitude which hung upon their steps; and though the Prince and -his daughter seeked to lose in the meekness of true religion all sense -of temporal inequality, and promiscuously mingled with the congregation, -yet that distinction they humbly avoided, was reverently forced on -them by the affectionate crowd, which drew back on either side as they -advanced, until the chieftain and his child stood alone in the centre -of the ruined choir, the winds of heaven playing freely amidst their -garments, the sun’s setting beam enriching their beautiful figures with -its orient tints, while he, like Milton’s ruined angel, - - “Above the rest, - - In shape and feature proudly eminent, - - Stood like a tower;” - -and she, like the personified spirit of Mercy hovered round him, or -supported more by tenderness than her strength, him from whom she could -no longer claim support. - -Those gray headed domestics, too, those faith ful though but nominal -vassals, who offered that voluntary reverence with their looks, which -his repaid with fatherly affection, while the anguish of a suffering -heart hung on his pensive smile, sustained by the firmness of that -indignant pride which lowered on his ample brow! - -What a picture! - -As soon as the first flush of interest, curiosity, and amazement had -subsided, my attention was carried towards the altar; and then I thought -as I watched the impressive avocation of Father John, that had I been -the Prince, I would have been the _Caiphas_ too. - -What a religion is this! How finely does it harmonize with the weakness -of our nature, how seducingly it speaks to the senses; how forcibly it -works on the passions; how strongly it seizes on the imagination; how -interesting its forms; how graceful its ceremonies; how awful its rites. -What a captivating, what a _picturesque_ faith! Who would not become -its proselyte, were it not for the stern opposition of reason, the cold -suggestions of philosophy! - -The last strain of the vesper hymn died on the air as the sun’s last -beam faded on the casements of the chapel; and the Prince and his -daughter., to avoid the intrusion of the crowd, withdrew through a -private door, which communicated by a ruinous arcade with the castle. - -I was the first to leave the chapel, and followed them at a distance as -they moved slowly along, their fine figures, sometimes concealed behind -a pillar, and again emerging from the transient shade, flushed with the -deep suffusion of the crimsoned firmament. - -Once they paused, as if to admire the beautiful effect of the retreating -light, as it faded on the ocean’s swelling bosom; and once the Princess -raised her hand and pointed to the evening star, which rose brilliantly -on the deep cerulean blue of a cloudless atmosphere, and shed its fairy -beam on the mossy summit of a mouldering turret. - -Such were the sublime objects which seemed to engage their attention, -and added their _sensible_ inspiration to the fervour of those more -abstracted devotions in which they were so recently engaged. At last -they reached the portals of the castle, and I lost sight of them. Yet -still spellbound, I stood transfixed to the spot from whence I had -caught a last view of their receding figures. - -While I felt like the victim of superstitious terror when the spectre of -its distempered fancy vanishes from its strained and eager gaze, all I -had lately seen revolved in my mind like some pictured story of romantic -fiction. I cast round my eyes; all still seemed the vision of awakened -imagination. Surrounded by a scenery grand even to the boldest majesty -of nature, and wild even to desolation--the day’s dying splendours -Awfully involving in the gloomy haze of deepening twilight--the gray -mists of stealing night gathering on the still faintly illumined surface -of the ocean, which, awfully spreading to infinitude, seemed to the -limited gaze of human vision to incorporate with the heaven whose last -glow it reflected--the rocks, which on every side rose to Alpine -elevation, exhibiting, amidst the soft obscurity, forms savagely bold or -grotesquely wild; and those finely interesting ruins which spread -grandly desolate in the rear, and added a moral interest to the emotions -excited by this view of nature in her most awful, most touching aspect. - -Thus suddenly withdrawn from the world’s busiest haunts, its hackneyed -modes, its vicious pursuits, and unimportant avocations--dropped as -it were amidst scenes and mysterious sublimity--alone--on the wildest -shores of the greatest ocean of the universe; immersed amidst the -decaying monuments of past ages; still viewing in recollection such -forms, such manners, such habits (as I had lately beheld,) which to the -worldly mind may be well supposed to belong to a race long passed beyond -the barrier of existence, with “the years beyond the flood,” I felt like -the being of some other sphere newly alighted on a distant orb. While -the novel train of thought which stole on my mind, seemed to seize -its tone from the awful tranquillity by which I was surrounded, and I -remained leaning on the fragment of a rock, as the waves dashed idly -against its base, until their dark heads were silvered by the rising -moon, and while my eyes dwelt on her silent progress, the castle clock -struck nine. Thus warned, I arose to depart, yet not without reluctance. -My soul, for the first time, had here held commune with herself; the -“lying vanities” of life no longer intoxicating my senses, appeared to -me for the first time in their genuine aspect, and my heart still fondly -loitered over those scenes of solemn interest, where some of its best -feelings had been called into existence. - -Slowly departing, I raised my eyes to the Castle of Inismore and sighed, -and almost wished I had been born the Lord of these beautiful ruins, the -Prince of this isolated little territory, and adored chieftain of these -affectionate and natural people. At that moment a strain of music stole -by me, as if the breeze of midnight stillness had expired in a manner on -the Eolian lyre. Emotion, undefinable emotion, thrilled on every nerve. -I listened. I trembled. A breathless silence gave me every note. Was it -the illusion of my now all-awakened fancy, or the professional exertions -of the bard of Inismore? Oh, no! for the voice it symphonized, the low, -wild, tremulous voice which sweetly sighed its soul of melody o’er the -harp’s responsive chords, was the voice of _a woman!_ - -Directed by the witching strain, I approached an angle of the building -from whence it seemed to proceed; and perceiving a light which streamed -through an open casement, I climbed with some difficulty the ruins of a -parapet wall which encircled this wing of the castle, and which rose -so immediately under the casement as to give me, when I stood on it, a -perfect view of the interior of that apartment to which it belonged. - -Two tapers, which burned on a marble slab at the remotest extremity of -this vast and gloomy chamber, shed their dim blue light on the saintly -countenance of Father John, who, with a large folio open before him, -seemed wholly wrapped in studious meditation; while the Prince, reclined -on an immense Gothic couch, with his robe thrown over the arm that -supported his head, betrayed by the expression of his countenance those -emotions, which agitated his soul, while he listened to those strains -which spoke at once to the heart of the father, the patriot, and the -man--breathed from the chords of his country’s emblem--breathed in the -pathos of his country’s music--breathed from the lips of his apparently -inspired daughter! The white rising of her hands upon the harp the -half-drawn veil that imperfectly discovered the countenance of a seraph; -the moonlight that played round her fine form, and partially touched her -drapery with its silver beam--her attitude! her air! But how cold--how -inanimate--how imperfect this description! Oh! could I but seize -the touching features--could I but realize the vivid tints of this -enchanting picture, as they then glowed on my fancy! By heavens! you -would think the mimic copy fabulous; “the celestial visitant” of an -overheated imagination. Yet, as if the independent witchery of the -lovely minstrel was not in itself all, all-sufficient, at the back of -her chair stood the grotesque figure of her antiquated nurse. O! the -precious contrast. And yet it heightened, it finished the picture. - -While thus entranced in breathless observation, endeavouring to support -my precarious tenement, and to prolong this rich feast of the senses and -the soul, the loose stones on which I tottered gave way under my feet, -and impulsively clinging to the wood work of the casement, it mouldered -in my grasp. I fell--but before I reached the earth I was bereft of -sense. With its return I found myself in a large apartment, stretched on -a bed, and supported in the arms of the Prince of Inismore! his hand was -pressed to my bleeding temple, while the priest applied a styptic to the -wound it had received; and the nurse was engaged in binding up my arm, -which had been dreadfully bruised and fractured a little above the -wrist. Some domestics, with an air of mingled concern and curiosity, -surrounded my couch; and at her father’s side stood the Lady Glorvina, -her looks pale and disordered--her trembling hands busily employed in -preparing bandages, for which my skilful doctress impatiently called. - -While my mind almost doubted the evidence of my senses, and a physical -conviction alone _painfully_ proved to me the reality of all I beheld, -my wandering, wondering eyes met those of the Prince of Inismore! A -volume of pity and benevolence was registered in their glance; nor were -mine, I suppose, inexpressive of my feelings, for he thus replied to -them: - -“Be of good cheer, young stranger; you are in no danger; be composed; -be confident; conceive yourself in the midst of friends; for you are -surrounded by those who would wish to be considered as such.” - -I attempted to speak, but my voice faltered; my tongue was nerveless; my -mouth dry and parched. A trembling hand presented a cordial to my lips. -I quaffed the philtre, and fixed my eyes on the face of my ministering -angel. That angel was Glorvina! I closed them, and sunk on the bosom of -her father. - -“Oh, he faints again!” cried a sweet and plaintive voice. - -“On the contrary,” replied the priest, “the weariness of acute pain -something subsided, is lulling him into a soft repose; for see, the -colour reanimates his cheek, and his pulse quickens.” - -“It indeed beats most wildly,” returned the sweet physician; for the -pulse which responded to her finger’s thrilling pressure moved with no -languid throb. - -“Let us retire,” added the priest, “all danger is now, thank heaven, -over; and repose and quiet the most salutary requisites for our -patient.” - -At these words he arose from my bedside, and the Prince, gently -withdrawing his supporting arms, laid my head upon the pillow. In a -moment all was deathlike stillness, and stealing a glance from under -my half closed eyes, I found myself alone with my skilful doctress, -the nurse, who, shading the taper’s light from the bed, had taken her -distaff and seated herself on a stool at some distance. - -This was a golden respite to feelings wound up to that vehement excess -which forbade all expression, which left my tongue powerless, while my -heart overflowed with emotion the most powerful. - -Good God! I, the son of Lord M--------, the hereditary object of -hereditary detestation, beneath the roof of my implacable enemy! -Supported in his arms; relieved from anguish by his charitable -attention; honoured by the solicitude of his lovely daughter; -overwhelmed by the charitable exertions of his whole family; and reduced -to that bodily infirmity that would of necessity oblige me to continue -for some time the object of their beneficent attentions. - -What a series of emotions did this conviction awaken in my heart! -Emotions of a character, an energy, long unknown to my apathized -feelings; while gratitude to those who had drawn them into existence, -combined with the interest, the curiosity, the admiration they had -awakened, tended to confirm my irresistible desire of perpetuating the -immunities I enjoyed, as the guest and patient of the Prince and his -daughter. And, while the touch of this Wild Irish Girl’s hand thrilled -on every sense, while her voice of tenderest pity murmured on my ear, -and I secretly triumphed over the prejudices of her father, I would not -have exchanged my broken arm and wounded temple for the strongest limb -and soundest head in the kingdom; but the same chance which threw me in -the supporting arms of the irascible Prince, might betray to him in the -person of his patient, the son of his hereditary enemy: it was at least -probable he would make some inquiries relative to the object of his -benevolence, and the singular cause which rendered him such; it was -therefore a necessary policy in me to be provided against this scrutiny. - -Already deep in adventure, a thousand seducing reasons were suggested by -my newly-awakened heart to go on with the romance, and to secure for my -farther residence in the castle, that interest, which, if known to be -the son of Lord M--------, I must eventually have forfeited, for the -cold version of irreclaimable prejudice. The imposition was at least -innocent, and might tend to future and mutual advantage; and after the -ideal assumption of a thousand fictitious characters, I at last fixed on -that of an itinerant artist, as consonant to my most cultivated talent, -and to the testimony of those witnesses which I had fortunately brought -with me, namely my drawing-book, pencils, &c., &c., self-nominated -_Henry Mortimer_, to answer the initials on my linen, the only proofs -against me, for I had not even a letter with me. - -I was now armed at all points for inspection; and as the Prince lived -in a perfect state of isolation, and I was unknown in the country, -I entertained no apprehensions of discovery during the time I should -remain at the castle; and full of hope, strong in confidence, but -wearied by incessant cogitation, and something exhausted by pain, I fell -into that profound slumber I did before but feign. - -The mid-day beams shone brightly through the faded tints of my bed -curtains before I awakened the following morning, after a night of such -fairy charms as only float round the couch of - - “Fancy trained in bliss.” - -The nurse, and the two other domestics, relieved the watch at my -bedside during the night; and when I drew back the curtain, the former -complimented me on my somniferous powers, and in the usual mode of -inquiry, but in a very unusual accent and dialect, addressed me with -much kindness and goodnatured solicitude. While I was endeavouring -to express my gratitude for her attentions, and, what seemed most -acceptable to her, my high opinion of her skill, the Father Director -entered. - -To the benevolent mind, distress or misfortune is ever a sufficient -claim on all the privileges of intimacy; and when Father John seated -himself by my bedside, affectionately took my hand, lamented my -accident, and assured me of my improved looks, it was with an air so -kindly familiar, so tenderly intimate, that it was impossible to suspect -the sound of his voice was yet a stranger to my ear. - -Prepared and collected, as soon as I had expressed my sense of his and -the Prince’s benevolence, I briefly related my feigned story; and in -a few minutes I was a young Englishman, by birth a gentleman, by -inevitable misfortunes reduced to a dependence on my talents for a -livelihood, and by profession an artist. I added, that I came to Ireland -to take views, and seize some of the finest features of its landscapes; -that, having heard much of the wildly picturesque charms of the -northwest coasts, I had penetrated thus far into this remote corner -of the province of Connaught; that the uncommon beauty of the views -surrounding the castle, and the awful magnificence of its ruins, had -arrested my wanderings, and determined me to spend some days in its -vicinity; that, having attended divine service the preceding evening in -the chapel, I continued to wander along the romantic shores of Inismore, -and, in the adventuring spirit of my art, had climbed part of the -mouldering ruins of the castle to catch a fine effect of light and -shade, produced by the partially veiled beams of the moon, and had -then met with the accident which now threw me on the benevolence of the -Prince of Innisinore; an unknown, in a strange country, with a fractured -limb, a wounded head, and a heart oppressed with the sense of gratitude -under which it laboured. - -“That you were a stranger and a traveller, who had been led by curiosity -or devotion to visit the chapel of Inismore,” said the priest, “we were -already apprised of, by the peasant who brought to the castle last night -the horse and valise left at his cabin, and who feared, from the length -of your absence, some accident had befallen you. What you have yourself -been kind enough to detail, is precisely what will prove your best -letter of recommendation to the Prince. Trust me, young gentleman, that -your standing in need of his attention is the best claim you could -make on it; and your admiration of his native scenes, of that ancient -edifice, the monument of that decayed ancestral splendour still dear to -his pride; and your having so severely suffered through an anxiety by -which he must be flattered, will induce him to consider himself as -even _bound_ to administer every attention that can meliorate the -unpleasantness of your present situation.” - -What an idea did this give me of the character of him whose heart I once -believed divested of all the tender feelings of humanity. Everything -that mine could dictate on the subject I endeavoured to express, and, -borne away by the vehemence of my feelings, did it in a manner that more -than once fastened the eyes of Father John on my face, with that look -of surprise and admiration which, to a delicate mind, is more gratifying -than the most finished verbal eulogium. - -Stimulated by this silent approbation, I insensibly stole the -conversation from myself to a more general theme: one thought was the -link to an-other--the chain of discussion gradually extended, and before -the nurse brought up my breakfast we had ranged through the whole circle -of _sciences_. I found that this intelligent and amiable being had -trifled a good deal in his young days with chemistry, of which he still -spoke like a lover who, in maturer life, fondly dwells on the charms of -that object who first awakened the youthful raptures of his heart. He is -even still an enthusiast in botany, and as free from monastic pedantry -as he is rich in the treasures of classical literature and the -elegancies of belles lettres. His feelings even yet preserve something -of the ardour of youth, and in his mild character evidently appears -blended a philosophical knowledge of human nature, with the most perfect -worldly inexperience, and the manly intelligence of a highly gifted -mind, with the sentiments of a recluse and the simplicity of a child. -His still ardent mind seemed to dilate to the correspondence of a -kindred intellect, and two hours’ bedside chit chat, with all the -unrestrained freedom such a situation sanctions, produced a more perfect -intimacy than an age would probably have effected under different -circumstances. - -After having examined and dressed the wounded temple, which he declared -to be a mere scratch, and congratulated me on the apparent convalescence -of my looks, he withdrew, politely excusing the length of his visit by -pleading the charms of my conversation as the cause of his detention. -There is, indeed, an evident vein of French suavity flowing through his -manners, that convinced me he had spent some years of his life in that -region of the graces. I have since learned that he was partly educated -in France; so that, to my astonishment, I have discovered the manners -of a gentleman, the conversation of a scholar, and the sentiment of a -philanthropist, united in the character of an Irish priest. - -While my heart throbbed with the natural satisfaction arising from the -consciousness of having awakened an interest in those whom it was my -ambition to interest, my female Esculapius came and seated herself by -me; and while she talked of fevers, inflammations, and the Lord knows -what, insisted on my not speaking another word for the rest of the -day. Though by no means appearing to labour under the same Pythagorean -restraint she had imposed on me; and after having extolled her own -surgical powers, her celebrity as the best bone-setter in the barony, -and communicated the long list of patients her skill had saved, her -tongue at last rested on the only theme I was inclined to hear. - -“Arrah! now, jewel,” she continued, “there is our Lady Glorvina now, who -with all her skill, and knowing every leaf that grows, why she could -no more set your arm than she could break it. Och! it was herself that -turned white when she saw the blood upon your face, for she was the -first to hear you fall, and hasten down to have you picked up; at first, -faith, we thought you were a robber; but it was all one to her, into the -castle you must be brought, and when she saw the blood spout from your -temple, Holy Virgin! she looked for all the world as if she was kilt -dead herself.” - -“And is she,” said I, in the selfishness of my heart, “is she always -thus humanely interested for the unfortunate?” - -“Och! it is she that is tender hearted for man or beast,” replied my -companion. “I shall never forget till the day of my death, _nor then_ -either, faith, the day that Kitty Mulrooney’s cow was bogged: you must -know, honey, that a bogged cow--” - -Unfortunately, however, the episode of Kitty Mulrooney’s cow was cut -short, for the Prince now entered, leaning on the arm of the priest. - -Dull indeed must be every feeling, and blunted every recollective -faculty, when the look, the air, the smile with which this venerable and -benevolent chieftain, approaching my bed, and kindly taking me by the -hand, addressed me in the singular idiom of his expressive language. - -“Young man,” said he, “the stranger’s best gift is upon you, for the eye -that sees you for the first time, wishes it may not be the last; and the -ear that drinks your words, grows thirsty as it quaffs them. So says our -good Father John here, for you have made him your friend ere you are his -acquaintance; and as the _friend of my friend_, my heart opens to you; -you are welcome to my house as long as it is pleasant to you; when -it ceases to be so, we will part with you with regret, and speed your -journey with our wishes and our prayers.” - -Could my heart have lent its eloquence to my lip--but that was -impossible; very imperfect indeed was the justice I did to my feelings; -but as my peroration was a eulogium on these romantic scenes and -interesting ruins, the contemplation of which I had nearly purchased -with my life, the Prince seemed as much pleased as if my gratitude had -poured forth with _Ciceronean_ eloquence, and he replied: - -“When your health will permit, you can pursue here uninterrupted your -charming art. Once the domains of Inismore could have supplied the -painter’s pencil with scenes of smiling felicity, and the song of the -bard--with many a theme of joy and triumph; but the harp can only mourn -over the fallen greatness of its sons; and the pencil has nothing left -to delineate but the ruins which shelter the gray head of the last of -their descendants.” - -These words were pronounced with an emotion that shook the dilapidated -frame of the Prince, and the tear which dimmed the spirit of his eye, -formed an associate in that of his auditor. He gazed on me for a moment -with a look that seemed to say, “you feel for me, then--yet you are an -Englishman and taking the arm of Father John, he walked towards a window -which commanded a view of the ocean, whose troubled bosom beat wildly -against the castle cliffs. - -“The day is sad,” said he, “and makes the soul gloomy: we will summon -O’Gallagher to the hall, and drive away sorrow with music.” Then turning -to me, he added, with a faint smile “the tones of the Irish harp -have still the power to breathe a spirit over the drooping soul of an -Irishman; but if its strains disturb your repose, command its silence: -the pleasure of the host always rests in that of his guest.” - -With these words, and leaning on the arm of his chaplain, he retired; -while the nurse, looking affectionately after him, raised her hands and -exclaimed: - -“Och! there you go, and may the blessing of the Holy Virgin go with you, -for it’s yourself that’s the jewel of a Prince!” - -The impression made on me by this brief but interesting interview, is -not to be expressed. You should see the figure, the countenance, the -dress of the Prince; the appropriate scenery of the old Gothic chamber, -the characteristic appearance of the priest and the nurse, to understand -the combined and forcible effect the whole produced. - -Yet, though experiencing a pleasurable emotion, strong as it was novel, -there was still one little wakeful wish throbbing vaguely at my heart. - -Was it possible that my chilled, my sated misanthropic feelings, -still sent forth one sigh of wishful solicitude for woman’s dangerous -presence? No, the sentiment the daughter of the Prince inspired, only -made a _part_ in that general feeling of curiosity, which every thing in -this new region of wonders continued to nourish into existence. What had -I to expect from the unpolished manners, the confined ideas of this Wild -Irish Girl? Deprived of all those touching allurements which society -only gives; reared in wilds and solitudes, with no other associates than -her nurse, her confessor, and her father; endowed indeed by nature -with some personal gifts, set off by the advantage of a singular and -characteristic dress, for which she is indebted to whim and natural -prejudice, rather than native taste:--I, who had fled in disgust even -from those to whose natural attraction the bewitching blandishments of -education, the brilliant polish of fashion, and the dazzling splendour -of _real_ rank, contributed their potent spells. - -And yet, the roses of Florida, though the fair est in the universe, and -springing from the richest soil, emit no fragrance; while the mountain -violet, rearing its timid form from a steril bed, flings on the morning -breeze the most delicious perfume. - -While given up to such reflections as these--while the sound of the -Irish harp arose from the hall below, and the nurse muttered her prayers -in Irish over her beads by my side, I fell into a gentle slumber, in -which I dreamed that the Princess of Inismore approached my bed, drew -aside the curtains, and raising her veil, discovered a face I had -hitherto rather guessed at than seen. Imagine my horror--it was the -face, the head of a _Gorgon!_ - -Awakened by the sudden and terrific emotion it excited, though still -almost motionless, as if from the effects of a nightmare (which in -fact, from the position I lay in, had oppressed me in the form of the -Princess) I cast my eyes through a fracture in the old damask drapery of -my bed, and beheld--not the horrid spectre of my recent dream, but -the form of a cherub hovering near my pillow--it was the Lady Glorvina -herself! Oh! how I trembled lest the fair image should only be the -vision of my slumber: I scarcely dared to breathe, lest it should -dissolve. - -She was seated on the nurse’s little stool, her elbow resting on her -knee, her cheek reclined upon her hand: for once the wish of Romeo -appeared no hyperbela. - -Some snowdrops lay scattered in her lap, on which her downcast eyes shed -their beams; as though she moralized over the modest blossoms, which, in -fate a delecacy, resembled herself. Changing her pensive attitude, she -collected them into a bunch, and sighed, and waved her head as she gazed -on them. The dew that trembled on their leaves seemed to have flowed -from a richer source than the exhalation of the morning’s vapour--for -the flowers are faded---but the drops that gem’d them are fresh. - -At that moment the possession of a little kingdom would have been less -desirable to me, than the knowledge of that association of ideas and -feelings which the contemplation of these honoured flowers awakened. At -last, with a tender smile, she raised them to her lip and sighed, and -placed them in her bosom; then softly drew aside my curtain. I feigned -the stillness of death--yet the curtain remained unclosed--many minutes -elapsed--I ventured to unseal my eyes, and met the soul dissolving -glance of my sweet attendant spirit, who seemed to gaze intently on her -charge. Emotion on my part the most delicious, on hers the most modestly -confused, for a moment prevented all presence of mind; the beautiful arm -still supported the curtain--my ardent gaze was still riveted on a face -alternately suffused with the electric flashes of red and white. At -last the curtain fell, the priest entered, and the vision, the sweetest, -brightest vision of my life, dissolved! - -Glorvina sprung towards her tutor, and told him aloud, that the nurse -had entreated her to take her place, while she descended to dinner. - -“And no place can become thee better, my child,” said the priest, “than -that which fixes thee by the couch of suffering and sickness.” - -“However,” said Glorvina, smiling, “I will gratify you by resigning for -the present in your favour,” and away she flew speaking in Irish to the -nurse, who passed her at the door. - -The benevolent confessor then approached, and seated himself beside my -bed, with that premeditated air of chit-chat sociality, that it went to -my soul to disappoint him. But the thing was impossible, to have tamely -conversed in mortal language on mortal subjects, after having held “high -communion” with an etherial spirit; when a sigh, a tear, a glance, were -the delicious vehicles of our souls’ secret intercourse--to stoop from -this “colloquy sublime!” I could as soon have delivered a logical essay -on identity and adversity, or any other subject equally interesting to -the heart and imagination. - -I therefore closed my eyes, and breathed most sonorously: the good -priest drew the curtain and retired on tip-toe, and the nurse once more -took her distaff, and, for her sins, was silent. - -These good people must certainly think me a second Epimenides, for I -have done nothing but sleep, or feign to sleep, since I have been thrown -amongst them. - - - -LETTER VI. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -I have already passed four days beneath this hospitable roof. On the -third, a slight fever with which I had been threatened passed off, my -head was disincumbered, and on the fourth I was able to leave my bed, -and to scribble thus far of my journal. Yet these kind solicitous beings -will not suffer me to leave my room, and still the nurse at intervals -gives me the pleasure of her society, and hums old _cronans_, or amuses -me with what she calls a little _shanaos_, * as she plies her distaff; -while the priest frequently indulges me with his interesting and -intelligent conversation. The good man is a great logician, and fond -of displaying his metaphysical prowess, where he feels that he is -understood, and we diurnally go over _infinity, space_, and _duration_, -with innate, simple, and complex idea, until our own are exhausted in -the discussion; and then we generally relax with Ovid, or trifle with -Horace and Tibullus, for nothing can be less austerely pious than this -cheerful gentle being: nothing can be more innocent than his life; -nothing more liberal than his sentiments. - - * A term in very general use in Ireland, and is applied to a - kind of genealogical chit chat, or talking over family - antiquity, family anecdotes, descent, alliances, &c., to - which the lower, as well as the higher order of Irish in the - provincial parts are much addicted. - -The Prince, too, has thrice honoured me with a visit. Although -he possesses nothing of the erudition which distinguishes his -all-intelligent chaplain, yet there is a peculiar charm, a spell in his -conversation, that is irresistibly fascinating; and chiefly arising, I -believe, from the curious felicity of his expressions, the originality -of the ideas they clothe, the strength and energy of his delivery, and -the enthusiasm and simplicity of his manners. - -He seems not so much to speak the English language, as literally to -translate the Irish; and he borrows so much and so happily from the -peculiar idiom of his vernacular tongue, that though his conversation -was deficient in matter, it would still possess a singular interest from -its manner. But it is far otherwise, there is indeed in the uncultivated -mind of this man, much of the _vivida vis anima_ of native genius, which -neither time nor misfortune has wholly damped, and which frequently -flings the brightest coruscations of thought over the generally pensive -tone that pervades his conversation. The extent of his knowledge on -subjects of national interest is indeed wonderful; his memory is rich in -oral tradition, and most happily faithful to the history and antiquities -of his country, which notwithstanding peevish complaints of its -degeneracy, he still loves with idolatrous fondness. On these subjects -he is always borne away, but upon no subject does he speak with coolness -or moderation; he is always in extremes, and the vehemence of his -gestures and looks ever corresponds to the energy of his expressions or -sentiments. Yet he possesses an infinite deal of that _suavito in modo_, -so prevailing and insinuating even among the lower classes of -this country; and his natural, or I should rather say his national -politeness, frequently induces him to make the art in which he supposes -me to excel, the topic of our conversation. While he speaks in rapture -of the many fine views this country affords to the genius of the -painter, he dwells with melancholy pleasure on the innumerable ruined -palaces and abbeys which lay scattered amidst the richest scenes of -this romantic province: he generally thus concludes with a melancholy -apostrophe: - -“But the splendid dwelling of princely grandeur, the awful asylum of -monastic piety, are just mouldering into oblivion with the memory of -those they once sheltered. The sons of little men triumph over those -whose arm was strong in war, and whose voice breathed no impotent -command; and the descendant of the mighty chieftain has nothing left to -distinguish him from the son of the peasant, but the decaying ruins -of his ancestor’s castle; while the blasts of a few storms, and the -pressure of a few years, shall even of them leave scarce a wreck to tell -the traveller the mournful tale of fallen greatness.” - -When I showed him a sketch I had made of the castle of Inismore, on the -evening I had first seen it from the mountain’s summit, he seemed much -gratified, and warmly commended its fidelity, shaking his head as he -contemplated it, and impressively exclaiming. - -“Many a morning’s sun has seen me climb that mountain in my boyish -days, to contemplate these ruins, accompanied by an old follower of the -family, who possessed many strange stories of the feats of my ancestors, -with which I was then greatly delighted. And then I dreamed of my arm -wielding the spear in war, and my hall resounding to the song of the -bard, and the mirth of the feast; but it was only a dream!” - -As the injury sustained by my left arm (which is in a state of rapid -convalescence) is no impediment to the exertions of my right, we have -already talked over the various views I am to take, and he enters into -every little plan with that enthusiasm, which childhood betrays in the -pursuit of some novel object, and seems wonderfully gratified in the -idea of thus perpetuating the fast decaying features of this “time -honoured” edifice. - -The priest assures me, I am distinguished in a particular manner by the -partiality and condescension of the Prince. - -“As a man of genius,” said he this morning, “you have awakened a -stronger interest in his breast, than if you had presented him with -letters patent of your nobility, except, indeed, you had derived them -from _Milesius_ himself.” - -“An enthusiastic love of talent is one of the distinguishing features -of the true ancient Irish character; and independent of your general -acquirements, your professional abilities, coinciding with his ruling -passion, secures you a larger portion of his esteem and regard than he -generally lavishes upon any stranger, and almost incredible, considering -you are an Englishman. But national prejudice ceases to operate when -individual worth calls for approbation; and an Irishman seldom asks or -considers the country of him whose sufferings appeal to his humanity, -whose genius makes a claim on his applause.” - -But, my good friend, while I am thus ingratiating myself with the -father, the daughter (either self-wrapped in proud reserve, or -determined to do away that temerity she may have falsely supposed her -condescension and pity awakened) has not appeared even at the door of my -chamber with a charitable inquiry for my health, since our last silent, -but eloquent interview; and I have lived for these three days on the -recollection of those precious moments which gave her to my view, as -I last beheld her, like the angel of pity hovering round the pillow of -mortal suffering. - -Ah! you will say, this is not the language of an apathist, of one “whom -man delighteth not, nor _woman_ either.” - -But let not your vivid imagination thus hurry over at once the scale -of my feelings from one extreme to the other, forgetting the many -intermediate degrees that lie between the deadly chill of the coldest, -and the burning ardour of the most vehement of all human sentiments. - -If I am less an apathist, which I am willing to confess, trust me, I am -not a whit more the lover.--Lover!--Preposterous! I am merely interested -for this girl on a philosophical principle, I long to study the purely -national, natural character of an Irish woman: In fine, I long to behold -any woman in such lights and shades of mind, temper, and disposition, as -nature has originally formed her in. Hitherto I have only met servile -copies, sketched by the finger of art and finished off by the polished -touch of fashion I fear, however, that this girl is already spoiled by -the species of education she has received. The priest has more than once -spoke of her erudition! _Erudition!_ the pedantry of a school-boy of the -third class, I suppose. How much must a woman lose, and how little can -she gain, by that commutation which gives her our acquirements for her -own graces! For my part, you know, I have always kept clear of the -_basbleus_; and would prefer one playful charm of a _Ninon_ to all the -classic lore of a _Dacier_. - -But you will say, I could scarcely come off worse with the pedants -than I did with the dunces; and you will say right. And, to confess the -truth, I believe I should have been easily led to desert the standard -of the pretty _fools_, had female pedantry ever stole on my heart under -such a form as the little _soi-disant_ Princess of Inis-more. ’Tis -indeed, impossible to look _less_ like one who spouts Latin with -the priest of the parish than this same Glorvina. There is something -beautifully wild about her air and look, that is indescribable; and, -without a very perfect regularity of feature, she possesses that -effulgency of countenance, that bright _lumine purpureo_, which poetry -assigns to the dazzling emanations of divine beauty. In short, there -are a thousand little fugitive graces playing around her, which are not -beauty, but the cause of it; and were I to personify the word _spell_, -she should sit for the picture........ A thousand times she swims before -my sight, as I last beheld her; her locks of living gold parting on -her brow of snow, yet seeming to separate with reluctance, as they were -lightly shaken off with that motion of the head, at once so infantile -and graceful; a motion twice put into play, as her recumbent attitude -poured the luxuriancy of her tresses over her face and neck, for she was -unveiled, and a small gold bodkin was unequal to support the redundancy -of that beautiful hair, which I more than once apostrophized in the -words of Petrarch: - - “Onde totse amor l’oro e di qual vena - - Per far due treccie bionde, &c. - -I understand a servant is dispatched once a week to the next post town, -with and for letters; and this intelligence absolutely amazed me; for I -am astonished that these beings, who - - “Look not like the inhabitants of the earth, - - And yet are on it,” - -should hold an intercourse with the world. - -This is post day, and this packet is at last destined to be finished -and dispatched. On looking it over, the title of princes and princess -so often occur, that I could almost fancy myself at the court of some -foreign potentate, basking in the warm sunshine of regal favour, instead -of being the chance guest of a poor Irish gentleman, who lives on the -produce of a few rented farms, and, infected with a species of pleasant -mania, believes himself as much a prince as the heir apparent of -boundless empire and exhaustless treasures. - -Adieu! Direct as usual: for though I certainly mean to accept the -invitation of a Prince, yet I intend, in a few days, to return home, -to obviate suspicion, and to have my books and wardrobe removed to the -Lodge, which now possesses a stronger magnet of attraction than when I -first fixed on it as my headquarters. - - - -LETTER VII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -This is the sixth day of my convalescence, and the first of my descent -from my western tower; for I find it is literally in a tower, or turret, -which terminates a wing of these ruins, I have been lodged. These good -people, however, would have persuaded me into the possession of a slow -fever, and confined me to my room another day, had not the harp of -Glorvina, with “supernatural solicitings,” spoken more irresistibly to -my heart than all their eloquence. - -I have just made my _toilette_, for the first time since my arrival at -the castle; and with a black ribbon of the nurse’s across my forehead, -and a silk handkerchief of the priest’s supporting my arm, with my -own “customary suit of solemn black,” tintless cheek, languid eye, and -pensive air, I looked indeed as though “melancholy had marked me for -her own or an excellent personification of pining atrophy” in its last -stage of decline. - -While I contemplated my _memento mori_ of a figure in the glass, I heard -a harp tuning in an underneath apartment. The Prince I knew had not yet -left his bed, for his infirmities seldom permit him to rise early; the -priest had rode out; and the venerable figure of the old harper at that -moment gave a fine effect to a ruined arch under which he was passing, -led by a boy, just opposite my window. “It is Glorwna then,” said I, -“and alone!” and down I sallied; but not with half the intrepidity that -Sir Bertram followed the mysterious blue flame along the corridors of -the enchanted castle. - -A thousand times since my arrival in this transmundane region, I have -had reason to feel how much we are the creatures of situation; how -insensibly our minds and our feelings take their tone from the influence -of existing circumstances. You have seen me frequently the very -prototype of _nonchalence_, in the midst of a circle of birthday -beauties, that might have put the fabled charms of the _Mount Ida -triumviri_ to the blush of inferiority. Yet here I am, groping my way -down the dismantled stone stairs of a ruined castle in the wilds of -Connaught, with my heart fluttering like the pulse of green eighteen, in -the presence of its first love, merely because on the point of appearing -before a simple rusticated girl, whose father calls himself _a prince_, -with a _potatoe ridge for his dominions!_ O! with what indifference -I should have met her in the drawingroom, or at the opera!--there she -would have been merely a woman!--here she is the fairy vision of my -heated fancy. - -Well, having finished the same circuitous journey that a squirrel -diurnally performs in his cage, I found myself landed in a stone -passage, which was terminated by the identical chamber of fatal memory -already mentioned, and through the vista of a huge folding door, partly -thrown back, beheld the form of Glorvina! She was alone, and bending -over her harp; one arm was gracefully thrown over the instrument, which -she was tuning; with the other she was lightly modulating on its chords. - -Too timid to proceed, yet unwilling to retreat, I was still hovering -near the door, when turning round, she observed me, and I advanced. -She blushed to the eyes, and returned my profound bow with a slight -inclination of the head, as if I were unworthy a more marked obeisance. - -Nothing in the theory of sentiment could be more diametrically opposite, -than the bashful indication of that crimson blush, and the haughty -spirit of that graceful bow. What a logical analysis would it have -afforded to Father John on innate and acquired ideas! Her blush was the -effusion of nature; her bow the result of inculcation--the one spoke the -native woman; the other the _ideal_ princess. - -I endeavoured to apologize for my intrusion; and she, in a manner -that amazed me, congratulated me on my recovery; then drawing her harp -towards her, she seated herself on the great Gothic couch, with a motion -of the hand, and a look, that seemed to say, “there is room for you -too.” I bowed my acceptance of the silent welcome invitation. - -Behold me then seated _tete-a-tete_ with this Irish Princess!--my right -arm thrown over her harp, and her eyes riveted on my left. - -“Do you still feel any pain from it?” said she, so naturally, as though -we had actually been discussing the accident it had sustained. - -Would you believe it! I never thought of making her an answer; but -fastened my eyes on her face. For a moment she raised her glance to -mine, and we both coloured, as if she read there--I know not what! - -“I beg your pardon,” said I, recovering from the spell of this magic -glance--“you made some observation, Madam?” - -“Not that I recollect,” she replied, with a slight confusion of manner, -and running her finger carelessly over the chords of the harp, till it -came in contact with my own, which hung over it. The touch circulated -like electricity through every vein. I impulsively arose, and walked to -the window from whence I had first heard the tones of that instrument -which had been the innocent accessory to my present unaccountable -emotion. As if I were measuring the altitude of my fall, I hung half -my body out of the window, thinking, Heaven knows, of nothing less than -_that_ fall, of nothing more than its fair cause, until abruptly drawing -in my dizzy head, I perceived her’s (such a cherub head you never -beheld!) leaning against her harp, and her eye directed towards me. -I know not why, yet I felt at once confused and gratified by this -observation. - -“My fall,” said I, glad of something to say, to relieve my school-boy -bashfulness, “was greater than I suspected.” - -“It was dreadful!” she replied shuddering “What could have led you to so -perilous a situation?”------ - -“That,” I returned, “which has led to more certain destruction, senses -more strongly fortified than mine--the voice of a syren!” - -I then briefly related to her the rise, decline, and fall of my physical -empire; obliged, however, to qualify the gallantry of my _debut_ by the -subsequent plainness of my narration, for the delicate reserve of her -air made me tremble, lest I had gone too far. - -By heavens I cannot divest myself of a feeling of inferiority in her -presence, as though I were actually that poor, wandering, unconnected -being I have feigned myself. - -My compliment was received with a smile and a blush; and to the eulogium -which rounded my detail on the benevolence and hospitality of the family -of Inismore, she replied, that “had the accident been of less material -consequence to myself, the family of Inismore must have rejoiced at -the event which enriched its social circle with so desirable an -acquisition.” - -The _matter_ of this little _politesse_ was nothing; but the _manner_, -the air, with which it was delivered! Where can she have acquired this -elegance of manner?--reared amidst rocks, and woods, and mountains! -deprived of all those graceful advantages which society confers--a -manner too that is at perpetual variance with her looks, which are so -_naif_---I had almost said so wildly simple--that while she speaks in -the language of a court, she looks like the artless inhabitant of a -cottage:--a smile, and a blush, rushing to her cheek, and her lip, as -the impulse of fancy or feeling directs, even when smiles and blushes -are irrevalent to the etiquette of the moment. - -This elegance of manner, then, must be the pure result of elegance of -soul; and if there is a charm in woman, I have hitherto vainly sought, -and prized beyond all I have discovered, it is this refined, celestial, -native elegance of soul, which effusing its spell through every thought, -word, and motion, of its enviable possessor, resembles the peculiar -property of gold, which subtilely insinuates itself through the most -minute and various particles, without losing any thing of its own -intrinsic nature by the amalgamation. - -In answer to the flattering observation which had elicited this -digression I replied: - -That far from regretting the consequences, I was emamoured of an -accident that had procured me such happiness as I now enjoyed (even with -the risk of life itself;) and that I believed there were few who, like -me, would not prefer peril to security, were the former always the -purchase of such felicity as the latter, at least on me, had never -bestowed. - -Whether this reply savoured too much of the world’s commonplace -gallantry, or that she thought there was more of the head than the -heart in it, I know not; but, by my soul, in spite of a certain haughty -motion of the head not unfrequent with her, I thought she looked -wonderfully inclined to laugh in my face, though she primed up her -mouth, and fancied she looked like a nun, when her lip pouted with the -smiling archness of a Hebe. - -In short, I never felt more in all its luxury the comfort of looking -like a fool; and to do away the no very agreeable sensation which the -conviction of being laughed at awakens, as a _pis-aller_, I began to -examine the harp, and expressed the surprise I felt at its singular -construction. - -“Are you fond of music?” she asked with _naivette_. - -“Sufficiently so,” said I, “to risk my life for it.” - -She smiled, and cast a look at the window, as much as to say, “I -understand you.” - -As I now was engaged in examining her harp, I observed that it resembled -less any instrument of that kind I had seen, than the drawing of the -Davidic lyre in Montfaucon. - -“Then,” said she, with animation, “this is another collateral proof of -the antiquity of its origin, which I never before heard adduced, and -which sanctions that universally received tradition among us, by which -we learn, that we are indebted to the first Milesian colony that settled -here for this charming instrument, although some modern historians -suppose that we obtained it from Scandinavia.” * - - * It is reserved for the national Lyre of Erin only, to - claim a title independent of a Gothic origin. For “Clar- - seach,” is the only Irish epithet for the harp, a name more - in unison with the cithera of the Greeks, and even the - chinor of the Hebrew, than the Anglo-Saxon harp. “I cannot - but think the clarseach, or Irish harp, one of the most - ancient instruments we have among us, and had perhaps its - origin in remote periods of antiquity.”--Dr. Bedford’s Essay - on the construction, &c. of the Irish Harp. - -“And is this, Madam,” said I, “the original ancient Irish harp?” - -“Not exactly, for I have strung it with gut instead of wire, merely for -the gratification of my own ear; but it is, however, precisely the same -form as that preserved in the Irish university, which belonged to one of -the most celebrated of our heroes, Brian Boni; for the warrior and -the bard often united in the character of our kings, and they sung the -triumphs of those departed chiefs whose feats they emulated.” - -“You see,” she added with a smile, while my eager glance pursued the -kindling animation of her countenance as she spoke,--“you see, that in -all which concerns my national music, I speak with national enthusiasm; -and much indeed do we stand indebted to the most charming of all the -sciences for the eminence it has obtained us; for in _music only_, do -_you_ English allow us poor Irish any superiority; and therefore your -King, who made the _harp_ the armorial bearing of Ireland, perpetuated -our former musical celebrity beyond the power of time or prejudice to -destroy it.” - -Not for the world would I have annihilated the triumph which this -fancied superiority seemed to give to this patriotic little being, by -telling her, that we thought as little of the music of her country, -as of every thing else that related to it; and that all we knew of the -style of its melodies, reached us through the false medium of comic -airs, sung by some popular actor, who in coincidence with his author, -caricatures those national traits he attempts to delineate. - -I therefore simply told her, that though I doubted not the former -musical celebrity of her country, yet that I perceived the _Bardic_ -order in Wales seemed to have survived the tuneful race of _Erin_; for -that though every little Cambrian village had its harper, I had not yet -met with one of the profession in Ireland. - -She waved her head with a melancholy air, and replied--“the rapid -decline of the Sons of Song, once the pride of our country, is indeed -very evident; and the tones of that tender and expressive instrument -which gave birth to those which now survive them in happier countries, -no longer vibrates in our own; for of course you are not ignorant that -the importation of Irish bards and Irish instruments into Wales, * by -_Griffith ap Conan_, formed an epocha in Welch music, and awakened there -a genius of style in composition, which still breathes a kindred spirit -to that from whence it derived its being, and that even the invention of -Scottish music is given to Ireland.”! ** - -“Indeed,” said I, “I must plead ignorance to this singular fact, and -almost to every other connected with this _now_ to me most interesting -country.” - -“Then suffer me,” said she, with a most insinuating smile, “to indulge -another little national triumph over you, by informing you, that we -learn from musical record, that the first piece of music ever seen -in _score_, in Great Britain, is an air sung time immemmorial in this -country on the opening of summer--an air, which though animated in its -measure, yet still, like all the Irish melodies, breathes the very soul -of melancholy.” *** - - * Cardoc (of Lhancarvan) without any of that illiberal - partiality so common with national writers, assures us that - the Irish devised all the instruments, tunes, and measures, - in use among the Welsh. Cambrensis is even more copious in - its praise, when he peremptorily declares that the Irish, - above any other nation, is incomparably skilled in symphonal - music.--Walker’s Hist. Mem. of the Irish Bards - - ** See Doctor Campbell’s Phil Surv. L. 44; and Walker’s - Hist. Irish Bards, p. 131,32. - - *** Called in Irish, “Ta an Samradth teacht,” or, “We - brought Summer along with us.” - -“And do your melodies then, Madam, breathe the soul of melancholy?” said -I. - -“Our national music,” she returned, “like our national character, admits -of no medium in sentiment: it either sinks our spirit to despondency, by -its heartbreaking pathos, or elevates it to wildness by its exhilarating -animation. - -“For my own part, I confess myself the victim of its magic--an Irish -planxty cheers me into maddening vivacity; an Irish lamentation -depresses me into a sadness of melancholy emotion, to which the energy -of despair might be deemed comparative felicity.” - -Imagine how I felt while she spoke--but you cannot conceive the feelings -unless you beheld and heard the object who inspired them--unless you -watched the kindling lumination of her countenance, and the varying hue -of that mutable complexion, which seemed to ebb and flow to the impulse -of every sentiment she expressed; while her round and sighing voice -modulated in unison with each expression it harmonized. - -After a moment’s pause she continued: - -“This susceptibility to the influence of my country’s music, discovered -itself in a period of existence when no associating sentiment of -the heart could have called it into being; for I have often wept in -convulsive emotion at an air, before the sad story it accompanied was -understood: but now--now--that feeling is matured, and understanding -awakened. Oh! you cannot judge--cannot feel--for you have no national -music; and your country is the happiest under heaven!” - -Her voice faltered as she spoke--her fingers seemed impulsively to -thrill on the chords of the harp--her eyes, her tear swollen, beautiful -eyes, were thrown up to heaven, and her voice, “low and mournful as the -song of the tomb,” sighed over the chords of her national lyre, as she -faintly murmured Campbell’s beautiful poem to the ancient Irish air of -_Erin go brack!_ - -Oh! is there on earth a being so cold, so icy, so insensible, as to have -made a comment, even an _encomiastic_ one, when this song of the soul -ceased to breathe! God knows how little I was inclined or empowered -to make the faintest eulogium, or disturb the sacred silence which -succeeded to her music’s dying murmur. On the contrary, I sat silent and -motionless, with my head unconsciously leaning on my broken arm, and my -handkerchief to my eyes: when at last I withdrew it, I found her hurried -glance fixed on me with a smile of such expression! Oh! I could weep -my heart’s most vital drop for such another glance--such another -smile!--they seemed to say, but who dares to translate the language of -the soul, which the eye only can express? - -In (I believe) equal emotion, we both arose at the same moment and -walked to the window. Beyond the mass of ruins which spread in desolate -confusion below, the ocean, calm and unruffled, expanded its awful bosom -almost to infinitude; while a body of dark, sullen clouds, tinged with -the partial beam of a meridian sun, floated above the summits of those -savage cliffs which skirt this bold and rocky coast; and the tall -spectral figure of Father John, leaning on a broken pediment, appeared -like the embodied spirit of philosophy moralizing amidst the ruins of -empires, on the instability of all human greatness. - -What a sublime assemblage of images. - -“How consonant,” thought I, gazing at Glorvina, “to the sublimated tone -of our present feelings.” Glorvina waved her head in accidence to the -idea, as though my lips had given it birth. - -How think you I felt, on this sweet involuntary acknowledgment of a -mutual intelligence? - -Be that as it may, my eyes, too faithful I fear to my feelings, covered -the face on which they were passionately riveted with blushes. - -At that moment Glorvina was summoned to dinner by a servant, for she -only is permitted to dine with the Prince, as being of royal descent. -The vision dissolved--she was again the proud Milesian Princess, and I -the poor wandering _artist_--the eleemosynary guest of her hospitable -mansion. - -The priest and I dined _tete-a-tete_; and, for the first time, he had -all the conversation to himself; and got deep in Locke and Malbranche, -in solving quidities, and starting hypothesis, to which I assented with -great gravity, and thought only of Glorvina. - -I again beheld her gracefully drooping over her harp--I again caught -the melody of her song, and the sentiment it conveyed to the soul; and -I entered fully into the idea of the Greek painter, who drew _Love_, not -with a bow and arrow, but a lyre. - -I could not avoid mentioning with admiration her great musical powers. - -“Yes,” said he, “she inherits them from her mother, who obtained the -appellation of _Glorvina_, from the sweetness of her voice, by which -name our little friend was baptized at her mother’s request.” - -Adieu! Glorvina has been confined in her father’s room during the whole -of the evening--to this circumstance you are indebted for this long -letter. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER VIII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -The invitation I received from the hospitable Lord of these ruins, was -so unequivocal, so cordial, that it would have been folly, not -delicacy to think of turning out of his house the moment my health was -re-established. But then, I scarcely felt it warranted that length of -residence here, which, for a thousand reasons, I am now anxious to make. - -To prolong my visit till the arrival of my father in this country was -my object; and how to effect the desired purpose, was the theme of my -cogitation during the whole of the restless night which succeeded -my interview with Glorvina; and to confess the truth, I believe -this interview was not the least potent spell which fascinated me to -Inismore. - -Wearied by my restlessness, rather than refreshed by my transient -slumbers, I arose with the dawn, and carrying my _port-feuille_ and -pencils with me, descended from my tower, and continued to wander -for some time among the wild and romantic scenes which surround these -interesting ruins, while - - “La sainte recueihnent la paisible innocence - - Sembler de ces lieus habiter le silence.” - -until almost wearied in the contemplation of the varying sublimities -which the changes of the morning’s seasons shed over the ocean’s -boundless expanse, from the first gray vapour that arose from its -swelling wave, to that splendid refulgence with which the risen sun -crimsoned its bosom, I turned away my dazzled eye, and fixed it on the -ruins of Inismore. Never did it appear in an aspect so picturesquely -felicitous: it was a golden period for the poet’s fancy or the painter’s -art; and in a moment of propitious genius, I made one of the most -interesting sketches my pencil ever produced. I had just finished my -successful _ebauche_, when Father John, returning from matins, observed, -and instantly joined me. When he had looked over and commended the -result of my morning’s avocation, he gave my port-folio to a servant who -passed us, and taking my arm, we walked down together to the seashore. - -“This happy specimen of your talent,” said he, as we proceeded, “will -be very grateful to the Prince. In him, who has no others left, it is -a very innocent pride, to wish to perpetuate the fading honours of his -family--for as such the good Prince considers these _ruins_. But, my -young friend, there is another and a surer path to the Prince’s heart, -to which I should be most happy to lead you.” - -He paused for a moment, and then added: - -“You will, I hope, pardon the liberty I am going to take; but as I boast -the merit of having first made your merit known to your worthy host, I -hold myself in some degree (smiling and pressing my hand) accountable -for your confirming the partiality I have awakened in your favour. - -“The daughter of the Prince, and my pupil, of whom you can have yet -formed no opinion, is a creature of such rare endowments, that it should -seem Nature, as if foreseeing her isolated destiny, had opposed her -own liberality to the chariness of fortune; and lavished on her such -intuitive talents, that she almost sets the necessity of education -at defiance. To all that is most excellent in the circle of human -intellect, or human science, her versatile genius is constantly -directed; and it is my real opinion, that nothing more is requisite to -perfect her in any liberal or elegant pursuit, but that method or system -which even the strangest native talent, unassisted, can seldom attain -(without a long series of practical experience) and which is unhappily -denied her; while her doating father incessantly mourns that poverty, -which withholds from him the power of cultivating those shining -abilities that would equally enrich the solitude of their possessor, or -render her an ornament to that society she may yet be destined to grace. -Yet the occasional visits of a strolling dancing-master, and a few -musical lessons received in her early childhood from the family bard, -are all the advantages these native talents have received. - -“But who that ever beheld her motions in the dance, or listened to -the exquisite sensibility of her song, but would exclaim--‘here is a -creature for whom Art can do nothing--Nature has done all!’ - -“To these elegant acquirements, she unites a decided talent for drawing, -arising from powers naturally imitative, and a taste early imbibed (from -the contemplation of her native scenes) for all that is most sublime and -beautiful in nature. But this, of all her talents, has been the least -assisted, and yet is the most prized by her father, who, I believe, -laments his inability to detain you here as her preceptor; or rather, to -make it worth your while to forego your professional pursuits, for such -a period as would be necessary to invest her with such rudiments in the -art, as would form a basis for her future improvement. In a word, can -you, consistently with your present plans, make the castle of Inismore -your headquarters for two or three months, from whence you can take -frequent excursions amidst the neighbouring scenery, which will afford -to your pencil subjects rich and various as almost any other part of the -country?” - -Now, in the course of my life, I have had more than one occasion to -remark certain desirable events brought about by means diametrically -opposite to the supposition of all human probability;--but that this -worthy man should (as if infected with the intriguing spirit of a French -Abbe reared in the purlieus of the _Louvre_) thus forward my views, and -effect the realization of my wishes, excited so strong an emotion of -pleasurable surprise, that I with difficulty repressed my smiles, or -concealed my triumph. - -After, however, a short pause, I replied with great gravity, that I -always conceived with Pliny, that the dignity we possess by the good -offices of a friend, is a kind of sacred trust, wherein we have his -judgment as well as our own character to maintain, and therefore to be -guarded with peculiar attention; that consequently, on his account, I -was as anxious as on my own, to confirm the good opinion conceived in -my favour through the medium of his partiality; and with very great -sincerity I assured him, that I knew of no one event so coincident to -my present views of happiness, as the power of making the Prince some -return for his benevolent attentions, and of becoming his (the priest’s) -coadjutor in the tuition of his highly gifted pupil. - -“Add then, my dear Sir,” said I, “to all the obligations you have forced -on me, by presenting my respectful compliments to the Prince, with -the offer of my little services, and an earnest request that he will -condescend to accept of them; and if you think it will add to the -delicacy of the offer, let him suppose that it voluntarily comes from -the heart deeply impressed with a sense of his kindness.” - -“That is precisely what I was going to propose,” returned this excellent -and unsuspecting being. “I would even wish him to think you conceive the -obligation all on your own side; for the pride of fallen greatness is of -all others the most sensitive.” - -“And God knows so I do,” said I, fervently,--then carelessly added, “do -you think your pupil has a decided talent for the art?” - -“It may be partiality,” he replied; “but I think she has a decided -talent for every elegant acquirement. If I recollect right, somebody has -defined _genius_ to be ‘the various powers of a strong mind directed to -one point:’ making it the _result_ of combined force, not the vital -source, whence all intellectual powers flow; in which light, the genius -of Glorvina has ever appeared to me as a beam from heaven, an emanation -of divine intelligence, whose nutritive warmth cherishes into existence -that richness and variety of talent which wants only a little care to -rear it to perfection. - -“When I first offered to become the preceptor to this charming child, -her father, I believe, never formed an idea that my tuition would have -extended beyond a little reading and writing; but I soon found that -my interesting pupil possessed a genius that bore all before it--that -almost anticipated instruction by force of its tuitive powers, and -prized each task assigned it, only in proportion to the difficulty by -which it was to be accomplished. - -“Her young ambitious mind even emulated rivalry with mine, and that -study in which she beheld me engaged seldom failed to become the object -of her desires and her assiduity. Availing myself, therefore, of this -innate spirit of emulation--this boundless thirst of knowledge, I left -her mind free in the election of its studies, while I only threw -within its power of acquisition, that which could tend to render her -a rational, and consequently a benevolent being; for I have always -conceived an informed, intelligent, and enlightened mind, to be the -best security for a good heart; although the many who mistake talent for -intellect, and unfortunately too often find the former united to vice, -and led to suppose that the heart loses in goodness what the mind -acquires in strength, as if (as a certain paradoxical writer has -asserted) there was something in the natural mechanism of the human -frame necessary to constitute a fine genius that is not altogether -favourable to the heart. - -“But here comes the unconscious theme of our conversation.” - -And at that moment Glorvina appeared, springing lightly forward, like -Gresset’s beautiful personification of health: - - “As Hebe swift, as Venus fair, - - Youthful, lovely, light as air.” - -As soon as she perceived me she stopt abruptly, blushed, and returning -my salutation, advanced to the priest, and twining her arm familiarly in -his, said, with an air of playful tenderness, - -“O! I have brought you something you will be glad to see--here is the -spring’s first violet, which the unusual chilliness of the season has -suffered to steal into existence: this morning as I gathered herbs -at the foot of the mountain, I inhaled its odour ere I discovered its -purple head, as solitary and unassociated it was drooping beneath the -heavy foliage of a neighbouring plant. - -“It is but just you should have the first violet as my father has -already had the first snowdrop. Receive, then, my offering,” she added -with a smile; and while she fondly placed it in his breast with an air -of exquisite _naivette_, to my astonishment she repeated from B. Tasso, -those lines so consonant to the tender simplicity of the act in which -she was engaged: - - “Poiche d’altro honorate - - Non dosso, prendi lieta - - Queste negre viole - - Dall umor rugiadose.” - -The priest gazed at her with looks of parental affection, and said, - -“Your offering, my dear, is indeed the - - ‘Incense to the heart;’ - -and more precious to the receiver, than the richest donation that ever -decked the shrine of Loretto. How fragrant it is!” he added, presenting -it to me. - -I took it in silence, but raised it no higher than my lip--the eye of -Glorvina met mine, as my kiss breathed upon her flower: Good God! what -an undefinable, what a delicious emotion thrilled through my heart at -that moment! and the next--yet I know not how it was, or whether -the motion was made by her, or by me, or by the priest--but somehow, -Glorvina had got between us, and while I gazed at her beautiful flower, -I personified the blossom, and addressed to her the happiest lines that -form “_La Guirlande de Julie_” while, as I repeated. - - “Mais si sur votre front je peux briller un jour, - - La plus humble des fleurs sera la plus superbe - -I reposed it for a moment on her brow in passing it over to the priest. - -“Oh!” said she, with an arch smile, “I perceive you too will expect -a tributary flower for these charming lines; and the summer’s first -rose”--she paused abruptly; but her eloquent eye continued, “should be -thine, but that thou mayst be far from hence when the summer’s first -rose appears.” I thought too--but it might be only the fancy of my -wishes, that a sigh floated on the lip, when recollection checked the -effusion of the heart. - -“The _rose_,” (said the priest, with simplicity, and more engaged with -the classicality of the idea, than the inference to be drawn from it,) -“the rose is the flower of Love.” - -I stole a look at Glorvina, whose cheek now emulated the tint of the -theme of our conversation; and plucking a thistle that sprung from a -broken pediment, she blew away its down with her balmy breath, merely to -hide her confusion. - -Surely she is the most sentient of all created beings! - -“I remember,” continued the priest, “being severely censured by a rigid -old priest, at my college in St. Omer’s, who found me reading the -Idylium of Ausonius, in which he so beautifully celebrates the rose, -when the good father believed me deep in St. Augustin.” - -“The rose,” said I, “has always been the poet’s darling theme. The -impassioned lyre of Sappho has breathed upon its leaves. Anacreon has -wooed it in the happiest effusions of his genius; and poesy seems -to have exhausted her powers in celebrating the charms of the most -beautiful and transient of flowers. - -“Among its modern panegyrists, few have been more happily successful -than Monsieur de Barnard, in that charming little ode beginning: - - “Tendre fruits des pleurs d’aurore, - - Objets des baisers du zephyrs, - - Reine de l’empire de Flore, - - Hate toi d’epanoir.” - -“O! I beseech you go on,” exclaimed Glor-vina; and at her request, I -finished the poem. - -“Beautiful, beautiful!” said she, with enthusiasm. “O! there is a -certain delicacy of genius in elegant trifles of this description, which -I think the French possess almost exclusively: it is a language formed -almost by its very construction _a’eterniser la bagatelle_, and to -clothe the fairy effusions of fancy in the most appropriate drapery. - -“I thank you for this beautiful ode; the rose was always my idol flower; -in all its different stages of existence, it speaks a language my heart -understands; from its young bud’s first crimson glow, to the last sickly -blush of its faded blossom. It is the flower of sentiment in all -its sweet transitions; it breathes a moral, and seems to preserve an -undecaying soul in that fragrant essence which still survives the bloom -and symmetry of the fragile form which every beam too ardent, every gale -too chill, injures and destroys.” - -“And is there,” said I, “no parallel in the moral world for this lovely -offspring of the natural?”---- - -Glorvina raised her humid eyes to mine, and I read the parallel there. - -“I vow,” said the priest, with affected pettishness, “I am half tempted -to fling away my violet, since this _idol_ flower has been decreed to -Mr. Mortimer; and to revenge myself, I will show him your ode on the -rose.” - -At these words, he took out his pocket-book, laughing at his gratified -vengeance, while Glorvina coaxed, blushed, and threatened; until -snatching the book out of his hand, as he was endeavouring to put -it into mine, away she flew like lightning, laughing heartily at her -triumph, in all the exility and playfulness of a youthful spirit. - -“What a _Hebe!_” said I, as she kissed her hand to us in her airy -flight. - -“Yes,” said he, “she at least illustrates the possibility of a woman -uniting in her character the extremes of intelligence and simplicity: -you see, with all her information and talent, she is a mere child.” - -When we reached the castle, we found her waiting for us at the breakfast -table, flushed with her race--all animation, all spirits! her reserve -seemed gradually to vanish, and nothing could be more interesting, yet -more _enjouee_, than her manner and conversation. While the fertility -of her imagination supplied incessant topic of conversation, always new, -always original, I could not help reverting in idea to those languid -_tete-a-tetes_, even in the hey-dey of our intercourse, when Lady -C.------ and I have sat yawning at each other, or biting our fingers, -merely for want of something to say, in those intervals of passion, -which every connexion even of the tenderest nature, must sustain--she in -the native dearth of her mind, and I in the habitual apathy of mine. - -But here is a creature who talks of a violet or a rose with the artless -air of infancy, and yet fascinates you in the simple discussion, as -though the whole force of intellect was roused to support it. - -By Heaven! if I know my own heart, I would not love this being for a -thousand worlds; at least as I have hitherto loved. As it is, I feel a -certain commerce of the soul--a mutual intelligence of mind and feeling -with her, which a look, a sigh, a word is sufficient to betray--a sacred -communion of spirit, which raises me in the scale of existence almost -above mortality; and though we had been known to each other by -looks only, still would this amalgamation of soul (if I may use the -expression) have existed. - -What a nausea of every sense does the turbulent agitation of gross -commonplace passion bring with it. But the sentiment which this seraph -awakens, “brings with it no satiety.” There is something so pure, so -refreshing about her, that in the present state of my heart, feelings, -and constitution, she produces the same effect on me as does the -health-giving breeze of returning spring to the drooping spirit of slow -convalescence! - -After breakfast she left us, and I was permitted to kiss his Highness’s -hand, on my instalment in my new and enviable office. He did not speak -much on the subject, but with his usual energy. However, I understood I -was not to waste my time, as he termed it, for nothing. - -When I endeavoured to argue the point (as if the whole business was not -a _farce,_) the Prince would not hear me; so behold to all intents -and purposes a hireling tutor. Faith, to confess the truth, I know not -whether to be pleased or angry with this wild romance: this too, in a -man whose whole life has been a laugh at romancers of every description. - -What if my father learns the extent of my folly, in the first era too -of my probation! Oh! what a spirit of _bizarte_ ever drives me from the -central point of common sense, and common prudence! With what tyranny -does impulse rule my wayward fate! and how imperiously my heart still -takes the lead of my head! yet if I could ever consider the “meteor ray” - that has hitherto mis led my wanderings, as a “light from heaven,” it -is now, when virtue leads me to the shrine of innocent pleasure; and the -mind becomes the better for the wanderings of the heart. - -“But what,” you will say, with your usual foreseeing prudence--“what is -the aim, the object of your present romantic pursuit?” - -Faith, none; save the simple enjoyment of present felicity, after an age -of cold, morbid apathy; and a self resignation to an agreeable illusion, -after having sustained the actual burthen of real sufferings (sufferings -the more acute as they were self created,) succeeded by that dearth of -feeling and sensation which in permitting my heart to lie _fallow_ for -an interval, only rendered it the more genial to those exotic seeds of -happiness which the vagrant gale of chance has flung on its surface. -But whether they will take deep root, or only wear “the perfume and -suppliance of a moment,” is an unthought of “circumstance still hanging -in the stars,” to whose decision I commit it. - -Would you know my plans of meditated operation, they run thus:--In a -few days I shall avail myself of my professional vocation, and fly -home, merely to obviate suspicion in Mr. Clendinning, receive and answer -letters, and get my books and wardrobe sent to the Lodge, previous to my -own removal there, which I shall effect under the plausible plea of the -dissipated neighbourhood of M-------- house being equally inimical to -the present state of my constitution and my studious pursuits; and, in -fact, I must either associate with, or offend these hospitable -Milesians--an alternative by no means consonant to my inclinations. - -From Inismore to the Lodge, I can make constant sallies, and be in the -way to receive my father, whose arrival I think I may still date at some -weeks’ distance; besides, should it be necessary, I think I should find -no difficulty in bribing the old steward of the Lodge to my interest. -His evident aversion to Clendinning, and attachment to the Prince, -renders him ripe for any scheme by which the latter could be served, -or the former outwitted: and I hope in the end to effect both: for, to -unite this old chieftain in bonds of amity with my father, and to punish -the rascality of the worthy Mr. Clendinning, is a double “consummation -devoutly to be wished.” In short, when the heart is interested in -a project, the stratagems of the imagination to forward it are -inexhaustible. - -It should seem that the name of M-------- is interdicted at Inismore: I -have more than once endeavoured (though remotely) to make the residence -of our family in this country a topic of conversation; but every one -seemed to shrink from the subject, as though some fatality was connected -with its discussion. To avoid speaking ill of those of whom we have but -little reason, speak well, is the temperance of aversion, and seldom -found but in great minds. - -I must mention to you another instance of liberality in the sentiments -of these isolated beings:--I have only once attended the celebration of -divine service here since my arrival; but my absence seemed not to be -observed, or my attendance noticed; and though, as an Englishman, I may -be naturally supposed to be of the most popular faith, yet, for all they -know to the contrary, I may be Jew, Mussulman, or Infidel; for, before -me at least, religion is a topic never discussed. - -Adieu, - -H. M - - - -LETTER IX. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -I have already given two lessons to my pupil, in an art in which, with -all due deference to the judgment of her quondam tutor, she was never -destined to excel. - -Not, however, that she is deficient in talent--very far from it; but it -is too progressive, too tame a pursuit for the vivacity of her genius. -It is not sufficiently connected with those lively and vehement emotions -of the soul she is so calculated to feel and to awaken. She was created -for a musician--there she is borne away by the magic of the art in which -she excels, and the natural enthusiasm of her impassioned character: she -can sigh, she can weep, she can smile over her harp. The sensibility -of her soul trembles in her song, and the expression of her rapt -countenance harmonizes with her voice. But at her drawing-desk, her -features lose their animated character--the smile of rapture ceases -to play, and the glance of inspiration to beam. And with the transient -extinction of those feelings from which each touching charm is derived, -fades that all pervading interest, that energy of admiration which she -usually excites. - -Notwithstanding, however, the pencil is never out of her hand; her -harp lies silent, and her drawing-book is scarcely ever closed. Yet -she limits my attendance to the first hour after breakfast, and then -I generally lose sight of her the whole day, until we all meet -_en-famille_ in the evening. Her improvement is rapid--her father -delighted, and she quite fascinated by the novelty of her avocation; the -priest congratulates me, and I alone am dissatisfied. - -But from the natural impatience and volatility of her character, (both -very obvious,) this, thank Heaven! will soon be over. Besides, even -in the hour of tuition, from which I promised myself so much, I do not -enjoy her society--the priest always devotes that time to reading out to -her; and this too at her own request:--not that I think her innocent and -unsuspicious nature cherishes the least reserve at her being left -_tete-a-tete_ with her less venerable preceptor; but that her ever -active mind requires incessant exercise; and in fact, while I am hanging -over her in uncontrolled emotion, she is drawing, as if her livelihood -depended on the exertions of her pencil, or commenting on the subjects -of the priest’s perusal, with as much ease as judgment; while she minds -me no more than if I were a well organized piece of mechanism, by whose -motions her pencil was to be guided. - -What if, with all her mind, all her genius, this creature had no -heart!--And what were it to me, though she had?------ - -The Prince fancies his domestic government to be purely patriarchal, -and that he is at once the “Law and the Prophet” to his family; never -suspecting that he is all the time governed by a girl of nineteen, whose -soul, notwithstanding the playful softness of her manner, contains -a latent ambition, which sometimes breathing in the grandeur of her -sentiment, and sometimes sparkling in the haughtiness of her eye, seems -to say, “I was born for empire!” - -It is evident that the tone of her mind is naturally stronger than her -father’s, though to a common observe, _he_ would appeal a man of -nervous and masculine understanding; but the difference between them is -this--his energies are the energies of the passions--hers of the mind! - -Like most other Princes, _mine_ is governed much by _favoritism_; and it -is evident I already rank high on the list of partiality. - -I perceive, however, that much of his predilection in my favour, -arises from the coincidence of my present curiosity and taste with his -favourite pursuits and national prejudices. Newly awakened, (perhaps -by mere force of novelty,) to a lively interest for every thing that -concerns a country I once thought so little worthy of consideration; -in short, convinced by the analogy of existing habits, with recorded -customs, of the truth of those circumstances so generally ranked in -the apocryphal tales of the history of this vilified country; I have -determined to resort to the witness of time, the light of truth, and the -corroboration of living testimony, in the study of a country which I am -beginning to think would afford to the mind of philosophy a rich subject -of analysis, and to the powers of poetic fancy a splendid series of -romantic detail. - -“Sir William Temple,” says Dr. Johnson, “complains that Ireland is -less known than any other country, as to its ancient state, because the -natives have little leisure, and less encouragement for enquiry; and -that a stranger, not knowing its language, has no ability.” - -This impediment, however, shall not stand in the way of _one_ stranger, -who is willing to offer up his national prejudices at the Altar of -Truth, and expiate the crime of an unfounded but habitual antipathy, -by an impartial examination, and an unbiassed inquiry. In short, I have -actually began to study the language; and though I recollect to have -read the opinion of Temple, “that the Celtic dialect used by the native -Irish is the purest and most original language that now remains yet I -never suspected that a language spoken _par routine_, and chiefly by the -lower classes of society, could be acquired upon _principle_, until the -other day, when I observed in the Prince’s truly national library some -philological works, which were shown me by Father John, who has offered -to be my preceptor in this wreck of ancient dialect, and who assures me -he will render me master of it in a short time--provided I study _con -amore_. - -“And I will assist you,” said Glorvina. - -“We will _all_ assist him,” said the Prince. - -“Then I shall study _con amore_ indeed!” returned I. - -Behold me then, buried amidst the monuments of past ages!--deep in -the study of the language, history, and antiquities of this -ancient nation--talking of the invasion of Henry II, as a recent -circumstance--of the Phoenician migration hither from Spain, as though -my grandfather had been delegated by Firbalgs to receive the Milesians -on their landing--and of those transactions passed through - - “The dark posterns of time long elapsed,” - -as though their existence was but freshly registered in the annate of -recollection. - -In short, infected by my antiquarian conversation with the Prince, and -having fallen in with some of those monkish histories which, on the -strength of Druidical tradition, trace a series of wise and learned -Irish monarchs before the flood, I am beginning to have as much faith -in antediluvian records as Dr. Parsons himself, who accuses _Adam of_ -authorship, or Thomas Bangius, who almost gives _fac similies_ of the -hand-writing of Noah’s progenitors. - -Seriously, however, I enter on my new studies with avidity, and read -from the morning’s first dawn till the usual hour of breakfast, which is -become to me as much the banquet of the heart, as the Roman supper was -to the Agustan wits “the feast of reason and the flow of soul,”--for it -is the only meal at which Glorvina presides. - -Two hours each day does the kind priest devote to my philological -pursuits, while Glorvina, who is frequently present on these occasions -makes me repeat some short poem or song after her, that I may catch the -pronunciation, (which is almost unattainable,) then translates them into -English, which I word for word write down. Here then is a specimen -of Irish poetry, which is almost always the effusion of some blind -itinerent bard, or some rustic minstrel, into whose breast the genius of -his country has breathed inspiration, as he patiently drove the plough, -or laboriously worked in the bog. * - -CATHBEIN NOLAN. - -I. - -“My love, when she floats on the mountain’s brow, is like the dewy cloud -of the summer’s loveliest evening. Her forehead is asa pearl; her spiral -locks are of gold; and I grieve that I cannot banish her from my memory.” - -II. - -“When she enters the forest like the bounding doe, dispersing the dew -with her airy steps, her mantle on her arm, the axe in her hand to cut -the branches of flame; I know not which is the most noble--the King of -the Saxons, ** or Cathbein Nolan.” - - * Miss Brooks, in her elegant version of the works of some - of the Irish Bards, says, “’Tis scarcely possible that any - language can be more adapted to lyric poetry than the Irish; - so great is the smoothness and harmony of its numbers; it is - also possessed of a refined delicacy, a descriptive power, - and an exquisite tender simplicity of expression: two or - three little artless words, or perhaps a single epithet, - will sometimes convey such an image of sentiment or - suffering to the mind, that one lays down the book to look - at the picture.” - - ** The King of England is called by the common Irish “Riagh - Sasseanach.” - -This little song is of so ancient a date, that Glorvina assures -me, neither the name of the composer (for the melody is exquisitely -beautiful) nor the poet, have escaped the oblivion of time. But if we -may judge of the rank of the poet by that of his mistress, it must have -been of a very humble degree; for it is evident that the fair Cathbein, -whose form is compared, in splendour, to that of the Saxon monarch, is -represented as cutting wood for the fire. - -The following songs, however, are by the most celebrated of the modern -Irish bards, Turloch Carolan, * and the airs to which he has composed -them, possess the _arioso_ elegance of Italian music, united to the -heartfelt pathos of Irish melody. - - * He was born in the village of Nobber, county of Westmeath, - in 1670, and died in 1739. He never regretted the loss of - sight, but used gaily to say, “my eyes are only transplanted - into my ears.” Of his poetry, the reader may form some - judgment from these examples. Of his music, it has been said - by O’Connor, the celebrated historian, who knew him - intimately, “so happy, so elevated was he in some of his - compositions, that he excited the wonder, and obtained the - approbation of a great master who never saw him, I mean - Geminiani.” His execution on the harp was rapid and - expressive--far beyond that of all the professional - competitors of the age in which he lived. The charms of - women, the pleasures of conviviality, and the power of poesy - and music, were at once his theme and inspiration; and his - life was an illustration of his theory, for until his last - ardour was chilled by death, he loved, drank and sung. He - was a welcome guest to every house, from the peasant to the - prince; but in the true wandering spirit of his profession, - he never staid to exhaust that welcome. - -I. - -“I must sing of the youthful plant of gentlest mien--Fanny, the -beautiful and warm soul’d--the maid of the amber twisted ringlets; -the air lifted and light footed virgin--the elegant pearl and heart’s -treasure of Eriu; then waste not the fleeting hour--let us enjoy it in -drinking to the health of Fanny, the daughter of David.” - -II. - -“It is the maid of the magic lock I sing, the fair swan of the -shore--for whose love a multitude expires: Fanny, the beautiful, -whose tresses are like the evening sun beam; whose voice is like the -blackbird’s morning song: O, may I never leave the world until dancing -in the air (this expression in the Irish is beyond the power of -translation) at her wedding, I shall send away the hours in drinking to -Fanny, the daughter of David.” * - - * She was daughter to David Power, Esq., of the county - Galway, and mother to the late Lord Cloncarty. The epithet - bestowed on her of “Swan of the shore,” arose from her - father’s mansion being situated on the edge of Lough Leah, - or the grey lake, of which many curious legends are told. - -GRACY NUGENT. - -I. - -“I delight to talk of thee! blossom of fairness! Gracy, the most -frolicsome of the young and lovely--who from the fairest of the province -bore away the palm of excellence--happy is he who is near her, for -morning nor evening grief, nor fatigue, cannot come near him; her -mien is like the mildness of a beautiful dawn; and her tresses flow in -twisted folds--she is the daughter of the branches.--Her neck has the -whiteness of alabaster--the softness of the cygnet’s bosom is hers; and -the glow of the summer’s sunbeam is on her countenance. Oh! blessed is -he who shall obtain thee, fair daughter of the blossoms--maid of the -spiry locks!” - -II. - -“Sweet is the word of her lip, and sparkling the beam of her blue -rolling eye; and close round her neck cling the golden tresses of her -head: and her teeth are arranged in beautiful order. I say to the maid -of youthful mildness, thy voice is sweeter than the song of birds; -every grace, every charm play round thee; and though my soul delights to -sing thy praise, yet I must quit the theme--to drink with a sincere -heart to thy health, Gracy of the soft waving ringlets.” - -Does not this poetical effusion, awakened by the charms of the fair -Gracy, recal to your memory the description of Helen by Theocritus, in -his beautiful epithalamium on her marriage?-- - -“She is like the rising of the golden morning, when the night departeth, -and when the winter is over and gone--she resembleth the cypress in the -garden, the horse in the chariot of Thessaly.” - -While the invocation to the enjoyment of convivial pleasure which -breathes over the termination of every verse, glows with the festive -spirit of the Tean bard. - -When I remarked the coincidence of style, which existed between the -early Greek writers and the bards of Erin, Glorvina replied, with a -smile, “In drawing this analogy, you think, perhaps, to flatter my -national vanity; but the truth is, we trace the spirit of Milesian -poetry to a higher source than the spring of Grecian genius; for many -figures in Irish song are of Oriental origin; and the bards who ennobled -the train of our Milesian founders, and who awakened the soul of song -here, seem, in common with the Greek poets, ‘to have kindled their -poetic fires at those unextinguished lamps which burn within the tomb of -oriental genius.’ Let me, however, assure you, that no adequate version -of an Irish poem can be given; for the peculiar construction of the -Irish language, the felicity of its epithets, and force of its -expressions, bid defiance to all translation.” - -“But while your days and nights are thus devoted to Milesian -literature,” you will say, “what becomes of Blackstone and Coke?” - -Faith, e’en what may for me--the mind, the mind, like the heart, is not -to be forced in its pursuits; and, I believe, in an intellectual, as -in a physical sense, there are certain antipathies which reason may -condemn, but not vanish. Coke is to me a dose of ipecacuhana; and my -present studies, like those poignant incentives which stimulate the -appetite without causing repletion. It is in vain to force me to a -profession, against which my taste, my habits, my very nature revolts; -and if my father persists in his determination, why, as a _dernier -resort_, I must turn historiographer to the prince of Inismore.------ -Like the spirit of Milton, I feel myself, in this new world, “vital in -every part:” - - “All heart I live, all head, all eye, all ear. - - All intellect, all sense.” - - - -LETTER X. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -The more I know of this singular girl, the more the happy _discordia -consors_ of her character awakens my curiosity and surprise. I -never beheld such a union of intelligence and simplicity, infantine -playfulness and profound reflection as her character exhibits. Sometimes -when I think I am trifling with a child, I find I am conversing with -a philosopher; and sometimes in the midst of the most serious and -interesting conversation, some impulse of the moment seizes on her -imagination, and a vein of frolic humour and playful sarcasm is indulged -at the expense of my most sagacious arguments or philosophic gravity. -Her reserve (unknown to herself) is gradually giving way to the most -bewitching familiarity. - -When the priest is engaged, I am suffered to tread with her the -“pathless grass,” climb the mountain’s steep, or ramble along the -sea-beat coast, sometimes followed by her nurse, and sometimes by a -favourite little dog only. - -Of nothing which concerns her country is she ignorant; and when a more -interesting, a more soul-felt conversation, cannot be obtained, I love -to draw her into a little national chit-chat. - -Yesterday, as we were walking along the base of that mountain from which -I first beheld her dear residence, (and sure I may say with Petrarch, -“Benedetto sia il giorno e’l mese e’lanno,”) several groups of peasants -(mostly females,) passed us, with their usual courteous salutations, and -apparently dressed in their holiday garbs. - -“Poor souls!” said Glorvina--“this is a day of jubilee to them, for a -great annual fair is held in the neighbourhood.” - -“But from whence,” said I “do they draw the brightness of those tints -which adorn their coarse garments; those gowns and ribbons, that rival -the gay colouring of that heath hedge; those bright blue and scarlet -mantles? Are they, too, vestiges of ancient modes and ancient taste?” - -“Certainly they are,” she replied, “and the colours which the Irish were -celebrated for wearing and dyeing a thousand years back, are now most -prevalent. In short, the ancient Irish, like the Israelites, were so -attached to this many coloured _costume_, that it became the mark by -which the different classes of the people were distinguished. Kings were -limited to seven colours in their royal robes; and six were allowed the -bards. What an idea does this give of the reverence paid to superior -talent in other times by our forefathers! But that bright yellow you now -behold so universally worn, has been in all ages their favourite hue. -Spenser thinks this custom came from the East; and Lord Bacon accounts -for the propensity of the Irish to it, by supposing it contributes to -longevity.” - -“But where,” said I, “do these poor people procure so expensive an -article as saffron, to gratify their prevailing taste?” - -“I have heard Father John say,” she returned, “that saffron, as an -article of importation, could never have been at any time cheap enough -for general use. And I believe formerly, as _now_, they communicated -this bright yellow tinge with indigenous plants, with which this country -abounds. - -“See,” she added, springing lightly forward, and culling a plant which -grew from the mountain’s side--“see this little blossom, which they -call here, ‘yellow lady’s bed straw,’ and which you, as a botanist, will -better recognize as the _Galieens borum_; it communicates a beautiful -yellow; as does the _Lichen juniperinus_, or ‘cypress moss,’ which you -brought me yesterday; and I think the _résida Leuteola_, or ‘yellow -weed,’ surpasses them all.” * - - * Purple, blue, and green dyes, were introduced by Tighwmas - the Great, in the year of the world 2814. The Irish also - possessed the art of dyeing a fine scarlet; so early as the - day of St. Bennia, a disciple of St. Patrick, scarlet - clothes and robes high embroidered, are mentioned in the - baok of Glandelogh. - -“In short, the botanical treasures of our country, though I dare say -little known, are inexhaustible. - -“Nay,” she continued, observing, I believe, the admiration that -sparkled in my eyes, “give me no credit, I beseech you, for this local -information, for there is not a peasant girl in the neighbourhood, but -will tell you more on the subject.” - -While she was thus dispensing knowledge with the most unaffected -simplicity of look and manner, a group of boys advanced towards us, with -a car laden with stones, and fastened to the back of an unfortunate -dog, which they were endeavouring to train to this new species of -canine avocation, by such unmerciful treatment as must have procured the -wretched animal a speedy release from all his sufferings. - -Glorvina no sooner perceived this, than she flew to the dog, and while -the boys looked all amaze, effected his liberation, and by her caresses, -endeavoured to soothe him into forgetfulness of his late sufferings; -then, turning to the ringleader, she said: - -“Dermot, I have so often heard you praised for your humanity to animals, -that I can scarcely believe it possible that you have been accessory -to the sufferings of this useful and affectionate animal; he is just as -serviceable to society in his way, as you are in yours, and you are just -as well able to drag a loaded cart as he is to draw that little car. -Come now, I am not so heavy as the load you have destined him to bear, -and you are much stronger than your dog, and now you shall draw me home -to the castle; and then give me your opinion on the subject.” - -In one moment his companions, laughing vociferously at the idea, had the -stones flung out of the little vehicle, and fastened its harness on the -broad shoulders of the half pouting, half smiling Dermot; and the next -moment this little agile sylph was seated in the car. - -Away went Dermot, dragged on by the rest of the boys, while Glorvina, -delighted as a child with her new mode of conveyance, laughed with -all her heart, and kissed her hand to me as she flew along; while I, -trembling for her safety, endeavoured to keep pace with her triumphal -chariot, till her wearied, breathless Phaeton, unable to run any further -with his lovely, laughing burthen, begged a respite. - -“How!” said she, “weary of this amusement, and yet you have not at every -step been cruelly lashed like your poor dog.” - -The panting Dermot hung his head, and said in Irish, “the like should -not happen again.” - -“It is enough,” said Glorvina, in the same language--“we are all liable -to commit a fault, but let us never forget it is in our power to correct -it. And now go to the castle where you shall have a good dinner, in -return for the good and pleasant exercise you have procured me.” - -The boys were as happy as kings. Dermot was unyoked, and the poor dog, -wagging his tail in token of his felicity, accompanied the gratified -group to the castle. - -When Glorvina had translated to me the subject of her short dialogue -with Dermot, she added, laughing, “Oh! how I should like to be dragged -about this way for two or three hours every day: never do I enter into -any little folly of this kind, that I do not sigh for those sweet hours -of my childhood when I could play the fool with impunity.” - -“Play the fool!” said I--“and do you call this playing the fool--this -dispensation of humanity, this culture of benevolence in the youthful -mind, these lessons of truth and goodness, so sweetly, so simply given?” - -“Nay,” she returned, “you always seem inclined to flatter me into -approbation of myself! but the truth is, I was glad to seize on the -opportunity of lecturing that urchin Dermot, who, though I praised -his humanity, is the very beadle to all the unfortunate animals in the -neighbourhood. But I have often had occasion to remark, that, by giving -a virtue to these neglected children which they do not possess, I have -awakened their emulation to attain it.” - -“To say that you are an angel,” said I, “is to say a very commonplace -thing, which every man says to the woman he either does, or affects to -admire; and yet”---- - -“Nay,”--interrupted she, laying her hand on my arm, and looking up full -in my face with that arch glance I have so often caught revelling in -her eloquent eye--“I am not emulous of a place in the angelic choir; -canonization is more consonant to my _papistical_ ambition; then let me -be your saint--your tutelar saint, and”-- - -“And let me,” interrupted I, impassionately, “let me, like the members -of the Greek church, adore my saint, not by prostration, but by a -kiss;”--and, for the first time in my life, I pressed my lips to the -beautiful hand which still rested on my arm, and from which I first drew -a glove that has not since left my bosom, nor been re-demanded by its -charming owner. - -This little freedom (which, to another, would have appeared nothing) was -received with a degree of blushing confusion, that assured me it was the -first of the kind ever offered; even the fair hand blushed its sense of -my boldness, and enhanced the pleasure of the theft by the difficulty it -promised of again obtaining a similar favour. - -By heaven there is infection in the sensitive delicacy of this creature, -which even my hardened confidence cannot resist. - -No _prieux Chevalier_, on being permitted to kiss the tip of his liege -lady’s finger, after a seven years’ seige, could feel more pleasantly -embarrassed than I did, as we walked on in silence, until we were -happily relieved by the presence of the old garrulous nurse, who came -out in search of her young lady--for, like the princesses in the Greek -tragedies, _my_ Princess seldom appears without the attendance of this -faithful representative of fond maternity. - -For the rest of the walk she talked mostly to the nurse in Irish, and at -the castle gate we parted--she to attend a patient, and I to retire -to my own apartment, to ruminate on my morning’s ram ble with this -fascinating _lusus naturo_. - -Adieu, - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XI. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -The drawing which I made of the castle is finished--the Prince is -charmed with it, and Glorvina insisted on copying it. This was as I -expected--as I wished; and I took care to finish it so minutely, that -her patience (of which she has no great store) should soon be exhausted -in the imitation, and I should have something more of her attention than -she generally affords me at my drawing-desk. - -Yesterday, in the absence of the priest, I read to her as she drew. -After a thousand little symptoms of impatience and weariness--“here,” - said she, yawning--“here is a straight line I can make nothing of--do -you know, Mr. Mortimer, I never could draw a perpendicular line in my -life. See now my pencil _will_ go into a curve or an angle; so you must -guide my hand, or I shall----” - -I “guide her hand to draw a straight line!” - -“Nay then,” said I, with the ostentatious gravity of a pedagogue master, -“I may as well do the drawing myself.” - -“Well then,” said she, playfully, “_do_ it yourself.” - -Away she flew to her harp; while I, half lamenting, half triumphing, in -my forbearance, took her pencil and her seat. I perceived, however, that -she had not even drawn a single line of the picture, and yet her paper -was not a mere _carte-blanche_--for close to the margin was written in a -fairy hand, ‘_Henry Mortimer_, April 2d, 10 o’clock,’--the very day and -hour of my entrance into the castle; and in several places, the half -defaced features of a face evidently a copy of my own, were still -visible. - -If any thing could have rendered this little circumstance more -deliciously gratifying to my heart, it was, that I had been just reading -to her the anecdote of “the _Maid of Corinth_.” - -I raised my eyes from the paper to her with a look that must have spoken -my feelings; but she, unconscious of my observation began a favourite -air of her favourite Carolan’s, and supposed me to be busy at the -_perpendicular line_. - -Wrapt in her charming avocation, she seemed borne away by the magic -of her own numbers, and thus inspired and inspiring as she appeared, -faithful, as the picture formed was interesting, I took her likeness. -Conceive for a moment a form full of character, and full of grace, -bending over an instrument singularly picturesque--a profusion of auburn -hair fastened up to the top of the finest formed head I ever beheld, -with a golden bodkin--an armlet of curious workmanship glittering above -a finely turned elbow, and the loose sleeves of a flowing robe drawn up -unusually high, to prevent this drapery from sweeping the chords of the -instrument. The expression of the divinely touching countenance breathed -all the fervour of genius under the influence of inspiration, and the -contours of the face, from the peculiar uplifted position of the head, -were precisely such, as lends to painting the happiest line of feature, -and shade of colouring. Before I had near finished the lovely picture, -her song ceased; and turning towards me, who sat opposite her, she -blushed to observe how intensely my eyes were fixed on _her_. - -“I am admiring,” said I, carelessly, “the singular elegance of your -costume: it is indeed to me a never failing source of wonder and -admiration.” - -“I am not sorry,” she replied, “to avail myself of my father’s -prejudices in favour of our ancient national costume, which, with the -exception of the drapery being made of modern materials (on the antique -models,) is absolutely drawn from the wardrobes of my great grand dames. -This armlet, I have heard my father say, is near four hundred years old, -and many of the ornaments and jewels you have seen me wear, are of a -date no less ancient.” - -“But how,” said I, while she continued to tune her harp, and I to ply -the pencil, “how comes it that in so remote a period, we find the riches -of Peru and Golconda contributing their splendour to the magnificence of -Irish dress?” - -“No!” she replied, smiling, “we too had our Peru and Golconda in the bosom -of our country--for it was once thought rich not only in gold and silver -mines, but abounded in pearls, * amethysts, and other precious stones: -even a few years back, Father John saw some fine pearls taken out of -the river Ban; ** and Mr. O’Halloran, the celebrated Irish historian, -declares that within his memory, amethysts of immense value were found -in Ireland.”! *** - - * “It should seem.” says Mr. Walker, in his ingenious and - elegant essay on Ancient Irish Dress--“that Ireland teemed - with gold and silver, for as well as in the laws recited, we - find an act ordained 34th, Henry VIII, ‘that merchant - strangers should pay 40 pence custom for every pound of - silver they carried out of Ireland; and Lord Stratford, in - one of his letters from Dublin to his royal master, says, - ‘with this I land you an ingot of silver of 300 oz.’” - - ** Pearls abounded, and still are found in this country and - were of such repute in the 11th century, that a present of - them was sent to the famous Bishop Anselm, by a Bishop of - Limerick. - - *** The author is indebted to Mr. Knox, barrister at law, - Dublin, for the sight of some beautiful amethysts, which - belonged to his female ancestors, and which many of the - lapidaries of London, after a diligent search, found it - impossible to match. - -“I remember reading in the life of St. Bridget, that the King of -Leinster presented to her father a sword set with precious stones, which -the pious saint, more charitable than honest, devoutly stole, and sold -for the benefit of the poor; but it should seem that the sources of our -national treasures are now shut up like the gold mines of La Valais, -for the public weal, I suppose; for we now hear not of amethysts found, -pearls discovered, or gold mines worked; and it is to the caskets of -my female ancestors that I stand indebted that my dress or hair is not -fastened or adorned like those of my humbler countrywomen, with a wooden -bodkin.” - -“That, indeed,” said I, “is a species of ornament I have observed very -prevalent with your fair ‘_paysannes_; and of whatever materials it is -made, when employed in such a happy service as I _now_ behold it, has -an air of simple, useful elegance, which in my opinion constitutes the -great art of female dress.” - -“It is at least,” replied she, “the most ancient ornament we know -here--for we are told that the celebrated palace of Emania, * erected -previous to the Christian era, was sketched by the famous Irish Empress -Macha, with the bodkin. - - * The resident palace of the Kings of Ulster, of which - Colgan speaks as “rendolens splendorum.” - -“I remember a passage from a curious and ancient romance in the Irish -language, that fastened wonderfully upon my imagination when I read it -to my father in my childhood, and which gives to the bodkin a very -early origin:--it ran thus, and is called the ‘_Interview between Fionn -M’Cnmhal and Cannan_.’ - -“‘Cannan, when he said this, was seated at table; on his right hand -was seated his wife, and upon his left his beautiful daughter, so -exceedingly fair, that the snow driven by the winter storms surpassed -not her in fairness, and her cheeks wore the blood of a young calf; her -hair hung in curling ringlets, and her teeth were like pearl--a spacious -veil hung from her lovely head down her delicate form, and the veil was -fastened by a goldenbodkin.’” “The bodkin, you know, is also an ancient -Greek ornament, and mentioned by Vulcan, as among the trinkets he was -obliged to forge.” * - - * See Iliad, 13, 17. - -By the time she had finished this curious quotation in favour of the -antiquity of her dress, her harp was tuned, and she began another -exquisite old Irish air called the “Dream of the Young Man,” which she -accompanied rather by a plaintive _murmur_, than with her voice’s full -melodious powers. It is thus this creature winds round the heart, while -she enlightens the mind, and entrances the senses. - -I had finished the sketch in the meantime, and just beneath the figure, -and above her flattering inscription of my name, I wrote with my -pencil, - - “’Twas thus Apelles bask’d in beauty’s blaze, - - Nor felt the danger of the steadfast gaze;” - -while she, a few minutes after, with that restlessness that seemed to -govern all her actions to-day arose, put her harp aside and approached -me with, “Well, Mr. Mortimer, you are very indulgent to my insufferable -indolence--let me see what you have done for me;” and looking over my -shoulder, she beheld not the ruins of her castle, but a striking likeness -of her blooming self; and sending her head close to the paper, read the -lines, and that name honoured by the inscription of her own fair hand. - -For the world I would not have looked her full in the face; but from -beneath my downcast eye I stole a transient glance: the colour did -not rush to her cheek, (as it usually does under the influence of any -powerful emotion) but rather deserted its beautiful standard, as she -stood with her eyes riveted on the picture, as though she dreaded by -their removal she should encounter those of the artist. - -After about three minutes endurance of this mutual confusion, (could you -believe me such a blockhead?) the priest, to our great relief, entered -the room. - -Glorvina ran and shook hands with him, as though she had not seen him in -an age, and flew out of the room; while I effacing the quotation but not -the honoured inscription, asked Father John’s opinion of my effort at -portrait painting. He acknowledged it was a most striking resemblance, -and added, “Now you will indeed give a _coup de grace_ to the partiality -of the Prince in your favour, and you will rank so much the higher in -his estimation, in proportion as his daughter is dearer to him than his -_ruins_.” - -Thus encouraged, I devoted the rest of the day to copying out this -sketch: and I have finished the picture in that light tinting, so -effective in this kind of characteristic drawings. That beautifully -pensive expression which touches the countenance of Glorvina, when -breathing her native strains, I have most happily caught; and her -costume, attitude, and harp, form as happy a combination of traits, as a -single portrait perhaps ever presented. - -When it was shown to the Prince, he gazed on it in silence, till tears -obscured his glance; then laying it down he embraced me, but said -nothing. Had he detailed the merits of the picture in all the technical -farago of _cognoscenti_ phrase, his comments would not have been half -so eloquent as this simple action, and the silence which accompanied it. -Adieu, - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XI. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -Here is a _bonne bouche_ for your antiquarian taste, and _Ossianic_ -palate! Almost every evening after vesper, we all assemble in a spacious -hall, * which had been shut up for near a century and first opened by -the present prince when he was driven for shelter to his paternal ruins. - - * “Amidst the ruins of Buan Ratha, near Limerick, is a - princely hall and spacious chambers; the fine stucco in many - of which is yet visible, though uninhabitable for near a - century.”--O’Halloran’s Introduction to the Study of the - History and Antiquities of Ireland, p 8. - - In every town, every village, every considerable tract of - land, the spacious ruins of princely residence or religious - edifices, the palace, the castle, or the abbey, are to be - seen. - -This _Vengolf_, this _Valkhalla_, where the very spirit of Woden seems -to preside, runs the full length of the castle as it now stands (for the -centre of the building only, has escaped the delapidations of time,) -and its beautifully arched roof is enriched with numerous devices which -mark the spirit of that day in which it was erected. This very curious -roof is supported by two rows of pillars of that elegant spiral -lightness which characterises the Gothic order in a certain stage of its -progress. The floor is a finely tessellated pavement; and the ample but -ungrated hearths which terminate it at either extremity, blaze every -evening with the cheering contributions of a neighbouring bog. The -windows which are high, narrow, and arched, command on one side a noble -view of the ocean, on the other they are closed up. - -When I enquired of Father John the cause of this singular exclusion of a -very beautiful landview, he replied, “that from those windows were to be -seen the greater part of that rich tract of land which once formed -the territory of the Princes of Inismore; * and since,” said he, “the -possessions of the present Prince are limited to a few hereditary acres -and a few rented farms, he cannot bear to look on the domains of his -ancestors nor ever goes beyond the confines of this little peninsula.” - - * I understand that it is only a few years back, since the - present respectable representatives of the M’Dermot family - opened those windows which the Prince of Coolavin closed up, - upon a principle similar to that by which the Prince of - Inismore was actuated. - -This very curious apartment is still called the banquetting hall--where - - “Stately the feast, and high the cheer. - - Girt with many a valiant peer,” - -was once celebrated in all the boundless extravagance and convivial -spirit of ancient Irish hospitality. But it now serves as an armory, a -museum, a cabinet of national antiquities and national curiosities. -In short, it is the receptacle of all those precious relics, which the -Prince has been able to rescue from the wreck of his family splendour. - -Here, when he is seated by a blazing hearth in an immense arm-chair, -made, as he assured me, of the famous wood of _Shilelah_, his daughter -by his side, his harper behind him, and his _domestic altar_ not -destitute of that national libation which is no disparagement to -princely taste, since it has received the sanction of imperial -approbation; * his gratified eye wandering over the scattered insignia -of the former prowess of his family; his gratified heart expanding -to the reception of life’s sweetest ties--domestic joys and social -endearments;--he forgets the derangement of his circumstances--he -forgets that he is the ruined possessor of a visionary title; he feels -only that he is a man--and an Irishman! While the transient happiness -that lights up the vehement feelings of his benevolent breast, effuses -its warmth over all who come within its sphere. - - * Peter the Great, of Russia was fond of whiskey, and used - to say, “Of all wine, Irish wine is the best.” - -Nothing can be more delightful than the evenings passed in this -_vengolf_---this hall of Woden; where my sweet Glorvina hovers round us, -like one of the beautiful _valkyries_ of the Gothic paradise, who bestow -on the spirit of the departed warrior that heaven he eagerly rushes on -death to obtain. Sometimes she accompanies the old bard on her harp, -or with her voice; and frequently as she sits at her wheel (for she is -often engaged in this simple and primitive avocation,) endeavours to -lure, her father to speak on those subjects most interesting to him or -to me; or, joining the general conversation, by the playfulness of -her humour, or the original whimsicality of her sallies, materially -contributes to the “_molle at que facetum!_” of the moment. - -On the evening of the day of the picture-scene, the absence of Glorvina -(for she was attending a sick servant) threw a gloom over our little -circle. The Prince, for the first time, dismissed the harper, and taking -me by the arm, walked up and down the hall in silence, while the priest -yawned over a book. - -I have already told you that this curious hall is the _emporium_ of -the antiquities of Inismore, which are arranged along its walls, and -suspended from its pillars.--As much to draw the Prince from the gloomy -reverie into which he seemed plunged, as to satisfy my own curiosity and -yours, I requested his highness to explain some characters on a collar -which hung from a pillar, and appeared to be plated with gold. - -Having explained the motto, he told me that this collar had belonged to -an order of knighthood hereditary in his family--of an institution more -ancient than any in England, by some centuries. - -“How,” said I, “was chivalry so early known in Ireland? and rather, did -it ever exist here?” - -“Did it!” said the Prince, impatiently, “I believe, young gentleman, the -origin of knighthood may be traced in Ireland upon surer ground than in -any other country whatever.” * - - * Mr. O’Halloran, with a great deal of spirit and ingenuity, - endeavours to prove that the German Knighthood (the earliest - we read of in chivalry) was of Irish origin; with what - success we leave it to the impartial reader to judge. It is, - however, certain, that the German ritter or knight, bears a - very close analogy to the Irish riddaire. In 1394, Richard - II, in his tour through Ireland, offered to knight the four - provincial kings who came to receive him in Dublin. But they - excused themselves, as having received that honour from - their parents at seven years old--that being the age in - which the kings of Ireland knighted their eldest sons.--See - Froissart. - -Long before the birth of Christ, we had an hereditary order of -knighthood in Ulster, called the Knights of the _Red Branch_. They -possessed, near the royal palace of Ulster, a seat, called the _Academy -of the Red Branch_; and an adjoining hospital, expressively termed the -_House of the Sorrowful Soldier_. - -“There was also an order of chivalry hereditary in the royal families -of Munster, named the _Sons of Deagha_, from a celebrated hero of that -name, probably their founder. The Connaught knights were called the -_Guardians of Jorus_, and those of Leinster, _the Clan of Boisgna_. So -famous, indeed, were the knights of Iceland, for the elegance, strength, -and beauty of their forms, that they were distinguished, by way of -pre-eminence, by the name of _the Heroes of the Western Isle_. - -“Our annals teem with instances of this romantic bravery and scrupulous -honour. My memory, though much impaired, is still faithful to some -anecdotes of both. During a war between the Connaught and Munster -monarchs, in 192, both parties met in the plains of Lena, in this -province; and it was proposed to Goll M’Morni, chief of the Connaught -Knights, to attack the Munstei army at midnight, which would have -secured him victory. He nobly and indignantly replied: ‘On the day the -arms of a knight were put into my hands, I swore never to attack my -enemy at night, by surprise, or under _any kind of disadvantage_; nor -shall that vow now be broken.’ - -“Besides those orders of knighthood which I have already named, there -are several others * still hereditary in noble families, and the -honorable titles of which are still preserved: such as the _White -Knights of Kerry_, and the _Knights of Glynn_: that hereditary in my -family was the _Knights of the Valley_; and this collar, ** an ornament -never dispensed with, was found about fifty years back in a neighbouring -bog, and worn by my father till his death. - -“This gorget,” he continued, taking down one which hung on the wall, and -apparently gratified by the obvious pleasure evinced in the countenance -of his auditor,--“This gorget was found some years after in the same -bog.” *** - - * The respectable families of the Fitzgeralds still bear the - title of their ancestors, and are never named but as the - Knights of Kerry and of Glynn. - - ** One of these collars was in the possession of Mr. - O’Halloran. - - *** In the Bog of Cullen, in the county of Tipperary, some - golden gorgets were discovered, as were also some corslets - of pure gold in the lands of Clonties, county of Kerry---See - Smith’s History of Ireland. - -“And this helmet?” said I-- - -“It is called in Irish,” he replied, “_salet_ and belonged, with this -coat of mail, to my ancestor who was murdered in this castle.” - -I coloured at this observation, as though I had been myself the -murderer. - -“As you refer, Sir,” said the priest, who had flung by his book and -joined us, “to the ancient Irish for the origin of knighthood, * you -will perhaps send us to the Irish _Mala_, for the derivation of the word -mail.” - - * At a time when the footstep of an English invader had not - been impressed upon the Irish coast, the celebrity of the - Irish knights was sung by the British minstrels. Thus in the - old romantic tale of Sir Cauline: - - In Ireland, ferr over the sea, - - There dwelleth a bonnye kinge, - - And with him a young and comlye knight, - - Men call him Syr Cauline. - -“Undoubtedly,” said the national Prince, “I should; but pray, Mr. -Mortimer, observe this shield. It is of great antiquity. You perceive it -is made of wicker, as were the Irish shields in general; although I have -also heard they were formed of silver, and one was found near Slimore, -in the county of Cork, plated with gold, which sold for seventy -guineas.” - -“But here,” said I, “is a sword of curious workmanship, the hilt of -which seems of gold.” - -Sir Cauline’s antagonist, the Eldridge knight, is described as being “a -foul paymin” which places the events, the romantic tale delineates, in -the earliest era of Christianity in Ireland. - -“It is in fact so,” said the priest--“Golden hilted swords have been -in great abundance through Ireland; and it is a circumstance singularly -curious, that a sword found in the bog of Cullen, should be of the exact -construction and form of those found upon the plains of Canæ. You may -suppose that the advocates of our Milesian origin gladly seize on -this circumstance, as affording new arms against the sceptics to the -antiquity of our nation.” - -“Here too is a very curious haubergeon, once perhaps impregnable! And -this curious battle-axe,” said I-- - -“Was originally called,” returned the Prince, “_Tuath Catha_, or axe of -war, and was put into the hands of our Galloglasses, or second rank of -military.” - -“But how much more elegant,” I continued, “the form of this beautiful -spear; it is of course of a more modern date.” - -“On the contrary,” said the Prince, “this is the exact form of the -cranuil or lance, with which Oscar is described to have struck Art to -the earth.” - -“Oscar!” I repeated, almost starting--but added--“O, true, Mr. -Macpherson tells us the Irish have some wild improbable tales of -Fingal’s heroes among them, on which they found some claim to their -being natives of this country.” - -“Some claim!” repeated the Prince, and by one of those motions which -speak more than volumes, he let go my arm, and took his usual station by -the fireside, repeating, _some claim!_ - -While I was thinking how I should repair my involuntary fault, the good -natured priest said, with a smile, “You know, my dear Sir, that by one -half of his English readers, Ossian is supposed to be a Scottish bard of -ancient days; by the other he is esteemed the legitimate offspring of -Macpherson’s own muse. But here,” he added, turning to me, “we are -certain of his Irish origin, from the testimony of tradition, from -proofs of historic fact, and above all, from the internal evidences of -the poems themselves, even as they are given us by Mr. Macpherson. - -“We, who are from our infancy taught to recite them, who bear the -appellations of their heroes to this day, and who reside amidst those -very scenes of which the poems, even according to their _ingenious_, but -not always _ingenuous_ translator, are descriptive--_we_ know, believe, -and assert them to be translated from the fragments of the Irish bards, -or seanachies, whose surviving works were almost equally diffused -through the Highlands as through this country. Mr. Macpherson combined -them in such forms as his judgment (too classically correct in this -instance) most approved; retaining the old names and events, and -altering the dates in his originals as well as their matter and form, -in order to give them a higher antiquity than they really possess; -suppressing many proofs which they contain of their Irish origin, and -studiously avoiding all mention of St Patrick, whose name frequently -occurs in the original poems; only occasionally alluding to him under -the character of a _Culdee_; conscious that any mention of the -_Saint_ would introduce a suspicion that these poems were not the true -compositions of Ossian, but those of _Fileas_ who, in an after day, -committed to verse the traditional details of one equally renowned in -song and arms.” * - - * Samuir, daughter of Fingal, having married Cormac Cas, - their son (says Keating) Modk Corb, retained as his friend - and confidant his uncle Ossian, contrary to the orders of - Cairbre Liffeachair, the then monarch, against whom the - Irish militia had taken up arms. Ossian was consequently - among the number of rebellious chiefs. - -Here, you will allow, was a blow furiously aimed at all my opinions -respecting these poems, so long the objects of my enthusiastic -admiration: you may well suppose I was for a moment quite stunned. -However, when I had a little recovered, I went over the arguments used -by Macpherson, Blair, &c., &c., &c., to prove that Ossian was a Highland -bard, whose works were handed down to us by _oral_ tradition, through a -lapse of fifteen hundred years. - -“And yet,” said the priest, having patiently heard me out--“Mr. -Macpherson confesses that the ancient language and traditional history -of the Scottish nation became confined to the natives of the Highlands, -who falling, from several concurring circumstances, into the last degree -of ignorance and barbarism, left the Scots so destitute of historic -facts, that they were reduced to the necessity of sending Fordun to -Ireland for their history, from whence he took the entire first part of -his book. For Ireland, owing to its being colonized from Phoenicia, -and consequent early introduction of letters there, was at that -period esteemed the most enlightened country in Europe: and indeed Mr. -Macpherson himself avers, that the Irish, for ages antecedent to the -Conquest, possessed a competent share of that kind of learning which -prevailed in Europe; and from their superiority over the Scots, found -no difficulty in imposing on the ignorant Highland seanachies, and -establishing that historic system which afterwards, for want of any -other, was universally received. - -“Now, my dear friend, if historic fact and tradition did not attest the -poems of Ossian to be Irish, probability would establish it. For if -the Scotch were obliged to Ireland, according to Mr. Macpherson’s own -account, not only for their history but their tradition, so remote a one -as Ossian must have come from the Irish; for Scotland, as Dr. Johnson -asserts, when he called on Mr. Macpherson to show his originals, had -not an Erse manuscript two hundred years old. And Sir George M’Kenzie, -though himself a Scotchman, declares, “that he had in his possession, an -Irish manuscript written by Cairbre Lifteachair, * monarch of Ireland, -who flourished before St Patrick’s mission. - - * Mr O’Halloran, in his Introduction to the study of Irish - History, &c.. quotes some lines from a poem still extant, - composed by Torna Ligis, chief poet to Niai the Great, who - flourished in the fourth century. - -“But,” said I, “even granting these beautiful poems to be the effusions -of Irish genius, it is strange that the feats of your own heroes could -not supply your bards with subjects for their epic verse.” - -“Strange indeed it would have been,” said the priest, “and therefore -they have chosen the most renowned chiefs in their annals of national -heroism, as their Achilleses, their Hectors, and Agamemnons.” - -“How!” exclaimed I, “Is not Fingal a Caledonian chief? Is he not -expressly called King of Morven?” - -“Allowing he were in the originals, which he is not,” returned the -priest, “give me leave to ask you where Morven lies?” - -“Why, I suppose of course in Scotland,” said I, a little unprepared for -the question. - -“Mr. Macpherson supposes so too,” replied he, smiling, “though certainly -he is at no little pains to discover where in Scotland. The fact is, -however, that the epithet of _Riagh Mor Fhionne_, which Mr. Macpherson -translates King of Morven, is literally King or Chief of the Fhians, or -Fians, a body of men of whom Mr. Macpherson makes no mention, and which, -indeed, either in the annals of Scottish history or Scottish poetry, -would be vainly sought. Take then their history as extracted from the -book of Howth into the Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, -in 1786. * - - * Fionn, the son of Cumhal, [from whom, says Keating, the - established militia of the kingdom were called Fion Erinne,] - was first married to Graine, daguhter to Cormac, king of - Ireland, and afterwards to her sister, and descended in a - sixth degree from Nuagadh Neacht, king of Leinster. The - history, laws, requisites, &c., of the Fionna Erin, are to - be found in Keating’s History of Ireland, p. 269. - - Cormac, at the head of the Fion, and attended by Fingal, - sailed to that part of Scotland opposite Ireland, where he - planted a colony as an establishment for Carbry Riada, his - cousin-german. This colony was often protected from the - power of the Romans by the Fion, under the command of - Fingal, occasionally stationed in the circumjacent country - “Hence,” says Walker, “the claims of the Scots to Fin.” In - process of time this colony gave monarchs to Scotland, and - their posterity at this day reign over the British empire. - Fingal fell in an engagement at Rathbree, on the banks of - the Boyne, A. D. 294; from whence the name of Rathbree was - changed to Killeen, or Cill-Fhin, the tomb of Fin. - -“In Ireland there were soldiers called _Fynne Erin_, appointed to keep -the sea-coast, fearing foreign invasion, or foreign princes to enter -the realm; the names of these soldiers were Fin M’Cuil, Coloilon, Keilt, -Oscar, M’Ossyn, Dermot, O’Doyne, Collemagh, Morna, and divers others. -These soldiers waxed bold, as shall appear hereafter, and so strong, -that they did contrary to the orders and institutions of the Kings of -Ireland, their chiefs and governors, and became very strong and stout, -and at length would do thing without license of the King of Ireland, -&c., &c--It is added, that one of these heroes was alive till the coming -of St. Patrick, who recited the actions of his compeers to the Saint. -This hero was Ossian, or, as we pronounce it, _Ossyn_; whose dialogues -with the Christian missionary is in the mouth of every peasant, and -several of them preserved in old Irish manuscripts. Now the Fingal of -Mr. Macpherson (for it is thus he translates _Fin M’Cuil_, sometimes -pronounced and spelled Fionne M’Cumhal, or _Fion_ the son of Cumhal) and -his followers appear like the earth-born myrmidons of Deucalion, for -they certainly have no human origin; bear no connexion with the history -of their country; are neither to be found in the poetic legend or -historic record * of Scotland, and are even furnished with appellations -which the Caledonians neither previously possessed nor have since -adopted. They are therefore abruptly introduced to our knowledge as -living in a barbarous age, yet endowed with every perfection that -renders them the most refined, heroic, and virtuous of men. So that -while we grant to the interesting poet and his heroes our boundless -admiration, we cannot help considering them as solecisms in the theory -of human nature. - - * I know but of one instance that contradicts the assertion - of Father Johu, and that I borrow from the allegorical - Palace of Honour of Gavvin Douglass, Bishop of Dunkeld, who - places Gaul, son of Morni, and Fingal, among the - distinguished characters in the annals of legendary romance; - yet even _he_ mentions them not as the heroes of Scottish - celebrity, but as the almost fabled demi-gods of Ireland. - - “And now the wran cam out of Ailsay, - - And Piers Plowhman, that made his workmen few - - Great Gow Mac Morne and Fin M’Cowl, and how - - They suld be goddis in Ireland, as they say.” - - It is remarkable, that the genius of Ossianic style still - prevails over the wild effusions of the modern and - unlettered bards of Ireland; while even the remotest lay of - Scottish minstrelsy respires nothing of that soul which - breathes in “the voice of Cona;” and the metrical flippancy - which betrays its existence, seems neither to rival, or cope - with that touching sublimity of measure through whose - impressive medium the genius of Ossian effuses its - inspiration, and which, had it been known to ihe early bards - of Scotland, had probably been imitated and adopted. In - Ireland, it has ever been and is still the measure in which - the Sons of Song breathe “their wood notes wild.” - -“But with _us_, Fingal and his chiefs are beings of real existence, -their names, professions, rank, characters, and feats, attested -by historic fact as well as by poetic eulogium. Fingal is indeed -romantically brave, benevolent, and generous, but he is turbulent, -restless, ambitious: he is a man as well as a hero; and both his virtues -and his vices bear the stamp of the age and country in which he lived. -His name and feats, as well as those of his chief officers, bear an -intimate connexion with our national history. - -“Fionne, or Finnius, was the grandsire of Mile-sius; and it is not only -a name to be met with through every period of our history, but there -are few old families even at this day in Ireland, who have not the -appellative of Finnius in some one or other of its branches; and a -large tract of the province of Leinster is called _Fingal_; a title in -possession of one of our most noble and ancient families. - -“Nay, if you please, you shall hear our old nurse run through the whole -genealogy of Macpherson’s hero, which is frequently given as a theme to -exercise the memory of the peasant children.” * - -“Nay,” said I, nearly overpowered, “Macpher-son assures us the -Highlanders also repeat many of Ossian’s poems in the original Erse: -nay, that even in the Isle of Sky, they still show a stone which bears -the form and name of Cuchullin’s dog.” ** - - * They run it over thus: Oscar Mac Ossyn, Mac Fion, MacCuil, - Mac Cormic, Mac Arte, Mac Fiervin, &c., &c. That is, Oscar - the son of Ossian, the son of Fion, &c. - - ** There is an old tradition current in Connaught, of which - Bran, the favourite dog of Ossian is the hero. In a war - between the king of Lochlin and the Fians, a battle - continued to be fought on equal terms for so long a period, - that it was at last mutually agreed that it should be - decided in a combat between Ossian’s Bran and the famous - Cudubh, or dark greyhound, of the Danish monarch. This - greyhound had already performed incredible feats, and was - never to be conquered until his name was found out. The - warrior dogs fought in a space between the two armies, and - with such fury, says the legend, in a language absolutely - untranslatable, that they tore up the stony bosom of the - earth, until they rendered it perfectly soft, and again - trampled on it with such force, that they made it of a rocky - substance. The Cudubh had nearly gained the victory, when - the baldheaded Conal, turning his face to the east, and - biting his thumb, a ceremony difficult to induce him to - perform, and which always endowed him with the gift of - divination, made a sudden exclamation of encouragement to - Bran, the first word of which found the name of the - greyhound, who lost at once his prowess and the victory. - -“This is the most flagrant error of all,” exclaimed the Prince, abruptly -breaking his sullen silence--“for he has scynchronized heroes who -flourished in two distant periods; both Cuchullin and Conal Cearneath -are historical characters with us; they were Knights of the _Red -Branch_, and flourished about the birth of Christ. Whereas Fingal, with -whom he has united them, did not flourish till near three centuries -after. It is indeed Macpherson’s pleasure to inform us that by the Isle -of Mist is meant the Isle of Sky, and on that circumstance alone to rest -his claim on _Cuchullin’s_ being a Caledonian; although, through the -whole poems of Fingal and Temora, he is not once mentioned as such; it -is by the translator’s notes only we are informed of it.” - -“It is certain,” said the priest--“that in the first mention made of -_Cuchullin_ in the poem of Fingal, he is simply denominated ‘the son of -Se-mo,’ ‘the Ruler of High Temora,’ ‘Mossy Tura’s Chief.’” * So called, -says Macpherson, from his castle on the coast of Ulster, where he dwelt -before he took the management of the affairs of Ireland into his hands; -though the singular cause which could induce the lord of the Isle of Sky -to reside in Ireland previous to his political engagements in the Irish -state, he does not mention. - - * The groves of Tura, or Tuar, are often noticed in Irish - song. Emunh Acnuic, or Ned of the Hill, has mentioned it in - one of his happiest and most popular poems. It was supposed - to be in the county of Armagh, province of Ulster. - -“In the same manner we are told, that his _three_ nephews came from -Streamy Etha, one of whom married an Irish lady; but there is no mention -made of the real name of the place of their nativity, although the -translator assures us in another note, that they also were Caledonians. -But, in fact, it is from the internal evidences of the poems themselves, -not from the notes of Mr. Macpherson, nor indeed altogether from his -beautiful but unfaithful translation, that we are to decide on the -nation to which these poems belong. In Fingal, the first and most -perfect of the collection, that hero is first mentioned by Cuchullin as -Fingal, _King of Desarts_--in the original---_Inis na bf hiodhuide_, or -_Woody Island_; without any allusion whatever to his being a Caledonian. -And afterwards he is called King of Selma, by Swaran, a name, with -little variation given to several castles in Ireland. Darthula’s castle -is named Selma; and another, whose owner I do not remember, is termed -Selemath. _Slimora_, to whose fir the spear of Foldath is compared, is a -mountain in the province of Munster, and through out the whole, even -of Mr. Macpherson’s translation, the characters, names, allusions, -incidents and scenery are all Irish. And in fact, _our Irish spurious -ballads_, as Mr. Macpherson calls them, are the very originals out of -which he has spun the materials for his version of Ossian. * - -“Dr. Johnson, who strenuously opposed the idea of _Ossian_ being the -work of a Scotch bard of the third century, asserts that the ‘Erse never -was a written language, and that there is not in the world a written -Erse manuscript a hundred years old.’ He adds, ‘The Welsh and Irish are -cultivated tongues, and two hundred years back insulted their English -neighbours for the instability of their orthography.’ Even the ancient -Irish _letter_ was unknown in the Highlands in 1690, for an Irish -version of the Bible being given there by Mr. Kirk, was printed in the -Roman character. - -“When Dr. Young, ** led by tasteful enterprize, - - * “Some of the remaining footsteps of these old warriors are - known by their first names at this time [says Keating] as - for instance, Suidhe Finn, or the, Palace of Fin, at Sliabh - na Mann, &c., &c.” There is a mountain in Donegal still - called Alt Ossoin, surrounded by all that wild sublimity of - scenery so exquisitely deliniated through the elegant medium - of Macpherson’s translation of Ossian; and in its environs - many Ossianic tales are still extant. - - In an extract given by Camden from an account of the manners - of the native Irish in the sixteenth century--“they think, - [says the author] the souls of the deceased are in communion - with the famous men of those places, of whom they retain - many stories and sonnets--as of the giants Fin, Mac Huyle, - Osker, Mac Osshin, &c., &c., and they say, through illusion, - they often see them.” - - ** Dr. Young, and Bishop of Clonfert, who united in his - character the extremes of human perfection; the most - unblemished virtue to the most exalted genius. - -visited the Highlands (on an Ossianic research) in 1784, he collected a -number of Gællic poems respecting the race of the Fiens, so renowned in -the annals of Irish heroism, * and found, that the orthography was less -pure than that among us; for, he says, “the Erse being only a written -language within these few years, no means were yet afforded of forming -a decided orthographic standard.” But he augurs, from the improvement -which had lately taken place, that we soon may expect to see the Erse -restored to the original purity which it possesses in the _mother_ -country. And these very poems, whence Mr. Macpherson has chiefly -constructed his Ossian, bear such strong internal proof of their Irish -origin, as to contain in themselves the best arguments that can be -adduced against the Scottish claimants on the poems of the bard. But in -their translation, ** many passages are perverted, in order to deprive -Ireland of being the residence of Fingal’s heroes.” - - * See Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, 1786. - - ** “From the remotest antiquity we have seen the military - order distinguished in Ireland, codes of military laws and - discipline established, and their dress and rank in the - state ascertained. The learned Keating and others, tell us - that these militia were called Fine, from Fion Mac Cum-hal; - but it is certainly a great error; the word fine, strictly - implying a military corps. Many places in the island retain - to this day the names of some of the leaders of this body of - men, and whole volumes of poetical fictions have been - grafted upon their exploits. The manuscripts which I have, - after giving a particular account of Finn’s descent, his - inheritance, his acquisitions from the king of Leinster and - his great military command, immediately adds, ‘but the - reader must not expect to meet here with such stories of him - and his heroes as the vulgar Irish have.’”--Dr. Warner. - -“I remember,” said the Prince, “when you read to me a description of a -sea fight between Fingal and Swaran, in Macpherson’s translation, that I -repeated to you, in Irish, the very poem whence it was taken, and which -is still very current here, under the title of _Laoid Mhanuis M’hoir_.” - -“True,” returned the priest, “a copy of which is deposited in the -University of Dublin, with another Irish MS. entitled, ‘_Oran cadas -Ailte agus do Maronnan_’ whence the battle of Lora is taken.” - -The Prince then, desiring Father John to give him down a bundle of -old manuscripts which lay on a shelf in the hall dedicated to national -tracts, after some trouble produced a copy of a poem, called “The -Conversation of Ossian and St. Patrick,” the original of which, Father -John assured me, was deposited in the library of the Irish University. - -It is to this poem that Mr. Macpherson alludes, when he speaks of the -dispute reported to have taken place between Ossian and a Culdee. - -At my request he translated this curious controversial tract. The -dispute was managed on both sides with a great deal of polemic ardour. -St. - -Patrick, with apostolic zeal, shuts the gates of mercy on all whose -faith differs from his own, and, with an unsaintly vehemence extends -the exclusion in a pointed manner, to the ancestors of Ossian, who, he -declares, are suffering in the _limbo_ of tortured spirits. * - - * Notwithstanding the sceptical obstinacy that Ossian here - displays, there is a current tradition of his having been - present at a baptismal ceremony performed by the Saint, who - accidentally struck the sharp point of his crozier through - the bard’s foot, who, supposing it part of the ceremony, - remained transfixed to the earth without a murmer. - -The bard tenderly replies, “It is hard to believe thy tale, O man of the -white book! that Fion, _or one so generous_, should be in captivity with -God or man.” - -When, however, the saint persists in the assurance, that not even -the generosity of the departed hero could save him from the house of -torture, the failing spirit of “the King of Harps” suddenly sends forth -a lingering flash of its wonted fire; and he indignantly declares, “that -if the Clan of Boisgno were still in being, they would liberate their -beloved general from this threatened hell.” - -The Saint, however, growing warm in the argument, expatiates on the -great difficulty of _any_ soul entering the court of God: to which the -infidel bard beautifully replies:--“Then he is not like _Fionn M’Cuil_, -or chief of the Fians; for every man upon the earth might enter _his_ -court without asking his permission.” - -Thus, as you perceive, fairly routed, I however artfully proposed terms -of capitulation, as though my defeat was yet dubious. - -“Were I a Scotchman,” said I, “I should be furnished with more effectual -arms against you; but as an Englishman, I claim an armed neutrality, -which I shall endeavour to preserve between the two nations. At the -same time that I feel the highest satisfaction in witnessing the just -pretentions of that country (which now ranks in my estimation next to my -own) to a work which would do honour to _any_ country so fortunate as to -claim its author as her son.” - -The Prince, who seemed highly gratified by this avowal, shook me -heartily by the hand, apparently flattered by his triumph; and at that -moment Glorvina entered. - -“O, my dear!” said the Prince, “you are just come in time to witness an -amnesty between Mr. Mortimer and me.” - -“I should much rather witness the amnesty than the breach,” returned -she, smiling. - -“We have been battling about the country of Ossian,” said the priest, -“with as much vehemence as the claimants on the birthplace of Homer.” - -“O! I know of old,” cried Glorvina, “that you and my father are natural -allies on that point of contention; and I must confess, it was -ungenerous in both to oppose your united strength against Mr. Mortimer’s -single force.” - -“What, then,” said the Prince, good humouredly, “I suppose you would -have deserted your national standard, and have joined Mr. Mortimer, -merely from motives of compassion.” - -“Not so, my dear sir,” said Glorvina, faintly blushing, “but I should -have endeavoured to have compromised between you. To you I would have -accorded that Ossian was an Irishman, of which I am as well convinced -as of any other self-evident truth whatever, and to Mr. Mortimer I would -have acknowledged the superior merits of Mr. Macpherson’s poems, as -compositions, over those wild effusions of our Irish bards, whence he -compiled them. - -“Long before I could read, I learned on the bosom of my nurse, and in -my father’s arms, to recite the songs of our national bards, and almost -since I could read, the Ossian of Macpherson has been the object of my -enthusiastic admiration. - -“In the original Irish poems, if my fancy is sometimes dazzled by -the brilliant flashes of native genius, if my heart is touched by the -strokes of nature, or my soul elevated by sublimity of sentiment, yet -my interest is often destroyed, and my admiration often checked, by -relations so wildly improbable, by details so ridiculously grotesque, -that though these stand forth as the most undeniable proofs of their -authenticity and the remoteness of the day in which they were composed, -yet I reluctantly suffer my mind to be convinced at the expense of my -feeling and my taste. But in the soul-stealing strains of ‘the Voice of -Cona,’ as breathed through the refined medium of Macpherson’s genius, -no incongruity of style, character, or manner disturbs the profound -interest they awaken. For my own part, when my heart is coldly void, -when my spirits are sunk and drooping, I fly to my English Ossian, and -then my sufferings are soothed, and every desponding spirit softens into -a sweet melancholy, more delicious than joy itself; while I experience -in its perusal a similar sensation as when, in the stillness of an -autumnal evening, I expose my harp to the influence of the passing -breeze, which faintly breathing on the chords, seems to call forth its -own requiem as it expires.” - -“Oh, Macpherson!” I exclaimed, “be thy spirit appeased, for thou hast -received that apotheosis thy talents have nearly deserved, in the -eulogium of beauty and genius, and from the lip of an Irishwoman.” - -This involuntary and impassioned exclamation extorted from the Prince -a smile of gratified parental pride, and overwhelmed Glorvina with -confusion. She could, I believe, have spared it before her father, and -received it with a bow and a blush. Shortly after she left the room. - -Adieu! I thought to have returned to M--------house, but I know not how -it is---- - - “Mais un invincible contraint - - Maigre, moi fixe ici mes pas, - - Et tu sais que pour aller a Corinth, - - Le désir seul ne suffit pas.” - -Adieu, H. M. - - - -LETTER XIII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -The conduct of this girl is inexplicable. Since the unfortunate picture -scene three days back, she has excused herself twice from the drawing -desk; and to-day appeared at it with the priest by her side. Her playful -familiarity is vanished, and a chill reserve, uncongenial to the native -ardour of her manner has succeeded. Surely she cannot be so vain, so -weak, as to mistake my attentions to her as a young and lovely woman, -my admiration of her talents, and my surprise at the originality of her -character, for a serious passion. And supposing me to be a wanderer and -a hireling, affect to reprove my temerity by haughtiness and disdain. - -Would you credit it! by Heavens, I am sometimes weak enough to be on -the very point of telling her who and what I am, when she plays off her -little airs of Milesian pride and female superciliousness. You perceive, -therefore, by the conduct of this little Irish recluse, that on -the subject of love and vanity, woman is everywhere, and in -all situations the same. For what coquette reared in the purlieus of -St. James’s, could be more a _portée_ to those effects which denote the -passion, or more apt to suspect she had awakened it into existence, than -this inexperienced, unsophisticated being! who I suppose never spoke to -ten men in her life, save the superanuated inhabitants of her paternal -ruins. Perhaps, however, she only means to check the growing familiarity -of my manner, and to teach me the disparity of rank which exists -between us; for, with all her native strength of mind, the influence of -invariable example and precept has been too strong for her, and she -has unconsciously imbibed many of her father’s prejudices respecting -antiquity of descent and nobility of birth. She will frequently say, -“O! such a one is a true Milesian!”--or, “he is a descendant of the -_English_ Irish;” or, “they are new people--we hear nothing of them till -the wars of Cromwell,” and so on. Yet at other times, when reason -lords it over prejudice, she will laugh at that weakness in others, she -sometimes betrays in herself. - -The other day, as we stood chatting at a window together, pointing to -an elderly man who passed by, she said, “there goes a poor Connaught -gentleman, who would rather starve than work--he is a _follower_ of the -family and has been just entertaining my father with an account of our -ancient splendour. We have too many instances of this species of _mania_ -among us. - -“The celebrated Bishop of Cloyne relates an anecdote of a kitchen-maid, -who refused to carry out cinders, because she was of Milesian descent. -And Father John tells a story of a young gentleman in Limerick, who, -being received under the patronage of a nobleman going out as governor -general of India, sacrificed his interest to his _national pride_; for -having accompanied his lordship on board of the vessel which was to -convey them to the East, and finding himself placed at the foot of the -dining table, he instantly arose, and went on shore, declaring that ‘as -a _true Milesian_, he would not submit to any indignity, to purchase the -riches of the East India Company. - -“All this,” continued Glorvina, “is ridiculous, nay, it is worse, for -it is highly dangerous and fatal to the community at large. It is the -source of innumerable disorders, by promoting idleness, and consequently -vice. It frequently checks the industry of the poor, and limits the -exertions of the rich, and perhaps is not among the least of those -sources whence our national miseries flow. At the same time, I must own, -I have a very high idea of the virtues which exalted birth does or ought -to bring with it. Marmontel elegantly observes, ‘nobility of birth is -a letter of credit given us on our country, upon the security of our -ancestors, in the conviction that at a proper period of life we shall -acquit ourselves with honour to those who stand engaged for us.’” - -Observe, that this passage was quoted in the first person, but not, as -in the original, in the second, and with an air of dignity that elevated -her pretty little head some inches. - -“Since,” she continued, “we are all the beings of education, and that -its most material branch, example, lies vested in our parents, it is -natural to suppose that those superior talents or virtues which in -early stages of society are the purchase of worldly elevation, become -hereditary, and that the noble principles of our ancestors should -descend to us with their titles and estates.” - -“Ah,” said I, smiling, “these are the ideas of an Irish Princess, reared -in the palace of her ancestors on the shores of the Atlantic ocean.” - -“They may be,” she returned, “the ideas of an inexperienced recluse, -but I think they are not less the result of rational supposition, -strengthened by the evidence of internal feeling; for though I possessed -not that innate dignity of mind which instinctively spurned at the low -suggestion of vicious dictates, yet the consciousness of the virtues -of those from whom I am descended, would prevent me from sullying by an -unworthy action of mine, the unpolluted name I had the honour to bear.” - -She then repeated several anecdotes of the heroism, rectitude, and -virtue of her ancestors of both sexes, adding, “this was once the -business of our Bards, Fileas, and Seanachps; but we are now obliged to -have recourse to our own memories, in order to support our own dignity. -But do not suppose I am so weak as to be dazzled by a _sound_, or to -consider mere title in any other light than as a golden toy judiciously -worn to secure the respect of the vulgar, who are incapable of -appreciating that ‘which surpassed show,’ * which, as my father says, -is sometimes given to him who saves, and sometimes bestowed on him who -betrays his country. O! no; for I would rather possess _one_ beam of -that genius which elevates _your_ mind above all worldly distinction, -and those principles of integrity which breathe in your sentiments and -ennoble your soul, than----” - - * “He feels no ennobling principles in his own heart, who - wishes to level all the artificial institutes which have - been adopted for giving body to opinion, and per manence to - future esteem.”--Burke. - -Thus hurried away by the usual impetuosity of her feelings, she abruptly -stopped, fearful, perhaps, that she had gone too far. And then, after -a moment added--“but who will dare to bring the soul’s nobility in -competition with the shortlived elevation which man bestows on man!” - -This was the first direct compliment she ever paid me; and I received it -with a silent bow, a throbbing heart, and a colouring cheek. - -Is she not an extraordinary creature! I meant to have given you an -unfavourable opinion of her prejudices; and in transcribing my documents -of accusation, I have actually confirmed myself in a better opinion of -her heart and understanding than I ever before indulged in. For to think -well of _her_, is a positive indulgence to my philanthropy, after having -thought so ill of all her sex. - -But her virtues and her genius have nothing to do with the ice which -crystalizes round her heart; and which renders her as coldly indifferent -to the talents and virtues with which her fancy has invested me, as -though they were in possession of a hermit of fourscore. Yet, God knows, -nothing less than cold does her character appear. That mutability of -complexion which seems to flow perpetually to the influence of her -evident feelings and vivid imagination, that ethereal warmth which -animates her manners; the force and energy of her expressions, the -enthusiasm of her disposition, the uncontrollable smile, the involuntary -tear, the spontaneous sigh!--Are these indications of an icy heart? And -yet, shut up as we are together, thus closely associated, the sympathy -of our tastes, our pursuits! But the fact is, I begin to fear that I -have imported into the shades of Inismore some of my London presumption: -and that, after all, I know as little of this charming _sport of -Nature_, as when I first beheld her--possibly my perceptions have -become as sophisticated as the objects to whom they have hitherto -been directed; and want refinement and subtilty to enter into all the -delicate _minutiae_ of her superior and original character, which is at -once both _natural_ and _national_. Adieu! - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XIV. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -To day I was present at an interview granted by the Prince to two -contending parties, who came to _ask law of him_, as they term it. -This, I am told, the Irish peasantry are ready to do upon every slight -difference; so that they are the most litigious, or have the nicest -sense of _right_ and _justice_ of any people in the world. - -Although the language held by this little judicial meeting was Irish, it -was by no means necessary it should be understood to comprehend, in some -degree, the subject of discussion; for the gestures and countenances -both of the judge and the clients were expressive beyond all conception: -and I plainly understood, that almost every other word on both sides was -accompanied by a species of _local oath_, sworn on the first object that -presented itself to their hands, and strongly marked the vehemence of -the national character. - -When I took notice of this to Father John, he replied, - -“It is certain, that the habit of confirming every assertion with an -oath, is as prevalent among the Irish as it _was_ among the ancient, and -_is_ among the modern Greeks. And it is remarkable, that even at this -day, in both countries, the nature and form of their adjurations and -oaths are perfectly similar: a Greek will still swear by his parents, -or his children; an Irishman frequently swears ‘by my father, who is no -more!’ ‘by my mother in the grave!’ Virgil makes his pious Æneas -swear by his head. The Irish constantly swear ‘by my hand,’--‘by this -hand,’--or, ‘by the hand of my gossip!’ * There is one who has just -sworn by _the Cross_; another by the blessed stick he holds in his -hand. In short, no intercourse passes between them where confidence is -required, in which oaths are not called in to confirm the transaction.” - - * The mention of this oath recalls to my mind an * anecdote - of the bard Carolan, as related by Mr. Walker, in his - inimitable Memoir of the Irish Bards. “He (Carolan) went - once on a pilgrimage to St. Patrick’s Purgatory, a cave in - an island in Lough Dergh, (county of Donegal) of which more - wonders are told than even the Cave of Triphonius. On his - return to shore, he found several pilgrims waiting the - arrival of the boat, which had conveyed him to the object of - his devotion. In assisting some of those devout travellers - to get on board, he chanced to take a lady’s hand, and - instantly exclaimed ‘dar lamh mo Chardais Criost, [i. e. by - the hand of my gossip] this is the hand of Bridget Cruise.’ - His sense of feeling did not deceive him--it was the hand of - her who he once adored.” - -***** - -I am at this moment returned from my _Vengolf,_ after having declared -the necessity of my absence for some time, leaving the term, however, -indefinite; so that in this instance, I can be governed by my -inclination and convenience, without any violation of promise. The -good old Prince looked as much amazed at my determination, as though -he expected I were never to depart; and I really believe, in the old -fashioned hospitality of his Irish heart, he would be better satisfied -I never should. He said many kind and cordial things in his own curious -way; and concluded by pressing my speedy return, and declaring that my -presence had created a little jubilee among them. - -The priest was absent; and Glorvina, who sat at her little wheel by her -father’s side, snapped her thread, and drooped her head close to her -work, until I casually observed, that I had already passed above three -weeks at the castle--then she shook back the golden tresses from her -brow, and raised her eyes to mine with a look that seemed to say, “can -that be possible!” Not even by a glance did I reply to the flattering -question; but I felt it not the less. - -When we arose to retire to our respective apartments, and I mentioned -that I should be off at dawn, the Prince shook me cordially by the hand, -and bid me farewell with an almost paternal kindness. - -Glorvina, on whose arm he was leaning, did not follow his example--she -simply wished me “a pleasant journey.” - -“But where,” said the Prince, “do you sojourn to?” - -“To the town of Bally--------,” said I, “which has been hitherto my head -quarters, and where I have left my clothes, books, and drawing utensils. -I have also some friends in the neighbourhood, procured me by letters of -introduction with which I was furnished in England.” - -You know that a great part of this neighbourhood is my father’s -property, and once belonged to the ancestors of the Prince. He changed -colour as I spoke, and hurried on in silence. - -Adieu! the castle clock strikes twelve! What creatures we are! when -the tinkling of a bit of metal can affect our spirits. Mine, however, -(though why, I know not,) were prepared for the reception of sombre -images. This night may be, in all human probability, the last I shall -sleep in the castle of Inismore; and what then--it were perhaps as well -I had never entered it. A generous mind can never reconcile itself -to the practices of deception; yet to prejudices so inveterate, I had -nothing but deception to oppose. And yet, when in some happy moment of -parental favour, when all my past sins are forgotten, and my present -state of regeneration only remembered--I shall find courage to disclose -my romantic adventure to my father, and through the medium of that -strong partiality the son has awakened in the heart of the Prince, unite -in bonds of friendship these two worthy men but _unknown_ enemies--then -I shall triumph in my impositions, and, for the first time, adopt the -maxim, that good consequences may be effected by means not strictly -conformable to the rigid laws of truth. - -I have just been at my window, and never beheld so gloomy a night--not a -star twinkles through the massy clouds that are driven impetuously along -by the sudden gusts of a rising storm--not a ray of light partially -dissipates the profound obscurity, save what falls on a fragment of an -opposite tower, and seems to issue from the window of a closet which -joins the apartment of Glorvina. She has not yet then retired to rest, -and yet ’tis unusual for her to sit up so late. For I have often -watched that little casement--its position exactly corresponds with the -angle of the castle where I am lodged. - -If I should have any share in the vigils of Glorvina!!! - -I know not whether to be most gratified or hurt at the manner in which -she took leave of me. Was it indifference, or resentment, that marked -her manner? She certainly was surprised, and her surprise was not of the -most pleasing nature--for where was the magic smile, the sentient blush, -that ever ushers in and betrays every emotion of her ardent soul! -Sweet being! whatever may be the sentiments which the departure of the -supposed unfortunate wanderer awakens in thy bosom, may that bosom still -continue the hallowed asylum of the dove of peace! May the pure heart it -enshrines still throb to the best impulses of the happiest nature, -and beat with the soft palpitation of innocent pleasure and guileless -transport, veiled from the rude intercourse of that world to which thy -elevated and sublime nature is so eminently superior; long amidst the -shade of the venerable ruins of thy forefathers mayest thou bloom and -flourish in undisturbed felicity! the ministering angel of thy poor -compatriots, who look up to thee for example and support--thy country’s -muse, and the bright model of the genuine character of her daughters, -when unvitiated by erroneous education and by those fatal prejudices -which lead them to seek in foreign refinements for those talents, those -graces, those virtues which are no where to be found more flourishing, -more attractive than in their native land. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XV. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -M-------- House. - -It certainly requires less nicety of perception to distinguish -differences in kind than differences in degree; but though my present, -like my past situation, is solitudinous in the extreme, it demands -no very great discernment to discover that my late life was a life of -solitude--my present, of desolation. - -In the castle of Inismore I was estranged from the world: here I am -estranged from myself. Yet so much more sequestered did that sweet -interesting spot appear to me, that I felt, on arriving at this vast -and solitary place (after having passed by a few gentlemen’s seats, and -caught a distant view of the little town of Bally----,) as though I -were returning to the world--but felt as if that world had no longer any -attraction for me. - -What a dream was the last three weeks of my life! But it was a dream -from which I wished not to be awakened. It seemed to me as if I had -lived in an age of primeval virtue. My senses at rest, my passions -soothed to philosophic repose, my prejudices vanquished, all the powers -of my mind gently breathed into motion, yet calm and unagitated--all -the faculties of my taste called into exertion, yet unsated even by -boundless gratification.--My fancy restored to its pristine warmth, my -heart to its native sensibility. The past given to oblivion, the future -unanticipated, and the present enjoyed with the full consciousness of -its pleasurable existence. Wearied, exhausted, satiated by a boundless -indulgence of hackneyed pleasures, hackneyed occupations, hackneyed -pursuits, at a moment when I was sinking beneath the lethargic influence -of apathy, or hovering on the brink of despair, a new light broke upon -my clouded mind, and discovered to my inquiring heart, something yet -worth living for. What that mystic something is, I can scarcely yet -define myself; but a magic spell now irresistibly binds me to that life -which but lately, - - “Like a foul and ugly witch, did limp - - So tediously away.” - -The reserved tints of a gray dawn had not yet received the illuminating -beams of the east, when I departed from the castle of Inismore. None of -the family were risen, but the hind who prepared my _rosinante_, and the -nurse, who made my breakfast. - -I rode twice round that wing of the castle where Glorvina sleeps: the -curtain of her bedroom casement was closely drawn: but as I passed by it -a second time, I thought I perceived a shadowy form at the window of -the adjoining casement. As I approached it seemed to retreat; the whole, -however, might have only been the vision of my wishes--my _wishes!!_ But -this girl piques me into something of interest for her. - -About three miles from the castle, on the summit of a wild and desolate -heath, I met the good Father Director of Inismore. He appeared quite -amazed at the rencontre. He expressed great regret at my absence from -the castle, insisting that he should accompany me a mile or two of my -journey, though he was only then returning after having passed the night -in ministering temporal as well as spiritual comfort to an unfortunate -family at some miles distance. - -“These poor people,” said he “were tenants on the skirts of Lord M’s -estate, who, though by all accounts a most excellent and benevolent man, -employs a steward of a very opposite character. This unworthy delegate -having considerably raised the rent on a little farm held by these -unfortunate people, they soon became deeply in arrears, were ejected, -and obliged to take shelter in an almost roofless hut, where the -inclemency of the season, and the hardships they endured, brought on -disorders by which the mother and two chil dren are now nearly reduced -to the point of death; and yesterday, in their last extremity, they sent -for me.” - -While I commiserated the sufferings of these unfortunates (and cursed -the villain Clendinning in my heart,) I could not avoid adverting to the -humanity of this benevolent priest. - -“These offices of true charity, which you so frequently perform,” - said I, “are purely the result of your benevolence, rather than a mere -observance of your duty.” - -“It is true,” he replied, “I have no parish; but the incumbent of that -in which these poor people reside is so old and infirm, as to be totally -incapacitated from performing such duties of his-calling as require the -least exertion. The duty of one who professes himself the minister of -religion, whose essence is charity, should not be confined within the -narrow limitation of prescribed rules; and I should consider myself as -unworthy of the sacred habit I wear, should my exertions be confined to -the suggestions of my interest and my duty only. - -“The faith of the lower order of Catholics here in their priest,” - he continued, “is astonishing: even his presence they conceive is an -antidote to every evil.--When he appears at the door of their huts, and -blends his cordial salutation with a blessing, the spirit of consolation -seems to hover at its threshhold--pain is alleviated, sorrow soothed; -and hope, rising from the bosom of strengthening faith, triumphs -over the ruins of despair. To the wicked he prescribes penitence and -confession, and the sinner is forgiven; to the wretched he asserts, -that suffering here, is the purchase of felicity hereafter, and he is -resigned; and to the sick he gives a consecrated charm, and by the force -of faith and imagination he is made well.--Guess then the influence -which this order of men hold over the aggregate of the people; for while -the Irish peasant, degraded, neglected, despised, * vainly seeks -one beam of conciliation in the eye of overbearing superiority; -condescension, familiarity and kindness win his gratitude to him whose -spiritual elevation is in his mind above all temporal rank.” - - * “The common people of Ireland have no rank in society-- - they may be treated with contempt, and consequently are with - inhumanity.”--An Enquiry into the Causes, &c. - -“You shed,” said I, “a patriarchal interest over the character of -priesthood among you here; which gives that order to my view in a very -different aspect from that in which I have hitherto considered it. To -what an excellent purpose might, this boundless influence be turned!” - -“If,” interrupted he, “priests _were not men_--men too, generally -speaking, without education, (which is in fact, character, principle, -everything) except such as tends rather to narrow than enlarge the -mind--men in a certain degree shut out from society, except of the lower -class; and men who, from their very mode of existence (which forces -them to depend on the eleemosynary contributions of their flock,) must -eventually in many instances imbibe a degradation of spirit which is -certainly not the parent of the liberal virtues.” - -“Good God!” said I, surprised, “and this from one of their own order!” - -“These are sentiments I never should have hazarded,” returned the -priest, “could I not have opposed to those natural conclusions, drawn -from well known facts, innumerable instances of benevolence, piety, and -learning among the order. While to the whole body let it be allowed as -_priests_, whatever may be their failings as _men_, that the activity of -their lives, * the punctilious discharge of their duty, and their ever -ready attention to their flock, under every moral and even under -every physical suffering, renders them deserving of that reverence and -affection which, above the ministers of any other religion, they receive -from those over whom they are placed.” - - * “A Roman Catholic clergyman is the minister of a very - ritual religion; and by his profession, subject to many - restraints; his life is full of strict observances, and his - duties are of a laborious nature towards himself, and of the - highest possible trust towards others.”--Letter on the - Penal Laws against the Irish Catholics, by the Right - Honourable Edmund Burke. - -“And which,” said I, “if opposed to the languid performance of -periodical duties, neglect of the moral functions of their calling, -and the habitual indolence of the ministers of other sects, they may -certainly be deemed zealots in the cause of the faith they profess, and -the charity they inculcate!” - -While I spoke, a young lad, almost in a state of nudity, approached us; -yet in the crown of his leafless hat were stuck a few pens, and over his -shoulder hung a leathern satchel full of books. - -“This is an apposite rencontre,” said the priest--“behold the first -stage of _one_ class of Catholic priesthood among us; a class however no -longer very prevalent.” - -The boy approached, and, to my amazement, addressed us in Latin, begging -with all the vehement eloquence of an Irish mendicant, for some money to -buy ink and paper. We gave him a trifle, and the priest desired him to -go on to the castle, where he would get his breakfast, and that on his -return he would give him some books into the bargain. - -The boy, who solicited in Latin, expressed his gratitude in Irish; and -we trotted on. - -“Such,” said Father John, “formerly was the frequent origin of our Roman -Catholic priests This is a character unknown to you in England, and is -called here ‘_a poor scholar_.’ If a boy is too indolent to work and his -parents too poor to support him, or, which is more frequently the case, -if he discovers some natural talents, or, as they call it, _takes to his -learning_, and that they have not the means to forward his improvement, -he then becomes by profession a _poor scholar_, and continues to receive -both his mental and bodily food at the expense of the community at -large. - -“With a leathern satchel on his back, containing his portable library, -he sometimes travels not only through his own province, but frequently -over the greater part of the kingdom. * No door is shut against the poor -scholar, who, it is supposed, at a future day may be invested with the -apostolic key of Heaven. The priest or schoolmaster of every parish -through which he passes, receives him for a few days into his barefooted -seminary, and teaches him bad Latin and worse English; while the most -opulent of his schoolfellows eagerly seize on the young peripatetic -philosopher and provide him with maintenance and lodging; and if he is -a boy of talent or _humour_ (a gift always prized by the naturally -laughter-loving Milesians) they will struggle for the pleasure of his -society. - - * It has been justly said, that, “nature is invariable in - her operations; and that the principles of a polished people - will influence even their latest posterity.” And the ancient - state of letters in Ireland, may be traced in the love of - learning and talent even still existing among the inferior - class of the Irish to this day. On this point it is observed - by Mr. Smith, in his History of Kerry, “that it is well - known that classical reading extends itself even to a fault, - among the lower and poorer kind of people in this country, - [Munster,] many of whom have greater knowledge in this way - than some of the better sort in other places. He elsewhere - observes, that Greek is taught in the mountainous parts of - the province. And Mr. O’Halloran asserts, that classical - reading has most adherents in those retired parts of the - kingdom where strangers had least access, and that as good - classical scholars were found in most parts of Connaught, as - in any part of Europe. - -“Having thus had the seeds of dependence sown _irradically_ in his mind, -and furnished his perisatetic studies, he returns to his native home, -and with an empty satchel to his back, goes about raising contributions -on the pious charity of his poor compatriots: each contributes some -necessary article of dress, and assists to fill a little purse, until -completely equipped; and, for the first time in his life, covered from -head to foot, the divine embryo sets out for some sea-port, where he -embarks for the colleges of Douay or St. Omer’s; and having begged -himself, _in forma pauperis_, through all the necessary rules and -discipline of the seminary, he returns to his own country, and becomes -the minister of salvation to those whose generous contributions enable -him to assume the sacred profession. * - - * The French Revolution, and the foundation of the Catholic - college at Maynooth, has put a stop to these pious - emigrations. - -“Such is the man by whom the minds opinions, and even actions of the -people are often influenced; and, if man is but a creature of education -and habit, I leave you to draw the inference. But this is but _one_ -class of priesthood, and its description rather applicable to twenty or -thirty years back than to the present day. The other two may be divided -into the sons of tradesmen and farmers, and the younger sons of Catholic -gentry. - -“Of the latter order am I; and the interest of my friends on my return -from the continent procured me what was deemed the best parish in the -diocese. But the good and the evil attendant on every situation in life, -is rather to be estimated by the feelings and sensibility of the objects -whom they affect, than by their own intrinsic nature. It was in vain I -endeavoured to accommodate my mind to the mode of life into which I had -been forced by my friends. It was in vain I endeavoured to assimilate -my spirit to that species of exertion necessary to be made for my -livelihood. - -“To owe my subsistence to the precarious generosity of those wretches, -whose every gift to me must be the result of a sensible deprivation to -themselves; be obliged to extort (even from the altar where I presided -as the minister of the Most High) the trivial contributions for my -support, in a language which, however appropriate to the understandings -of my auditors, sunk me in my own esteem to the last degree of -self-degradation; or to receive from the religious affection of my -flock such voluntary benefactions as, under the pressure of scarcity -and want, their rigid economy to themselves enabled them to make to -the pastor whom they revered. * In a word, after three years miserable -dependence on those for whose poverty and wretchedness my heart bled, I -threw up my situation, and became chaplain to the Prince of Inismore, -on a stipend sufficient for my little wants, and have lived with him for -thirty years, on such terms as you have witnessed for these three weeks -back. - - * “Are these men supposed to have no sense of justice that, - in addition to the burthen of supporting their own - establishment exclusively, they should be called on to pay - ours; that, where they pay sixpence to their own priest, - they should pay a pound to our clergymen; that, while they - can scarce afford their own a horse, they should place ours - in his carriage; and that when they cannot build a mass- - house to cover their multitudes, they should be forced to - contribute to build sumptuous churches for half a dozen - Protestants to pray under a shed--Inquiry into the Causes of - Popular Discontents, &c. page 27. - -“While my heart felt compassion, my tenderest sympathy is given to those -of my brethren who are by birth and education divested of that scale -of thought, and obtuseness of feeling, which distinguish those of the -order, who, reared from the lowest origin upon principles the most -servilizing, are callous to the innumerable humiliations of their -dependent state----” - -Here an old man mounted on a mule, rode up to the priest, and with tears -in his eyes informed him that he was just going to the castle to humbly -entreat his reverence would visit a poor child of his, who had been -looked on with “_an evil eye_,” a few days back, * and who had ever -since been pining away. - - * It is supposed among the lower order of Irish, as among - the Greeks, that some people are born with an evil eye, - which injures every object on which it falls, and they will - frequently go many miles out of their direct road, rather - than pass by the house of one who has “an evil eye.” To - frustrate its effects, the priest hangs a consecrated charm - around the necks of their children, called “a gospel;” and - the fears of the parents are quieted by their faith. - -“It was our misfortune,” said he, “never to have tied a gospel about her -neck, as we did round the other children’s, or this heavy sorrow would -never have befallen us. But we know if your reverence would only be -pleased to say a prayer over her, all would go well enough!” - -The priest gave me a significant look, and shaking me cordially by -the hand, and pressing my speedy return to Inismore, rode off with the -suppliant. - -Thus, in his duty, “prompt at every call,” after having passed the night -in acts of religious benevolence, his humanity willingly obeyed the -voice of superstitious prejudice which endowed him with the fancied -power of alleviating fancied evils. - -As I rode along, reflecting on the wondrous influence of superstition, -and the nature of its effects, I could not help dwelling on the strong -analogy which in so many instances appears between the vulgar errors of -this country and that of the ancient as well as modern Greeks. - -St. Chrysostom, * relating the bigotry of his own times, particularly -mentions the superstitious horror which the Greeks entertained against -“_the evil eye_.” And an elegant modern traveller assures us, that even -in the present day they “combine cloves of garlic, talismans, and other -charms, which they hang about the necks of their infants, with the same -intention of keeping away _the evil eye_.” - - * “Some write on the hand the names of several rivers, while - others make use of ashes, tallow, salt for the like - purposes--all this being to divert the ‘evil eye.’” - -Adieu. - -H. M. - -END OF VOL. 1. - -WILD IRISH GIRL, - -A National Tale. - -By Lady Morgan, - -Author Of St. Clair, The Novice Of St. Dominic, etc. - - “Questa gente benche mostra selvagea - - E pur gli monte la con trad a accierba - - Nondimeno l’e dolce ad cui l’assagia.” - - - This race of men, though s&vage they may seem, - - The country, too, with many a mountain rough, - - Yet are they sweet to him who tries and tastes them.” - - _Uberties Travels thro’ Ireland, 14th Century_ - - -In Two Volumes, Vol. II - -New York: P. M. Haverty. - -1879. - - - -LETTER XVI. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -I wish you were to have seen the look with which the worthy Mr. -Clendinning met me, as I rode up the avenue to M-------- house. - -To put an end at once to his impertinent surmises, curiosity, and -suspicion, which I evidently saw lurking in his keen eye, I made -a display of my fractured arm, which I still wore in a sling; and -naturally enough accounted for my absence, by alleging that a fall -from my horse, and a fractured limb had obliged me to accept the humane -attentions of a gentleman, near whose house the accident had happened, -and whose guest and patient I had since been. Mr. Clendinning affected -the tone of regret and condolence, with some appropriate suppositions of -what his lord would feel when he learnt the unfortunate circumstance. - -“In a word, Mr. Clendinning,” said I, “I do not choose my father’s -feelings should be called in question on a matter which is now of no -ill consequence; and as there is not the least occasion to render him -unhappy to no purpose, I must insist that you neither write nor mention -the circumstance to him on any account.” - -Mr. Clendinning bowed obedience, and I contrived to ratify his promise -by certain inuendoes; for, as he is well aware many of his villanies -have reached my ear, he hates and fears me with all his soul. - -My first inquiry was for letters. I found two from my father, and one, -only one, from you. - -My father writes in his usual style. His first is merely an epistle -admonitory; full of prudent axioms, and fatherly solicitudes. The second -informs me that his journey to Ireland is deferred for a month or six -weeks, on account of my brother’s marriage with the heiress of the -richest banker in the city. It is written in his best style, and a -brilliant flow of spirit pervades every line. In the plenitude of his -joy all _my_ sins are forgiven; he even talks of terminating my exile -sooner than I had any reason to suspect: and he playfully adds, “of -changing my banishment into slavery”--“knowing from experience that -provided my shackles are woven by the rosy fingers of beauty, I can wear -them patiently and pleasurably enough. In short,” he adds, “I have a -connexion in my eye, for you, not less brilliant in point of fortune -than that your brother has made; and which will enable you to forswear -your Coke, and burn your Blackstone.” - -In fact, the spirit of matrimonial establishment seems to have taken -such complete possession of my speculating _dad_, that it would by no -means surprise me though he were on the point of sacrificing at the -Hymenial altar himself. You know he has more than once, in a frolic, -passed for my elder brother; and certainly has more sensibility than -should belong to _forty-five_. Nor should I at all wonder if some -insinuating coquette should one day or other _sentimentalize_ him into -a Platonic passion, which would terminate _in the old way_. I have, -however, indulged in a little triumph at his expense, and have answered -him in a strain of apathetic content--that habit and reason have -perfectly reconciled me to my present mode of life, which leaves me -without a wish to change it. - -Now for your letter. With respect to the advice you demand, I have only -to repeat the opinion already advanced that------ But with respect to -that you give me-- - - “Go bid physicians preach our veins to health, - - And with an argument new set a pulse.” - -And as for your prediction--of this be certain, that I am too hackneyed -in _les affaires du cour_, ever to fall in love beyond all redemption -with any woman in existence. And even this little Irish girl, with all -her witcheries, is to me a subject of philosophical analysis, rather -than amatory discussion. - -You ask me if I am not disgusted with her brogue? If she had one, I -doubt not but I should? but the accent to which we English apply that -term, is here generally confined to the lower orders of society; and -I certainly believe, that purer and more grammatical English is spoken -generally through Ireland than in any part of England whatever; for here -you are never shocked by the barbarous unintelligible dialect peculiar -to each shire in England. As to Glorvina, an aptitude to learn languages -is, you know, peculiar to her country; but in her it is a decided and -striking talent: even her Italian is, “_la lingua Toscana nel bocca -Romana,”_ and her English, grammatically correct, and elegantly pure, is -spoken with an accent that could never denote her country. But it -is certain, that in _that_ accent there is a species of langour very -distinct from the brevity of ours. Yet (to me at least) it only renders -the lovely speaker more interesting. A simple question from her lip -seems rather tenderly to solicit, than abruptly to demand. Her every -request is a soft supplication; and when she stoops to entreaty, there -is in her voice and manner such an energy of supplication, that while -she places _your_ power to grant in the most ostensible light to -yourself, you are insensibly vanquished by that soft persuasion whose -melting meekness bestows your fancied exaltation. Her sweet-toned -mellifluous voice, is always sighed forth rather below than above its -natural pitch, and her mellowed, softened, mode of articulation is but -imperfectly expressed by the _susaro susingando_, or _coaxy murmurs_ of -Italian persuasion. - -To Father John, who is the first and most general linguist I ever met, -she stands highly indebted; but to Nature, and her own ambition to -excel, still more. - -I am now but six hours in this solitary and deserted mansion, where I -feel as though I reigned the very king of desolation. Let me hear from -you by return. - -Adieu. - -H. M - - - -LETTER XVII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -I forgot to mention to you in my last, that to my utter joy and -surprise, our _premier_ here has been recalled. On the day of my return, -he received a letter from his lord, desiring his immediate attendance in -London, with all the rents he could collect; for I suppose the necessary -expenditure requisite for my brother’s matrimonial establishment, will -draw pretty largely on our family treasury. - -This change of things in our domestic politics has changed all my plans -of operation. This arch spy being removed, obviates the necessity of -my retreat to the Lodge. My establishment here consists only of two -females, who scarcely speak a word of English; an old gardener, who -possesses not one _entire sense_, and a groom, who, having nothing to -do, I shall discharge: so that if I should find it my pleasure to return -and remain any time at the castle of Inismore, I shall have no one here -to watch my actions, or report them to my father. - -There is something Boeotian in this air. I can neither read, write, -or think. Does not Locke assert, that the soul sometimes dozes? I -frequently think I have been bit by a torpedo, or that I partake in -some degree of the nature of the seven sleepers, and suffer a transient -suspension of existence. What if this Glorvina has an _evil eye_, and -has overlooked me? The witch haunts me, not only in my dreams, but when -_I fancy myself_ at least, awake. A thousand times I think I hear the -tones of her voice and harp. Does she feel my absence at the accustomed -hour of tuition, the fire-side circle in the _Vengolf_ the twilight -conversation, the noontide ramble?--Has my presence become a want to -her? Am I missed, and missed with regret? It is scarcely vanity to -say, _I am--I must be_. In a life of so much sameness, the most trivial -incident, the most inconsequent character obtains in interest in a -certain degree. - -One day I caught her weeping over a pet robin, which died on her bosom. -She smiled, and endeavoured to hide her tears. “This is very silly I -know,” said she, “but one must feel even the loss of a _bird_ that has -been the _companion of one’s solitude!_” - -To-day I flung down my book in downright deficiency of comprehension to -understand a word in it, though it was a simple case in the Reports of --------; and so, in the most _nonchalante_ mood possible, I mounted -my _rosinante_, and throwing the bridle over her neck, said, “please -thyself;” and it was her pious pleasure to tread on consecrated ground: -in short, after a ride of half an hour, I found myself within a few -paces of the parish mass-house, and recollected that it was the Sabbath -day; so that you see my mare reproved me, though in an oblique manner, -with little less gravity than the ass of Balaam did his obstinate rider. - -The mass-house was of the same order of architecture as the generality -of Irish cabins, with no other visible mark to ascertain its sacred -designation than a stone cross, roughly hewn, over its entrance. I will -not say that it was merely a sentiment of piety which induced me to -enter it; but it certainly required, at first, an effort of energy to -obtain admittance, as for several yards round this simple tabernacle -a crowd of _devotees_ were prostrated on the earth, praying over their -beads with as much fervour as though they were offering up their orisins -in the golden-roofed temple of Soliman. - -When I had fastened my horse’s bridle to a branch of a hawthorn, I -endeavoured to make my way through the pious crowd, who all arose the -moment I appeared--for the _last mass_, I learned, was over, and those -who had prayed _par hazard_, without hearing a word the priest said -within, departed. While I pressed my way into the body of the chapel, it -was so crowded that with great difficulty I found means to fix myself -by a large triangular stone vessel filled with holy water, where I -fortunately remained (during the sermon) unnoticed. - -This sermon was delivered by a little old mendicant, in the Irish -language. Beside him stood the parish priest in pontifiealibus, and with -as much self-invested dignity as the _dalai lama_ of Little Thibet could -assume before his votarists. When the shrivelled little mendicant had -harangued them some time on the subject of Christian charity, for so his -countenance and action indicated, a general _secula seculorum_ concluded -his discourse; and while he meekly retreated a few paces, the priest -mounted the steps of the little altar; and after preparing his lungs, he -delivered an oration, to which it would be impossible to do any justice. -It was partly in Irish, partly in English; and intended to inculcate the -necessity of contributing to the relief of the mendicant preacher, if -they hoped to have the benefit of his prayers; addressing each of -his flock by their name and profession, and exposing their faults and -extolling their virtues, according to the nature of their contributions -While the friar, who stood with his face to the wall, was with all human -diligence piously turning his beads to two accounts--with one half he -was making intercession for the souls of his good subscribers, and -with the other diligently keeping count of the sum total of their -benefactions. As soon as I had sent in mine, almost stifled with heat, I -effected my escape. - -In contrasting this parish priest with the chaplain of Inismore, I could -not help exclaiming with Epaminondas--“It is the _man_ who must give -dignity to the situation--not the situation to the man.” Adieu. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XVIII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -“La solitude est certainement une belle chose, mais il-y-a plaisir -d’avoir quelqu’une qui en sache repondre, a qui on puis dire, la -solitude est une belle chose.” - -So says Monsieur de Balsac, and so repeats my heart a thousand times a -day. In short, I am devoured by _ennui_, by apathy, by discontent! What -should I do here? Nothing. I have spent but four days here, and all -the symptoms of my old disease begin to re-appear: in short, like other -impatient invalids, I believed my cure was effected when my disease was -only on the decline. - -I must again fly to sip from the fountain of intellectual health at -Inismore, and receive the vivifying drops from the hand of the presiding -priestess, or stay here, and fall into an incurable atrophy of the heart -and mind! - -Having packed up a part of my wardrobe, and a few books, I sent them -by a young rustic to the little _Villa di Marino_, and in about an -hour after I followed myself. The old fisherman and his dame seemed -absolutely rejoiced to see me, and having laid my valise in their cabin, -and dismissed my attendant, I requested they would permit their son to -carry my luggage as far as the next _cabaret_, where I expected a man -and horse to meet me. They cheerfully complied, and I proceeded with -my _compagnon de voyage_ to a hut which lies half way between the -fisherman’s and the castle. This hut they call a _Sheebin House_, and is -something inferior to a certain description of Spanish inn. - -Although a little board informs the weary traveller he is only to expect -“good dry lodgings,” yet the landlord contrives to let you know in an -_entre nous_ manner, that he keeps some real _Inishone_, (or spirits, -smuggled from a tract of country so called) for his particular friends. -So having dismissed my second courier, and paid for the whiskey I did -not taste, and the potatoes I did not eat, I sent my host forward, -mounted on a sorry mule, with my travelling equipage, to the cabin at -the foot of the drawbridge; and by these precautions obviated all -possibility of discovery. - -As I now proceeded on my route, every progressive step awakened some -new emotion; while my heart was agitated by those unspeakable little -flutterings which are alternately excited and governed by the ardour of -hope, or the timidity of fear. “And shall I, or shall I not be welcome?” - was the problem which engaged my thoughts during the rest of my little -journey. - -As I descended the mountain, at whose base the peninsula of Inismore -reposes, I perceived a form at some distance, whose drapery (“_ne -bulam lineam_”) seemed light as the breeze on which it floated. It is -impossible to mistake the figure of Glorvina, when its graces are called -forth by motion. I instantly alighted, and flew to meet her. She too -sprang eagerly forward. We were almost within a few paces of each other, -when she suddenly turned back and flew down the hill with the bounding -step of a fawn. This would have mortified another--I was charmed. And -the bashful consciousness which repelled her advances, was almost as -grateful to my heart as the warm impulse which had nearly hurried -her into my arms.--How freshly does she still wear the first gloss of -nature! - -In a few minutes, however, I perceived her return, leaning on the arm of -the Father Director. You cannot conceive what a festival of the feelings -my few days absence had purchased me. Oh! he knows nothing of the -doctrine of enjoyment, who does not purchase his pleasure at the expense -of temporary restraint. The good priest, who still retains something of -the etiquette of his foreign education, embraced me _a la Française_. -Glorvina, however, who _malhereusement_, was not reared in France, -only offered me her _hand_, which I had not the courage to raise to my -unworthy lip, although the cordial _cead mille a falta_ of her country -revelled in her shining eyes, and and her effulgent countenance was lit -up with an unusual blaze of animation. - -When we reached the castle the Prince sent for me to his room, and -told me, as he pressed my hand, that “his heart warmed at my sight.” In -short, my return seems to have produced a carnival in the whole family. - -You who know, that notwithstanding my late vitiated life, the simple -pleasures of the heart were never dead to mine, may guess how highly -gratifying to my feelings is this interest, which, independent of all -adventitious circumstances of rank and fortune, I have awakened in the -bosoms of these cordial, ingenuous beings. - -The late insufferable reserve of Glorvina has given way to the most -bewitching (I had almost said _tender_) softness of manner. - -As I descended from paying my visit to the Prince, I found her and the -priest in the hall. - -“We are waiting for you,” said she--“there is no resisting the fineness -of the evening.” - -And as we left the door, she pointed towards the west and added-- - -“See-- - - “The weary sun hath made a golden set, - - And by yon ruddy brightness of the clouds, - - Gives tokens of a goodly day to-morrow.” - -“O! apropos, Mr. Mortimer, you are returned in most excellent time--for -to-morrow is the _first of May_.” - -“And is the arrival of a guest,” said I, “on the _eve_ of that day a -favourable omen?” - -“The arrival of such a guest,” said she, “must be at least ominous of -happiness. But the first of May is our great national festival; and you, -who love to trace modern customs to ancient origins, will perhaps feel -some curiosity and interest to behold some of the rites of our heathen -superstitions still lingering among our present ceremonies.” - -“What then,” said I, “have you, like the Greeks, the festivals of the -spring among you?” - -“It is certain,” said the priest, “that the ancient Irish sacrificed -on the _first of May to Beal_, or the _Sun_; and that day, even at this -period, is called _Beal_.” - -“By this idolatry to the god of Light and Song,” said I, “one would -almost suppose that Apollo was the tutelar deity of your island.” - -“Why,” returned he, “Hecatæus tells us that the Hyperborean Island -was dedicated to Apollo, and that most of its inhabitants were either -priests or bards, and I suppose you are not ignorant that we claim the -honour of being those happy Hyperboreans, which were believed by many to -be a fabulous nation. - -“And if the peculiar favour of the god of Poetry and Song may be -esteemed a sufficient proof, it is certain that our claims are not -weak. For surely no nation under heaven was ever more enthusiastically -attached to poetry and music than the Irish. Formerly every family had -its poet or bard, called Filea Crotaire; and, indeed, the very language -itself, seems most felicitously adapted to be the vehicle of poetic -images; for its energy, strength, expression, and luxuriancy, never -leave the bard at a loss for apposite terms to realize ‘the thick coming -fancies of his genius.’” * - - * Mr. O’Halloran informs us, that in a work entitled - “Uiraceacht na Neaigios,” or Poetic Tales, above an hundred - different species of Irish verse is exhibited. O’Molloy, in - his Irish and Latin Grammar, has also given rules and - specimens of our modes of versification, which may be seen - in Dr. Linud’s Achaeologia. - -“But,” said Glorvina, “the first of May was not the only festival held -sacred by the Irish to their tutelar deity; on the 24th of June they -sacrificed to the Sun, to propitiate his influence in bringing the fruit -to perfection; and to this day those lingering remains of heathen rites -are performed with something of their ancient forms. ‘_Midsummer’s -Night_,’ as it is called, is with us a night of universal -lumination--the whole country olazes: from the summit of every mountain, -every hill, ascends the flame of the bonfire, while the unconscious -perpetuators of the heathen ceremony dance round the fire in circles, or -holding torches to it made of straw, run with the burning brands wildly -through the country with all the gay frenzy of so many Bacchantes. But -though I adore our aspiring _Beal_ with all my soul, I worship our -popular deity _Samhuin_ with all my heart--he is the god of the heart’s -close knitting socialities, for the domesticating month of November is -sacred to him.” - -“And on its eve,” said the priest, “the great fire of _Samhuin_ -was illuminated, all the culinary fires in the kingdom being first -extinguished, as it was deemed sacrilege to awaken the winter’s social -flame, except by a spark snatched from this sacred fire, * and so deep -rooted are the customs of our forefathers among us, that the present -Irish have no other name for the month of November than _Samhuin_. - - * To this day, the inferior Irish look upon bonfires as - sacred; they say their prayers walking round them; the young - dream upon their ashes, and the old steal away the fire to - light up their domestic hearths with. - -“Over our mythological accounts of this _winter god_, an almost -impenetrable obscurity seems to hover; but if _Samhuin_ is derived from -_Samhfhuin_, as it is generally supposed, the term literally means the -gathering or closing of summer; and, in fact, on the eve of the first of -November we make our offerings round the domestic altar, (the fireside) -of such fruits as the lingering season affords, besides playing a number -of curious gambols, and performing many superstitious ceremonies, in -which our young folk find great pleasure, and put great faith.” - -“For my part,” said Glorvina, “I love all those old ceremonies which -force us to be periodically happy, and look forward with no little -impatience to the gay-hearted pleasures which to-morrow will bring in -its train.” - -The little post-boy has this moment tapped at my door for my letter, for -he tells me he sets off before dawn, that he may be back in time for the -sport. It is now past eleven o’clock, but I could not resist giving you -this little scrap of Irish mythology, before I wished you good night. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XIX. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -All the life-giving spirit of spring, mellowed by the genial glow of -summer, shed its choicest treasures on the smiling hours which yesterday -ushered in the most delightful of the seasons. - -I arose earlier than usual; the exility of my mind would not suffer me -to rest, and the scented air, as it breathed its odours through my open -casement, seduced me abroad. I walked as though I scarcely touched the -earth, and my spirit seemed to ascend like the lark which soared over -my head to hail the splendour of the dewy dawn. There is a fairy vale in -the little territories of Inismore, which is almost a miniature _Tempe_, -and which is indeed the only spot on the peninsula where the luxuriant -charms of the most bounteous nature are evidently improved by taste -and cultivation. In a word, it is a spot sacred to the wanderings of -Glorvina. It was there our theological discourse was held on the evening -of my return, and thither my steps were now with an irresistible impulse -directed. - -I had scarcely entered this Eden, when the form of the Eve, to whose -picturesque fancy it owes so many charms presented itself. She was -standing at a little distance _en profile_--with one hand she supported -a part of her drapery filled with wild flowers, gathered ere the sun -had kissed off the tears which night had shed upon their bosom; with -the other she seemed carefully to remove some branches that entwined -themselves through the sprays of a little hawthorn hedge richly embossed -with the firstborn blossoms of May. - -As I stole towards her, I exclaimed, as Adam did when he first saw -Eve-- - - “---Behold her, - - Such as I saw her in my dream adorned, - - With all that earth or heaven could bestow. - -She started and turned round, and in her surprise let fall her flowers, -yet she smiled, and seemed confused--but pleasure, pure, animated, -life-breathing pleasure, was the predominant expression of her -countenance. The Deity of Health was never personified in more glowing -colours--her eye’s rich blue, her cheek’s crimson blush, her lip’s dewy -freshness, the wanton wildness of her golden tresses, the delicious -langour that mellowed the fire of her beamy glance--I gazed, and -worshipped! but neither apologized for my intrusion, nor had the -politeness to collect her scattered flowers. - -“If Nature,” said I, “had always such a priestess to preside at her -altar, who would worship at the shrine of Art?” - -“I am her votarist only,” she replied, smiling, and, pointing to a wild -rose which had just begun to unfold its blushing breast amidst the snowy -blossoms of the hedge--added, “see how beautiful! how orient its hue -appears through the pure crystal of the morning dew-drop! It is nearly -three weeks since I first discovered it in the germ, since when I have -screened it from the noonday ardours, and the evening’s frost, and now -it is just bursting into perfection to reward my cares.” - -At these words, she plucked it from the stem. Its crimson head drooped -with the weight of the gems that spangled it. Glorvina did not shake -them off, but imbibed the liquid fragrance with her lip; then held the -flower to me! - -“Am I to pledge you?” said I. - -She smiled, and I quaffed off the fairy nectar, which still trembled on -the leaves her lip had consecrated. - -“We have now,” said I, “_both_ drank from the same cup; and if the -delicious draught which Nature has prepared for us, circulates with -mutual effect through our veins--If”--I paused, and cast down my eyes. -The hand which still sustained the rose, and was still clasped in -mine, seemed to tremble with an emotion scarcely inferior to that which -thrilled through my whole frame. - -After a minute’s pause--“Take the rose,” said Glorvina, endeavouring -to extricate the precious hand which presented it--“Take it; it is the -first of the season! My father has had his snowdrop--the confessor his -violet--and it is but just you should have your _rose_.” - -At that moment the classical remark of the priest rushed, I believe, -with mutual influence, to both our hearts. I, at least, was borne -away by the rapturous feelings of the moment, and knelt to receive the -offering of my lovely votarist. - -I kissed the sweet and simple tribute with pious ardour; but with a -devotion more fervid, kissed the hand that presented it. I would not -have exchanged that moment for the most pleasurable era of my existence. -The blushing radiance that glowed on her cheek, sent its warm suffusion -even to the hand I had violated with my unhallowed lip; while the -sparkling fluid of her eyes, turned on mine in almost dying softness, -beamed on the latent powers of my once-chilled heart, and awakened there -a thousand delicious transports, a thousand infant wishes and chaste -desires, of which I lately thought its worn-out feelings were no longer -susceptible. - -As I arose, I plucked off a small branch of that myrtle which here grows -wild, and which, like my rose, was dripping in dew, and putting it into -the hand I still held, said, “This offering is indeed less beautiful, -less fragrant, than that which you have made; but remember, it is also -less _fragile_--for the sentiment of which it is an emblem, carries with -it an eternity of duration.” - -Glorvina took it in silence and placed it in her bosom; and in silence -we walked together towards the castle; while our eyes, now timidly -turned on each other, now suddenly averted (O, the insidious danger of -the abruptly downcast eye!) met no object but what breathed of love, -whose soul seemed - - “--Sent abroad, - - Warm through the vital air, and on the heart - - Harmonious seiz’d.” - -The morning breeze flushed with etherial fervour; the luxury of the -landscape through which we wandered, the sublimity of those stupendous -cliffs which seemed to shelter two hearts from the world, to which their -profound feelings were unknown, while - - --Every copse - - Deep tangled, but irregular, and bush, - - Bending with dewy moisture o’er the head, - - Of the coy choiristers that lodged within, - - Were prodigal of harmony,” - -and crowned imagination’s wildest wish, and realized the fancy’s warmest -vision. - -“Oh! my sweet friend!” I exclaimed, “since now I feel myself entitled -thus to call you--well indeed might your nation have held this day -sacred; and while the heart, which now throbs with an emotion to which -it has hitherto been a stranger, beats with the pulse of life, on the -return of this day will it make its offering to that glorious orb, to -whose genial nutritive beams this precious rose owes its existence.” - -As I spoke, Father John suddenly appeared. Vexed as I was at this -unseasonable intrusion, yet in such perfect harmony was my spirit with -the whole creation, that, in the true hyperbola of Irish cordiality, I -wished him a thousand happy returns of this season! - -“Spoken like a true-born Irishman!” said the priest, laughing, and -shaking me heartily by the hand--“While with something of the phlegm -of an Englishman, I wish you only as many returns of it as shall bring -health and felicity in their train.” - -Then looking at the myrtle which reposed on the bosom of Glorvina, and -the rose which I so proudly wore, he added--“So, I perceive you have -both been sacrificing to _Beal_; and like the priests and priestesses -of this country in former times, are adorned with the flowers of the -season. For you must know, Mr. Mortimer, _we_ had our Druidesses as well -as our Druids; and both, like the ministers of Grecian mythology, were -crowned with flowers at the time of sacrifice.” - -At this apposite remark of the good priest, I stole a glance at _my_ -lovely priestess. Hero, at the altar of the deity she rivalled, never -looked more attractive to the enamoured Leander. - -We had now come within a few steps of the portals of the castle, and -I observed that since I passed that way, the path and entrance were -strewed with green flags, rushes, and wild crocuses; * while the heavy -framework of the door was hung with garlands, and bunches of flowers, -tastefully displayed. - - * “Seeing the doors of the Greeks on the first of May, - profusely ornamented with flowers, would certainly recall to - your mind the many descriptions of that custom which you - have met with in the Greek and Latin poets.--Letters on - Greece, by Moniseur Da Guys, vol i. p. 153. - -“This, madam,” said I to Glorvina, “is doubtless the result of your -happy taste.” - -“By no means,” she replied--“this is a custom prevalent among the -peasantry time immemorial.” - -“And most probably was brought hither,” said the priest, “from Greece by -our Phonician progenitors: for we learn from Athenæus, that the young -Greeks hung garlands on the doors of their favourite mistresses on the -first of May. Nor indeed does the Roman _floralia_ differ in any respect -from ours.” - -“Those, however, which you now admire,” said Glorvina, smiling, “are -no offerings of rustic gallantry; for every hut in the country, on this -morning, will bear the same fanciful decorations. The wild crocus, and -indeed every flower of that rich tint, is peculiarly sacred to this -day.” - -And, in fact, when, in the course of the day, I rambled out alone, -and looked into the several cabins, I perceived not only their floors -covered with flags and rushes, but a “Maybush,” as they call it, or -small tree, planted before all the doors, covered with every flower the -season affords. - -I saw nothing of Glorvina until evening, except for a moment, when I -perceived her lost over a book, (as I passed her closet window) which, -by the Morocco binding, I knew to be the Letters of the impassioned -Heloise. Since her society was denied me, I was best satisfied to resign -her to Rosseau. _Apropos!_ it was among the books I brought hither; and -they were all precisely such books as Glorvina had _not_ yet _should_ -read, that she may know herself, and the latent sensibility of her soul. -They have, of course, all been presented to her, and consist of -“_La Nouvelle Hel oise_” de Rosseau--the unrivalled “_Lettres sur la -Mythologie_” de Moustier--the “_Paul et Virginie_” of St. Pierre--the -_Werter_ of Goethe--the _Dolhreuse_ of Lousel, and the _Attilla_ of -Chateaubriand. Let our English novels carry away the prize of morality -from the romantic fictions of every other country; but you will find -they rarely seize on the imagination through the medium of the heart; -and as for their heroines, I confess, that though they are the most -perfect beings, they are also the most stupid. Surely, virtue would not -be the less attractive for being united to genius and the graces. - -But to return to the never-to-be-forgotten _first of May!_ Early in the -evening the Prince, his daughter, the priest, the bard, the old nurse, -and indeed all the household of Inismore, adjourned to the vale, which -being the only level ground on the peninsula, is always appropriated to -the sports of the rustic neighbours. It was impossible I should enter -this vale without emotion; and when I beheld it crowded with the vulgar -throng, I felt as if it were profanation for the - - “Sole of unblest feet!” - -to tread that ground sacred to the most refined emotions of the heart. - -Glorvina, who walked on before the priest and me, supporting her father, -as we entered the vale stole a glance at me; and a moment after, as -I opened the little wicket through which we passed, I murmured in her -ear--_La val di Rosa!_ - -We found this charming spot crowded with peasantry of both sexes and all -ages. * Since morning they had planted a Maybush in the centre, which -was hung with flowers, and round the seats appropriated to the -Prince and his family, the flag, crocus, and primrose, were profusely -scattered. Two blind fiddlers, and an excellent piper, ** were seated -under the shelter of the very hedge which had been the nursery of my -precious rose; while the old bard, with true druidical dignity sat under -the shade of a venerable oak, near his master. - - * In the summer of 1802, the author was present at a rural - festival at the seat of a highly respected friend in - Tipperary, from which this scene is partly copied. - - ** Although the bagpipe is not an instrument indigenous to - Ireland, it holds a high antiquity in the country. It was - the music of the Kearns, in the reign of Edward the Third. - [See Smith’s History of Cork, page 43.] It is still the - favourite accompaniment of those mirthful exertions with - which laborious poverty crowns the temporary cessation of - its weekly toil, and the cares and solicitudes of the Irish - peasant ever dissipate to the spell which breathes in the - humorous drones of the Irish pipes. To Scotland we are - indebted for this ancient instrument, who received it from - the Romans; but to the native musical genius of Ireland are - we indebted for its present form and improved state. ‘That - at present in use in Ireland,’ says Dr. Burney, in a letter - to J. C. Walker, Esq., is an improved bagpipe, on which I - have heard some of the natives play very well in two parts, - without the drone, which, I believe, is never attempted in - Scotland The tone of the lower notes resembles that of an - hautboy or clarionet, and the high notes, that of a German - flute: and the whole scale of one I heard lately was very - well in tune, which has never been the case of any Scottish - bagpipe that I have yet heard.” - -The sports began with a wrestling match; * and in the gymnastic -exertions of the youthful combatants there was something, I thought, of -Spartan energy and hardihood. - - * The young Irish peasantry particularly prize themselves on - this species of exertion: they have almost reduced it to a - science, by dividing it into two distinct species--the one - called “sparnaight,” engages the arms only; the other, - “carriaght,” engages the whole body. - -But as “breaking of ribs is no sport for ladies,” Glorvina turned from -the spectacle in disgust; which I wished might have been prolonged, as -it procured me (who leaned over her seat) her undivided attention; but -it was too soon concluded, though without any disagreeable consequences, -for neither of the combatants were hurt, though one was laid prostrate. -The victorious wrestler was elected King of the May; and, with “all his -blushing honours thick upon him,” came timidly forward, and laid his -rural crown at the feet of Glorvina. Yet he evidently seemed intoxicated -with his happiness, and though he scarcely touched the hand of his -blushing, charming nueen, yet I perceived a thousand saucy triumphs -basking in his fine black eyes, as he led her out to dance. The fellow -was handsome too. I know not why, but I could have knocked him down with -all my heart. - -“Every village has its Cæsar,” said the priest, “and this is ours. He -has been elected King of the May for these five years successively He is -second son to our old steward, and a very worthy, as well as a very fine -young fellow.” - -“I do not doubt his worth,” returned I, peevish ly, “but it certainly -cannot exceed the condescension of his young mistress.” - -“There is nothing singular in it, however,” said the priest. “Among -us, over such meetings as these, inequality of rank holds no _obvious_ -jurisdiction, though in fact it is not the less regarded; and the -condescension of the master or mistress on these occasions, lessens -nothing of the respect of the servant upon every other; but rather -secures it, through the medium of gratitude and affection.” The piper -had now struck up one of those lilts, whose mirth-inspiring influence it -is almost impossible to resist.* The Irish jig, above every other dance, -leaves most to the genius of the dancer; and Glorvina, above all the -women I have ever seen, seems most formed by nature to exce in the art. -Her little form, pliant as that of an Egyptian _alma_, floats before the -eye in all the swimming langour of the most graceful motion, or all the -gay exility of soul-inspired animation. She even displays an exquisite -degree of comic humour in some of the movements of her national dance: -and her eyes, countenance, and air express the wildest exhilaration of -pleasure, and glow with all the spirit of health, mirth, and exercise. - - * Besides the Irish jig, tradition has rescued from that - oblivion which time has hung over the ancient Irish dance, - the _rinceadh fada_, which answers to the festal dance of - the Greeks; and the _rinceadh_, or war dance, “which seems,” - says Mr. Walker, “to have been of the nature of the armed - dance, which is so ancient, and with which the Grecian youth - amused themselves during the seige of Troy.” Previous to the - adoption of the French style in dancing, Mr. O’Halloran - asserts, that both our private and public balls always - concluded with the “rinceadh-fada.” On the arrival of James - the Second at Kinsale, his adherents received the - unfortunate prince on the shore with this dance, with whose - taste and execution he was infinitely delighted: and even - still, in the county of Limerick and many other parts of - Ireland, the “rinceadh-fada” is danced on the eve of May. - -I was so struck with the grace and elegance of her movements, the -delicacy of her form, and the play of her drapery gently agitated by the -air, that I involuntarily gave to my admiration an audible existence. - -“Yes,” said the priest, who overheard me, “she performs her national -dance with great grace and spirit. But the Irish are all dancers; and, -like the Greeks, we have no idea of any festival here which does not -conclude with a dance; * old and young, rich and poor, all join here in -the sprightly dance.” - - * “The passion of the Greeks for dancing is common to both - sexes, who neglect every other consideration when they have - an opportunity of indulging that passion.” - -Glorvina, unwearied, still continued to dance with unabated spirit, and -even seemed governed by the general principle which actuates all the -Irish dancers--of not giving way to any competitor in the exertion; for -she actually outdanced her partner, who had been jigging with all his -_strength_, while she had only been dancing with all her _soul_; and -when he retreated, she dropped a simple curtsey (according to the laws -of jig-dancing here) to another young rustic, whose seven league brogues -finally prevailed, and Glorvina at last gave way, while he made a scrape -to a rosy cheeked, barefooted damsel, who out jigged him and his two -successors; and thus the chain went on. - -Glorvina, as she came panting and glowing towards me, exclaimed, “I have -done my duty for the evening;” and threw herself on a seat, breathless -and smiling. - -“Nay,” said I, “more than your duty; for you even performed a work of -supererogation.” And I cast a pointed look at the young rustic who had -been the object of her election. - -“O!” she replied, eagerly--“it is the custom here, and I should be -sorry, for the indulgence of an overstrained delicacy, to violate any of -those established rules to which, however trifling, they are -devotedly attached. Besides, you perceive,” she added, smiling, “this -condescension on the part of the females, who are thus ‘won unsought,’ -does not render the men more presumptuous. You see what a distance the -youth of both sexes preserve--a distance which always exists in these -kind of public meetings.” - -And, in fact, the lads and lasses were ranged opposite to each other, -with no other intercourse than what the communion of the eyes afforded, -or the transient intimacy of the jig bestowed. * - - * This custom, so prevalent in some parts of Ireland, is of - a very ancient origin. We read in Keating’s History of - Ireland, that in the remotest periods, when the Irish - brought their children to the fair of Tailtean, in order to - dispose of them in marriage, the strictest order was - observed; the men and women having distinct places assigned - them at a certain distance from each other. - -“And will you not dance a jig?” asked Glorvina. - -“I seldom dance,” said I--“Ill health has for some time back coincided -with my inclination, which seldom led me to try my skill at the _Poetry -of motion?_” - -“Poetry of motion!” repeated Glorvina--“What a beautiful idea!” - -“It is so,” said I, “and if it had been my own, it must have owed its -existence to you; for your dancing is certainly the true poetry of -motion, and _Epic_ poetry too.” - -“I love dancing with all my heart,” she replied: “when I dance I have -not a care on earth--every thing swims gaily before me; and I feel as -swiftly borne away in a vortex of pleasurable sensation.” - -“Dancing,” said I, “is the talent of your sex--that pure grace which -must result from a symmetrical form, and that elixity of temperament -which is the effect of woman’s delicate organization, creates you -dancers. And while I beheld your performances this evening, I no longer -wondered that the gravity of Socrates could not resist the spell which -lurked in the graceful motions of Aspasia, but followed her in the mazes -of the dance.” - -She bowed, and said, I “flattered too agreeably, not to be listened to -with _pleasure_, if not with _faith_.” - -In short, I have had a thousand occasions to observe, that while -she receives a decided compliment with the ease of almost _bon ton -nonchalance_, a look, a broken sentence, a word, has the power of -overwhelming her with confusion, or awakening all the soul of emotion in -her bosom. All this I can understand. - -As the dew of the evening now began to fall, the invalid Prince and -his lovely daughter arose to retire. And those who had been rendered -so happy by their condescension, beheld their retreat with regret, and -followed them with blessings. Whiskey, milk, and oaten bread were now -distributed in abundance by the old nurse and the steward; and the -dancing was recommenced with new ardour. - -The priest and I remained behind, conversing with the old and jesting -with the young--he in Irish, and I in English, with such as understood -it. The girls received my little gallantries with considerable archness, -and even with some point of repartee; while the priest rallied them in -their own way, for he seems as playful as a child among them, though -evidently worshipped as a sakit. And the moon rose resplendently over -the vale, before it was restored to its wonted solitary silence. - -***** - -Glorvina has made the plea of a headache these two mornings back, for -playing the truant at her drawing desk; but the fact is, her days -and nights are devoted to the sentimental sorcery of Rosseau, and the -effects of her studies are visible in her eyes. When we meet, her glance -sinks beneath the ardour of mine in soft confusion; her manner is no -longer childishly playful, or carelessly indifferent, and sometimes a -sigh, scarce breathed, is discovered by the blush which glows on her -cheek for the inadvertency of her lip. Does she, then, begin to feel -she has a heart? Does “_Le besoin de l’ame tendre_,” already throb -with vague emotion in her bosom? Her abstracted air, her delicious -melancholy, her unusual softness, betray the nature of the feelings -by which she is overwhelmed--they are new to herself; and sometimes I -fancy, when she turns her melting eyes on me, it is to solicit their -meaning. O! if I dared become the interpreter between her and her -heart--if I dared indulge myself in the hope, the belief that---- and -what then? ’Tis all folly, ’tis madness, ’tis worse! But whoever -yet rejected the blessing for which his soul thirsted?--And in the -scale of human felicities, if there is one in which all others is summed -up--above all others supremely elevated--it is the consciousness of -having awakened the first sentiment of the sweetest, the sublimest of -all passions, in the bosom of youth, genius, and sensibility. - -Adieu, H. M. - - - -LETTER XX. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -I had just finished my last by the beams of a gloriously setting sun, -when I was startled by a pebble being thrown in at my window. I looked -out, and perceived Father John in the act of flinging up another, which -the hand of Glorvina (who was leaning on his arm) prevented. - -“If you are not engaged in writing to your mistress,” said he, “come -down and join us in a ramble.” - -“And though I were,” I replied, “I could not resist your challenge.” - And down I flew--Glorvina laughing, sent me back for my hat, and we -proceeded on our walk. - -“This is an evening,” said I, looking at Glorvina, “worthy of the -morning of the first of May, and we have seized it in that happy moment -so exquisitly described by Collins: - - -“'While now the bright hair’d sun - - Sits on yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts - - With brede etherial wove, - - O’erhang his wavy bed.’” > - -“O! that beautiful ode!” exclaimed Glorvina, with all her wildest -enthusiasm--“never can I read--never hear it repeated but with emotion. -The perusal of Ossian’s ‘Song of Other Times,’ the breezy respiration -of my harp at twilight, the last pale rose that outlives its season, -and bears on its faded breast the frozen tears of the wintry dawn, and -Collins’s ‘Ode to Evening,’ awaken in my heart and fancy the same train -of indescribable feeling, of exquisite, yet unspeakable sensation. Alas! -the solitary pleasure of feeling thus alone the utter impossibility of -conveying to the bosom of another those ecstatic emotions by which our -own is sublimed.” - -While my very soul followed this brilliant comet to her perihelion of -sentiment and imagination, I fixed my eyes on her “mind-illumin’d face,” - and said, “And is expression then necessary for the conveyance of such -profound, such exquisite feeling? May not the similarity of a refined -organization exist between souls, and produce that mutual intelligence -which sets the necessity of cold, verbal expression at defiance? May not -the sympathy of a kindred sensibility in the bosom of another, meet and -enjoy those delicious feelings by which yours is warmed, and, sinking -beneath the inadequacy of language to give them birth, feel like you, in -silent and sacred emotion?” - -“Perhaps,” said the priest, with his usual simplicity, “this sacred -sympathy, between two refined and elevated souls, in the sublime and -beautiful of the moral and natural world, approaches nearest to the -rapturous and pure emotions which uncreated spirits may be supposed to -feel in their heavenly communion, than any other human sentiment with -which we are acquainted.” - -For all the looks of blandishment which ever flung their spell from -beauty’s eye, I would not have exchanged the glance which Glorvina -at that moment cast on me. While the priest, who seemed to have -been following up the train of thought awakened by our preceding -observations, abruptly added, after a silence of some minutes-- - -“There is a species of metaphorical taste, if I may be allowed the -expression, whose admiration for certain objects is not deducible from -the established rules of beauty, order, or even truth; which _should_ be -the basis of our approbation; yet which ever brings with it a sensation -of more lively pleasure; as for instance, a chromatic passion in -music will awaken a thrill of delight which a simple chord could never -effect.” - -“Nor would the most self-evident truth,” said I, “awaken so vivid a -sensation, as when we find some sentiment of the soul illustrated by -some law or principle in science. To an axiom we announce our assent, -but we lavish our most enthusiastic approbation when Rosseau tells us -that ‘Les ames humaines veulent etre accomplies pour valoir toute leurs -prix, et la force unie des ames _comme celles des l’armes d’un aimant -artificiel_, est incomparablement plus grands que la somme de leurs -force particulier.’” - -As this quotation was meant _all_ for Glorvina, I looked earnestly -at her as I repeated it. A crimson torrent rushed to her cheek, and -convinced me that she felt the full force of a sentiment so applicable -to us both. - -“And why,” said I, addressing her in a low voice, “was Rosseau excluded -from the sacred coalition with Ossian, Collins, your twilight harp, and -winter rose?” - -Glorvina made no reply; but turned full on me her “eyes of dewy light.” - Mine almost sunk beneath the melting ardour of their soul-beaming o o -glance. - -Oh! child of Nature! child of genius and of passion! why was I withheld -from throwing myself at thy feet; from offering thee the homage of that -soul thou hast awakened; from covering thy hands with my kisses, and -bathing them with tears of such delicious emotion, as thou only hast -power to inspire? - -While we thus “_buvames a longs traits le philtre de l’amour,_” Father -John gradually restored us to commonplace existence, by a commonplace -conversation on the fineness of the weather, promising aspect of the -season, &c., until the moon, as it rose sublimely above the summit of -the mountain, called forth the melting tones of my Glorvina’s syren -voice. - -Casting up her eyes to that Heaven whence they seem to have caught their -emanation, she said, “I do not wonder that unenlightened nations should -worship the moon. Our ideas are so intimately connected with our senses, -so ductilely transferable from cause to effect, that the abstract -thought may readily subside in the sensible image which awakens it. -When, in the awful stillness of a calm night, I fix my eyes on the mild -and beautiful orb, the _created_ has become the awakening medium of that -adoration I offered to the _Creator_.” - -“Yes,” said the priest, “I remember that even in your childhood, you -used to fix your eyes on the moon, and gaze and wonder. I believe it -would have been no difficult matter to have plunged you back into the -heathenism of your ancestors, and to have made it one of the gods of -your idolatry.” - -“And was the chaste Luna in the _album sanctorum_ of your Druidical -mythology?” said I. - -“Undoubtedly,” said the priest, “we read in the life of our celebrated -saint, St. Columba, that on the altar-piece of a Druidical temple, -the sun, moon, and stars were curiously depicted; and the form of the -ancient Irish oath of allegiance, was to swear by the sun, moon, and -stars, and other deities, celestial as well as terrestrial.” - -“How,” said I, “did your mythology touch so closely on that of the -Greeks? Had you also your Pans and your Daphnes, as well as your Dians -and Apollos?” - -“Here is a curious anecdote that evinces it,” returned the priest--“It -is many years since I read it in a black-letter memoir of St. Patrick. -The Saint, says the biographer, attended by three bishops, and some less -dignified of his brethren, being in this very province, arose early one -morning, and with his pious associates, placed himself near a fountain -or well, and began to chant a hymn. In the neighbourhood of this -honoured fountain stood the palace of _Cruachan_, where the two -daughters of the Emperor Laogare were educating in retirement; and as -the saints sung by no means _sotto voce_, * their pious strains caught -the attention of the royal fair ones, who were enjoying an early ramble, -and who immediately sought the sanctified choristers. Full of that -curiosity so natural to the youthful recluses, they were by no means -sparing of interrogations to the Saint, and among other questions -demanded, ‘and who is your God? Where dwells he, in heaven or on the -earth, or beneath the earth, or in the mountain, or in the valley, or -the sea, or the stream?’--And indeed, even to this day, we have Irish -for a river god, which we call _Divona_.--You perceive, therefore, that -our ancient religion was by no means an unpoetical one.” - - * A musical voice was an indispensable quality in an Irish - Saint, and “lungs of leather” no trivial requisite towards - obtaining canonization. St. Columbkill, we are told, sung so - loud, that, according to an old Irish poem, called “Amhra - Chioluim chille,” or The Vision of Columbkill, “His hallow’d - voice beyond a mile was heard.” - -While we spoke, we observed a figure emerging from a coppice towards a -small well, which issued beneath the roots of a blasted oak. The priest -motioned us to stop, and be silent--the figure (which was that of an -ancient female wrapped in a long cloak,) approached, and having drank -of the well out of a little cup, she went three times round it on her -knees, praying with great fervency over her beads; then rising after -this painful ceremony, she tore a small part of her under garb, and hung -it on the branch of the tree which shaded the well. - -“This ceremony, I perceive,” said the priest, “surprises you; but you -have now witnessed the remains of one of our ancient superstitions. The -ancient Irish, like the Greeks, were religiously attached to the -consecrated fountain, the _Vel expiatoria_; and our early missionaries, -discovering the fondness of the natives for these sanctified springs, -artfully diverted the course of their superstitious faith, and dedicated -them to Christian saints.” - -“There is really,” said I, “something truly classic in this spot; and -here is this little shrine of Christian superstition hung with the same -votive gifts as Pausanius informs us obscured the statue of Hygeia in -Secyonia.” - -“This is nothing extraordinary here,” said the priest; “these -consecrated wells are to be found in every part of the kingdom. But of -all our _Acquo Sanctificato_, Lough Derg is the most celebrated. It is -the _Loretto_ of Ireland, and votarists from every part of the kingdom -resort to it. So great, indeed, is the still-existing veneration among -the lower orders for these holy wells, that those who live at too -great a distance to make a pilgrimage to one, are content to purchase -a species of amulet made of a sliver of the tree which shades the well, -(and imbued with its waters,) which they wear round their necks. These -curious amulets are sold at fairs, by a species of sturdy beggar, called -a _Bacagh_, who stands with a long pole, with a box fixed at the top -of it, for the reception of alms; while he alternately extols the -miraculous property of the amulet, and details his own miseries; thus -at once endeavouring to interest the faith and charity of the always -benevolent, always credulous multitude.” - -“Strange,” said I, “that religion in all ages and in all countries -should depend so much on the impositions of one half of mankind, and the -credulity and indolence of the other. Thus the Egyptians (to whom even -Greece herself stood indebted for the principles of those arts and -sciences by which she became the most illustrious country in the world) -resigned themselves so entirely to the impositions of their priests, as -to believe that the safety and happiness of life itself depended on the -motions of an ox, or the tameness of a crocodile.” - -“Stop, stop,” interrupted Father John, smiling; “you forget, that though -you wear the _San-Benito_, or robe of heresy yourself, you are in the -company of those who----” - -“Exactly think on _certain points_,” interrupted I, “even as my -heretical self.” - -This observation led to a little controversial dialogue, which, as it -would stand a very poor chance of being read by you, will stand none at -all of being transcribed by me. - -When we returned home we found the Prince impatiently watching for us -at the window, fearful lest the dews of heaven should have fallen -too heavily on the head of his heart’s idol, who finished her walk in -silence; either, I believe, not much pleased with the turn given to the -conversation by the priest, or not sufficiently interested in it. - -***** - -I know not how it is, but since the morning of the first of May, I feel -as though my soul had entered into a covenant with hers; as though our -very beings were indissolubly interwoven with each other. And yet the -freedom which once existed in our intercourse is fled. I approach her -trembling; and she repels the most distant advances with such dignified -softness, such chastely modest reserve, that the restraint I sometimes -labour under in her presence, is almost concomitant to the bliss it -bestows. - -This morning, when she came to her drawing-desk, she held a volume of -_De Moustier_ in her hand--“I have brought this,” said she, “for ou _bon -Pere Directeur_ to read out to us.” - -“He has commissioned me,” said I, “to make his excuses; he is gone to -visit a sick man on the other side of the mountain.” - -At this intelligence she blushed to the eyes; but suddenly recovering -herself, she put the book into my hands, and said with a smile, “then -you must officiate for him.” - -As soon as she was seated at the drawing-desk, I opened the book, and by -chance at the beautiful description of the _Boudoir_: - - “J’amie une boudoir étroite qu’un demi jour eclaire, - - La mon cour est chez lui, le premier demi jour - - Fruit par la volupté, menage pour l’amour, - - La discrete amitié, veut aussi du mystère, - - Cluand de nos bons amis dans un lieu limitie, - - Le cercle peu nombreux près de nous rassemble - - Le sentiment, la paix, la franche liberté - - Preside en commun,” &c. - -I wish you could see this creature, when anything is said or read -that comes home to her heart, or strikes in immediate unison with the -exquisite tone of her feelings. Never sure was there a finer commentary -than her looks and gestures passed on any work of interest which engages -her attention. Before I had finished the perusal of this charming little -fragment, the pencil had dropped from her fingers; and often she waved -her beautiful head and smiled, and breathed a faint exclamation of -delight; and when I laid down the book, she said, while she leaned her -face on her clasped hands---- - -“And I too have a boudoir!--but even a _bou-doir_ may become a dreary -solitude, except”----she paused; and I added, from the poem I had just -read, “except that within its social little limits - - “La confidence ingénu rapproche deux amis.” - -Her eyes, half raised to mine, suddenly cast down, beamed a tender -acquiescence to the sentiment. - -“But,” said I, “if the being worthy of sharing the bliss such an -intercourse in such a place must confer, is yet to be found, is its -hallowed circle inviolable to the intrusive footstep of an inferior, -though perhaps not less ardent votarist?” - -“Since you have been here,” said she, “I have scarcely ever visited this -once favourite retreat myself.” - -“Am I to take that as a compliment or otherwise?” said I. - -“Just as it is meant,” said she--“as a fact;” and she added, with an -inadvertent simplicity, into which the ardour of her temper often -betrays her--“I never can devote myself partially to anything--I am -either all enthusiasm or all indifference.” - -Not for the world would I have made her _feel_ the full force of this -avowal; but requested permission to visit this now deserted boudoir. - -“Certainly,” she replied--“it is a little closet in that ruined tower, -which terminates the corridor in which your apartment lies.” - -“Then, I am privileged?” said I. - -“Undoubtedly,” she returned; and the Prince who had risen unusually -early, entered the room at that moment, and joined us at the -drawing-desk. - -***** - -The absence of the good priest left me to a solitary dinner. Glorvina -(as is usual with her) spent the first part of the evening in her -father’s room; and thus denied her society, I endeavoured to supply its -want--its soul-felt want, by a visit to her boudoir. - -There is a certain tone of feeling when fancy is in its acme, when -sentiment holds the senses in subordination, and the visionary joys -which float in the imagination shed a livelier bliss on the soul, than -the best pleasures cold reality ever conferred. Then, even the presence -of a beloved object is not more precious to the heart than the spot -consecrated to her memory; where we fancy the very air is impregnated -with her respiration; every object is hallowed by her recent touch, and -that all around breathes of her. - -In such a mood of mind, I ascended to Glor-vina’s boudoir; and I really -believe, that had she accompanied, I should have felt less than when -alone and unseen I stole to the asylum of her pensive thoughts. It -lay as she had described; and almost as I passed its threshold, I was -sensibly struck by the incongruity of its appearance--it seemed to me as -though it had been partly furnished in the beginning of one century, and -finished in the conclusion of another. The walls were rudely wainscotted -with oak, black with age; yet the floor was covered with a Turkey -carpet, rich, new, and beautiful--better adapted to cover a Parisian -dressing-room than the closet of a ruined tower. The casements were high -and narrow, but partly veiled with a rich drapery of scarlet silk: a few -old chairs, heavy and cumbrous, were interspersed with stools of an -antique form; one of which lay folded upon the ground, so as to be -portable in a travelling trunk. On a ponderous Gothic table (which -seemed a fixture coeval with the building) was placed a silver -_escritoire_, of curious and elegant workmanship, and two small, but -beautiful antique vases (filled with flowers) of Etrurian elegance. Two -little book-shelves, elegantly designed, but most clumsily executed, -(probably by some hedge-carpenter) were filled with the best French, -English, and Italian poets; and, to my utter astonishment, not only some -new publications scarce six months old, but two London newspapers of no -distant date, lay scattered on the table, with some MS. music, and some -unfinished drawings. - -Having gratified my curiosity, by examining the singular incongruities -of this paradoxical boudoir, I leaned for some time against one of the -windows, endeavouring to make out some defaced lines cut on its panes -with a diamond, when Glorvina herself entered the room. - -As I stood concealed by the silken drapery, she did not perceive me. A -basket of flowers hung on her arm, from which she replenished the vases, -having first flung away their faded treasures. As she stood thus engaged -and cheering her sweet employment with a murmured song, I stole softly -behind her, and my breath disturbing the ringlets which had escaped -from the bondage of her bodkin, and seemed to cling to her neck for -protection, she turned quickly round, and with a start, a blush, and a -smile, said, “Ah! _so soon_ here!” - -“You perceive,” said I, “your immunity was not lost on me! I have been -here this half hour!” - -“Indeed!” she replied, and casting round a quick inquiring glance, -hastily collected the scattered papers, and threw them into a drawer; -adding, “I intended to have made some arrangements in this deserted -little place, that you might see it in its best garb; but had scarcely -begun the necessary reform this morning, when I was suddenly called -to my father, and could not till this moment find leisure to return -hither.” - -While she spoke I gazed earnestly at her. It struck me there was a -something of mystery over this apartment, yet wherefore should mystery -dwell where all breathes the ingenuous simplicity of the golden age? -Glorvina moved towards the casement, threw open the sash, and laid her -fresh gathered flowers on the seat. Their perfume scented the room; and -a new fallen shower still glittered on the honeysuckle which she was -endeavouring to entice through the window round which it crept. - -The sun was setting with rather a mild than a dazzling splendour, and -the landscape was richly impurpled with its departing beams, which, as -they darted through the scarlet drapery of the curtain, shed warmly over -the countenance and figure of Glorvina “_Love’s proper hue_.” - -We both remained silent, until her eye accidentally meeting mine, a -more “celestial rosy red” invested her cheek. She seated herself in the -window, and I drew a chair and sat near her. All within was the softest -gloom--all without the most solemn stillness. The gray vapours of -twilight were already stealing amidst the illumined clouds that floated -in the atmosphere--the sun’s golden beams no longer scattered round -their rich suffusion; and the glow of retreating day was fading even -from the horizon where its parting glories faintly lingered. - -“It is a sweet hour,” said Glorvina, softly sighing. - -“It is a _boudoirizing_ hour,” said I. - -“It is a golden one for a poetic heart,” she added. - -“Or an enamoured one,” I returned. “It is the hour in which the soul -best knows itself; when every low-thoughted care is excluded, and the -pensive pleasures take possession of the dis solving heart. - - “Ces douces lumières - - Ces sombre certes - - Sont les jours de la volupté.” - -And what was the _voluptas_ of Epicurus, but those refined and elegant -enjoyments which must derive their spirit from virtue and from health; -from a vivid fancy, susceptible feelings, and a cultivated mind; and -which are never so fully tasted as in this sweet season of the day; then -the influence of sentiment is buoyant over passion; the soul, alive to -the sublimest impression, expands in the region of pure and elevated -meditation: the passions, slumbering in the soft repose of Nature, -leave the heart free to the reception of the purest, warmest, tenderest -sentiments--when all is delicious melancholy, or pensive softness; when -every vulgar wish is hushed, and a rapture, an indefinable rapture, -thrills with sweet vibration on every nerve.” - -“It is thus I have felt,” said the all-impassioned Glorvina, clasping -her hands and fixing her humid eyes on mine--“thus, in the dearth of all -_kindred_ feeling, have I felt. But never, oh! till _now--never!_”--and -she abruptly paused, and drooped her head on the back of my chair, over -which my hand rested, and felt the soft pressure of her glowing cheek, -while her balmy sigh breathed its odour on my lip. - -Oh had not her celestial confidence, her angelic purity, sublimed every -thought, restrained every wish; at that moment; that too fortunate; too -dangerous moment!!!--Yet even as it was, in the delicious agony of my -soul, I secretly exclaimed with the legislator of Lesbos--“_It is too -difficult to be always virtuous!_” while I half audibly breathed on the -ear of Glorvina-- - -“Nor I, O first of all created beings! never, never till I beheld thee, -did I know the pure rapture which the intercourse of a kindred soul -awakens--of that sacred communion with a superior intelligence, which, -while it raises me in my own estimation, tempts me to emulate that -excellence I adore.” - -Glorvina raised her head--her melting eyes met mine, and her cheek -rivalled the snow of that hand which was pressed with passionate ardour -on my lips. Then her eyes were bashfully withdrawn; she again drooped -her head--not on the chair, but on my shoulder. What followed, angels -might have attested--but the eloquence of bliss is silence. - -Suffice it to say, that I am now certain of at least being understood; -and that in awakening her comprehension, I have roused my own. In a -word, I _now_ feel I love!!--for the first time I feel it. For the first -time my heart is alive to the most profound, the most delicate, the most -ardent, and most refined of all human passions. I am now conscious that -I have hitherto mistaken the senses for the heart, and the blandishments -of a vitiated imagination for the pleasures of the soul. In short, I -now feel myself in that state of beatitude, when the fruition of all the -heart’s purest wishes leaves me nothing to desire, and the innocence of -those wishes nothing to fear. You know but little of the sentiment which -now pervades my whole being, and blends with every atom of my frame, if -you suppose I have formally told Glorvina I loved her, or that I appear -even to suspect that I am (rapturous thought!) beloved in return. On -the contrary, the same mysterious delicacy, the same delicious reserve -still exist. It is a sigh, a glance, a broken sentence, an imperceptible -motion, (imperceptible to all eyes but our own) that betrays us to each -other. Once I used to fall at the feet of the “_Cynthia of the moment_,” - avow my passion, and swear eternal truth. Now I make no genuflection, -offer no vows, and swear no oaths; and yet feel more than -ever.--More!--dare I then place in the scale of comparison what I now -feel with what I ever felt before? The thought is sacrilege! - -This child of Nature appears to me each succeeding day, in a _phasis_ -more bewitchingly attractive than the last. She now feels her power over -me, (with woman’s _intuition_, where the heart is in question!) and -this consciousness gives to her manners a certain roguish tyranny, -that renders her the most charming tantalizing being in the world. In a -thousand little instances she contrives to teaze me; most, when most she -delights me! and takes no pains to conceal my simple folly from others, -while she triumphs in it herself. In short, she is the last woman in the -world who would incur the risk of satiating him who is best in her love; -for the variability of her manner, always governed by her ardent, though -volatilized feelings, keeps suspense on the eternal _qui vive!_ and the -sweet assurance given by the eyes one moment, is destroyed in the next -by some arch sally of the lip. - -To-day I met her walking with the nurse. The old woman, very properly, -made a motion to retire as I approached. Glorvina would not suffer this, -and twined her arm round that of her fostermother. I was half inclined -to turn on my heel, when a servant came running to the nurse for the -keys. It was impossible to burst them from her side, and away she -hobbled after the barefooted _laquais_. I looked reproachfully at -Glorvina, but her eyes were fixed on an arbutus tree rich in blossom. - -“I wish I had that high branch,” said she, “to put in my vase.” In a -moment I was climbing up the tree like a great school-boy, while she, -standing beneath, received the blossoms in her extended drapery; and I -was on the point of descending, when a branch, lovelier than all I -had culled, attracted my eye: this I intended to present in _propria -persona_, that I might get a kiss of the hand in return. With my own -hands sufficiently engaged in effecting my descent, I held my Hesperian -branch in my teeth, and had nearly reached the ground, when Glorvina -playfully approached her lovely mouth to snatch the prize from mine. We -were just in contact--I suddenly let fall the branch--and--Father -John appeared walking towards us; while Glorvina, who, it seems, had -perceived him before she had placed herself in the way of danger, now -ran towards him, covered with blushes and malignant little smiles. In -short, she makes me feel in a thousand trivial instances the truth of -Epictetus’s maxim, that to _bear_ and _forbear_, are the powers that -constitute a wise man: to _forbear_, alone, would, in my opinion, be a -sufficient test. - -Adieu, H. M. - - - -LETTER XXI. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -I cannot promise you any more Irish history. I fear my _Hiberniana_ is -closed, and a volume of more dangerous, more delightful tendency, draws -towards its bewitching subject every truant thought. To him who is deep -in the _Philosophia Amatoria_, every other science is cold and vapid. - -The oral legend of the Prince, and the historic lore of the priest, all -go for nothing! I shake my head, look very wise, and appear to listen, -while my eyes are riveted on Glorvina--who, not unconscious of the -ardent gaze, sweeps with a feathery touch the chords of her harp, or -plies her fairy wheel with double vigilence. Meantime, however, I am -making a rapid progress in the Irish language, and well I may; for -besides that I now listen to the language of Ossian with the same -respect a Hindoo would to the Sanscrit of the Bramins, the Prince, the -priest, and even Glorvina, contribute their exertions to my progress. -The other evening, as we circled round the evening fire in the great -hall, the Prince would put my improvements to the test, and taking down -a grammar, he insisted upon my conjugating a verb. The verb he chose -was, “_to love_”--? “Glorvina,” said he, seeing me hesitate, “go through -the verb.” - -Glorvina had it at her fingers’ ends; and in her eyes swam a thousand -delicious comments on the text she was expounding. - -The Prince, who is as unsuspicious as an infant, would have us repeat it -together, that I might catch the pronunciation from her lip! - -“_I love_,” faintly articulated Glorvina. - -“_I love_,” I more faintly repeated. - -This was not enough--the Prince would have us repeat the plural twice -over: and again and again we murmured together--“_we love!_” - -Heavens and earth! had you at that moment seen the preceptress and the -_pupil!_The attention of the simple Prince was riveted on Valancy’s -grammar: he grew peevish at what he called our stupidity, and said we -knew nothing of the verb to love, while in fact we were running through -all its moods and tenses with our eyes and looks. - -Good God! to how many delicious sensations is the soul alive, for which -there is no possible mode of expression.. - -Adieu.--The little post-boy is at my elbow. I observe he goes more -frequently to the post than usual; and one morning I perceived Glorvina -eagerly watching his return from the summit of a rock. Whence can -this solicitude arise? Her father may have some correspondence on -business--she can have none. - - - -LETTER XXII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -This creature is deep in the metaphysics of love. She is perpetually -awakening ardour by restraint, and stealing enjoyment from privation. -She still persists in bringing the priest with her to the drawing-desk; -but it is evident she does not the less enjoy that casual absence -which leaves us sometimes alone; and I am now become such an epicure -in sentiment, that I scarcely regret the restraint the presence of the -priest imposes; since it gives a keener zest to the transient minutes -of felicity his absence bestows--even though they are enjoyed in silent -confusion. For nothing can be more seducing than her looks, nothing can -be more dignified than her manners. If, when we are alone, I even offer -to take her hand, she grows pale, and shrinks from my touch. Yet I -regret not that careless confidence which once prompted the innocent -request that I would guide her hand to draw a perpendicular line. - -***** - -“Solitude (says the Spectator) with the person beloved, even to a -woman’s mind, has a pleasure beyond all the pomp and splendour in the -world.” - -O! how my heart subscribes to a sentiment I have so often laughed at, -when my ideas of pleasure were very different from what they are at -present. I cannot persuade myself that three weeks have elapsed since -my return hither; and still less am I willing to believe that it is -necessary I should return to M-------- house. In short, the rocks which -embosom the peninsula of Inis-more bound all my hopes, all my wishes; -and my desires, like the _radii of a circle_, all point towards one and -the same centre. This creature grows on me with boundless influence; -her originality, her genius, her sensibility, her youth, and person! -In short, her united charms in this profound solitude thus closely -associated, is a species of witchcraft. - -***** - -It was indispensibly necessary I should return to M------house, as my -father’s visit to Ireland is drawing near; and it was requisite I -should receive and answer his letters. At last, therefore, I summoned up -resolution to plead my former excuses to the Prince for my absence; who -insisted on my immediate return--which I promised should be in a day or -two--while the eyes of Glorvina echoed her father’s commands, and mine -looked implicit obedience. With what different emotions I now left -Inismore, to those which accompanied my last departure! My feelings were -then unknown to myself--now I am perfectly aware of their nature. - -I found M-------- house, as usual, cold, comfortless, and desolate--with -a few wretched-looking peasants working languidly about the grounds. In -short, everything breathed the deserted mansion of an _absentee_. - -The evening of my arrival I answered my father’s letters--one from our -pleasant but libertine friend D------n,--read over yours three -times--went to bed--dreamed of Glorvina--and set off for Inismore the -next morning. I rode so hard that I reached the castle about that hour -which we usually devoted to the exertions of the pencil. I flew at once -to that vast and gloomy room which her presence alone cheers and -illumines. Her drawing-desk lay open; she seemed but just to have risen -from the chair placed before it; and her work-basket hung on its back. - -Even this well-known little work-basket is to me an object of interest. -I kissed the muslin it contained; and, in raising it, perceived a small -book splendidly bound and gilt. I took it up, and read on its cover, -marked in letters of gold, “_Brevaire du Sentiment_.” - -Impelled by the curiosity which this title excited, I opened it--and -found beneath its first two leaves several faded snowdrops _stained with -blood_. Under them was written in Glorvina’s hand, - - “Prone to the earth he bowed our pallid flowers-- - - And caught the drops divine, the purple dyes - - Tinging the lustre of our native hues.” - -A little lower in the page was traced, “Culled from the spot where he -fell--April the 1st, 17-- - -Oh! how quickly my bounding heart told me who was that _he_, whose vital -drops had stained these _treasured_ blossoms, thus “tinging the lustre -of their native hues.” While the sweetest association of ideas convinced -me that these were the identical flowers which Glorvina had hallowed -with a tear as she watched by the couch of him with whose blood they -were polluted. - -While I pressed this sweet testimony of a pure and lively tenderness to -my lips, she entered. At sight of _me_, pleasurable surprise invested -every feature; and the most innocent joy lit up her countenance, as she -sprang forward and offered me her hand. While I carried it eagerly to -my lips, I pointed to the snowdrops. Glorvina, with the hand which was -disengaged, covered her blushing face, and would have fled. But the look -which preceded this natural motion discovered the wounded feelings of a -tender but proud heart. I felt the indelicacy of my conduct, and, still -clasping her struggling hand, exclaimed-- - -“Forgive, forgive the vain triumph of a being intoxicated by your -pity<--transported by your condescension.” - -“_Triumph!_” repeated Glorvina, in an accent tenderly reproachful, yet -accompanied by a look proudly indignant--“_Triumph!_” - -How I cursed the coxcomical expression in my heart, while I fell at her -feet, and kissing the hem of her robe, without daring to touch the hand -I had relinquished, said, “Does this look like triumph, Glorvina?” - Glorvina turned towards me a face in which all the witcheries of her sex -were blended--playful fondness, affected anger, animated tenderness, and -soul-dissolving languishment. Oh! she should not have looked thus, or I -should have been more or less than man. - -With a glance of undeniable supplication, she released herself from that -glowing fold, which could have pressed her forever to a heart where she -must forever reign unrivalled. I saw she wished I should think her -very angry, and another pardon was to be solicited, for the transient -indulgence of that passionate impulse her own seducing looks had called -into existence. The pardon, after some little pouting playfulness, _was_ -granted, and I was suffered to lead her to that Gothic sofa where our -first _tete-a-tete_ had taken place; and partly by artifice, partly -by entreaty, I drew from her the little history of the treasured -snow-drops, and read from her eloquent eyes more than her bashful lip -would dare to express. - -Thus, like the _assymtotes_ of a hyperbola, without absolutely rushing -into contact, we are, by a sweet impulsion, gradually approximating -closer and closer towards each other. - -Ah! my dear friend, this is the golden age of love; and I sometimes -think, with the refined Weiland, in certain degree, with the first -kiss--mine, therefore, is now in its climacteric. - -The impetuosity with which I rush on every subject that touches her, -often frustrates the intention with which I sit down to address you. I -left this letter behind me unfinished, for the purpose of filling it up, -on my return, with answers to those I expected to receive from you. -The arguments which your friendly foresight and prudent solicitude have -furnished you, are precisely such as the understanding cannot refute, -nor the heart subscribe to. - -You say my _wife_ she _cannot_ be--and my mistress! perish the thought! -What! I repay the generosity of the father by the destruction of the -child! I steal this angelic being from the peaceful security of her -native shades, with all her ardent, tender feelings thick upon her: I, - - ‘“Crop this fair rose, and rifle all its sweetness!” - -No; you do me but common justice when you say, that though you have -sometimes known me _affect_ the character of a libertine, yet never, -even for a moment, have you known me forfeit that of a man of honour. -I would not be understood to speak in the mere commonplace worldly -acceptation of the word, but literally, according to the text of moral -and divine laws. - -“Then, what,” you ask me, “is the aim, the object, in pursuing this -_ignus fatuus_ of the heart and fancy?” - -In a word, then, virtue is my object--felicity my aim; or, rather, I am -lured towards the former through the medium of the latter. And whether -the tie which binds me at once to moral and physical good, is a fragile -texture and transient existence, or whether it will become “close -twisted with the fibres of the heart, and breaking break it,” time only -can determine--to time, therefore, I commit my fate; but while thus led -by the hand of virtue, I inebriate at the living spring of bliss; - - “While reeling through a wilderness of joy,” can you wonder that I -fling off the goading chain of prudence, and, in daring to be _free_, at -once be virtuous and happy. - -My father’s letter is brief, but pithy. My brother is married, and -has sold his name and _title_ for a hundred thousand pounds; and _his_ -brother has a chance of selling his happiness forever for something -about the same sum. And who think you, is to be the purchaser? Why our -old sporting friend D--------. In my last grousing visit at his seat, -you may remember the _pert_ little girl, his only daughter, who, he -assured us, was that day _unkennelled_ for the first time, in honour of -our success, and who rushed upon us from the nursery in all the bloom -of fifteen, and all the boldness of a hoyden; whose society was the -house-keeper, and the chamber-maid, whose ideas of pleasure extended no -farther than a blind-man’s-buff in the servant’s hall, and a game of -hot cockles with the butler and footman in the pantry. I had the good -fortune to touch her heart at cross-purposes, and completely vanquished -her affection by a romping match in the morning; and so it seems -the fair _susceptible_ has pined in thought ever since, but not “let -concealment prey on her damask cheek,” for she told her love to an old -maiden aunt, who told it to another confidential friend, until the whole -neighbourhood was full of the tale of the _victim of constancy_ and the -_fatal deceiver_. - -The father, as is usual in such cases, was the last to hear it; and -believing me to be an excellent shot, and a keen sportsman, all he -requires in a son-in-law, except a good family, he proposed the match -to my father, who gladly embraced the offer, and fills his letters with -blossoms, blushes, and unsophisticated charms; congratulates me on -my conquest, and talks either of recalling me shortly to England, or -bringing the fair _fifteen_ and old _Nimrod_ to Ireland on a visit with -him. But the former he will not easily effect, and the latter I know -business will prevent for some weeks, as he writes that he is still up -to his ears in parchment deeds, leases, settlements, jointures. Mean -time, - - “Song, beauty, youth, love, virtue, joy, this group - - Of bright ideas, flowers of Paradise as yet unforfeit,” - -crown my golden hours of bliss; and whatever may be my destiny, I -will at least rescue one beam of unalloyed felicity from its impending -clouds--for, oh! my good friend, there is a prophetic something which -incessantly whispers me, that in clouds and storms will the evening of -my existence expire. - -Adieu, H. M. - - - -LETTER XXIII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -It is certain, that you men of the world are nothing less than men of -_pleasure_:--would you taste it in all its essence, come to Inismore. -Ah! no, pollute not with your presence the sacred _palladium_ of all the -primeval virtues; and attempt not to participate in those pure joys of -the soul it would be death in me to divide even with you - -Here Plato might enjoy, and Epicurus revel: here we are taught to feel -according to t. doctrine of the latter, that the happiness of mankind -consists in _pleasure_, not such as arises from gratification of the -senses, or the pursuits of vice--but from the enjoyments of the mind, -the pleasures of the imagination, the affections of the heart and the -sweets of virtue. And here we learn, according to the precepts of the -former, that the summit of human felicity may be attained, by removing -from the material, and approaching nearer to the intellectual world; by -curbing and governing the passions, which are so much oftener inflamed -by imaginary than real objects; and by borrowing from temperance, that -zest which can alone render pleasure forever poignant and forever new. -Ah! you will say, like other lovers, you now see the moral as well as -the natural world through a prism; but would this unity of pleasure -and virtue be found in the wilds of Inismore, if Glorvina was no longer -there? - -I honestly confess to you I do not think it would, for where yet was -pleasure ever found where woman was not? and when does the heart so -warmly receive the pure impressions of virtue, as when its essence is -imbibed from woman’s lip? - -My life passes away here in a species of delectability to which I can -give no name; and while, through the veil of delicate reserve which the -pure suggestions of the purest nature have flung over the manners of my -sweet Glorvina, a thousand little tendernesses unconsciously appear. -Her amiable preceptor clings to me with a parent’s fondness; and her -father’s increasing partiality for his hereditary enemy, is visible in a -thousand instances; while neither of these excellent, but inexperienced -men, suspect the secret intelligence which exists between the -younger tutor and his lovely pupil. As yet, indeed, it has assumed no -determinate character. With me it is a delightful dream, from which -I dread to be awakened, yet feel that it is but a dream; while she, -bewildered, amazed at those vague emotions which throb impetuously in -her unpractised heart, resigns herself unconsciously to the sweetest of -all deliriums, and makes no effort to dissolve the vision! - -If, in the refined epicurism of my heart, I carelessly speak of my -departure for England in the decline of summer, Glorvina changes -colour; the sainted countenance of Father John loses its wonted smile -of placidity; and the Prince replies by some peevish observation on -the solitude of their lives, and the want of attraction at Inis more to -detain a man of the world in its domestic circle. - -But he will say, “it was not always thus--this hall once echoed to the -sound of mirth and the strain of gaiety; for the day was, when none went -sad of heart from the castle of Inismore!” - -I much fear that the circumstances of this worthy man are greatly -deranged, though it is evident his pride would be deeply wounded if it -was even suspected. Father John, indeed, hinted to me, that the Prince -was a great agricultural speculator some few years back; “and even -still” said he, “likes to hold more land in his hands than he is able to -manage.” - -I have observed, too, that the hall is frequently crowded with -importunate people whom the priest seems endeavouring to pacify -in Irish; and twice, as I passed the Prince’s room last week, an -ill-looking fellow appeared at the door whom Glorviria was showing -out. Her eyes were moist with tears, and at the sight of me she deeply -coloured, and hastily withdrew. It is impossible to describe my feelings -at that moment! - -Notwithstanding, however, the Prince affects an air of grandeur, and -opulence--he keeps a kind of open table in his servants’ hall, where a -crowd of labourers, dependants, and mendicants are daily entertained; * -and it is evident his pride would receive a mortal stab, if he supposed -that his guest, and that guest an Englishman, suspected the impoverished -state of his circumstances. - - * The kitchen, or servants’ hall of an Irish country - gentleman, is open to all whom distress may lead to its - door. Professed indolent mendicants take advantage of this - indiscriminating hospitality, enter without ceremony, seat - themselves by the fire, and seldom (indeed never) depart - with their demands unsatisfied, by the misapplied - benevolence of an old Irish custom, which in many instances - would be--“more honoured in the breach than the observance.” - -Although not a man of very superior understanding, yet he evidently -possesses that innate grandeur of soul, which haughtily struggles -with distress, and which will neither yield to, nor make terms with -misfortune; and when, in the dignity of that pride which scorns -revelation of its woes, I behold him collecting all the forces of his -mind, and asserting a right to a better fate, I feel my own character -energize in the contemplation of his, and am almost tempted to envy him -those trials which call forth the latent powers of human fortitude and -human greatness. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XXIV. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - - “Tous s’évanouit sous les cieux, - - Chaque instant varie a nos yeux - - Le tableau mouvant de la vie.” - -Alas! that even this solitude where all seems - - “The world forgetting, by the world forgot.” - -should be subject to that mutability of fate which governs the busiest -haunts of man. Is it possible, that among these dear ruins, where all -the “life of life” has been restored to me, the worst of human pangs -should assail my full all-confiding heart. And yet I am jealous only on -surmise: but who was ever jealous on conviction; for where is the heart -so weak, so mean as to cherish the passion when betrayed by the object? -I have already mentioned to you the incongruities which so forcibly -struck me in Glorvina’s _boudoir_. Since the evening, the happy evening -in which I first visited it, I have often stolen thither when I knew her -elsewhere engaged, but always found it locked till this morning, when I -perceived the door standing open. It seemed as though its mistress had -but just left it, for a chair was placed near the window, which was -open, and her book and work-basket lay on the seat. I mechanically took -up the book, it was my own _Eloisa_, and was marked with a slip of paper -in that page where the character of Wolmar is described; I read through -the passage, I was throwing it by, when some writing on the _paper mark_ -caught my eye; supposing it to be Glorvina’s, I endeavoured to decypher -the lines, and read as follows: “Professions, my lovely friend, are for -the world. But I would at least have you believe that _my_ friendship, -like gold, though not _sonorous_, is indestructible.” This was all I -could make out--and this I read a hundred times--the hand-writing was a -man’s--but it was not the priest’s--it could not be her father’s. And -yet I thought the hand was not entirely unknown to me, though it -appeared disguised. I was still engaged in gazing on the _sybil leaf_ -when I heard _Glorvina_ approach. I never was mistaken in her little -feet’s light bound, for she seldom walks; and hastily replacing the -book, I appeared deeply engaged in looking over a fine atlas that lay -open on the table. She seemed surprised at my appearance, so much so, -that I felt the necessity for apologizing for my intrusion. “But,” said -I, “an immunity granted by you is too precious to be neglected, and if I -have not oftener availed myself of my valued privileges, I assure you -the fault was not mine.” - -Without noticing my inuendo she only bowed her head, and asked me with -a smile, “what favourite spot on the globe I was tracing with such -earnestness,” when her entrance had interrupted my geographic pursuits. - -I placed my finger on that point of the northwest shores of Ireland, -where we then stood, and said in the language of _St. Preux_, “The -world, in my imagination, is divided into two regions--that where _she -is_--and that where she is not.” - -With an air of bewitching insinuation, she placed her hand on my -shoulder, and with a faint blush and a little smile shook her head, and -looked up in my face, with a glance half incredulous--half tender. I -kissed the hand by whose pressure I was thus honoured, and said, -“professions, my lovely friend, are for the world, but I would at least -have you believe, that my friendship, like gold, though not sonorous, is -indestructible.” - -This I said, in the irrascibility of my jealous heart, for, though too -warm for another, oh! how cold for me! Glorviria started as I spoke, I -thought changed colour! while at intervals she repeated, “strange!--nor -is this the only coincidence!” - -“Coincidence!” I eagerly repeated, but she affected not to hear me, -and appeared busily engaged in selecting for herself a bouquet from the -flowers which filled one of those _vases_ I before noticed to you. “And -is that beautiful vase,” said I, “another family antiquity? it looks as -though it stole its elegant form from an Estrucan model: is this too an -effort of ancient Irish taste!” - -“No,” said she, I thought confusedly, “I believe it came from Italy.” - -“Has it been long in the possession of the family?” said I, with -persevering impertinence. “It was a present from a friend of my -father’s,” she replied, colouring, “to me!” The bell at that moment rang -for breakfast, away she flew, apparently pleased to be released from my -importunities. - -“A friend of her father’s!” and who can this friend be, whose delicacy -of judgment so nicely adapts the gifts to the taste of her on whom they -are lavished. For, undoubtedly, the same hand that made the offering of -the vases, presented also those other portable elegancies which are so -strongly contrasted by the rude original furniture of the _Boudoir_. -The tasteful _donneur_ and author of that letter whose torn fragment -betrayed the sentiment of no common mind, are certainly one and the same -person. Yet, who visits the castle? scarcely any one; the pride and -circumstances of the _Prince_ equally forbid it. Sometimes, though -rarely, an old Milesian cousin, or poor relation will drop in, but those -of them that I have seen, are mere commonplace people. I have indeed -heard the Prince speak of a cousin in the Spanish service, and a nephew -in the Irish brigades, now in Germany. But the cousin is an old man, and -the nephew he has not seen since he was a child. Yet, after all, these -presents may have come from one of those relatives; if so, as Glorvina -has no recollection of either, how I should curse that jealous temper -which has purchased for me some moments of torturing doubts. I remember -you used often to say, that any woman could _pique_ me into love by -affecting indifference, and that the native jealousy of my disposition -would always render me the slave of any woman who knew how to play upon -my dominant passion. The fact is, when my heart erects an idol for its -secret homage, it is madness to think that another should even bow -at the shrine, much less that his offerings should be propitiously -received. - -But it is the silence of Glorvina on the subject of this generous -friend, that distracts me; if, after all--oh! it is impossible--it is -sacrilege against heaven to doubt her! She practised in deception! -she, whose every look, every motion betrays a soul that is all truth, -innocence, and virtue! I have endeavoured to sound the priest on the -subject, and affected to admire the vases; repeating the same questions -with which I had teased Glorvina. But he, too, carelessly replied, “they -were given her by a friend of her father’s.” - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XXV. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -Just as I had finished my last, the Prince sent for me to his room; I -found him alone, and sitting up in his bed! he only complained of the -effects of years and sickness, but it was evident that some recent cause -of uneasiness preyed on his mind. He made me sit by his bed-side, and -said, that my good-nature, upon every occasion, induced him to prefer a -request, he was induced to hope would not meet with a denial. I begged -he would change that request to a command, and rely in every instance -on my readiness to serve him. He thanked me, and told me in a few words, -that the priest was going on a very particular, but not very pleasing -business for him (the Prince) to the _north_; that the journey was long, -and would be both solitary and tedious to his good old friend, whose -health I might have observed was delicate and precarious, except I had -the goodness to cheat the weariness of the journey by giving the priest -my company. “I would not make the request,” he added, “but that I -think your compliance will be productive of pleasure and information -to yourself; in a journey of a hundred miles, many new sources of -observation to your inquiring mind will appear. Besides, you who seem to -feel so lively an interest in all which concerns this country, will -be glad to have an opportunity of viewing the Irish character in a -new aspect; or rather of beholding the Scotch character engrafted upon -ours.” - -“But,” said the Prince, with his usual nationality, “that exotic branch -is not very distinguishable from the old stock.” - -I need not tell you that I complied with this request with _seeming_ -readiness, but with real reluctance. - -In the evening, as we circled round the fire in the great hall, I -proposed to _Father John_ to accompany him on his journey the following -day. - -The poor man was overjoyed at the offer while Glorvina betrayed neither -surprise nor regret at my intention, but looked first at her father, and -then at me, with kindness and gratitude. - -Were my heart more at ease, were my confidence in the affections of -Glorvina something stronger, I should greatly relish this little tour, -but as it is, when I found every thing arranged for my departure, -without the concurrence of my own wishes, I could not check my -pettishness, and for want of some other mode of venting it, I -endeavoured to ridicule a work on the subject of _ancient Irish_ history -which the priest was reading aloud, while Glorvina worked, and I was -trifling with my pencil. - -“What,” said I, after having interrupted him in many different -passages, which I thought savoured of natural hyperbole, “what can -be more forced than the very supposition of your partial author, that -_Albion_, the most ancient name of Britain, was given it as though it -were another or _second Ireland_, because Banba was one of the ancient -names of your country?” - -“It may appear to you a forced etymology,” said the priest, “yet it has -the sanction of _Camden_, who first risked the supposition. But it is -the fate of our unhappy country to receive as little credit in the -present day, for its former celebrity, as for its great antiquity, * -although the former is attested by _Bede_, and many other early British -writers, and the latter is authenticated by the testimony of the most -ancient Greek authors. For _Jervis_ is mentioned in the _Argonautica_ of -_Orpheus_, long before the name of England is anywhere to be found in -Grecian literature. And surely it had scarcely been first mentioned, had -it not been first known.” - - * It has been the fashion to throw odium on the modern - Irish, by undermining the basis of their ancient history, - and vilifying their ancient national character. If a - historian professes to have acquired his information from - the records of the country whose history he writes, his - accounts are generally admitted as authentic, as the - commentaries of Garcilasso de Vega are considered as the - chief pillars of Peruvian history, though avowed by their - author to have been compiled from the old national ballads - of the country; yet the old writers of Ireland, (the Psalter - of Cashel in particular) though they refer to these ancient - re cords of their country, authenticated by existing manners - and existing habits, are plunged into the oblivion of - contemptuous neglect, or read only to be discredited. - -“Then you really suppose,” said I, smiling incredulously, “we are -indebted to you for the name of our country?” - -“I know,” said the priest, returning my smile, “the fallacies in general -of all etymologists, but the only part of your island anciently called -by any name that bore the least affinity to _Albion_, was _Scotland_, -then called _Albin_, a word of _Irish_ etymology, _Albin_ signifying -mountainous, from Alb, a mountain.” - -“But, my dear friend,” I replied, “admitting the great antiquity of your -country, allowing it to be early inhabited by a lettered and civilized -people, and that it was the _Nido paterno_ of western literature when -the rest of Europe was involved in darkness; how is it that so few -monuments of your ancient learning and genius remain? Where are your -manuscripts, your records, your annals, stamped with the seal of -antiquity to be found?” - -“Manuscripts, annals, and records are not the treasures of a colonized -or conquered country,” said the priest; “it is always the policy of the -conqueror, or the invader, to destroy those mementi of ancient national -splendour which keep alive the spirit of the conquered or the invaded; -* the dispersion at various periods ** of many of the most illustrious -Irish families into foreign countries, has assisted the depredations of -time and policy, in the plunder of her literary treasures; many of them -are now mouldering in public and private libraries on the Continent, -whither their possessors conveyed them from the destruction which civil -war carries with it, and many of them (even so far back as Elizabeth’s -day) were conveyed to Denmark. The Danish monarch applied to the English -court for some learned men to translate them, and one _Donald O’Daly_, a -person eminently qualified for the task, was actually engaged to perform -it, until the illiberality of the English court prevented the intention -on the poor plea of its prejudicing the English interest.” - - * Sir George Carevy, in the reign of Elizabeth, was accused - of bribing the family historian of the McCarthies to convey - to him some curious MSS. “But what,” says the author of the - Analect, “Carevy did in one province [Munster] Henry Sidney, - and his predecessors did all over the kingdom, being charged - to collect all the manuscripts they could, that they might - effectually destroy every vestige of antiquity and letters - throughout the Kingdom.” And St. Patrick, in his apostolic - zeal, committed to the flames several hundred druidical - volumes. - - ** Fourteen thousand Irish took advantage of the articles of - Limerick, and bade adieu to their native country forever. - -“I know myself that many of our finest and most valuable MSS. are in -libraries in France, and have heard, that not a few of them enrich the -Vatican at Rome.” * - - * In a conversation which passed in Cork between the - author’s father and the celebrated Dr. O’Leary, the latter - said he had once intended to have written a history of - Ireland. And added, “but, in truth, I found, after various - researches, that I could not give such a history as I would - wish should come from my pen, without visiting the - Continent, more particularly Rome, where alone the best - documents for the history of Ireland are to be had. But it - is now too late in the day for me to think of such a journey - or such exertions as the task would require.” - - “Mr. O’Halloran informs me [says Mr. Walker, in his Memoirs of the - Irish Bards, p. 141], that he lately got in a collection - from Rome, several poems of the most eminent Bards of last - centuries.” - -“But,” said I, “are not many of those MSS. supposed to be monkish -impositions?” - -“Yes,” replied the priest, “by those who _never saw them_, and if -_they did_, were too ignorant of the Irish language to judge of their -authenticity by the internal evidences they contain.” - -“And if they were the works of monks,” said the priest, “Ireland was -always allowed to possess at that era the most devout and learned -ecclesiastics in Europe, from which circumstance it received its title -of _Island of Saints_. By them, indeed, many histories of the ancient -Irish were composed in the early ages of Christianity, but it was -certainly from Pagan records and traditions they received their -information; besides, I do not think any arguments can be advanced more -favourable to the histories, than that the fiction of those histories -simply consists in ascribing natural phenomena to supernatural agency.” - -“But,” returned I, “granting that your island was the _Athens_ of a -certain age, how is the barbarity of the present day to be reconciled -with the civilization of the enlightened past?” - -“When you talk of our _barbarity_,” said the priest, “you do not speak -as you _feel_, but as you _hear_.” I blushed at this mild reproof, -and said, “what I _now_ feel for this country, it would not be easy to -express, but l have always been taught to look upon the _inferior_ Irish -as beings forming an humbler link than humanity in the chain of nature.” - -“Yes,” said the priest, “in your country it is usual to attach to that -class of society in ours a ferocious disposition amounting to barbarity; -but this, with other calumnies, of national indolence, and obstinate -ignorance, of want of principle, and want of faith, is unfounded and -illiberal; * ‘cruelty,’ says Lord Sheffield, ‘is not in the nature of -these people more than of other men, for they have many customs -among them which disprove of unnatural indolence, that they are -constitutionally of an active nature, and capable of the greatest -exertions; and of as good dispositions as any nation in the same -state of improvement; their generosity, hospitality, and bravery are -proverbial; intelligence and zeal in whatever they undertake will -never be wanting:--? _It has been the fashion to judge of them by their -outcasts_.’” - - * When nature is wounded through all her dearest ties, she - must turn on the hand that stabs, and endeavour to wrest the - poignard from the grasp that aims at the life-pulse of her - heart. And this she will do in obedience to that immutable - law, which blends the instinct of self-preservation with - every atom of human existence. And for this, in less - felicitous times, when oppression and sedition succeeded - alternately to each other, was the name of Irishman, blended - with the horrible epithet of cruel But when the sword of the - oppressor was sheathed, the spirit of the oppressed reposed, - and the opprobrium it had drawn down on him was no longer - remembered, until the unhappy events of a late anarchial - period [1798] revived the faded characters in which that - opprobrium had been traced. The events alluded to were the - atrocities which chiefly occurred in the county of Wexford, - and its adjoining and confederate district. Wexford is an - English colony, planted by Henry the Second, where scarcely - any feature of the original Irish character, or any trace of - the Irish language is to be found. While in the barony of - Forth, not only the customs, manners, habits, and costume, - of the ancient British settlers still prevail, but the - ancient Celtic language, has been preserved with infinitely - less corruption than in any part of Britain, where it has - been interwoven with the Saxon, Danish, and French - languages. In fact, here may be found a remnant of an - ancient. British colony, more pure and unmixed than in any - other part of the world. And here were committed those - barbarities, which have recently attached the epithet of - cruel to the name of Irishman! - -“It is strange (said the Prince,) that the earliest British writers -should be as diffuse in the praise, as the moderns are in calumniating -our unhappy country. Once we were everywhere, and by all, justly famed -for our patriotism, ardour of affection, love of letters, skill in arms -and arts, and refinement of manners; but no sooner did there arise a -connexion between us and a sister country, than the reputed virtues -and well-earned glory of the Irish sunk at once into oblivion: as if -(continued this enthusiastic _Milesian_, rising from his seat with -all his native vehemence,)--as if the moral world was subject to those -convulsions which shake the _natural_ to its centre, burying by a single -shock the monumental splendours of countless ages. Thus it should seem, -that when the bosom of national freedom was rent asunder, the national -virtues which derived their nutriment from its source sunk into the -abyss; while on the barren surface which covers the wreck of Irish -greatness, the hand of prejudice and illiberality has sown the seeds of -calumny and defamation, to choke up those healthful plants, indigenous -to the soil, which still raise their oft-crushed heads, struggling for -existence, and which, like the palm-tree, rise, in proportion to those -efforts made to suppress them.” - -To repeat the words of the Prince is to deprive them of half their -effect: his great eloquence lies in his air, his gestures, and the -forcible expression of his dark-rolling eye. He sat down exhausted with -the impetuous vehemence with which he had spoken. - -“If we were to believe Dr. Warner, however,” (said the priest) “the modern -Irish are a degenerated race, comparatively speaking, for he asserts, -that even in the days of Elizabeth, ‘the old natives had degenerated, -and that the _wars of several centuries_ had reduced them to a state -far inferior to that in which they were found in the days of Henry -the Second.’ But still, like the modern Greeks, we perceive among -them strong traces of a free, a great, a polished, and an enlightened -people.” - -Wearied by a conversation in which my heart now took little interest, -I made the _palinod_ of my _prejudices_, and concluded by saying, “I -perceive that on this ground I am always destined to be vanquished, yet -always to win by the loss, and gain by the defeat; and therefore I ought -not in common policy to cease to _oppose_, until nothing further can be -obtained by opposition.” - -The Prince, who was getting a little testy at my “_heresy_ and -_schism_,” seemed quite appeased by this avowal; and the priest, who was -gratified by a compliment I had previously paid to his talents, shook me -heartily by the hand, and said, I was the most generous opponent he had -ever met with. Then taking up his book, was suffered to proceed in -its perusal uninterupted. During the whole of the evening, Glorvina -maintained an uninterrupted silence; she appeared lost in thought, and -unmindful of our conversation, while her eyes, sometimes turned on me, -but oftener on her father, seemed humid with a tear, as she contemplated -his lately much altered appearance. - -Yet when the debility of the man was for a moment lost in the energy of -the patriot, I perceived the mind of the daughter kindling at the sacred -fire which illumined the father’s; and through the tear of natural -affection sparkled the bright beam of national enthusiasm. - -I suspect that the embassy of the good priest is not of the most -pleasant nature. To-night as he left me at the door of my room, he said -that we had a long journey before us; for that the house of the nobleman -to whom we are going lay in a remote part of the province of Ulster; -that he was a Scotchman, and only occasionally visited this country -(where he had an immense property) to receive his rents. “The Prince -(said he) holds a large but unprofitable farm from this Highland chief, -the lease of which he is anxious to throw up: that surly looking fellow -who dined with us the other day, is a steward; and if the master is -as inexorable as the servant, we shall undertake this journey to very -little purpose.” - -Adieu.--I endeavour to write and think on every subject but that nearest -my heart, yet _there_ Glorvina and her mysterious friend still awaken -the throb of jealous doubt and anxious solicitude. I shall drop this -for you in the postoffice of the first post-town I pass through; and -probably endeavour to forget myself, and my anxiety to return hither, at -your expense, by writing to you in the course of my journey. - -H. M - - - -LETTER XXVI. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -Can you recollect who was that rational, moderate youth, who exclaimed -in the frenzy of passion, “O gods! annihilate both _time_ and _space_, -and make two lovers happy.” - -For my part, I should indeed wish the hours annihilated till I again -behold Glorvina; but for the space which divides us, it was requisite -I should be fifty miles from her, to be no more entirely with her; to -appreciate the full value of her society; and to learn the nature of -those wants my heart must ever feel when separated from her. The priest -and I arose this morning with the sun. Our lovely hostess was ready -at the breakfast-table to receive us. I was so selfish as to observe -without regret the air of langour that invested her whole form, and -the heaviness that weighed down her eyelids, as though the influence of -sleep had not renovated the lustre of those downcast eyes they veiled. -Ah! if I dared believe that these wakeful hours were given to me. But I -fear at that moment her heart was more occupied by her father than her -lover: for I have observed, in a thousand instances, the interest she -takes in his affairs; and indeed the priest hinted to me, that her -good sense has frequently retrieved those circumstances the imprudent -speculations of her father have as constantly deranged. - -During breakfast she spoke but little, and once I caught her eyes -turned full on me, with a glance in which tenderness, regret, and even -something of despondency were mingled. Glorvina despond! So young, so -lovely, so virtuous, and so highly gifted! Oh! at that moment had I been -master of worlds! but, dependent myself on another’s will, I could only -sympathize in the sufferings while I adored the sufferer. - -When we arose to depart, Glorvina said, “If you will lead your horses I -will walk to the drawbridge with you.” - -Delighted at the proposal, we ordered our horses to follow us; and with -an arm of Glorvina drawn through either of ours, we left the castle. -“This (said I, pressing the hand which rested on mine,) is commencing a -journey under favourable auspices.” - -“God grant it may be so,” said Glorvina, fervently. - -“Amen!” said the priest. - -“Amen!” I repeated; and looking at Glorvina, read all the daughter in -her eyes. - -“We shall sleep to-night, (said the priest, endeavouring to dissipate -the gloom which hung over us by indifferent chit-chat;) we shall sleep -to-night at the hospitable mansion of a true-born _Milesian_, to whom I -have the honour to be distantly allied; and where you will find the old -_Brehon_ law, which forbids that a sept should be disappointed of the -expected feast, was no fabrication of national partiality.” - -“What then, (said I,) we shall not enjoy ourselves in all the -comfortable unrestrained freedom of _an inn_.” - -“We poor Irish, (said the priest,) find the unrestrained freedom of -an inn not only in the house of a friend, but of every acquaintance, -however distant; and indeed if you are at all known, you may travel from -one end of a province to another, without entering a house of public -entertainment; * the host always considering himself the debtor of the -guest, as though the institution of the _Beataghs **_ were still in -being. And besides a cordial welcome from my hospitable kinsman, I -promise you an introduction to his three handsome daughters. So fortify -your heart, for I warn you it will run some risk before you return.” - - * “Not only have I been received with the greatest kindness, - but I have been provided with everything which could promote - the execution of my plan. In taking the circuit of Ireland, - I have been employed eight or nine months; during which time - I have been everywhere received with a hospitality which is - nothing surprising in Ireland: that in such a length of time - I have been but six times at an inn, will give a better idea - of this hospitality than could be done by the most laboured - praise.”--M. de Latocknay. - - ** In the excellent system of the ancient Milesian - government, the people were divided into classes; the - Literati holding the next rank to royalty itself, and the - Beataghs the fourth; so that, as in China, the state was so - well regulated, that every one knew his place, from the - prince to the peasant. “These Beataghs (says Mr. O’Halloran) - were keepers of open houses for strangers, or poor - distressed natives; and as honourable stipends were settled - on the Literati, so were particular tracts of land on the - Beataghs, to support, with proper munificence, their - station; and there are lands and villages in many places to - this day, which declare by their names their original - appointment.” - -“Oh!” said Glorvina, archly, “I dare say that, like St. Paul, he will -‘count it all joy to fall into divers temptations.’” - -“Or rather, (returned I) I shall court them like the saints of old, -merely to prove my powers of resistance; for I bear a charmed spell -about me; and _now _‘none of _woman born_ can harm _Macbeth_.’” - -“And of what nature is your spell?” said Glorvina, smiling, while the -priest remained a little behind us talking to a peasant. “Has Father John -given you a gospel? or have you got an amulet, thrice passed through the -_thrice blessed_ girdle of St. Bridget, our great Irish charm?” * - - * On St Bridget’s day it is usual for the young people to - make a long girdle rope of straw, which they carry about to - the neighbouring houses, and through it all those persons - who have faith in the charm pass nine times, uttering at - each time a certain form of prayer in Irish, which they thus - conclude: “If I enter this thrice-blessed girdle well, may I - come out of it nine times better.” - -“My charm (returned I) in some degree, certainly partakes of your -religious and national superstitions; for since it was presented me -by _your_ hand, I could almost believe that its very essence has been -changed by a touch!” And I drew from my breast the withered remains of -my once blooming rose. At that moment the priest joined us; and though -Glorvina was silent, I felt the pressure of her arm more heavily on -mine, and saw her pass the drawbridge without a recollection on her part -that it was to have been the boundary of her walk. We had not, however, -proceeded many paces, when the most wildly mournful sounds I ever heard -rose on the air, and slowly died away. - -“Hark! (said Glorvina) some one is going to ‘_that bourne from whence no -traveller returns_.’” As she spoke a hundred voices seemed to ascend to -the skies; and as they subsided, a fainter strain lingered on the air, -as though this truly savage choral sympathy was reduced to a recitative, -chaunted by female voices. All that I had heard of the _Irish howl_, or -funeral song, now rushed to my recollection; and turning at that -moment the angle of the mountain of Inismore, I perceived a procession -advancing towards a little cemetery, which lay by a narrow pathway to -the left of the road. - -The body, in a plain deal coffin, covered with a white shirt, was -carried by four men, immediately preceded by several old women covered -in their mantles, and who sung at intervals in a wild and rapid tone. * -Before them walked a number of young persons of both sexes, each couple -holding by a white handkerchief, and strewing flowers along the path. -An elderly woman, with eyes overflown with tears, dishevelled hair, -and distracted mien, followed the body, uttering many passionate -exclamations in Irish; and the procession was filled up by upwards of -three hundred people; the recitative of the female choristers relieved -at intervals by the combined howlings of the whole body. In one of -the pauses of this dreadful death-chorus, I expressed to Glorvina my -surprise at the multitude which attended the funeral of a peasant, while -we stood on a bank as they passed us. - - * Speaking of the ancient Irish funeral, Mr. Walker - observes;--“Women, whose voices recommended them, were taken - from the lower classes of life, and instructed in music, and - cursios, or eligiac measure, that they might assist in - heightening the melancholy which that ceremony was - calculated to inspire. This custom prevailed among the - Hebrews, from whom it is not improbable we had it - immediately.” - - Dr. Campbell is of opinion that the Ululate or hullalor of - the choral burden of the Caoine, and the Greek word of the - same import, have a strong affinity to each other.--Phil. - Sur. South of Ireland, Letters 2, 3. - -“The lower order of Irish,” she returned, “entertain a kind of -posthumous pride respecting their funerals; and from sentiments that I -have heard them express, I really believe there are many among them -who would prefer living neglected to the idea of dying unmourned, or -unattended, by a host to their last home.” To my astonishment she then -descended the bank, and, accompanied by the priest, mingled with the -crowd. - -“This will surprise you,” said Glorvina; “but it is wise to comply with -those prejudices which we cannot vanquish. And by those poor people it -is not only reckoned a mark of great disrespect not to follow a funeral -(met by chance) a few paces, but almost a species of impiety.” - -“And mankind, you know,” added the priest, “are always more punctilious -with respect to ceremonials than fundamentals. However, _you should_ see -an Irish Roman Catholic funeral; to a Protestant and a stranger it must -be a spectacle of some interest. - -“With respect to the attendant ceremonies on death,” he continued, “I -know of no country which the Irish at present resemble but the modern -Greeks. In both countries when the deceased dies unmarried, the young -attendants are chiefly dressed in white, carrying garlands, and strewing -flowers as they proceed to the grave. Those old women who sing before -the body are professional _improvisatori_; they are called _Caoiners_ or -_Keeners_, from the _Canine_ or death song, and are _hired_ to celebrate -the virtues of the deceased. Thus we find St. Chrysostom censuring the -Greeks of his day, for the purchased lamentations and hireling mourners -that attend their funerals. And so far back with us as in the days of -druidical influence, we find it was part of the profession of the bards -to perform the funeral ceremonies, to sing to their harps the virtues of -the dead, and call on the living to emulate their deeds. * This you may -remember as a custom frequently alluded to in the poems of Ossian. ** -Pray observe that frantic woman who tears her hair And beats her bosom: -’tis the mother of the deceased. She is following her only child to an -early grave; and did you understand the nature of her lamentations you -would compare them to the complaints of the mother of Euriales, in the -Æneid: the same passionate expressions of sorrow, and the same wild -extravagance of grief. They even still most religiously preserve here -that custom never lost among the Greeks, of washing the body before -interment, and strewing it with flowers.” - - * The Caoine, or funeral song was, composed by the Filea of - the departed, set to music by one of his oirfidegh, and sung - over the grave by the racasaide, or rhapsodist, who - accompanied his “song of the tomb” with the mourning murmur - of his harp, while the inferior order of minstrels mingled - their deep-toned chorus with the strain of grief, and the - sighs of lamenting relatives breathed in unison to the - tuneful sorrow. Thus was “the stones of his fame,” raised - over the remains of the Irish chief with a ceremony - resembling that with which the death of the Trojan hero was - lamented, - - “A melancholy choir attend around, - - With plaintive sighs and music’s solemn sound.” - - But the singular ceremonies of the Irish funeral, which are - even still in a certain degree extant, may be traced to a - remoter antiquity than Grecian o right, for the pathetic - lamentations of David for the friend of his soul, and the - conclamatio breathed over the Phoenician Dido, has no faint - coincidence to the Caoine or funeral song of the Irish. - - ** Thus over the tomb of Cucullin vibrated the song of the - bard, “Blessed be thy soul, son of Semo! thou wert mighty in - battle; thy strength was like the strength of the stream, - thy speed like the speed of the eagle’s wing, thy path in - battle was terrible, the steps of death were behind thy - sword; blessed be thy soul son of Semo! Carborne ohicf of - Dunscaith. The mighty were dispersed at Timo-ra--there is - none in Cormac’s hall. The king mourns in his youth, for he - does not behold thy coming; the sound of thy shield is - ceased, his foes are gathering around, Soft be thy rest in - thy cave, chief of Erin’s wars.” - -“And have you also,” said I, “the funeral feast, which among the Greeks -composed so material a part of the funeral ceremonies?” - -“A _wake_, as it is called among us,” he replied, “is at once the season -of lamentation and sorrow, and of feasting and amusement. The immediate -relatives of the deceased sit near the body, devoted to all the luxury -of woe, which revives into the most piercing lamentations at the -entrance of every stranger, while the friends, acquaintances, and guests -give themselves up to a variety of amusements; feats of dexterity and -even some exquisite pantomimes are performed; though in the midst of all -their games should any one pronounce an _Ave Maria_, the merry group are -in a moment on their knees; and the devotional impulse being gratified, -they recommence their sports with new vigour. The _wake_, however, is -of short duration; for here, as in Greece, it is thought an injustice to -the dead to keep them long above ground; so that interment follows death -with all possible expedition.” - -We had now reached the burial ground; near which the funeral was met -by the parish priest, and the procession went three times round the -cemetry, preceded by the priest, who repeated the _De profundis_ as did -all the congregation. - -“This ceremony,” said Father John, “is performed by us instead of the -funeral service, which is denied to the Roman Catholics. For _we_ are -not permitted, like the Protestant ministers, to perform the last solemn -office for our departed fellow creatures.” - -While he spoke we entered the churchyard, and I expressed my surprise -to Glorvina, who seemed wrapt in solemn meditation, at the singular -appearance of this rustic little cemetery, where, instead of the -monumental marble, - - “The storied urn, or animated bust,” - -an osier, twisted into the form of a cross, wreathed with faded -foliage, garlands made of the pliant sally, twined with flowers; alone -distinguished the “narrow house,” where - - “The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.” - -Without answering, she led me gently forward towards a garland which -seemed newly planted. We paused. A young woman who had attended the -funeral, and withdrawn from the crowd, approached the garland at the -same moment, and taking some fresh gathered flowers from her apron, -strewed them over the new made grave, then kneeling beside it wept and -prayed. - -“It is the tomb of her lover,” said I.--“_Of her father!_” said -Glorvina, in a voice whose affecting tone sunk to my heart, while her -eyes, raised to heaven, were suffused with tears. The filial mourner now -arose and departed, and we approached the simple shrine of her sorrowing -devotion. Glorvina took from it a sprig of rosemary--its leaves were -humid! “It is not _all_ dew,” said Glorvina, with a sad smile, while her -own tears fell on it, and she presented it to me. - -“Then you think me worthy of sharing in these divine feelings,” I -exclaimed, as I kissed off the sacred drops; while I was now confirmed -in the belief that the tenderness, the sufferings, and declining health -of her father, rendered him at that moment the sole object of her -solicitude and affection. And with him only, could I, without madness, -share the tender, sensible, angelic heart of this sweet interesting -being. - -Observing her emotion increase, as she stood near the spot sacred to -filial grief, I endeavoured to draw away her attention by remarking, -that almost every tomb had now a votarist. “It is a strong instance,” - said Glorvina, “of the sensibility of the Irish, that they repair at -intervals to the tombs of their deceased friends to drop a tender tear, -or heave a heart-breathed sigh, to the memory of those so lamented in -death, so dear to them in life. For my own part, in the stillness of a -fine evening, I often wander towards this solemn spot, where the flowers -newly thrown on the tombs, and weeping with the tears of departed day, -always speak to my heart a tale of woe it feels and understands. -While, as the breeze of evening mourns softly round me, I involuntarily -exclaim, ‘And when I shall follow the crowd that presses forward to -eternity, what affectionate hand will scatter flowers over _my_ solitary -tomb? for haply, ere that period arrive, _my_ trembling hand shall have -placed the cypress on the tomb of him who alone loved me living, and -would lament me dead.’” - -“_Alone_,” I repeated, and pressing her hand to my heart, inarticulately -added, “Oh! Glorvina, did the pulses which now throb against each other, -throb in unison, you would understand, that even _love_ is a cold, -inadequate term for the sentiments you have inspired in a soul, which -would claim a closer kindred to yours than even parental affinity can -assert; if (though but by a glance) yours would deign to acknowledge the -sacred union.” - -We were standing in a remote part of the cemetery, under the shade of -a drooping cypress--we were alone--we were unobserved. The hand of -Glorvina was pressed to my heart, her head almost touched my shoulder, -her lips almost effused their balmy sighs on mine. A glance was all I -required--a glance was all I received. - -In the succeeding moments I know not what passed; for an interval all -was delirium. Glorvina was the first to recover presence of mind; she -released her hand which was still pressed to my heart, and, covered with -blushes, advanced to Father John. I followed, and found her with her arm -entwined in his, while those eyes, from whose glance my soul had lately -quaffed the essence of life’s richest bliss, were now studiously turned -from me in love’s own downcast bashfulness. - -The good Father Director now took my arm: and we were leaving this (to -me) interesting spot--when the filial mourner, who had first drawn us -from his side, approached the priest, and taking out a few shillings -from the corner of her handkerchief, offered them to him, and spoke a -few words in Irish; the priest returned her an answer and her money at -the same time: she curtseyed low, and departed in silent and tearful -emotion. At the same moment another female advanced towards us, and put -a piece of silver and a little fresh earth into the hand of Father John; -he blessed the earth and returned the little offering with it. The woman -knelt and wept, and kissed his garment; then addressing him in Irish, -pointed to a poor old man, who, apparently overcome with weakness, was -reposing on the grass. Father John followed the woman, and advanced to -the old man, while I, turning towards Glorvina, demanded an explanation -of this extraordinary scene. - -“The first of these poor creatures (said she) was offering the fruits of -many an hour’s labour, to have a mass said for the soul of her departed -father, which she firmly believes will shorten his sufferings in -purgatory: the last is another instance of weeping humanity stealing -from the rites of superstition a solace from its woes. She brought that -earth to the priest, that he might bless it ere it was flung into the -coffin of a dear friend, who, she says, died this morning; for they -believe that this consecrated earth is a substitute for those religious -rites which are denied them on this awful occasion. And though these -tender cares of mourning affection may originate in error, who would -not pardon the illusion that soothes the sufferings of a breaking heart? -Alas! I could almost envy these ignorant prejudices, which lead their -possessors to believe, that by restraining their own enjoyments in this -world, they can alleviate the sufferings, or purchase the felicity of -the other for the objects of their tenderness and regret. Oh! that I -could thus believe!” - -“Then you do not, (said I, looking earnestly at her,) you do not receive -all the doctrines of your church as infallible?” - -Glorvina approached something closer towards me, and in a few words -convinced me, that on the subject of religion, as upon every other, -her strong mind discovered itself to be an emanation of that divine -intelligence, which her pure soul worships “in spirit and in truth,” - - “The bright effulgence of bright essence uncreate.” - -When she observed my surprise and delight, she added, “believe me, my -dear friend, the age in which religious error held her empire undisputed -is gone by. The human mind, however slow, however opposed its progress, -is still, by a divine and invariable law, propelled towards truth, and -must finally attain that goal which reason has erected in every breast. -Of the many who are the inheritors of _our_ persuasion, _all_ are not -devoted to its errors, or influenced by its superstitions. If its -professors are coalesced, it is in the sympathy of their destinies, not -in the dogmas of their belief. If they are allied, it is by the tie of -temporal interest, not by the bond of speculative opinion; they are -united as _men_, not as sectaries; and once incorporated in the great -mass of general society, their feelings will become diffusive as their -interests; their affections, like their privileges, will be in common; -the limited throb with which their hearts now beat towards each other, -under the influence of a kindred fate, will then be animated to the -nobler pulsation of universal philanthropy; and, as the acknowledged -members of the first of all human communities they will forget they had -ever been the _individual_ adherents of an alienated body.” - -The priest now returned to us, and was followed by the multitude, who -crowded round this venerable and adored pastor: some to obtain his -benediction for themselves, others his prayers for their friends, and -all his advice or notice: while Glorvina, whom they had not at first -perceived, stood like an idol in the midst of them, receiving -that adoration which the admiring gaze of some, and the adulatory -exclamations of others, offered to her virtues and her charms. While -those personally known to her she addressed with her usually winning -sweetness in their native language, I am sure that there was not an -individual among this crowd of ardent and affectionate people, that -would not risk their lives “to avenge a look that threatened her with -danger.” - -Our horses now coming up to the gate of the cemetry, we insisted on -walking back as far as the drawbridge with Glorvina. When we reached -it, the priest saluted her cheek with paternal freedom, and gave her his -blessing, while I was put off with an offer of the hand; but when, for -the first time, I felt its soft clasp return the pressure of mine, I -no longer envied the priest his cold salute; for oh! cold is every -enjoyment which is unreciprocated. Reverberated bliss alone can touch -the heart. - -When we had parted with Glorvina, and caught a last view of her receding -figure, we mounted our horses, and proceeded a considerable way in -silence. The morning though fine was gloomy; and though the sun was -scarcely an hour high, we were met by innumerable groups of peasantry -of both sexes, laden with their implements of husbandry, and already -beginning the labours of the day. I expressed my surprise at observing -almost as many women as men working in the fields and bogs. “Yes,” said -the priest, “toil is here shared in common between the sexes, the women -as well as the men cut the turf, plant the potatoes, and even assist to -cultivate the land; both rise with the sun to their daily labour; but -his repose brings not theirs; for, after having worked all day for a -very trivial remuneration, (as nothing here is rated lower than human -labour,) they endeavour to snatch a beam from retreating twilight, by -which they labour in that little spot of ground, which is probably the -sole support of a numerous family.” - -“And yet,” said I, “idleness is the chief vice laid to the account of -your peasantry.” - -“It is certain,” returned he, “that there is not, generally speaking, -that active spirit of industry among the inferior orders here, which -distinguishes the same rank in England. But neither have they the same -encouragement to awaken their exertions. ‘The laziness of the Irish,’ -says Sir William Petty, ‘seems rather to proceed from want of employment -and encouragement to work, than the constitution of their bodies.’ An -intelligent and liberal countryman of yours, Mr. Young, the celebrated -traveller, is persuaded that, circumstances considered, the Irish do -not in reality deserve the character of indolence; and relates a very -extraordinary proof of their great industry and exertion in their method -of procuring lime for manure, which the mountaineers bring on the backs -of their little horses many miles distance, to the foot of the steepest -acclivities, and from thence to the summit on their own shoulders while -they pay a considerable rent for liberty to cultivate a barren, waste, -and rigid soil. In short, there is not in creation a more laborious -animal than an Irish peasant, with less stimulus to exertion, or less -reward to crown his toil. He is indeed, in many instances, the mere -creature of the soil, and works independent of that hope which is the -best stimulus to every human effort, the hope of reward. And yet it -is not rare to find among these oft misguided beings, some who -really believe themselves the hereditary proprietors of the soil they -cultivate.” - -“But surely,” said I, “the most ignorant among them must be well aware -that all could not have been proprietors.” - -“The fact is,” said the priest, “the followers of many a great family -having accidentally adopted the name of their chiefs, that name has -descended to their progeny, who now associate to the name an erroneous -claim on the confiscated property of those to whom their progenitors -were but vassals or dependants. And this false, but strong rooted -opinion, co-operating with their naturally active and impetuous -characters, renders them alive to every enterprise, and open to the -impositions of the artful or ambitious. But a brave, though misguided -people, are not to be dragooned out of a train of ancient prejudices, -nurtured by fancied interest and real ambition, and confirmed by -ignorance, which those who deride have made no effort to dispel. It -is not by physical force, but moral influence, the illusion is to be -dissolved. The darkness of ignorance must be dissipated before the light -of truth can be admitted; and though an Irishman may be argued out of -an error, it has been long proved he will never be forced. His -understanding may be convinced, but his spirit will never be subdued. He -may culminate to the meridian of loyalty * or truth by the influence -of kindness, or the convictions of reason, but he will never be forced -towards the one, nor oppressed into the other by the lash of power, or -‘the insolence of office.’ - - * Speaking of the people of Ireland, Lord Minto thus - expresses himself: “In these (the Irish) we have witnessed - exertions of courage, activity, perseverance, and spirit, as - well as fidelity and honour in fulfilling the engagements of - their connexion with us, and the Protection and defence of - their own country, which challenges the thanks of Great - Britain, and the approbation of the world.” - -“This has been strongly evinced by the attachment of the Irish to -the House of Stuart, by whom they have always been so cruelly, so -ungratefully treated. For what the coercive measures of four hundred -years could not effect, the accession of _one_ prince to the throne -accomplished. Until that period, the unconquered Irish, harassing and -harassed, struggled for that liberty which they at intervals obtained, -but never were permitted to enjoy. Yet the moment a prince of the royal -line of Milesius placed the British diadem on his brow, the sword of -resistance was sheathed, and those principles which force could -not vanquish, yielded to the mild empire of national and hereditary -affection: the Irish of _English_ origin from natural tenderness, and -those of the _true old stock_, from the conviction that they were _then_ -governed by a _Prince_ of their own blood. Nor is it now unknown to -them, that in the veins of his present majesty, and his ancestors, -from James the First, flows the royal blood of the _three_ kingdoms -united.” - -“I am delighted to find,” said I, “the lower ranks of a country, to -which I am now so endeared, thus rescued from the obloquy thrown on them -by prejudiced illiberality; and from what you have said, and indeed from -what I have myself observed, I am convinced, that were endeavours for -their improvement more strictly promoted, and their respective duties -obviously made clear, their true interests fully represented by reason -and common sense, and their unhappy situations ameliorated by justice -and humanity, they would be a people as happy, contented and prosperous, -in a political sense, as in a natural and a national one. They are -brave, hospitable, liberal and ingenious.” - -We now continued to proceed through a country rich in all the boundless -extravagance of picturesque beauty, where Nature’s sublimest features -everywhere present themselves, carelessly disposed in wild magnificence; -unimproved, and indeed, almost unimproveable by art. The far-stretched -ocean, mountains of Alpine magnitude, heaths of boundless desolation, -vales of romantic loveliness, navigable rivers, and extensive lakes, -alternately succeeding to each other, while the ruins of an ancient -castle, or the mouldering remains of a desolated abbey, gave a moral -interest to the pleasure derived from the contemplation of Nature in her -happiest and most varied aspect. - -“Is it not extraordinary,” said I, as we loitered over the ruins of an -abbey, “that though your country was so long before the introduction -of Christianity inhabited by a learned and ingenious people, yet, -that among your Gothic ruins, no traces of a more ancient and splendid -architecture are to be discovered. From the ideas I have formed of the -primeval grandeur of Ireland, I should almost expect to see a Balbec -or Palmyra arising amidst these stupendous mountains and picturesque -scenes.” - -“My dear sir,” he replied, “a country may be civilized, enlightened, -and even learned and ingenious, without attaining to any considerable -perfection in those arts, which give to posterity _sensible_ memorials -of its past splendour. The ancient Irish, like the modern, had more -_soul_, more genius than worldly prudence, or cautious, calculating -forethought. The feats of the hero engrossed them more than the -exertions of the mechanist; works of imagination seduced them from -pursuing works of utility. With an enthusiasm bordering on a species of -mania, they were devoted to poetry and music; and to ‘_Wake the soul -of song_’ was to them an object of more interesting importance, than -to raise that edifice which would betray to posterity their ancient -grandeur Besides, at that period to which you allude, the Irish were in -that era of society, when the iron age was yet distant, and the artist -confined his skill to the elegant workmanship of gold and brass, -which is ascertained by the number of warlike implements and beautiful -ornaments of dress of those metals, exquisitely worked, which are still -frequently found in the bogs of Ireland.” - -“If, however, (said I) there are no remnants of a Laurentinum, or -Tusculum to be discovered, I perceive that at every ten or twelve miles, -in the fattest of the land, the ruins of an abbey and its granaries are -discernable.” - -“Why, (returned the priest, laughing) you would not have the good father -abbots advise the dying, but generous sinner, to leave the worst of -his lands to God! that would be sacrilege--but besides the voluntary -donation of estates from rich penitents, the regular monks of Ireland -had landed properties attached to their convents. Sometimes they -possessed immense tracts of a country, from which the officiating clergy -seldom or never derived any benefit; and, I believe, that many, if not -_most_ of the bishops’ leases now existing, are the confiscated revenues -of these ruined abbeys.” - -“So, (said I) after all, it is only a transfer of property from one -opulent ecclesiastic to another; * and the great difference between the -luxurious abbot of other times, and the rich church dignitary of the -present, lies in a few speculative theories, which, whether they are -or are not consonant to reason and common sense, have certainly no -connexion with _true_ religion or _true_ morality. While the bishopricks -now, like the abbeys of old, are estimated rather by the profit gained -to the temporal, than the harvest reaped to the heavenly Lord. However, -I suppose, they borrow a sanction from the perversion of scriptural -authority, and quote the Jewish law, not intended for the benefit of -_individuals_ to the detriment of a whole body, but which extended to -the whole tribe of Levi, and, doubtlessly, strengthen it by a sentiment -of St. Paul: ‘If we sow unto you spiritual things, is it not just we -reap your carnal?’ &c. It is, however, lucky for your country, that your -abbots are not as numerous in the present day as formerly.” - - * For instance, the Abbey of Raphoe was founded by St. - Columkill, who was succeeded in it by St. Eanon. The first - Bishop of Raphoe having converted the abbey into a cathedral - see. It is now a protestant bishoprick. - -“Numerous, indeed, as you perceive (said the priest) by these ruins; for -we are told in the Life of St. Ramoloi, that there were a greater number -of monks and superb monasteries in Ireland than in any other part of -Europe. St. Co-lumkill and his contemporaries alone erected in this -kingdom upwards of two hundred abbeys, if their biographers are to be -credited; and the luxury of their governors kept pace with their power -and number. - -“In the abbey of Enis, a sanctuary was provided for the cowls of the -friars and the veils of the nuns, which were costly and beautifully -wrought. We read that (knights excepted) the prelates only were allowed -to have gold bridles and harness; and that among the rich presents -bestowed by Bishop Snell, in 1146, on a cathedral, were gloves, -pontificals, sandals, and silken robes, interwoven with golden spots, -and adorned with precious stones. - -“There is a monument of monkish luxury still remaining among the -interesting ruins of Sligo abbey. This noble edifice stands in the midst -of a rich and beautiful scenery, on the banks of a river, near which is -a spot still shown, where, as tradition runs, a box or weir was placed, -in which the fish casually entered, and which contained a spring, that -communicated by a cord with a bell hung in the refectory. The weight of -the fish pressed down the spring; the cord vibrated; the bell rung; and -the unfortunate captive thus taken suffered martyrdom, by being placed -on a fire alive.” - -“And was served up,” said I, “I suppose on a fast day, to the -_abstemious_ monks, who would, however, have looked upon a morsel of -flesh meat thrown in this way, as a lure to eternal perdition.” - -Already weary of a conversation in which my heart took little interest, -I now suffered it to die away; and while Father John began a parley with -a traveller who socially joined us, I gave up my whole soul to love and -to Glorvina. - -In the course of the evening we arrived at the house of our destined -host. Although it was late, the family had not yet gone to dinner, as -the servant who took our horses informed us, that his master had but -that moment returned from a fair. We had scarcely reached the hall, -when, the report of our arrival having preceded our appearance, the -whole family rushed out to receive us. What a group!--the father looked -like the very Genius of Hospitality, the mother like the personified -spirit of a cordial welcome; three laughing Hebe daughters; two -fine young fellows supporting an aged grandsire, a very Silenus in -appearance, and a pretty demure little governess, with a smile and a -hand as ready as the others. - -The priest, according to the good old Irish fashion, saluted the cheeks -of the ladies, and had his hands nearly shaken off by the men; while I -was received with all the cordiality that could be lavished on a friend, -and all the politeness that could be paid to a stranger. A welcome -shone in every eye; ten thousand welcomes echoed from every lip; and -the arrival of the unexpected guests seemed a festival of the social -feelings to the whole warm-hearted family. If this is a true specimen of -the first rites of hospitality, among the _independent country gentlemen -of Ireland_, * it is to me the most captivating of all possible -ceremonies. - - * To those who have witnessed [as I so often have] the - celebration of these endearing rites, this picture will - appear but a very cold and languid sketch. - -When the first interchange of our courtesies had passed on both sides, -we were conducted to the refreshing comforts of a dressing-room; but the -domestics were not suffered to interfere, all were in fact our servants. - -The plenteous dinner was composed of every luxury the season afforded; -though only supplied by the demesne of our host and the neighbouring -sea-coast, and though served up in a style of perfect elegance, was yet -so abundant, so over plenteous, that, compared to the compact neatness, -and simple sufficiency of English fare in the same rank of life, it -might have been thought to have been “more than hospitably good.” But to -my surprise, and indeed, not much to my satisfaction, during dinner the -door was left open for the benefit of receiving the combined efforts of -a very indifferent fiddler and a tolerable piper, who, however, seemed -to hold the life and spirits of the family in their keeping. The ladies -left us early after the cloth was removed; and though besides the family -there were three strange gentlemen, and that the table was covered with -excellent wines, yet conversation circulated with much more freedom -than the bottle; every one did as he pleased, and the ease of the guest -seemed the pleasure of the host. - -For my part, I rose in less than an hour after the retreat of the -ladies, and followed them to the drawing-room. I found them all -employed; one at the piano, another at her needle-work, a third reading; -mamma at her knitting, and the pretty little duenna copying out music. - -They received me as an old acquaintance, and complimented me on my -temperance in so soon retiring from the gentlemen, for which I assured -them they had all the credit. It is certain that the frank and open -ingenuousness of an Irishwoman’s manners, forms a strong contrast to -that placid, but distant reserve which characterises the address of my -own charming countrywomen. For my part, since I have Glorvina, I shall -never again endure that perpetuity of air, look, and address, which -those who mistake formality for good-breeding are apt to assume. -Manners, like the graduated scale of the thermometer, should betray, by -degrees, the expansion or contraction of the feeling, as they are warmed -by emotion or chilled by indifference. They should _breathe_ the soul in -order to _win_ it. - -Nothing could be more animated yet more modest than the manners of these -charming girls, nor should I require any stronger proof of that pure -and exquisite chastity of character which, from the earliest period, has -distinguished the women of this country, than that ingenuous candour and -enchanting frankness which accompanies their every look and word. - - “The soul as sure to be admired as seen, - - Boldly steps forth, nor keeps a thought within. - -But, although the Miss O’D--------s are very charming girls, although -their mother seems a very rational and amiable being, and although their -governess appears to be a young woman of distinguished education and -considerable talent; yet I in vain sought in their conversation for that -soul-seizing charm which, with a magic, undefinable influence breathes -round the syren _Princess of Inismore_. O! it was requisite I should -mingle, converse with other women to justly appreciate all I possess in -the society of Glorvina; for surely she is _more_, or every other woman -is _less_ than mortal! - -Before the men joined us in the drawing-room, I was quite _boudoirized_ -with these unaffected and pleasing girls. One wound her working-silk off -my hands, another would try my skill at battledore, and the youngest, -a charming little being of thirteen, told me the history of a pet dove -that was dying in her lap; while all in-treated I would talk to them of -the Princess of Inismore. - -“For my part,” said the youngest girl, “I always think of her as of the -‘Sleeping Beauty in the Wood,’ or some other princess in a fairy tale.” - -“We know nothing of her, however,” said - -Mrs. O’D---------, “but by report; we live at too great a distance to -keep up any connexion with the Inismore family; besides, that it is -generally understood to be Mr. O’Melville’s wish to live in retirement.” - -This is the first time I ever heard my soi-disant Prince mentioned -without his title; but I am sure I should never endure to hear my -Glorvina called Miss O’Melville. For to me, too, does she appear more -like the Roganda of a fairy tale, than “any mortal mixture of earth’s -mould.” - -The gentlemen now joined us, and as soon as tea was over, the piper -struck up in the hall, and in a moment every one was on their feet. My -long journey was received as a sufficient plea for my being a spectator -only; but the priest refused the immunity, and led out the lady mother; -the rest followed, and the idol amusement of the gay-hearted Irish, -received its usual homage. But though the women danced with considerable -grace and spirit, they did not, like Glorvina, - - “Send the soul upon a jig to heaven.” - -The dance was succeeded by a good supper; the supper by a cheerful song, -and every one seemed unwilling to be the first to break up a social -compact over which the spirit of harmony presided. - -As the priest and I retired to our rooms, “You have now,” said he, “had -a specimen of the mode of living of the Irish gentry of a certain -rank in this country; the day is devoted to agricultural business, the -evening to temperate festivity and innocent amusement; but neither the -avocations of the morning nor the engagements of the evening suspend the -rites of hospitality.” - -Thus far I wrote before I retired that night to rest, and the next -morning at an early hour we took our leave of these courteous and -hospitable Milesians; having faithfully promised on the preceding night -to repeat our visit on our return from the north. - -We are now at a sorry little inn, within a mile or two of the nobleman’s -seat to whom the priest is come, and on whom he waits to-morrow, having -just learned that his lordship passed by here to-day on his way to -a gentleman’s house in the neighbourhood where he dines. The little -postboy at this moment rides up to the door; I shall drop this in his -bag, and begin a new journal on a fresh sheet. - -Adieu, - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XXVII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -The priest is gone on his embassy. The rain which batters against -the casement of my little hotel prevents me enjoying a ramble. I have -nothing to read, and I must write or yawn myself to death. - -Yesterday, as we passed the imaginary line which divides the province -of Connaught from that of Ulster, the priest said, “As we now advance -northward, we shall gradually lose sight of the genuine Irish character, -and those ancient manners, modes, customs, and language with which it is -inseparably connected. Not long after the chiefs of Ireland had declared -James the First universal monarch of their country, a sham plot was -pretended, consonant to the usual ingratitude of the House of Stuart, -by which six entire counties of the north became forfeited, which James -with a liberal hand bestowed on his favorites; * so that this part of -Ireland may in some respects be considered as a Scottish colony; and -in fact, Scotch dialect, Scotch manners, Scotch modes, and the Scotch -character almost universally prevail. Here the ardour of the Irish -constitution seems abated if not chilled. Here the _ceadmile falta_ of -Irish cordiality seldom lends its welcome home to a stranger’s heart. -The bright beams which illumine the gay images of Milesian fancy are -extinguished; the convivial pleasures, dear to the Milesian heart, -scared at the prudential maxims of calculating interest, take flight to -the warmer regions of the south; and the endearing socialities of the -soul, lost and neglected amidst the cold concerns of the counting-house -and the _bleach-green_, droop and expire in the deficiency of the -nutritive warmth on which their tender existence depends. - - * “The pretext of rebellion was devised as a specious - prelude to predetermined confiscations, and the inhabitants - of six counties, whose aversion to the yoke of England the - show of lenity might have disarmed, were compelled to - encounter misery in deserts, and, what is perhaps still mote - mortifying to human pride, to behold the patrimony of their - ancestors, which force had wrested from their hands, - bestowed the prey of a more favoured people. The substantial - view of providing for his indigent countrymen might have - gratified the national partiality of James; the favourite - passion of the English was gratified by the triumph of - Protestantism, and the downfall of its antagonists: men who - professed to correct a system of peace did not hesitate to - pursue their purpose through a scene of iniquity which - humanity shudders to relate; and by an action more criminal, - because more deliberate, than the massacre of St. - Bartholomew, two-thirds of an extensive province were - offered up in one great hecatomb, on the altar of false - policy and theological prejudice. Here let us survey with - wonder the mysterious operations of divine wisdom, which, - from a measure base in its means, and atrocious in its - execution, has derived a source of fame, freedom, and - industry to Ireland.”--Vide a Review of some interesting - periods of Irish History. - -“So much for the shades of the picture, which, however, possesses its -lights, and those of no dim lustre. The north of Ireland may be justly -esteemed the palladium of Irish industry and Irish trade, where the -staple commodity of the kingdom is reared and manufactured; and while -the rest of Ireland is devoted to that species of agriculture, which, -in lessening the necessity of human labour, deprives man of subsistence; -while the wretched native of the southern provinces (where little labour -is required, and consequently little hire given) either famishes in the -midst of a helpless family, or begs his way to England, and offers those -services _there_ in harvest time, which his own country rejects. -Here, both the labourer and his hire rise in the scale of political -consideration; here more hands are called for than can be procured; and -the peasant, stimulated to exertions by the reward it reaps for him, -enjoys the fruits of his industry, and acquires a relish for the -comforts and conveniences of life. Industry, and this taste for -comparative luxury, mutually react; and the former, while it bestows the -_means_, enables them to gratify the suggestions of the latter; while -their wants, nurtured by enjoyment, afford fresh allurement to continued -exertion, In short, a mind not too deeply fascinated by the florid -virtues, the warm overflowings of generous and ardent qualities, will -find in the northerns of this island much to admire and more to esteem; -but on the heart they make little claims, and from its affections they -receive but little tribute.” * - - * Belfast cannot be deemed the metropolis of Ulster, but may - almost be said to be the Athens of Ireland. It is at least - the cynosure of the province in which it stands; and those - beams of genius which are there concentrated, send to the - extremest point of the hemisphere in which they shine no - faint ray of lumination. - -“Then, in the name of all that is warm and cordial,” said I, “let us -hasten back to the province of Connaught.” - -“That you may be sure we shall,” returned Father John: “for I know none -of these sons of trade; and until we once more find ourselves within -the pale of Milesian hospitality, we must put up at a sorry inn, near a -tract of the sea-coast, called the Magilligans, and where one _solitary -fane_ is raised to the once tutelar deity of Ireland; in plain English, -where one of the last of the race of _Irish bards_ shelters his white -head beneath the fractured roof of a wretched hut. Although the evening -sun was setting on the western wave when we reached the auberge, yet, -while our fried eggs and bacon were preparing, I proposed to the priest -that we should visit the old bard before we put up our horses. Father -John readily consented, and we enquired his address. - -“What, the _mon wi the twa heads?_” said our host. I confessed my -ignorance of this hydra epithet, which I learned was derived from an -immense wen on the back of his head. - -“Oh!” continued our host, “A wull be telling you weel to gang tull the -auld Kearn, and one o’ our wains wull show ye the road. Ye need nae fear -trusting yoursels to our wee Wully, for he is an uncommon canie chiel.” - Such was the dialect of this Hibernian Scot, who assured me he had never -been twenty miles from his “aine wee hame.” - -We, however, dispensed with the guidance of _wee Wully_, and easily -found our way to the hut of the man “_wi the twa heads_.” It stood on -the right hand by the road side. We entered it without ceremony, and as -it is usual for strangers to visit this last of the “Sons of Song,” his -family betrayed no signs of surprise at our appearance. His ancient dame -announced us to her husband When we entered he was in bed; and when he -arose to receive us (for he was dressed, and appeared only to have lain -down from debility,) we perceived that his harp had been the companion -of his repose, and was actually laid under the bed-clothes with him. We -found the venerable bard cheerful * and communicative, and he seemed -to enter even with an eager readiness on the circumstances of his past -life, while his “soul seemed heightened by the song,” with which -at intervals he interrupted his narrative. How strongly did those -exquisitely beautiful lines of Ossian rush on my recollection: “But age -is now on my tongue, and my mind has failed me; the sons of song are -gone to rest; my voice remains like a blast that roars loudly on a -sea-surrounded rock after the winds are laid, and the distant mariner -sees the waving trees.” - -So great was my veneration for this “Bard of other times,” that I -felt as though it would have been an indelicacy to have offered him any -pecuniary reward for the exertions of his tuneful talent; I therefore -made my little offering to his wife, having previously, while he was -reciting his “unvarnished tale,” taken a sketch of his most singularly -interesting and striking figure, as a present for Glorvina on my return -to Inismore. - -While my heart a thousand times called on hers to participate in the -sweet but melancholy pleasure it experienced, as I listened to and gazed -on this venerable being. - - The following account of the Bard of the Magilligans was - taken from his own lips, July 3, 1805, by the Rev. Mr. - Sampson, of Magilligan, and forwarded to the author, - (through the medium of Dr. Patterson of Derry,) previous to - her visit to that part of the north, which took place a few - weeks after. - - Umbro, July 3, 1805. - - Magilligan. - - “I made the survey of the ‘man with the two heads,’ - according to your desire; but not till yesterday, on - account of various _impossibilities_. - - “Here is my report.-- - - “Dennis Hampson, or the ‘man with the two heads,’ is a - native of Craigmore, near Garvah, county Derry; his father, - Brian Dorrogher Hampson, held the whole town-land of - Tyrcrevan; his mother’s relations were in possession of the - Wood-town (both considerable farms in Magilligan.) He lost - his sight at the age of three years by the smallpox; at - twelve years he began to learn the harp under Bridget - O’Cahan: ‘For,’ he said, ‘in those times, _women_ as well - as men were taught the Irish harp in the best families; and - every old Irish family had harps in plenty.’ - - “His next master was John C. Gairagher, a blind travelling - harper, whom he followed to Buncranagh, where his master - used to play for Colonel Vaughan; he had afterwards - Laughlan Hanning and Patrick Connor in succession as - masters. - - “‘All these were from Connaught, which was,’ he added, ‘the - best part of the kingdom for Irish music and for harpers.’ - At eighteen years of age he began to play for himself, and - was taken into the house of Counseller Canning, at Garvah, - for half a year; his host, with Squire Gage and Doctor - Bacon, bought him a harp. He travelled nine or ten years - through Ireland and Scotland, and tells facetious stories of - gentlemen in both countries: among others, that in passing - near the place of Sir J. Campbell, at Aghanbrack, he learn- - ed that this gentleman had spent a great deal, and was - living on so much per week of allowance. Hampson through - delicacy would not call, but some of the domestics were sent - after him; on coming into the castle, Sir J. asked him why - he had not called, adding, ‘Sir, there was never a harper - but yourself that passed the door of my father’s house to - which Hampson answered that ‘he had heard in the - _nighbourhood_ that his honor was not often at home.’ with - which delicate evasion Sir J. was satisfied. He adds, ‘that - this was the highest bred and stateliest man he ever knew; - if he were putting on a new pair of gloves, and one of them - dropped on the floor, (though ever so clean) he would order - the servant to bring him another pair.’ He says that in that - time he never met with but one laird that had a harp, and - that was a very small one, played on formerly by the laird’s - father; that when he had tuned it with new strings, the - laird and his lady both were so pleased with his music that - they invited him back in these words: ‘Hampson, as soon as - you think this child of ours (a boy of three years of age) - is fit to learn on his grandfather’s harp, come back to - teach him, and you shall not repent it:’--but this he never - accomplished. - - “He told me a story of the laird of Strone with a great deal - of comic relish. When he was playing at the house, a message - came that a large party of gentlemen were coming to grouse, - and would spend some days with _him_ (the laird;) the lady - being in great distress turned to her husband, saying ‘what - shall we do, my dear, for so many in the way of beds?’ ‘Give - yourself no vexation,’ replied the laird, ‘give us enough to - eat, and I will supply the rest; and as to beds, believe - me, _every man shall find one for himself_;’ (meaning that - his guests would fall under the table.) In his second trip - to Scotland, in the year 1745, being at Edinburgh when - _Charley_ the Pretender, was there, he was called into the - great hall to play; at first he was alone, afterwards four - fiddlers joined: the tune called for was, ‘The king shall - enjoy his own again;’--he sung here part of the words - following:-- - - ‘I hope to see the day - - When the whigs shall run away, - - And the king shall enjoy his own again.’ - - “I asked him if he heard the Pretender speak; he replied-- - ‘I only heard him ask, Is Sylvan there? on which some one - answered, he is not here, please your royal highness, but he - shall be sent for.’ ‘He meant to say _Sullivan_,’ continued - Hampson, ‘but that was the way he called the name.’ He says - that Captain Mac Donnell, when in Ireland, came to see him, - and that he told the captain that Charley’s cockade was in - his father’s house. - - “Hampson was brought into the Pretender’s presence by - Colonel Kelly, of Roscommon, and Sir Thomas Sheridan, and - that he, (Hampson) was then about fifty years old. He played - in many Irish houses, among others, those of Lord de - Courcey, Mr. Fortesque, Sir P. Belew, Squire Roche, and in - the great towns, Dublin, Cork, &c., &c. Respecting all which - he interspersed pleasant anecdotes with surprising gaiety - and correctness; he mentioned many anecdotes of my - grandfather and grand-aunt, at whose houses he used to be - frequently. In fact, in this identical harper, whom you sent - me to _survey_, I recognized an acquaintance, who, as soon - as he found me out, seemed exhilarated at having an old - friend of (what he called) ‘the old stock,’ in his poor - cabin. He even mentioned many anecdotes of my own boyhood, - which, though by me long forgotten, were accurately true. - These things show the surprising power of his recollection - at the age of one hundred and eight years. Since I saw him - last, which was in 1787, the wen on the back of his head is - greatly increased; it is now hanging over his neck and - shoulders, nearly as large as his head, from which - circumstance he derives his appellative, ‘the man with two - heads.’ General Hart, who is an admirer of music, sent a - limner lately to take a drawing of him, which cannot fail to - be interesting, if it were only for the venerable expression - of his meagre, blind countenance, and the symmetry of his - tall, thin, but not debilitated person. I found him lying on - his back in bed near the fire of his cabin; his family - employed in the usual way; his harp under the bed-clothes, - by which his face was covered also. When he heard my name he - started up (being already dressed) and seemed rejoiced to - hear the sound of my voice, which, he said, he began to - recollect. He asked for my children, whom I brought to see - him, and he felt them over and over;--then, with tones of - great affection, he blessed _God_ that he had _seen_ four - generations of the name, and ended by giving the children - his blessing. He then tuned his old time-beaten harp, his - solace and bed-fellow, and played with astonishing justness - and good taste. - - “The tunes which he played were his favourites; and he, - with an elegance of manner, said at the same time, ‘I - remember you have a fondness for music, and the tunes you - used to ask for I have not forgotten, which were Cualin, The - Dawning of the Day, Elleen-a-roon, Ceandubhdilis, &c. - - These, except the third, were the first tunes, which, - according to regulation, he played at the famous meeting of - harpers at Belfast, under the patronage of some amateurs of - Irish music. Mr. Bunton, the celebrated musician of that - town, was here the year before, at Hampson’s, noting his - tunes and his manner of playing, which is in the best old - style. He said with the hottest feeling of self-love, ‘When - I played the old tunes not another of the harpers would play - after me.’ He came to Magilligan many years ago, and at the - age of eighty-six, married a woman of Innishowen, whom he - found living in the house of a friend. ‘I can’t tell,’ quoth - Hampson, ‘if it was not the devil buckled us together; she - being lame and I blind.’ By this wife he has one daughter, - married to a cooper, who has several children, and maintains - them all, though Hampson (in this alone seeming to doat) - says that his son-in-law is a spendthrift and that he - maintains them; the family humour his whim, and the old man - is quieted. He is pleased when they tell him, as he thinks - is the case, that several people of character, for musical - taste, send letters to invite him; and he, though incapable - now of leaving the house, is planning expeditions never to - be attempted, much less realized; these are the only traces - of mental debility; as to his body, he has no inconvenience - but that arising from a chronic disorder: his habits have - ever been sober; his favourite drink, once beer, now milk - and water; his diet chiefly potatoes. I asked him to teach - my daughter, but he declined: adding, however, that it was - too hard for a young girl, but that nothing would give him - greater pleasure if he thought it could be done. - - “Lord Bristol, while lodging at the bathing house of Mount - Salut, near Magilligan, gave three guineas and ground rent - free, to build the house where Hampson now lives. At the - house-warming, his lordship with his lady and family came, - and the children danced to his harp; the bishop gave three - crowns to the family, and in the _dear_ year, his lordship - called in his coach and six, stopped at the door, and gave a - guinea to buy meal. - - “Would it not be well to get up a subscription for poor old - Hampson? It might be sent to various towns where he is - known. - - “Ever yours, - - “C. V. SAMPSON.” - - - ADDENDA. - - “In the time of Noah I was green, - - After his flood I have not been seen, - - Until seventeen hundred and two. I was found - - By Cormac Kelly, under ground; - - Who raised me up to that degree; - - Queen of music they call me.” - - “The above lines were sculptured on the old harp, which is - made, the sides and front of white sally, the back of fir, - patched with copper and iron plates, his daughter now - attending him is only thirty-three years old. - - “I have now given you an account of my visit, and even thank - you (though my fingers are tired) for the pleasure you - procured to me by this interesting commission. - - Once more ever yours, - - C. Y. S. - - In February, 1806, the author, being then but eighteen miles - distant from the residence of the bard, received a message - from him, intimating that as he heard she wished to purchase - his harp, he would dispose of it on very moderate terms. He - was then in good health and spirits though in his hundred - and ninth year. - -Whenever there was a revel of the feelings, a joy of the imagination, -or a delicate fruition of a refined and touching sentiment, how my -soul misses her! I find it impossible to make even the amiable and -intelligent priest enter into the nature of my feelings; but how -naturally, in the overflowing of my heart, do I turn towards her, yet -turn in vain, or find her image only in my enamoured soul, which is full -of her. Oh! how much do I owe her. What a vigorous spring has she opened -in the wintry waste of a desolated mind. It seems as though a seal -had been fixed upon every bliss of the senses and the heart, which her -breath alone could dissolve; that all was gloom and chaos until she said -“let there be light.” - -As we rode back to our auberge by the light of a cloudless but declining -moon, after some conversation on the subject of the bard whom we had -visited, the priest exclaimed, “Who would suppose that that wretched hut -was the residence of one of that order once so revered among the Irish; -whose persons and properties were held sacred and inviolable by the -common consent of all parties, as well as by the laws of the nation, -even in all the vicissitudes of warfare, and all the anarchy of -intestine commotion; an order which held the second rank in the state; -and whose members, in addition to the interesting duties of their -profession, were the heralds of peace, and the donors of immortality? -Clothed in white and flowing robes, the bards marched to battle at the -head of the troops, and by the side of the chief; and while by their -martial strains they awakened courage even to desperation in the heart -of the warrior, borne away by the furor of their own enthusiasm, they -not unfrequently rushed into the thick of the fight themselves, and by -their maddening inspirations decided the fate of the battle; or when -victory descended on the ensanguined plain, they hung over the warrior’s -funeral pile, and chaunted to the strains of the national lyre the -deeds of the valiant, and the prowess of the hero; while the brave and -listening survivors envied and emulated the glory of the deceased, and -believed that this tribute of inspired genius at the funeral rites was -necessary to the repose of the departed soul.” - - * The genuine history and records of Ireland abound with - incidents singularly romantic, and of details exquisitely - interesting. In the account of the death of the celebrated - hero Conrigh, as given by Demetrius O’Connor, the following - instance of fidelity and affection of a family bard is - given. “When the beautiful but faithless Blanaid, whose hand - Conrigh had obtained as the reward of his valour, armed a - favourite lover against the life of her husband, and fled - with the murderer; Fierchiertne, the poet and bard of - Conrigh, in the anguish of his heart for the loss of a - generous master, resolved upon sacrificing the criminal - Blanaid to the manes of his murdered lord. He therefore - secretly pursued her from the palace in Kerry to the court - of Ulster, whither she had fled with her homicide paramour. - On his arrival there, the first object that saluted his eyes - was the king of that province, walking on the the edge of - the steep rocks of Rinchin Beara, surrounded by the - principal nobility of his court; and in the splendid train - he soon perceived the lovely, but guilty Blanaid and her - treacherous lover. The bard concealed himself until he - observed his mistress withdraw from the brilliant crowd, and - stand at the edge of a steep cliff; then courteously and - flatteringly addressing her, and clasping her firmly to his - breast, threw himself headlong with his prey down the - precipice. They were both dashed to pieces.” - -“And from what period,” said I, “may the decline of these once potent -and revered members of the state be dated?” - -“I would almost venture to say,” returned the priest, “so early as in the -latter end of the sixth century; for we read in an Irish record, that -about _that_ period the _Irish monarch_ convened the princes, nobles, -and clergy of the kingdom, to the parliament of _Drumceat_; and the -chief motive alleged for summoning this vast assembly was to banish the -Fileas or bards.” - -“Which might be deemed then,” interrupted I, “a league of the _Dunces_ -against _Wit_ and _Genius_.” - -“Not altogether,” returned the priest. “It was in some respects a -necessary policy. For, strange to say, nearly the third part of Ireland -had adopted a profession at once so revered, and privileged, so honoured -and so caressed by all ranks of the state. Indeed, about this period, -such was the influence they had obtained in the kingdom, that the -inhabitants without distinction were obliged to receive and maintain -them from November till May, if it were the pleasure of the bard to -become their guest; nor were there any object on which their daring -wishes rested that was not instantly put into their possession. And such -was the ambition of one of their order, that he made a demand on the -golden broach or clasp that braced the regal robe on the breast of -royalty itself, which was unalienable with the crown, and descended with -the empire from generation to generation.” - -“Good God!” said I, “what an idea does this give of the omnipotence of -music and poetry among those refined enthusiasts, who have ever -borne with such impatience the oppressive chain of power, yet suffer -themselves to be soothed into slavery by the melting strains of the -national lyre.” - -“It is certain,” replied the priest, “that no nation, not even the -Greeks, were ever attached with more passionate enthusiasm to the divine -arts of poesy and song, than the ancient Irish, until their fatal and -boundless indulgence to their professors became a source of inquietude -and oppression to the whole state. The celebrated St. Columkill, who was -himself a poet, became a mediator between the monarch, already mentioned -and the ‘_tuneful throng_;’ and by his intercession, the king changed -his first intention of banishing the whole college of bards, to -limiting their numbers; for it was an argument of the liberal saint that -it became a great monarch to patronize the arts; to retain about his -person an eminent bard and antiquary; and to allow to his tributary -princes or chieftains, a poet capable of singing their exploits, and of -registering the genealogy of their illustrious families. This liberal -and necessary plan of reformation, suggested by the saint, was adopted -by the monarch; and these salutary regulations became the prominent -standard for many succeeding ages: and though the severity of those -regulations against the bards, enforced in the tyrannic reign of Henry -VIII, as proposed by Baron Finglas, considerably lessened their power; -* yet until the reign of Elizabeth their characters were not stripped of -that sacred _stole_, which the reverential love of their countrymen had -flung over them. The high estimation in which the bard was held in the -commencement of the empire of Ireland’s archenemy is thus attested by -Sir Philip Sidney: - - * Item.--That no Irish minstrels, rhymers, thanaghs - nebards, be messengers to desire any goods of any man - dwelling within the English pale, upon pain of forfeiture of - all their goods, and their bodies to be imprisoned at the - king’s will.--Harris’s Hibernica, p. 98. - -“‘In our neighbouring country,’ says he, ‘where truly learning grows -very bare, yet are their poets held in devout reverence.’ But Elizabeth, -jealous of that influence which the bardic order of Ireland held over -the most puissant of her chiefs, not only enacted laws against them, -but against such as received or entertained them: for Spenser informs us -that, even _then_, ‘their verses were taken up with a general applause, -and usually sung at all feasts and meetings.’ Of the spirited, yet -pathetic manner in which the genius of Irish minstrelsy addressed itself -to the soul of the Irish chief, many instances are still preserved in -the records of traditional lore. A poem of Fearflatha, family bard to -the O’Nials of Clanboy, and beginning thus:--‘O the condition of our -dear countrymen, how languid their joys, how acute their sorrows, &c., -&c.,’ the Prince of Inismore takes peculiar delight in repeating. But -in the lapse of time, and vicissitude of revolution, this order, once so -revered, has finally sunk into the casual retention of a harper, piper, -or fiddler, which are generally, but not universally to be found in the -houses of the Irish country gentlemen; as you have yourself witnessed in -the castle of Inismore and the hospitable mansion of the O’D--------s. -One circumstance, however, I must mention to you. Although Ulster was -never deemed poetic ground, yet when destruction threatened the bardic -order in the southern and western provinces, where their insolence, -nurtured by false indulgence, often rendered them an object of popular -antipathy, hither they fled for protection, and at different periods -found it from the northern princes: and Ulster, you perceive, is now the -last resort of the most ancient of the survivors of the ancient Irish -bards, who, after having imbibed inspiration in the classic regions of -Connaught, and effused his national strains through every province of -his country, draws forth the last feeble tones of his almost silenced -harp amidst the chilling regions of the north; almost unknown and -undistinguished, except by the few strangers who are led by chance or -curiosity to this hut, and from whose casual bounties he chiefly derives -his subsistence.” - -We had now reached the door of our auberge; and the dog of the house -jumping on me as I alighted, our hostess exclaimed, “Ah sir! our wee -doggie kens ye uncoo weel” Is not this the language of the Isle of -Sky? The priest left me early this morning on his evidently unpleasant -embassy. On his return we visit the Giant’s Causeway, which I understand -is but sixteen miles distant. Of this pilgrimage to the shrine of Nature -in her grandest aspect, I shall tell you nothing; but when we meet will -put into your hands a work written on the subject, from which you will -derive equal pleasure and instruction. At this moment the excellent -priest appears on his little nag; the rain no longer beats against -my casement; the large drops suspended from the foliage of the trees -sparkle with the beams of the meridian sun, which bursting forth in -cloudless radiancy, dispels the misty shower, and brilliantly lights up -the arch of heaven’s promise. Would you know the images now most buoyant -in my cheered bosom; they are Ossian and Glorvina: it is for _him_ to -describe, for _her_ to feel the renovating charms of this interesting -moment. - -Adieu! I shall grant you a reprieve till we once more reach the dear -ruins of Inismore. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XXVIII. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -Plato compares the soul to a small republic, of which the reasoning and -judging powers are stationed in the head as in a citadel, and of which -the senses are the guards or servants. - -Alas! my dear friend, this republic is with me all anarchy and -confusion, and its guards, disordered and overwhelmed, can no longer -afford it protection. I would be calm, and give a succinct account of my -return to Inismore; but impetuous feelings rush over the recollection -of trivial circumstances, and all concentrate on that fatal point which -transfixes every thought, every motion of my soul. - -Suffice it to say, that our second reception at the mansion of the O’D’s -had lost nothing of that cordiality which distinguished our first; but -neither the cheerful kindness of the parents, nor the blandishments of -the charming daughters could allay that burning impatience which fired -my bosom to return to Glorvina, after the tedious absence of five long -days. All night I tossed on my pillow in the restless agitation of -expected bliss, and with the dawn of that day on which I hoped once more -to taste “_the life of life_,” I arose and flew to the priests room to -chide his tardiness. Early as it was I found he had already left his -apartment, and as I turned from the door to seek him, I perceived a -written paper lying on the floor. I took it up, and, carelessly glancing -my eye over it, discovered that it was a receipt from the Prince’s -inexorable creditor, who (as Father John informed me) refused to take -the farm off his hands: but what was my amazement to find that this -receipt was an acknowledgment for those jewels which I had so often -seen stealing their lustre from Glorvina’s charms; and which were now -individually mentioned, and given in lieu of the rent for this very -farm, by which the Prince was so materially injured. The blood boiled in -my veins, I could have annihilated this rascally cold-hearted landlord; -I could have wept on the neck of the unfortunate Prince; I could have -fallen at the feet of Glor-vina and worshipped her as the first of the -Almighty’s works. Never in the midst of all my artificial wants, my -boundless and craving extravagance, did I ever feel the want of riches -as at this moment, when a small part of what I had so worthlessly flung -away, would have saved the pride of a noble, an indignant spirit from -a deep and deadly wound and spared the heart of filial solicitude and -tender sensibility, many a pang or tortured feelings. The rent of the -farm was a hundred pounds per annum. The Prince, I understood, was -three years in arrear; yet, though there were no diamonds, and not many -pearls, I should suppose the jewels were worth more than the sum for -which they were given. * - -While I stood burning with indignation, the paper still trembling in -my hand, I heard the footstep of the priest; I let fall the paper; he -advanced, snatched it up, and put it in his pocket-book, with an air -of self-reprehension that determined me to conceal the knowledge so -accidentally acquired. Having left our adieux for our courteous hosts -with one of the young men, we at last set out for Inismore. The idea of -so soon meeting my soul’s precious Glorvina, banished every idea less -delightful. - - * I have been informed that a descendant of the provincial - kings of Connaught parted not many years back with his - golden crown which for so many ages encircled the royal - brows of his ancestors. - -“Our meeting (said I) will be attended with a new and touching interest, -the sweet result of that _perfect_ intelligence which now for the first -time subsisted between us, and which stole its birth from that tender -and delicious glance which love first bestowed on me beneath the cypress -tree of the rustic cemetery.” - -Already I beheld the “air-lifted” figure of Glorvina floating towards -me. Already I felt the soft hands tremble in mine, and gazed on the deep -suffusion of her kindling blushes, the ardent welcome of her bashful -eyes, and all that dissolving and impassioned langour, with which she -would resign herself to the sweet abandonment of her soul’s chastened -tenderness, and the fullest confidence in that adoring heart which -had now unequivocally assured her of its homage and eternal fealty. In -short, I had resolved to confess my name and rank to Glorvina, to offer -her my hand, and to trust to the affection of our fond and indulgent -fathers for forgiveness. - -Thus warmed by the visions of my heated fan cy I could no longer stifle -my impatience; and when we were within seven miles of the castle I -told the priest, who was ambling slowly on, that I would be his -_avant-courier_, and clapping spurs to my horse soon lost sight of my -tardy companion. - -At the draw-bridge I met one of the servants to whom I gave the panting -animal, and flew, rather than walked, to the castle. At its portals -stood the old nurse; she almost embraced me, and I almost returned the -caress; but with a sorrowful countenance she informed me that the Prince -was dangerously ill, and had not left his bed since our departure; _that -things altogether were going on but poorly_; and that she was sure _the -sight_ of me would do her young lady’s heart good, for that she did -nothing but weep all day, and sit by her father’s bed all night. She -then informed me that Glorvina was alone in the boudoir. With a thousand -pulses fluttering at my breast, full of the idea of stealing on the -melancholy solitude of my pensive love, with a beating heart and -noiseless step, I approached the sacred asylum of innocence. The door -lay partly open; Glorvina was seated at a table, and apparently engaged -in writing a letter, I paused a moment for breath ere I advanced. -Glorvina at the same instant raised her head from the paper, read over -what she had written, and wept bitterly; then wrote again--paused, -sighed, and drew a letter from her bosom--(yes, her bosom) which she -perused, often waving her head, and sighing deeply, and wiping away the -tears that dimmed her eyes, while once a cherub smile stole on her lip -(_that smile_ I once thought _all_ my own;) then folding up the letter, -she pressed it to her lips, and consigning it to her bosom, exclaimed, -“First and best of men!” What else she murmured I could not distinguish; -but as if the perusal of this prized letter had renovated every drooping -spirit, she ceased to weep, and wrote with greater earnestness than -before. - -Motionless, transfixed, I leaned for support against the frame of the -door, until Glorvina, having finished her letter and sealed it, arose to -depart; then I had the presence of mind to steal away and conceal myself -in a dark recess of the corridor. Yet, though unseen, I saw her wipe -away the traces of her tears from her cheek, and pass me with a composed -and almost cheerful air. I softly followed, and looking down the dark -abyss of the steep well stairs, which she rapidly descended, I perceived -her put her letter in the hands of the little post-boy, who hurried away -with it. Impelled by the impetuous feelings of the moment I was--yes, -I was so far forgetful of myself, my principle, and pride, of every -sentiment save love and jealousy, that I was on the point of following -the boy, snatching the letter, and learning the address of this -mysterious correspondent, this “_First and best of men_.” But the -natural dignity of my vehement, yet undebased mind, saved me a meanness -I should never have forgiven: for what right had I forcibly to possess -myself of another’s secret? I turned back to a window in the corridor -and beheld Glor-vina’s little herald mounted on his mule riding off, -while she, standing at the gate, pursued him with that impatient look -so strongly indicative of her ardent character. When he was out of -sight she withdrew, and the next minute I heard her stealing towards -her father’s room. Unable to bear her presence, I flew to mine; that -apartment I had lately occupied with a heart so redolent of bliss--a -heart that now sunk beneath the unexpected blow which crushed all -its new-born hopes, and I feared annihilated forever its sweet but -shortlived felicity. “And is this, then,” I exclaimed, “the fond -re-union my fancy painted in such glowing colours?” God of heaven! at -the very moment when my thoughts and affections, forced for a tedious -interval from the object of their idolatry, like a compressed spring -set free, bounded with new vigour to their native bias. Yet was not the -disappointment of my own individual hope scarcely more agonizing than -the destruction of that consciousness which, in giving one perfect -being to my view, redeemed the species in my misanthropic opinion. - -“O Glorvina!” I passionately added, “if even thou, fair being, reared in -thy native wilds and native solitudes art deceptive, artful, imposing, -deep, deep in all the wiles of hypocrisy, then is the original sin of -our nature unredeemed; vice the innate principle of our being--and those -who preach the existence of virtue but idle dreamers who fancy that in -others to themselves unknown And yet, sweet innocent, if thou art more -sinned against than sinning if the phantoms of a jealous brain--oh! -’tis impossible! The ardent kiss impressed upon the senseless paper, -which thy breast enshrined!!! Was the letter of a friend thus treasured? -When was the letter of a friend thus answered with tears, with smiles, -with blushes, and with sighs? This, this is love’s own language. -Besides, Glorvina is not formed for friendship; the moderate feelings -of her burning soul are already divided in affection for her father, and -grateful esteem for her tutor; and she who, when loved, must be loved to -madness, will scarcely feel less passion than she inspires.” - -While thought after thought thus chased each other down, like the -mutinous billows of a stormy ocean, I continued pacing my chamber -with quick and heavy strides; forgetful that the Prince’s room lay -immediately beneath me. Ere that thought occurred, some one softly -opened the door. I turned savagely round--it was Glorvina! Impulsively -I rushed to meet her; but impulsively recoiled: while she, with an -exclamation of surprise and pleasure, sprung towards me, and by my -sudden retreat would have fallen at my feet, but that my willing arms -extended involuntarily to receive her. Yet, it was no longer the almost -sacred person of the once all-innocent, all-ingenuous Glorvina they -encircled; but still they twined round the loveliest form, the most -charming, the most dangerous of human beings The enchantress!--With what -exquisite modesty she faintly endeavoured to extricate herself from my -embrace, yet with what willing weakness, which seemed to triumph in -its own debility, she panted on my bosom, wearied by the exertion -which vainly sought her release. Oh! at that moment the world was -forgotten--the whole universe was Glorvina! My soul’s eternal welfare -was not more precious at that moment than Glorvina! while my passion -seemed now to derive its ardour from the overflowing energy of those -bitter sentiments which had preceded its revival. Glorvina, with an -effort, flung herself from me. Virtue, indignant yet merciful, forgiving -while it arraigned, beamed in her eyes. I fell at her feet; - -I pressed her hand to my throbbing temples and burning lips. “Forgive -me,” I exclaimed, “for I know not what I do.” She threw herself on a -seat, and covered her face with her hands, while the tears trickled -through her fingers. Oh! there was a time when tears from those -eyes--but now they only recalled to my recollection the last I had seen -her shed. I started from her feet and walked towards the window, near -that couch where her watchful and charitable attention first awakened -the germ of gratitude and love which has since blown into such full, -such fatal existence. I leaned my head against the window-frame for -support, its painful throb was so violent; I felt as though it were -lacerating in a thousand places; and the sigh which involuntarily -breathed from my lips seemed almost to burst the heart from whence it -flowed. - -Glorvina arose: with an air tenderly compassionate, yet reproachful, -she advanced and took one of my hands. “My dear friend,” she exclaimed, -“what is the matter? has anything occurred to disturb you, or to awaken -this extraordinary emotion? Father John! where is he? why does he not -accompany you? Speak!--does any new misfortune threaten us? does it -touch my father? Oh! in mercy say _it does not!_ but release me from the -torture of suspense.” - -“No, no,” I peevishly replied; “set your heart at rest, it is nothing; -nothing at least that concerns you; it is me, me only it concerns.” - -“And therefore, Mortimer, is it nothing to Glorvina,” she softly -replied, and with one of those natural motions so incidental to the -simplicity of her manners, she threw her hand on my shoulder, and -leaning her head on it raised her eloquent, her tearful eyes to mine. -Oh! while the bright drops hung upon her cheek’s faded rose, with what -difficulty I restrained the impulse that tempted me to gather them with -my lips; while she, like a ministering angel, again took my hand, and -applying her fingers to my wrist, said, with a sad smile, “You know I am -a skilful little doctress.” - -The feelings I experienced when those lovely fingers first applied -their pressure to my arm, rushed on my recollection: her touch had -lost nothing of its electric power: my emotions at that moment were -indescribable. - -“Oh, good God, how ill you are!” she exclaimed. “How wild your pulse; -how feverish your looks! You have overheated yourself; you were unequal -to such a journey in such weather; you who have been so lately an -invalid. I beseech you to throw yourself on the bed, and endeavour to -take some repose; meantime I will send my nurse with some refreshment to -you. How could I be so blind as not to see at once how ill you were!” - -Glad, for the present, of any pretext to conceal the nature of my -real disorder, I confessed I was indeed ill, (and, in fact, I was -_physically_ as well as morally so; for my last day’s journey brought -on that nervous headach I have suffered so much from;) while she, -all tender solicitude and compassion, flew to prepare me a composing -draught. But I was not now to be deceived: this was pity, mere pity. -Thus a thousand times have I seen her act by the wretches who were first -introduced to her notice through the medium of that reputation which her -distinguished humanity had obtained for her among the diseased and the -unfortunate. - -I had but just sunk upon the bed, overcome by fatigue and the vehemence -of my emotions, when the old nurse entered the room. She said she had -brought me a composing draught from the lady Glorvina, who had kissed -the cup, after the old Irish fashion, * and bade me to drink it for her -sake. - - * To this ancient and general custom Goldsmith allude in his - Deserted Village:-- - - “And kissed the cup to pass it to the rest.” - -“Then I pledge her,” said I, “with the same truth she did me,” and I -eagerly quaffed off the nectar her hand had prepared. Meantime the nurse -took her station by the bed-side with some appropriate reference to her -former attendance there, and the generosity with which that attendance -was rewarded; for I had imprudently apportioned my donation rather to my -real than apparent rank. - -While I was glad that this talkative old woman had fallen in my way; -for though I knew I had nothing to hope from that incorruptible fidelity -which was grounded on her attachment to her beloved nursling, and her -affection for the family she had so long served, yet I had everything to -expect from the garrulous simplicity of her character, and her love -of what she calls _Seanachus_, or telling long stories of the Inismore -family; and while I was thinking how I should put my Jesuitical scheme -into execution, and she was talking as usual I know not what, the -beautiful “_Breviare du Sentiment_” caught my eye lying on the -floor:--Glorvina must have dropped it on her first entrance. I desired -the nurse to bring it to me; who blessed her stars, and wondered how -her child could be so careless: a thing too she valued so much. At -that moment it struck me that this _Brevaire_, the furniture of the -_boudoir_, the vases, and the fragment of a letter, were all connected -with this mysterious friend, this “first and best of men.” I shuddered -as I held it, and forgot the snow-drops it contained; yet, assuming a -composure as I examined its cover, I asked the nurse if she thought I -could procure such another in the next market town. - -The old woman held her sides while she laughed at the idea; then folding -her arms on her knees with that gossiping air which she always assumed -when in a mood peculiarly loquacious, she assured me that such a book -could not be got in all Ireland; for that it had come from foreign parts -to her young lady. - -“And who sent it?” I demanded. - -“Why, nobody sent it, (she simply replied,) he brought it himself.” - -“Who?” said I. - -She stammered and paused. - -“Then, I suppose,” she added, “of course, you never heard”----- - -“What?” I eagerly asked, with an air of curiosity and amazement. As -these are two emotions a common mind is most susceptble of feeling and -most anxious to excite, I found little difficulty in artfully leading -on the old woman by degrees, till at last I obtained from her, almost -unawares to herself, the following particulars: - -On a stormy night, in the spring of 17----, during that fatal period -when the scarcely cicatrised wounds of this unhappy country bled afresh -beneath the uplifted sword of civil contention; when the bonds of human -amity were rent asunder, and every man regarded his neighbour with -suspicion or considered him with fear; a stranger of noble stature, -muffled in a long, dark cloak, appeared in the great hall of Inismore, -and requested an interview with the Prince. The Prince had retired to -rest, and being then in an ill state of health, deputed his daughter to -receive the unknown visitant, as the priest was absent. The stranger was -shown into an apartment adjoining the Prince’s, where Glorvina received -him, and having remained for some time with him retired to her father’s -room; and again, after a conference of some minutes, returned to the -stranger, whom she conducted to the Prince’s bedside. On the same night, -and after the stranger had passed two hours in the Prince’s chamber, -the nurse received orders to prepare the bed and apartment which I now -occupy for this mysterious guest, who from that time remained near three -months at the castle; leaving it only occasionally for a few days, and -always departing and returning under the veil of night. - -The following summer he repeated his visit; bringing with him those -presents which decorate Glorvina’s boudoir, except the carpet and vases, -which were brought by a person who disappeared as soon as he had left -them. During both these visits he gave up his time chiefly to Glorvina; -reading to her, listening to her music, and walking with her early and -late, but never without the priest or nurse, and seldom during the day. - -In short, in the furor of the old woman’s garrulity, (who, however, -discovered that her own information had not been acquired by the most -justifiable means, having, she said, by chance, overheard a conversation -which passed between the stranger and the Prince,) I found that this -mysterious visitant was some unfortunate gentleman who had attached -himself to the rebellious faction of the day, and who being pursued -nearly to the gates of the castle of Inismore, had thrown himself on -the mercy of the Prince; who, with that romantic sense of honour which -distinguishes his chivalrous character, had not violated the trust thus -forced on him, but granted an asylum to the unfortunate refugee; who, by -the most prepossessing manners and eminent endowments, had dazzled the -fancy and won the hearts of this unsuspecting and credulous family; -while over the minds of Glorvina and her father he had obtained a -boundless influence. - -The nurse hinted that she believed it was still unsafe for the stranger -to appear in this country for that he was more cautious of concealing -himself in his last visit than his first; that she believed he lived in -England; that he seemed to have money enough, “_for he threw it about -like a prince_.” Not a servant in the castle, she added, but knew well -enough how it was; but there was not one but would sooner _die_ -than betray him. His name she did not know; he was only known by the -appellation of the gentleman. He was not young, but tall and very -handsome. He could not speak Irish, and she had reason to think he had -lived chiefly in America. She added, that _I_ often reminded her of him, -especially when I smiled and looked down. She was not certain whether he -was expected that summer or not; but she believed the Prince frequently -received letters from him. - -The old woman was by no means aware how deeply she had been betrayed by -her insatiate passion for hearing herself speak; while the curious and -expressive idiom of her native tongue gave me more insight into the -whole business than the most laboured phrase or minute detail could have -done. By the time, however, she had finished her narrative, she began -to have some “compunctious visitings of conscience.” she made me pass my -honour I would not betray her to her young lady; for, she added, that -if it got air it might come to the ears of Lord M-------- who was the -prince’s bitter enemy; and that it might be the ruin of the Prince; with -a thousand other wild surmises suggested by her fears. I again repeated -my assurances of secrecy; and the sound of her young lady’s bell -summoning her to the Prince’s room, she left me, not forgetting to take -with her the “_Breviare du Sentiment_.” - -Again abandoned to my wretched self, the succeeding hour was passed in -such a state of varied perturbation, that it would be as torturing -to retrace my agonizing and successive reflections as it would -be impossible to express them. In short, after a thousand vague -conjectures, many to the prejudice, and a lingering few to the advantage -of their object, I was led to believe (fatal conviction!) that the -virgin rose of Glorvina’s affection had already shed its sweetness on -a former, happier lover; and the partiality I had flattered myself in -having awakened, was either the result of natural intuitive coquetry, -or, in the long absence of her heart’s first object, a transient beam -of that fire, which once illumined, is so difficult to extinguish, and -which was nourished by my resemblance to him who had first fanned it -into life.--What! _I_ receive to my heart the faded spark, while another -has basked in the vital flame! _I_ contentedly gather this after-blow of -tenderness, when another has inhaled the very essence of the nectarious -blossoms? No! like the suffering mother, who wholly resigned her bosom’s -idol rather than divide it with another, I will, with a single effort, -tear this late adored image from my heart, though that heart break with -the effort, rather than feed on the remnant of those favours on which -another has already feasted. Yet to be thus deceived by a recluse, -a child, a novice!--_I_ who, turning revoltingly from the hackneyed -artifices of female depravity in that world where art forever reigns, -sought in the tenderness of secluded innocence and intelligent -simplicity that heaven my soul had so long, so vainly panted to -enjoy! Yet, even there--No! I cannot believe it She! Glofvina, false, -deceptive! Oh, were the immaculate spirit of _Truth_ embodied in a human -form, it could not wear upon its radient brow a brighter, stronger -trace of purity inviolable, and holy innocence than shines in the seraph -countenance of Glorvina! - -Besides, she never _said_ she loved me. _Said!_--God of heaven! were -words then necessary for such an _avowal!_ Oh, Glorvina! thy melting -glances, thy insidious smiles, thy ardent blushes, thy tender sighs, -thy touching softness, and delicious tears; these, these are the sweet -testimonies to which my heart appeals. These at least will speak for me, -and say it was not the breath of vain presumption that nourished those -hopes which now, in all their vigour, perish by the chilling blight of -well-founded jealousy and mortal disappointment. - -Two hours have elapsed since the nurse left me, supposing me to be -asleep; no one has intruded, and I have employed the last hour in -retracing to you the vicissitudes of this eventful day. You, who -warned me of my fate, should learn the truth of your fatal prophecy. -My father’s too; but he is avenged! and I have already expiated a -deception, which, however innocent, was still _deception_. - - - -IN CONTINUATION. - -I had written thus far, when some one tapped at my door, and the next -moment the priest entered: he was not an hour arrived, and with his -usual kindness came to inquire after my health, expressing much surprise -at its alteration, which he said was visible in my looks. “But, it is -scarcely to be wondered at,” he added: “a man who complains for two days -of a nervous disorder, and yet gallops, as if for life, seven miles in a -day more natural to the torrid zone than our polar clime, may have some -chance of losing his life, but very little of _losing his disorder_.” - He then endeavoured to persuade me to go down with him and take some -refreshment, for I had tasted nothing all day, save Glorvina’s draught; -but finding me averse to the proposal, he sat with me till he was sent -for to the Prince’s room. As soon as he was gone, with that restlessness -of body which ever accompanies a wretched mind, I wandered through the -deserted rooms of this vast and ruinous edifice, but saw nothing of -Glorvina. - -The sun had set, all was gloomy and still, I took my hat and in the -melancholy maze of twilight, wandered I knew not, cared not whither. -I had not, however, strayed far from the ruins, when I perceived the -little postboy galloping his foaming mule over the drawbridge, and the -next moment saw Glorvina gliding beneath the colonnade (that leads to -the chapel) to meet him. I retreated behind a fragment of the ruins, and -observed her to take a letter from his hand with an eager and impatient -air: when she had looked at the seal, she pressed it to her lips: then -by the faint beams of the retreating light, she opened this welcome -packet, and putting an enclosed letter in her bosom, endeavoured to read -the envelope; but scarcely had her eye glanced over it, than it fell to -the earth, while she, covering her face with her hands, seemed to lean -against the broken pillar near which she stood for support. Oh! was this -an emotion of overwhelming bliss, or chilling disappointment? She again -took the paper, and still holding it open in her hand, with a slow step -and thoughtful air, returned to the castle; while I flew to the stables -under pretence of inquiring from the post-boy if there were any letters -for me. The lad said there was but one, and that, the postmaster had -told him was an English one for the lady Glorvina. This letter, then, -though it could not have been an answer to that I had seen her writing, -was doubtless from the mysterious friend, whose friendship, “_like gold, -though not sonorous, was indestructible_.” - -My doubts were now all lost in certain conviction; my trembling heart -no longer vibrated between a lingering hope and a dreadful fear. I -was _deceived_ and another was _beloved_. That sort of sullen firm -composure, which fixes on man when he knows the worst that can occur, -took possession of every feeling, and steadied that wild throb of -insupportable suspense which had agitated and distracted my veering -soul; while the only vacillation of mind to which I was sensible, was -the uncertainty of whether I should or should not quit the castle that -night. Finally, I resolved to act with the cool determination of a -rational being, not the wild impetuosity of a maniac. I put off my -departure till the following morning, when I would formally take leave -of the Prince, the priest, and even Glorvina herself, in the presence -of her father. Thus firm and decided, I returned to the castle, and -mechanically walked towards that vast apartment where I had first seen -her at her harp, soothing the sorrows of parental affliction; but now it -was gloomy and unoccupied; a single taper burned on a black marble slab -before a large folio, in which I suppose the priest had been looking; -the silent harp of Glorvina stood in its usual place. I fled to the -great hall, once the central point of all our social joys, but it was -also dark and empty; the whole edifice seemed a desert. I again rushed -from its portals, and wandered along the sea-beat shore, till the dews -of night and the spray of the swelling tide, as it broke against the -rocks, had penetrated through my clothes. I saw the light trembling -in the casement of Glorvina’s chamber long after midnight. I heard the -castle clock fling its peal over every passing hour; and not till the -faintly awakening beam of the horizon streamed on the eastern wave, did -I return through the castle’s ever open portals, and steal to that room -I was about to occupy (not to sleep in) for the last time: a light and -some refreshment had been left there for me in my absence. The taper was -nearly burned out, but by its expiring flame I perceived a billet lying -on the table. I opened it tremblingly. It was from Glor-vina, and only -a simple inquiry after my health, couched in terms of commonplace -courtesy. I tore it--it was the first she had ever addressed to me, and -yet I tore it in a thousand pieces. I threw myself on the bed, and for -some time busied my mind in conjecturing whether her father sanctioned -or her preceptor suspected her attachment to this fortunate rebel. I -was almost convinced they did not. The young, the profound deceiver; she -whom I had thought - - “So green in this old world.” - -Wearied by incessant cogitation, I at last fell into a deep sleep, and -arose about two hours back, harassed by dreams and quite unrefreshed, -since when I have written thus far. My last night’s resolution remains -unchanged. I have sent my compliments to inquire after the Prince’s -health, and to request an interview with him. The servant has this -moment returned, and informs me the Prince has just fallen asleep after -having had a very bad night, but that when he awakens he shall be told -of my request. I dared not mention Glorvina’s name, but the man informed -me she was then sitting by her father’s bedside, and had not attended -matins. At breakfast I mean to acquaint the excellent Father John of my -intended departure. Oh! how much of the woman at this moment swells -in my heart. There is not a being in this family in whom I have not -excited, and for whom I do not feel an interest. Poor souls! they have -almost all been at my room door this morning to inquire after my health, -owing to the nurse’s exaggerated account: she too, kind creature, has -already been twice with me before I arose, but I affected sleep. Adieu! -I shall despatch this to you from M-------- house. I shall then have -seen the castle of Inismore for the last time--the last time!! - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XXIX. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -M-------- House. - -It is all over--the spell is dissolved, and the vision forever -vanished: yet my mind is not what it was, ere this transient dream of -bliss “wrapt it in Elysium.” Then I neither suffered nor enjoyed: now--! - -When I folded my letter to you, I descended to breakfast, but the priest -did not appear, and the things were removed untouched. I ordered my -horse to be got ready, and waited all the day in expectation of a -message from the Prince, loitering, wandering, unsettled, and wretched, -the hours dragged on; no message came: I fancied I was impatient to -receive it, and to be gone; but the truth is, my dear friend, I was weak -enough almost to rejoice at the detention. While I walked from room to -room with a book in my hand, I saw no one but the servants, who looked -full of mystery; save once, when, as I stood at the top of the corridor, -I perceived Glorvina leave her father’s room; she held a handkerchief to -her eyes, and passed on to her own apartment. Oh! why did I not fly and -wipe away those tears, inquire their source, and end at once the torture -of suspense? but I had not power to move. The dinner hour arrived; I was -sum moned to the parlour; the priest met me at the table, shook me with -unusual cordiality by the hand, and affectionately inquired after my -health. He then became silent and thoughtful, and had the air of a man -whose heart and office are at variance; who is deputed with a commission -his feelings will not suffer him to execute. After a long pause, -he spoke of the Prince’s illness, the uneasiness of his mind, the -unpleasant state of his affairs, his attachment and partiality to me, -and his ardent wish always to have it in his power to retain me with -him; then paused again, and sighed, and again endeavoured to speak, -but failed in the effort. I now perfectly understood the nature of -his incoherent speech; my pride served as an interpreter between his -feelings and my own, and I was determined to save his honest heart the -pang of saying, “Go, you are no longer a welcome guest.” - -I told him then in a few words, that it was my intention to have left -the castle that morning for Bally--------, on my way to England; but -that I waited for an opportunity of bidding farewell to the Prince: as -that, however, seemed to be denied me, I begged that he (Father John) -would have the goodness to say for me all------. Had my life depended -on it, I could not articulate another word. The priest arose in evident -emotion. I, too, not unagitated, left my seat: the good man took my -hand, and pressed it affectionately to his heart, then turned aside, -I believe, to conceal the moisture of his eyes; nor were mine dry, yet -they seemed to burn in their sockets. The priest then put a paper in -the hand he held, and again pressing it with ardour, hurried away. I -trembled as I opened it; it was a letter from the Prince, containing -a bank note, a plain ring which he constantly wore, and the following -lines written with the trembling hand of infirmity or emotion: - - “Young and interesting Englishman, farewell! Had I not known - thee, I never had lamented that God had not blessed me with - a son. - - “O’Melville, - - “Prince of Inismore.” - -I sunk, overcome in a chair. When I could sufficiently command myself, -I wrote with my pencil on the cover of the Prince’s letter the following -incoherent lines: - -“You owe _me_ nothing: to you I stand indebted for life itself, and all -that could _once_ render life desirable. With existence only will the -recollection of your kindness be lost; yet though generously it was -unworthily bestowed; for it was lavished on an _Impostor_. I am not what -I seem: To become an inmate in your family, to awaken an interest in -your estimation, I forfeited the dignity of truth, and stooped for -the first time to the meanness of deception. Your money, therefore, I -return, but your ring--that ring so often worn by you--worlds would not -tempt me to part with. - -“I have a father, sir; this father once so dear, so precious to my -heart! but since I have been your guest, _he_, the whole world was -forgotten. The first tie of nature was dissolved; and from your hands I -seemed to have received a new existence. Best and most generous of men, -be this recollection present to your heart: Should some incident as yet -unforeseen discover to you who and what I am, remember this--and then -forgive him, who, with the profoundest sense of your goodness, bids you -a last farewell.” - -When I had finished these lines written with an emotion that almost -rendered them illegible, I rung the bell and inquired (from the servant -who answered) for the priest: he said he was shut up in the Prince’s -room. - -“Alone, with the Prince?” said I. - -“No,” he returned, “for he had seen the lady Glorvina enter at the same -time with Father John.” I did not wish to trust the servant with this -open billet, I did not wish the Prince to get it till I was gone: in a -word, though I was resolved to leave the castle that evening, yet I did -not wish to go, till, for the last time, I had seen Glorvina. - -I therefore wrote the following lines in French to the priest. “Suffer -me to see you; in a few minutes I shall leave Inismore forever.” As I -was putting the billet into the man s hand, the stable-boy passed the -window; I threw up the sash and ordered him to lead round my horse. -All this was done with the agitation of mind which a criminal feels who -hurries on his execution, to terminate the horrors of suspense. - -I continued walking up and down the room in such agony of feeling, -that a cold dew, colder than ice, hung upon my aching brow. I heard a -footstep approach--I became motionless; the door opened, and the priest -appeared, leading in Glorvina. God of Heaven! The priest supported her -on his arm, the veil was drawn over her eyes; I could not advance to -meet them, I stood spellbound,--they both approached; I had not the -power to raise my eyes. “You sent for me,” said the priest, in a -faltering accent. I presented him my letter for the Prince; suffocation -choked my utterance; I could not speak. He put the letter in his bosom, -and taking my hand, said, “You must not think of leaving this evening; -the Prince will not hear of it.” While he spoke my horse passed the -window; I summoned up those spirits my pride, my wounded pride, retained -in its service. “It is necessary I should depart immediately,” said I, -“and the sultriness of the weather renders the evening preferable.” I -abruptly paused--I could not finish the sentence, simple as it was. - -“Then,” said the priest, “_any_ evening will do as well as this.” But -Glorvina spoke not; and I answered with vehemence, that I should have -been off long since: and my determination is now fixed. - -“If you are thus _positive_,” said the priest, surprised by a manner so -unusual, “your friend, your pupil here, who came to second her father’s -request, must change her solicitations to a last farewell.” - -Glorvina’s head reposed on his shoulder; her face was enveloped in her -veil; he looked on her with tenderness and compassion, and I repeated, a -“last farewell!” Glorvina, you will at least then say, “_Farewell_.” - The veil fell from her face. God of Heaven, what a countenance! In the -universe I saw nothing but Glorvina; such as I had once believed her, my -own, my loving and beloved Glorvina, my tender friend, and impassioned -mistress. I fell at her feet; I seized her hands and pressed them to -my burning lips. I heard her stifled sobs; her tears of soft compassion -fell upon my cheek; I thought them tears of love, and drew her to my -breast; but the priest held her in one arm, while with the other he -endeavoured to raise me, exclaiming in violent emotion, “O God, I should -have foreseen this! I, I alone am to blame. Excellent and unfortunate -young man, dearly beloved child!” and at the same moment he pressed us -both to his paternal bosom. The heart of Glorvina throbbed to mine, our -tears flowed together, our sighs mingled. The priest sobbed over us like -a child. It was a blissful agony; but it was insupportable. - -Then to have died would have been most blessed The priest dispelled the -transient dream. He forcibly put me from him. He stifled the voice of -nature and pity in his breast. His air was sternly virtuous--“Go,” said -he, but he spoke in vain. I still clung to the drapery of Glorvina’s -robe; he forced me from her, and she sunk on a couch. “I now,” he added, -“behold the fatal error to which I have been an unconscious accessary. -Thank God, it is retrievable; go, amiable, but imprudent young man; it -is honour, it is virtue commands your departure.” - -While he spoke he had almost dragged me to the hall. “Stay,” said I, in -a faint voice, “let me but speak to her.” - -“It is in vain,” replied the inexorable priest, “for she can _never_ be -yours; then spare _her_, spare _yourself_.” - -“Never!” I exclaimed. - -“Never,” he firmly replied. - -I burst from his grasp and flew to Glorvina. I snatched her to my breast -and wildly cried, “Glorvina, is this then a last farewell?” She answered -not, but her silence was eloquent. “Then,” said I, pressing her more -closely to my heart, “_farewell forever!_” - - - -IN CONTINUATION. - -I mounted the horse that waited for me at the door, and galloped off; -but with the darkness of the night I returned, and all night I wandered -about the environs of Inismore: to the last I watched the light of -Glorvina’s window. When it was extinguished, it seemed as though I -parted from her again. A gray dawn was already breaking to the mists of -obscurity. Some poor peasants were already going to the labours of the -day. It was requisite I should go. Yet when I ascended the mountain of -Inismore I involuntarily turned, and beheld those dear ruins which I -had first entered under the influence of such powerful, such prophetic -emotion. What a train of recollections rushed on my mind, what a climax -did they form! I turned away my eyes, sick, _sick_ at _heart_, and -pursued my solitary journey. Within twelve miles of M-------- house, as -I reached an eminence, I again paused to look back, and caught a last -view of the mountain of Inismore. It seemed to float like a vapour on -the horizon. I took a last farewell of this almost loved mountain. Once -it had risen on my gaze like the pharos to my haven of enjoyment; for -never, until this sad moment, had I beheld it but with transport. - -On my arrival here I found a letter from my father, simply stating that -by the time it reached me he would probably be on his way to Ireland, -accompanied by my intended bride, and her father, concluding thus: -“In beholding you honourably and happily established, thus secure in -a liberal, a noble independence, the throb of incessant solicitude -you have hitherto awakened will at last be _stilled_, and your -prudent compliance in this instance will bury in eternal oblivion the -sufferings, the anxieties which, with all your native virtue and -native talent, your imprudence has hitherto caused to the heart of an -affectionate and indulgent father.” - -This letter, which even a few days back would have driven me to -distraction, I now read with the apathy of a stoic. It is to me a matter -of indifference how I am disposed of. I have no wish, no will of my own. - -To the return of that mortal torpor from which a late fatally cherished -sentiment had roused me, is now added the pang of my life’s severest -disappointment, like the dying wretch who is only roused from total -insensibility, by the quivering pains which, at intervals of fluttering -life, shoot through his languid frame. - - - -IN CONTINUATION. - -It is two days since I began this letter, yet I am still here; I have -not power to move, though I know not what secret spell detains me. But -whither shall I go, and to what purpose? the tie which once bound me -to physical and moral good, to virtue and felicity, is broken, for ever -broken. My mind is changed, dreadfully changed within these few days. -I am ill too, a burning fever preys upon the very springs of life; all -around me is solitary and desolate. Sometimes my brain seems on -fire, and hideous phantoms float before my eyes; either my senses are -disordered by indisposition, or the hand of heaven presses heavily on -me. My blood rolls in torrents through my veins. Sometimes I think it -_should_, it _must_ have vent. I feel it is in vain to think that I -shall ever be fit for the discharge of any duty in this life. I shall -hold a place in the creation to which I am a dishonour. I shall become a -burthen to the few who are obliged to feel an interest in my welfare. - -It is the duty of every one to do that which his situation requires, to -act up to the measure of judgment bestowed on him by Providence. Should -I continue to drag on this load of life, it would be for its wretched -remnant a mere animal existence. A moral death! What! I become -again like the plant I tread under my feet; endued with a vegetative -existence, but destitute of all sensation of all feeling. I who have -tasted heaven’s own bliss; who have known, oh God! that even the -recollection, the simple recollection should diffuse through my chilled -heart, through my whole languid frame such cheering renovating ardour. - -I have gone over calmly, deliberately gone over every circumstance -connected with the recent dream of my life. It is evident that the -object of my heart’s first election is that of her father’s choice. Her -passion for me, for I swear most solemnly she loved me: Oh, in that I -could not be deceived; every look, every word betrayed it; her passion -for me was a paroxysm. Her tender, her impassioned nature required some -object to receive the glowing ebullitions of its affectionate feelings; -and in the absence of another, in that unrestrained intimacy by which -we were so closely associated; in that sympathy of pursuit which existed -between us, they were lavished on me. I was the substituted toy of -the moment. And shall I then sink beneath a woman’s whim, a woman’s -infidelity, unfaithful to another as to me? I who, from my early days, -have suffered by her arts and my own credulity? But what were all my -sufferings to this? A drop of water to “the multitudinous ocean.” Yet -in the moment of a last farewell she wept so bitterly! tears of pity! -Pitied and deceived! - -I am resolved I will offer myself an expiatory sacrifice on the altar -of parental wrongs. The father whom I have deceived and injured shall -be retributed. This moment I have received a letter from him, the most -affectionate and tender; he is arrived in Dublin, and with him Mr. -D------, and his daughter! It is well! If he requires it the moment -of our meeting shall be that of my immolation. Some act of desperation -would _be_ now most consonant to my soul! - -Adieu. - -H. M. - - - -LETTER XXX. - -TO J. D. ESQ., M. P. - -_Dublin_. - -I am writing to you from the back-room of a noisy hotel in the centre -of a great and bustling city: my only prospect the gloomy walls of the -surrounding houses. What a contrast! Where now are those refreshing -scenes on which my rapt gaze so lately dwelt--those wild sublimities of -nature--the stupendous mountain, the Alpine cliff, the boundless ocean, -and the smiling vale Where are those original and simple characters, -those habits, those manners, to me at least so striking and so new?-- -All vanished like a dream!-- - - “The baseless fabric of a vision!” - -I arrived here late in the evening, and found my father waiting to -receive me. Happily the rest of the party were gone to the theatre; for -his agitation was scarcely less than my own. You know that, owing to -our late misunderstanding, it is some months since we met. He fell on -my neck and wept. I was quite overcome. He was shocked at my altered -appearance, and his tenderest solicitudes were awakened for my health. -I was so vanquished by his goodness, that more than once I was on -the point of confessing all to him. It was my good angel checked the -imprudent avowal: for what purpose could it now serve, but to render -me more contemptible in his eyes, and to heighten his antipathy against -those who have been in some degree the unconscious accessaries to -my egregious folly and incurable imprudence. But _does_ he feel an -antipathy against the worthy Prince? Can it be otherwise? Have not all -his conciliatory offers been rejected with scorn?--Yet to me he never -mentioned the Prince’s name; this silence surprises me--long may it -continue. I dare not trust myself. In your bosom only is the secret -safely reposed. - -As I had rode day and night since I left M--------house, weariness and -indisposition obliged me almost on my arrival to go to bed: my father -sat by my side till the return of the party from the theatre. What plans -for my future aggrandizement and happiness did his parental solicitude -canvass and devise! the prospect of my brilliant establishment in life -seems to have given him a new sense of being. On our return to England, -I am to set up for the borough of ----------. My talents are calculated -for the senate: fame, dignity, and emolument, are to wait upon their -successful exertion. I am to become an object of popular favour and -royal esteem; and all this time, in the fancied triumph of his parental -hopes, he sees not that the heart of their object is breaking. - -Were you to hear him! were you to see him. What a father! what a man! -Such intelligence--such abilities. A mind so dignified--a heart so -tender! and still retaining all the ardour, all the enthusiasm of youth. -In what terms he spoke of my elected bride! He indeed dwelt chiefly on -her personal charms, and the simplicity of her unmodified character. -Alas! I once found both united to genius and sensibility. - -“How delightful, (he exclaimed) to form this young and ductile mind, to -mould it to your desires, to breathe inspiration into this lovely image -of primeval innocence, to give soul to beauty, and intelligence to -simplicity; to watch the rising progress of your grateful efforts, and -finally clasp to your heart that perfection you have yourself created.” - -And this was spoken with an energy, an enthusiasm, as though he had -himself experienced all the pleasure he now painted for me. Happily, -however, in the warmth of his own feelings, he perceived not the -coldness, the torpidity of his son’s. - -They are fast weaving for me the web of my destiny. I look on and take -no part in the work. It is over--I have been presented in form. They say -she is beautiful--it may be so;--but the blind man cannot be persuaded -of the charms of the rose, when his finger is wounded by its thorns. She -met me with some confusion, which was natural, considering she had been -“won unsought.” Yet I thought it was the bashfulness of a _hoyden_, -rather than that soul-born delicate bashfulness which I have seen -accompanied with every grace. How few there are who do or can -distinguish this in woman; yet in nature there is nothing more distinct -than the modesty of sentiment and of constitution. - -The father was, as usual, boisterously good-humoured, and vulgarly -pleasant; he talked over our sporting adventures last winter, as if the -topic were exhaustless. For my part, I was so silent, that my father -looked uneasy, and I then made amends for my former taciturnity by -talking incessantly, and on every subject, with vehemence and rapidity. -A woman of common sense or common delicacy, would have been disgusted; -but she is a child. They would fain drag me after them into public, but -my plea of ill health has been received by my indulgent father. My gay -young mistress seems already to consider me as her husband, and treats -me accordingly with indifference. In short, she finds that love in the -solitude of the country, and amidst the pleasures of the town, is a very -different sentiment; yet her vanity, I believe, is piqued by my neglect; -for to-day she said, when I excused myself from accompanying her to a -morning concert, Oh! I should much rather have your father with me, he -is the younger man of the two: I indeed never saw him in such health -and spirits; he seems to tread on air. Oh! that he were my rival, my -successful rival! In the present morbid state of my feelings I give -in to every thing; but when it comes to a crisis, will this stupid -acquiescence still befriend their wishes? Impossible! - - -IN CONTINUATION. - -I have had a short but extraordinary conversation with my father. Would -you believe it? he has for some time back cherished an attachment of the -tenderest nature; but to his heart, the interests of his children have -ever been an object of the first and dearest concern. Having secured -their establishment in life, and as he hopes and believes, effected -their happiness, he now feels himself warranted in consulting his own. -In short, he has given me to understand that there is a probability of -his marriage with a very amiable and deserving person, closely following -after my brother’s and mine. The lady’s name he refused to mention, -until every thing was finally arranged; and whoever she is, I suspect -her rank is inferior to her merits, for he said, “The world will call -the union disproportioned--disproportioned in every sense; but I must -in this instance, prefer the approval of my own heart to the world’s -opinion.” He then added, (equivocally) that had he been able to follow -me immediately to Ireland, as he had at first proposed, he would have -related to me some circumstances of peculiar interest, but that _I -should yet know all_ and seemed, I thought, to lament that disparity -of character between my brother and him, which prohibited that flow of -confidence his heart seems panting to indulge in. You know Edward -takes no pains to conceal that he smiles at those ardent virtues in his -father’s character, to which the phlegmatic temperament of his own gives -the name of _romance_. - -The two fathers settle every thing as they please. A property which fell -to my father a few weeks back, by the death of a rich maiden aunt, with -every thing not entailed, he has made over to me, even during his life. -Expostulation was in vain, he would not hear me:--for himself he has -retained nothing but his purchased estates in Connaught, which are -infinitely more extensive than that he possesses by inheritance. What if -he resides at the Lodge, in the very neighbourhood of------? Oh! my -good friend, I fear I am deceiving myself: I fear I am preparing for the -heart of the best of fathers, a mortal disappointment. When the -throes of wounded pride shall have subsided, when the resentments of -a doat-ing, a deceived heart, shall have gradually abated, and the -recollection of former blisses shall have soothed away the pangs of -recent suffering; will I then submit to the dictates of an imperious -duty, or resign myself unresisting to the influence of morbid apathy? - -Sometimes my father fixes his eyes so tenderly on me, yet with a look -as if he would search to the most secret folds of my heart. He has never -once asked my opinion of my elected bride, who, gay and happy as the -first circles of this dissipated city can make her, cheerfully receives -the plea which ill health affords (attributed to a heavy cold) of not -attending her in her pursuit of pleasure. The fact is, I am indeed ill; -my mind and body seem declining together, and nothing in this world can -give me joy, but the prospect of its delivery. - -By this I suppose the mysterious friend is arrived. It was expedient, -therefore, that I should be dismissed. By this I suppose she is.... - -So closely does my former weakness cling round my heart, that I cannot -think of it without madness. - -After having contemplated for a few minutes the sun’s cloudless -radiancy, the impression left on the averted gaze is two dark spots, and -the dazzled organ becomes darkened by a previous excess of lumination. -It is thus with my mind; its present gloom is proportioned to its former -light. Oh! it was too, too much! Rescued from that moral death, that -sickbed satiety of feeling, that state of chill, hopeless existence, in -which the torpid faculties were impalpable to every impression, when -to breathe, to move, constituted all the powers of being: and then -suddenly, as if by intervention of Providence (and what an agent did it -appoint for the execution of its divine will!) raised to the summit of -human thought, human feeling, human felicity, only again to be plunged -in endless night. It was too much. - -***** - -Good God! would you believe it! My father is gone to M------house, to -prepare for the reception of the bridal party. We are to follow, and he -proposes spending the summer there; there too, he says, my marriage with -Miss D------ is to be celebrated; he wishes to conciliate the good will, -not only of the neighbouring gentry, but of his tenantry in general, and -thinks this will be a fair occasion. Well be it so; but I shall not -hold myself answerable for the consequences: my destiny is in their -hands--let them look to the result. - -Since my father left us, I am of necessity obliged to pay some attention -to _his friends_; but I should be a mere automaton by the side of my gay -mistress, did I not court an artificial flow of spirits, by means to me -the most detestable. In short, I generally contrive to leave my senses -behind me at the drinking table; or rather my reason and my spirits, -profiting by its absence, are roused to boisterous anarchy: my bride -(_my_ bride!) is then quite charmed with my gaiety, and fancies she -is receiving the homage of a lover, when she is insulted by the -extravagance of a maniac; but she is a simple child, and her father is -an insensible fool. God knows how little of my thoughts are devoted to -either. Yet the girl is much followed for her beauty, and the splendid -figure which the fortune of the father enables them to make, has -procured them universal attention from persons of the first rank. - -***** - -A thousand times the dream of short slumbers gives her to my arms as -I last beheld her. A thousand times I am awakened from a heavy -unrefreshing sleep by the fancied sound of her harp and voice. There was -one old Irish air she used to sing like an angel, and in the idiom of -her national music sighed out certain passages with a heart-breaking -thrill, that used to rend my very soul! Well, this song I cannot send -from my memory; it breathes around me, it dies upon my ear, and in the -weakness of emotion I weep--weep like a child. Oh! this cannot be much -longer endured. I have this moment received your letter; I feel all the -kindness of your intention, but I must insist on your not coming over; -it would now answer no purpose. Besides, a new plan of conduct has -suggested itself. In a word, my father shall know all: my unfortunate -adventure may come to his ears: it is best he should know it from -myself. I will then resign my fate into his hands: surely he will not -forget I am still his son. Adieu. - -H. M - - -CONCLUSION. - -A few days after the departure of the Earl of M. from Dublin, the -intended father-in-law of his son, weary of a town-life, to which he had -hitherto been unaccustomed, proposed that they should surprise the earl -at M-------- house, without waiting for that summons which was to have -governed their departure for Connaught. - -His young and thoughtless daughter, eager only after novelty, was -charmed by a plan which promised a change of scene and variety of life. -The unfortunate lover of Glorvina fancied he gave a reluctant compliance -to the proposal which coincided but too closely with the secret desires -of his soul. - -This inconsiderate project was put into execution almost as soon as -formed. Mr. D. and his daughter went in their own carriage; Mr. M. -followed on horseback. On their arrival, they found M-------- house -occupied by workmen of every description, and the Earl of M-------- -absent. - -Mr. Clendinning, his lordship’s agent, had not returned from England; -and the steward, who had been but lately appointed to the office, -informed the travellers that Lord M. had only been one day at M------ -house, and had removed a few miles up the country to a hunting-lodge -until it should be ready for the reception of the family. Mr. D. -insisted on going on to the hunting-lodge. Mr. M. strenuously opposed -the intention, and with difficulty prevailed on the thoughtless father -and volatile daughter to stop at M-------- house, while he went in -search of its absent lord. It was early in the day when they had -arrived, and when Mr. M. had given orders for their accommodation, he -set out for the Lodge. - -From the time the unhappy M. had come within the sight of those scenes -which recalled all the recent circumstances of his life to memory, his -heart had throbbed with a quickened pulse; even the scenery of M-------- -house had awakened his emotion; his enforced return thither; his brief -and restless residence there; and the eager delight with which he flew -from the desolate mansion of his father to the endearing circle of -Inismore all rushed to his memory, and awakened that train of tender -recollection he had lately endeavoured to stifle. Happy to seize on an -occasion of escaping from the restraints the society of his insensible -companions imposed, happier still to have an opportunity afforded him of -visiting the neighbourhood of Inismore, every step of his journey to the -Lodge was marked by the renewed existence of some powerful and latent -emotion; and the latent agitation of his heart and feelings had reached -their _acme_ by the time he had arrived at the gate of that avenue from -which the mountains of Inismore were discernible. - -When he had reached the Lodge, a young lad, who was working in the -grounds, replied to his inquiries, that an old woman was its only -resident, that the ancient steward was dead, and that Lord M. had only -remained there an hour. - -This last intelligence overwhelmed Mr. M. with astonishment. To his -further inquiries the boy only said, that as the report went that -M-------- house was undergoing some repair, it was probable his lord had -gone on a visit to some of the _neighbouring quality_. He added that his -lord ship’s own gentleman had accompanied him. - -Mr. M. remained for a considerable time lost in thought; then throwing -the bridle over his horse’s neck, folded his arms, and suffered it to -take its own course: it was the same animal which had so often carried -him to Inismore. When he had determined on following his father to the -Lodge he had ordered a fresh horse; that which the groom led out was -the same which Mr. M. had left behind him, and which, by becoming the -companion of his singular adventure, had obtained a peculiar interest in -his affections. When he had passed the avenue of the Lodge, the animal -instinctively took to that path he had been accustomed to go; his -instinct was too favourable to the secret wishes of the heart of his -unhappy master; he smiled sadly, and suffered him to proceed. The -evening was far advanced the sun had sunk in the horizon, as from an -eminence he perceived the castle of Inismore. His heart throbbed with -violence--a thousand hopes, a thousand wishes, a thousand fears agitated -his breast: he dared not for a moment listen to the suggestions of -either. Lost in the musings of his heart and imagination, he was already -within a mile of Inismore. The world now disappeared--he descended -rapidly to a wild and trackless shore, screened from the high road by a -range of inaccessible cliffs. Twilight faintly lingered on the summit of -the mountains only: the tide was out; and, crossing the strand, he found -himself beneath those stupendous cliffs which shelter the western part -of the peninsula of Inismore from the ocean. The violence of the waves -had worn several defiles through the rocks, which commanded a near view -of the _ruined castle_: it was involved in gloom and silence--all was -dark, still, and solemn!--No lights issued from the windows--no noise -cheered at intervals the silence of desolation. - -A secret impulse still impelled the steps of Mr. M--------, and the -darkness of the night favoured his irresistible desire to satisfy the -longings of his enamoured heart, by taking a last look at the shrine of -its still worshipped idol. He proceeded cautiously through the rocks, -and alighting, fastened his horse near a patch of herbage; then advanced -towards the chapel--its gates were open--the silence of death hung over -it. The rising moon, as it shone through the broken casements, flung -round a dim religious light, and threw its quivering rays on _that_ -spot where he had first beheld Glorvina and her father engaged in the -interesting ceremonies of their religion. And to think that even at that -moment he breathed the air that she respired, and was within a few paces -of the spot she inhabited!--Overcome by the conviction, he resigned -himself to the delirium which involved his heart and senses; and, -governed by the overpowering impulse of the moment, he proceeded along -that colonade through which he had distinctly followed her and the -Prince on the night of his first arrival at the castle. It seemed to his -heated brain as though he still pursued those fine and striking forms -which almost appeared but the phantoms of fancy’s creation. - -On every mourning breeze he thought the sound of Glorvina’s voice was -borne; and starting at the fall of every leaf, he almost expected to -meet at each step the form of Father John, if not that of his faithless -mistress; but the idea of her lover occurred not. The review of scenes -so dear awakened only a recollection of past enjoyments; and in the fond -dream of memory his present sufferings were for an interval suspended. - -Scarcely aware of the approximation, he had already reached the lawn -which fronted the castle, and which was strewed over with fragments of -the mouldering ruins, and leaning behind a broken wall which screened -him from observation, he indulged himself in contemplating that noble -but decayed edifice where so many of the happiest and most blameless -hours of his life had been enjoyed. His first glance was directed -towards the casement of Glorvina’s room, but there nor in any other did -the least glimmering of light appear. With a faultering step he advanced -from his concealment towards the left wing of the castle, and snatched a -hasty glance through the window of the banquetting hall. It was the hour -in which the family were wont to assemble there. It was now impenetrably -dark--he ventured to approach still closer, and fixed his eye to the -glass; but nothing met the inquiry of his eager gaze save a piece -of armour, on whose polished surface the moon’s random beams faintly -played. His heart was chilled; yet, encouraged by the silent desolation -that surrounded him, he ventured forward. The gates of the castle were -partly open; the hall was empty and dark--he paused and listened--all -was silent as the grave. His heart sunk within him--he almost wished to -behold some human form, to hear some human sound. On either side, the -doors of two large apartments stood open: he looked into each; all was -chill and dark. - -Grown desperate by gloomy fears, he proceeded rapidly up the stone -stairs which wound through the centre of the building. He paused; and, -leaning over the balustrade, listened for a considerable time; but when -the echo of his footsteps had died away, all was again still as death. -Horror-struck, yet doubting the evidence of his senses, to find himself -thus far advanced in the interior of the castle, he remained for some -time motionless--a thousand melancholy suggestions struck on his soul. -With an impulse almost frantic he rushed to the corridor. The doors of -the several rooms on either side lay open, and he thought by the moon’s -doubtful light they seemed despoiled of their furniture. - -While he stood rapt in horror and amazement he heard the sound of -Glorvina’s harp, born on the blast which sighed at intervals along -the passage. At first he believed it was the illusion of his fancy -disordered by the awful singularity of his peculiar situation; to -satisfy at once his insupportable doubts he flew to that room where the -harp of Glorvina always stood: like the rest it was unoccupied and dimly -lit up by the moon beams. The harp of Glorvina, and the couch on which -he had first sat by her, were the only articles it contained: the former -was still breathing its wild melody when he entered, but he perceived -the melancholy vibration was produced by the sea breeze (admitted by -the open casement) which swept at intervals along its strings. Wholly -overcome he fell on the couch--his heart seemed scarcely susceptible of -pulsation--every nerve of his brain was strained almost to bursting--he -gasped for breath. The gale of the ocean continued to sigh on the cords -of the harp, and its plaintive tones went to his very soul, and roused -those feelings so truly in unison with every sad impression. A few -burning tears relieved him from an agony he was no longer able to -endure; and he was now competent to draw some inference from the -dreadful scene of desolation by which he was surrounded. The good old -Prince was no more!--or his daughter was married! In either case it was -probable the family had deserted the _ruins_ of Inismore. - -While absorbed in this heart-rending meditation, he saw a faint light -gleaming on the ceiling of the room, and heard a footstep approaching. -Unable to move, he sat breathless with expectation. An ancient female -tottering and feeble, with a lantern in her hand, entered; and having -fastened down the window, was creeping slowly along and muttering to -herself: when she perceived the pale and ghastly figure of the stranger, -she shrieked, let fall the light, and endeavoured to hobble away. -Mr. M-------- followed, and caught her by the arm: she redoubled her -cries--it was with difficulty he could pacify her--while, as his heart -fluttered on his lips, he could only say, “The lady Glorvina!--the -Prince!--speak!--where are they?” - -The old woman had now recovered her light, and holding it up to the face -of Mr. M--------, she instantly recognized him; he had been a popular -favourite with the poor followers of Inismore: she was among the number; -and her joy at having her terrors thus terminated, was such as for an -interval to preclude all hope of obtaining any answer from her. With -some difficulty the distracted and impatient M-------- at last learnt -from a detail interrupted by all the audible testimonies of vulgar -grief, that an execution had been laid upon the Prince’s property, and -another upon his person; that he had been carried away to jail out of a -sick bed, accompanied by his daughter, Father John, and the old nurse; -and that the whole party had set off in the old family coach, which -the creditors had not thought worthy taking away, in the middle of the -night, lest the country people should rise to rescue the Prince, which -the officers who accompanied him apprehended. - -The old woman was proceeding in her narrative, but her auditor heard no -more; he flew from the castle, and, mounting his horse, set out for the -town where the Prince was imprisoned. He reached it early next -morning, and rode at once to the jail. He alighted and inquired for Mr. -O’Melville, commonly called Prince of Inismore. - -The jailor, observing his wild and haggard appearance, kindly asked -him into his own room and then informed him that the Prince had been -released two days back; but that his weak state of health did not permit -him to leave the jail till the preceding evening, when he had set off -for Inismore. “But,” said the jailor, “he will never reach his old -castle alive, poor gentleman! which he suspected himself; for he -received the last ceremonies of the church before he departed, thinking, -I suppose, that he would die on the way.” - -Overcome by fatigue and a variety of overwhelming emotions, Mr. M-------- -sunk motionless on a seat; while the humane jailor, shocked by the -wretchedness of his looks, and supposing him to be a near relative, -offered some words of consolation, and informed him there was then a -female domestic of the Prince’s in the prison, who was to follow the -family in the course of the day, and who could probably give him every -information he might require. This was welcome tidings to Mr. M--------; -and he followed the jailor to the room where the Prince had been -confined, and where the old nurse was engaged in packing up some -articles, which fell out of her hands when she perceived her favourite -and patient, whom she cordially embraced with the most passionate -demonstrations of joy and amazement. - -The jailor retired; and Mr. M--------, shuddering as he contemplated -the close and gloomy little apartment, its sorry furniture, and grated -windows, where the suffering Glorvina had been imprisoned with her -father, briefly related to the nurse that, having learnt the misfortunes -of the Prince, he had followed him to the prison, in the hope of being -able to give him some assistance, if not to effect his liberation. - -The old woman was as usual garrulous and communicative; she wept -alternately the Prince’s sufferings and tears of joy for his release; -talked sometimes of the generosity of the good friend, who had, she -said, “been the saviour of them all,” and sometimes of the Christian -fortitude of the Prince; but still dwelt most on the virtues and -afflictions of her young lady, whom she frequently termed _a saint -out of heaven_, a suffering-angel, and a martyr. She then related the -circumstances of the Prince’s imprisonment in terms so affecting, yet so -simple, that her own tears dropt not faster than those of her auditor. -She said that she believed they had looked for assistance from their -concealed friend until the last moment, when the Prince, unable to -struggle any longer, left his sick bed for the prison of --------; -that Glorvina had supported her father during their melancholy journey -in her arms, without suffering even a tear, much less a complaint to -escape her; that she had supported his spirits and her own as though she -were more than human, until the physician who attended the Prince gave -him over; that then her distraction (when out of the presence of her -father) knew no bounds; and that once they feared her senses were -touched. - -When, at a moment when they were all reduced to despair, the mysterious -friend arrived, paid the debt for which the Prince was confined, and had -carried them off the evening before, by a more tedious but less rugged -road than that she supposed Mr. M-------- had taken, by which means -he had probably missed them. “For all this, (continued the old woman -weeping) my child will never be happy: she is sacrificing herself -for her father, and he will not live to enjoy the benefit of it. The -gentleman is indeed good and comely to look at; and his being old enough -to be her father matters nothing; but then love is not to be commanded, -though duty may.” - -Mr. M. struck by these words fell at her feet, conjured her not to -conceal from him the state of her lady’s affections, confessed his own -secret passion, in terms as ardent as it was felt. His recent sufferings -and suspicions, and the present distracted state of his mind, his tears, -his entreaties, his wildly energetic supplications, his wretched but -interesting appearance, and above all the adoration he professed for -the object of her own tenderest affection, finally vanquished the small -portion of prudence and reserve interwoven in the unguarded character of -the simple and affectionate old Irish woman, and she at last confessed, -that the day after his departure from the castle of Inismore, Glorvina -was seized with a fever, in which, after the first day, she became -delirious; that during the night, as the nurse sat by her, she awakened -from a deep sleep and began to speak much of Mr. Mortimer, whom she -called her _friend_, her _preceptor_, and her _lover_; talked wildly of -her having been _united to him by God in the vale of Inismore_, and drew -from her bosom a sprig of withered myrtle, which, she said, had been a -bridal gift from her beloved, and that she often pressed it to her lips -and smiled, and began to sing an air which, she said, was dear to him; -until at last she burst into tears, and wept herself to sleep again. -“When she recovered,” continued the nurse, “which, owing to her youth -and fine constitution, she did in a few days, I mentioned to her some of -these sayings, at which she changed colour, and begged that as I valued -her happiness I would bury all I had heard in my own breast; and above -all bid me not mention your name, as it was now her duty to forget -you; and last night I heard her consent to become the wife of the good -gentleman; but poor child it is all one, for she will die of a broken -heart. I see plainly she will not long survive her father, nor will ever -love any but you!” At these words the old woman burst into a passion of -tears, while Mr. M-------- catching her in his arms, exclaimed, “I owe -you my life, a thousand times more than my life;” and throwing his purse -into her lap, flew to the inn, where having obtained a hack horse, given -his own in care to the master, and taken a little refreshment which his -exhausted frame, long fasting, and extraordinary fatigue required, he -again set out for the Lodge. His sole object was to obtain an interview -with Glorvina, and on the result of that interview to form his future -determination. - -To retrace the wild fluctuations of those powerful and poignant feelings -which agitated a mind alternately the prey of its wishes and its fears, -now governed by the impetuous impulses of unconquerable love, now by the -sacred ties of filial affection, now sacrificing every consideration to -the dictates of duty, and now forgetting everything in the fond -dreams of passion, would be an endless, an impossible task; when still -vibrating between the sweet felicities of new-born hope, and the gloomy -suggestions of habitual doubt. The weary traveller reached the peninsula -of In-ismore about the same hour that he had done the preceding day. At -the drawbridge he was met by a peasant whom he had known and to whom -he gave his horse. The man, with a countenance full of importance, was -going to address him, but he sprung eagerly forward and was in a moment -immersed in the ruins of the castle; intending to pass through the -chapel as the speediest and most private way, and to make his arrival -first known to Father John, to declare to the good priest his real name -and rank, his passion for Glorvina, and to receive his destiny from her -lips only. - -He had scarcely entered the chapel when the private door by which it -communicated with the castle flew open. He screened himself behind a -pillar, from whence he beheld Father John proceeding with a solemn air -towards the altar, followed by the Prince, carried by three servants -in an arm chair, and apparently in the last stage of mortal existence. -Glorvina then appeared wrapt in a long veil and supported on the arm of -a stranger, whose figure and air was lofty and noble, but whose face was -concealed by the recumbent attitude of his head, which drooped towards -that of his apparently feeble companion, as if in the act of addressing -her. This singular procession advanced to the altar; the chair of -the Prince re posed at his feet. The priest stood at the sacred -table--Glorvina and her companion knelt at its steps. The last red beams -of the evening sun shone through a stormy cloud on the votarists all -was awfully silent; a pause solemn and affecting ensued; then the priest -began to celebrate the marriage rites; but the first words had not died -on his lips, when a figure, pale and ghastly, rushed forward, wildly -exclaiming, “Stop, I charge you, stop! you know not what you do! it is a -sacrilege!” and breathless and faint the seeming maniac sunk at the feet -of the bride. - -A convulsive shriek burst from the lips of Glorvina. She raised her -eyes to heaven, then fixed them on her unfortunate lover, and dropped -lifeless into his arms--a pause of indiscribable emotion succeeded. The -Prince, aghast, gazed on the hapless pair; thus seemingly entwined in -the embrace of death. The priest transfixed with pity and amazement -let fall the sacred volume from his hands. Emotions of an indescribable -nature mingled in the countenance of the bridegroom. The priest was the -first to dissolve the spell, and to recover a comparative presence of -mind; he descended from the altar and endeavoured to raise and extricate -the lifeless Glorvina from the arms of her unhappy lover, but the effort -was vain. Clasping her to his heart closer than ever, the almost frantic -M-------- exclaimed, “She is mine! mine in the eye of heaven! and no -human power can part us!” - -“Merciful providence!” exclaimed the bridegroom faintly, and sunk on the -shoulders of the priest. The voice pierced to the heart of his rival; he -raised his eyes, fell lifeless against the railing of the altar, faintly -uttering, “God of Omnipotence! my father!” Glorvina released from the -nerveless clasp of her lover, sunk on her knees between the father -and the son, alternately fixed her wild regard on both, then suddenly -turning them on the now apparently expiring Prince, she sprang forward, -and throwing her arms round his neck, frantically cried, “It is my -father they will destroy and sobbing convulsively, sunk, overcome, on -his shoulder.” - -The Prince pressed her to his heart, and looking round with a ghastly -and inquiring glance for the explanation of that mystery no one had the -power to unravel, and by which all seemed overwhelmed. At last, with an -effort of expiring strength, he raised himself in his seat, entwined his -arm round his child, and intimated by his eloquent looks, that he wished -the mysterious father and his rival son to approach. The priest led the -former towards him: the latter sprang to his feet, and hid his head -in his mantle: all the native dignity of his character now seemed to -irradiate the countenance of the Prince of Inismore; his eyes sparkled -with a transient beam of their former fire; and the retreating powers -of life seemed for a moment to rush through his exhausted veins with all -their pristine vigour. With a deep and hollow voice he said: “I find -I have been deceived, and my child, I fear, is to become the victim of -this deception. Speak, mysterious strangers, who have taught me at once -to _love_ and to _fear_ you--what, and who are you? and to what purpose -have you mutually, but apparently unknown to each other, stolen on our -seclusion, and thus combined to embitter my last hours, by threatening -the destruction of my child?” - -A long and solemn pause ensued, which was at last interrupted by the -Earl of M. With a firm and collected air he replied: “That youth who -kneels at your feet, is my son; but till this moment I was ignorant that -he was known to you: I was equally unaware of those claims which he has -now made on the heart of your daughter. If he has deceived you he also, -has deceived his father! For myself, if imposition can be extenuated, -mine merits forgiveness, for it was founded on honourable and virtuous -motives. To restore to you the blessings of independence; to raise your -daughter to that rank in life, her birth, her virtues, and her talents -merit; and to obtain your assistance in dissipating the ignorance, -improving the state, and ameliorating the condition of those poor -unhappy compatriots, who, living immediately within your own sphere of -action, are influenced by your example, and would best be actuated by -your counsel. Such were the wishes of my heart; but _prejudice_, the -enemy of all human virtue and human felicity, forbade their execution. -My first overtures of amity were treated with scorn; my first offers of -service rejected with disdain; and my crime was that in a distant age an -ancestor of mine, by the fortune of war, had possessed himself of those -domains, which, in a more distant age, a remoter ancestor of yours won -by similar means. - -“Thus denied the open declaration of my good intents, I stooped to the -assumption of a fictitious character; and he who as a hereditary enemy -was forbid your house, as an unknown and unfortunate stranger, under -affected circumstances of peculiar danger, was received to your -protection, and soon to your heart as its dearest friend. The influence -I obtained over your mind, I used to the salutary purpose of awakening -it to a train of ideas more liberal than the prejudices of education had -hitherto suffered it to cherish; and the services I had it in my power -to render you, the fervour of your gratitude so far over-rated, as to -induce you to repay them by the most precious of all donations--your -child. But for the wonderful and most unexpected incident which has now -crossed your designs, your daughter had been by this the wife of the -Earl of M.” - -With a strong convulsion of expiring nature, the Prince started from his -chair; gazed for a moment on the Earl with a fixed and eager look and -again sunk on his seat; it was the last convulsive throe of life roused -into existence by the last violent feeling of mortal emotion. With an -indefinable expression, he directed his eyes alternately from the father -to the son, then sunk back and closed them: the younger M. clasped his -hand, and bathed it with tears; his daughter, who hung over him, gazed -intently on his face, and though she tremblingly watched the extinction -of that life in which her own was wrapped up, her air was wild, her eye -beamless, her cheek pale; grief and amazement seemed to have bereft her -of her senses, but her feelings had lost nothing of their poignancy: the -Earl of M. leaned on the back of the Prince’s chair, his face covered -with his hand: the priest held his right hand, and wept like an infant: -among the attendants there was not one appeared with a dry eye. - -After a long and affecting pause, the Prince heaved a deep sigh, and -raised his eyes to the crucifix which hung over the altar: the effusions -of a departing and pious soul murmured on his lips, but the powers of -utterance were gone; every mortal passion was fled, save that which -flutters with the last pulse of life in the heart of a doating father, -parental solicitude and parental love. Religion claimed his last sense -of duty, nature his last impulse of feeling; he fixed his last gaze -on the face of his daughter; he raised himself with a dying effort to -receive her last kiss: she fell on his bosom, their arms interlaced. - -In this attitude he expired. - -Glorvina, in the arms of the attendants, was conveyed lifeless to the -castle. The body of the Prince was carried to the great hall, and there -laid on a bier. The Earl of M. walked by the side of the body, and his -almost lifeless son, supported by the arm of the priest (who himself -stood in need of assistance,) slowly followed. - -The elder M. had loved the venerable Prince as a brother and a friend: -the younger as a father. In their common regret for the object of their -mutual affection, heightened by that sadly affecting scene they had just -witnessed, they lost for an interval a sense of that extraordinary and -delicate situation in which they now stood related towards each other; -they hung on either side in a mournful silence over the deceased object -of their friendly affliction; while the concourse of poor peasants, whom -the return of the Prince brought in joyful emotion to the castle, now -crowded into the hall, uttering those vehement exclamations of sorrow -and amazement so consonant to the impassioned energy of their national -character. To still the violence of their emotions, the priest kneeling -at the foot of the bier began a prayer for the soul of the deceased. All -who were present knelt around him: all was awful, solemn, and still. -At that moment Glorvina appeared; she had rushed from the arms of -her attendants; her strength was resistless, for it was the energy of -madness; her senses were fled. - -A dead silence ensued; for the emotion of the priest would not suffer -him to proceed. Regardless of the prostrate throng, she glided up the -hall to the bier, and gazing earnestly on her father, smiled sadly, -and waved her hand; then kissing his cheek, she threw her veil over his -face, and putting her finger on her lip, as if to impose silence, softly -exclaimed, “Hush! he does not suffer now! he sleeps! it was I who lulled -him to repose with the song his heart loves!” and then kneeling beside -him, in a voice scarcely human, she breathed out a soul-rending air she -had been accustomed to sing to her father from her earliest infancy. -The silence of compassion, of horror, which breathed around, was alone -interrupted by her song of grief, while no eye save hers was dry. -Abruptly breaking off her plaintive strains, she drew the veil from her -father’s face, and suddenly averting her gaze from his livid features, -it wandered from the Earl of M. to his son; while with a piercing shriek -she exclaimed, “Which of you murdered my father?” then looking tenderly -on the younger M. (whose eyes not less wild than her own had followed -her every motion,) she softly added, “It was not you, my love!” and with -a loud convulsive laugh she fell lifeless into the priest’s arms, who -was the first who had the presence of mind to think of removing the -still lovely maniac. The rival father and his unhappy son withdrew at -the same moment; and when the priest (having disposed of his unfortunate -charge) returned to seek them, he found them both in the same apartment, -but at a considerable distance from each other, both buried in silent -emotion--both labouring under the violence of their respective -feelings. The priest attempted some words expressive of consolation to -the younger M. who seemed most the victim of uncontrollable affliction; -but with a firm manner the earl interrupted him:--“My good friend,” - said he, “this is no time for words; nature and feeling claim their -prerogative, and are not to be denied. Your venerable friend is no more, -but he has ceased to suffer: the afflicted and angelic being, whose -affecting sorrows so recently wrung our hearts with agony, has still, I -trust, many years of felicity and health in store to compensate for her -early trials; from henceforth I shall consider her as the child of my -adoption. For myself, the motives by which my apparently extraordinary -conduct was governed were pure and disinterested; though the means -by which I endeavoured to effect my laudable purpose were perhaps not -strictly justifiable in the eye of rigid, undeviating integrity. For -this young man!” he paused, and fixing his eyes on his son till they -filled with tears, the strongest emotions agitating his frame; Mr. M. -rushed forward, and fell on his father’s breast. The earl pressed him to -his heart, and putting his hands in those of Father John, he said, “To -your care and tenderness I commend my child; and from you,” he added, -addressing his son, “I shall expect the developement of that mystery, -which is as yet dark and unfathomable. Remain here till we fully -understand each other. I depart to night for M-------- house. It is -reserved for you to assist this worthy man in the last solemn office -of friendship and humanity. It is reserved for you to watch over -and cherish that suffering angel, for whose future happiness we both -mutually stand accountable.” With these words Lord M. again embraced -his almost lifeless son, and pressing the hand of the priest withdrew. -Father John followed him; but importunities were fruitless; his horses -were ordered, and having put a bank-note of considerable amount into his -hands to defray the funeral expenses, he departed from Inismore. - -In the course of four days, the remains of the Prince were consigned -to the tomb. Glorvina’s health and fine constitution were already -prevailing over her disorder and acute sensibility; her senses were -gradually returning, and only appeared subject to wander when a sense -of her recent suffering struck on her heart. The old nurse was the first -who ventured to mention to her that her unhappy lover was in the house; -but though she appeared struck and deeply affected by the intelligence, -she never mentioned his name. - -Meantime Mr. M., owing to his recent sufferings of mind and body, -was seized with a slow fever and confined for many days to his bed. -A physician of eminence in the country had taken up his residence at -Inismore, and a courier daily passed between the castle and M-------- -house, with his reports of the health of the two patients to the Earl. -In a fortnight they were both so far recovered, as to remove from their -respective bedrooms to an adjoining apartment. The benevolent priest, -who day and night had watched over them, undertook to prepare Glorvina -for the reception of Mr. M. whose life seemed to hang upon the -restoration of hers. When she heard that he was still in the castle, -and had just escaped from the jaws of death, she shuddered and changed -colour; and with a faint voice inquired for his father. When she learnt -he had left the castle on the night when she had last seen him, she -seemed to feel much satisfaction, and said, “What an extraordinary -circumstance! What a mystery!--the father and the son!” She paused, and -a faint hectic coloured her pale cheek; then added, “unfortunate and -imprudent young man! Will his father forgive and receive him?” - -“He is dearer than ever to his father’s heart,” said the priest, -“the first use he made of his returning health, was to write to his -inestimable parent, confessing without the least reservation every -incident of his late extraordinary adventure.” - -“And when does he leave the castle!” inarticulately demanded Glorvina. - -“That rests with you,” replied the priest. - -She turned aside her head and sighed heavily then bursting into tears, -flung her arms affectionately round her beloved preceptor, and cried, “I -have now no father but you--act for me as such.” The priest pressed her -to his heart, and, drawing a letter from his bosom, said, “This is from -one who pants to become your father in the strictest sense of the word; -it is from Lord M., but though addressed to his son, it is equally -intended for your perusal. That son, that friend, that lover, whose life -and happiness now rests in your hands, in all the powerful emotions of -hope, doubt, anxiety, and expectation, now waits to be admitted to your -presence.” - -Glorvina, gasping for breath, caught hold of the priest’s arm, then -sunk back upon her seat, and covered her face with her hands. The -priest withdrew, and in a few minutes returned, leading in the agitated -invalid; then placing the hands of the almost lifeless Glorvina in his, -retired. He felt the mutual delicacy of their situation, and forbore to -heighten it by his presence. - -Two hours had elapsed before the venerable priest again sought the two -objects dearest to his heart; he found Glorvina overwhelmed with soft -emotion, her cheek covered with blushes, and her hand clasped in that of -the interesting invalid, whose flushing colour and animated eyes spoke -the return of health and happiness; not indeed confirmed, but fed by -sanguine hope; such hope as the heart of a mourning child could give to -the object of her heart’s first passion, in that era of filial grief, -when sorrow is mellowed by reason, and soothed by religion into a tender -but not ungracious melancholy. The good priest embraced and blessed them -alternately, then, seated between them, read aloud the letter of Lord M. - - - -TO THE HON. HORATIO M. - -Since human happiness, like every other feeling of the human heart, -loses its poignancy by reiteration, its fragrance with its bloom; let me -not (while the first fallen dew of pleasure hangs fresh upon the flower -of your existence) seize on those precious moments which _Hope_, rescued -from the fangs of despondency, and bliss, succeeding to affliction, -claim as their own. Brief be the detail which intrudes on the hour of -newborn joy, and short the narrative which holds captive the attention, -while the heart, involved in its own enjoyments, denies its interest. - -It is now unnecessary for me fully to explain all the motives which led -me to appear at the castle of Inismore in a fictitious character. Deeply -interested for a people whose national character I had hitherto viewed -through the false medium of prejudice; anxious to make it my study in a -situation, and under circumstances, which as an English landholder, -as the Earl of M------, was denied me, and to turn the stream of my -acquired information to that channel which would tend to the promotion -of the happiness and welfare of those whose destiny, in some measure, -was consigned to my guidance:--solicitous to triumph over the hereditary -prejudices of my hereditary enemy; to seduce him into amity, and force -him to _esteem_ the man he _hated_; while he unconsciously became his -accessary in promoting the welfare of those of his humble compatriots -who dwelt within the sphere of our mutual observation. Such were -the _motives_ which principally guided my late apparently romantic -adventure; would that the _means_ had been equally laudable. - -Received into the mansion of the generous but incautious Prince, as a -proscribed and unfortunate wanderer, I owed my reception to his humanity -rather than his prudence; and when I told him that I threw my life -into his power, his _honour_ became bound for its security, though his -principles condemned the conduct which he believed had effected its just -forfeiture. - -For some months, in two succeeding summers, I contrived to perpetuate, -with plausive details, the mystery I had forged; and to confirm the -interest I had been so fortunate at first to awaken into an ardent -friendship, which became as reciprocal as it was disinterested. Yet -it was still _my_ destiny to be loved identically as myself; as myself -adventitiously to be _hated_. And the name of the Earl of M-------- -was forbidden to be mentioned in the presence of the Prince, while he -frequently confessed that the happiest of his hours were passed in Lord -M--------‘s society. - -Thus singularly situated, I dared not hazard a revelation of my real -character, lest I should lose by the discovery all those precious -immunities with which my fictitious one had endowed me. - -But while it was my good fortune thus warmly to ingratiate myself with -the father, can I pass over in silence my prouder triumph in that -filial interest I awakened in the heart of his daughter. Her tender -commiseration for my supposed misfortunes; the persevering goodness with -which she endeavoured to rescue me from those erroneous principles she -believed the efficient cause of sufferings, and which I appeared to -sacrifice to her better reason. The flattering interest she took in my -conversation; the eagerness with which she received those instructions -it was my supreme pleasure to bestow on her; and the solicitude she -incessantly expressed for my fancied doubtful fate; awakened my heart’s -tenderest regard and liveliest gratitude. But though I admired her -genius and adored her virtues, the sentiment she inspired never for a -moment lost its character of parental affection; and even when I formed -the determination, the accomplishment of which you so unexpectedly, so -providentially frustrated, the gratification of any selfish wish, the -compliance with any passionate impulse, held no influence over the -determination. No, it was only dictated by motives pure as the object -that inspired them; it was the wish of snatching this lovely blossom -from the desert where she bloomed unseen, of raising her to that circle -in society her birth entitled her to, and her graces were calculated to -adorn; of confirming my amity with her father by the tenderest unity -of interests and affection; of giving her a legally sanctioned claim on -that part of her hereditary property which the suspected villany of my -steward had robbed her of; and of retributing the parent through the -medium of the child. - -Had I had a son to offer her, I had not offered her myself; but my -eldest was already engaged, and for the worldly welfare of my second an -alliance at once brilliant and opulent was necessary; for, dazzled by -his real or supposed talents, I viewed his future destiny through the -medium of parental ambition, and thought only of those means by which he -might become great, without considering the more important necessity of -his becoming happy. Yet, well aware of the phlegmatic indifference of -the one, and the romantic imprudence of the other, I denied them my -confidence, until the final issue of the adventure would render its -revelation necessary. Nor did I suspect the possibility of their -learning it by any other means; for the one never visited Ireland, and -the other, as the son of Lord M--------, would find no admittance to the -castle of Inismore. - -When a fixed determination succeeded to some months of wavering -indecision, I wrote to Glorvina, with whom I had been in habits of -epistolary correspondence, distantly touching on a subject I yet -considered with timidity, and faintly demanding her sanction of my -wishes before I unfolded them to her father, which I assured her I would -not do until I could claim her openly in my own character. - -In the interim, however, I received a letter from her, written previous -to her receipt of mine. It began thus:--“In those happy moments of -boundless confidence, when the pupil and the child hung upon the -instructive accents of the friend and the father, you have often said -to me, ‘I am not altogether what I seem; I am not only _grateful_, but I -possess a power stronger than words of convincing those to whom I owe -so much of my gratitude; and should the hour of affliction ever reach -_thee_, Glorvina, call on me as the friend who would fly from the -remotest corner of the earth to serve, to _save_ thee.’ - -“_The hour of affliction is arrived--I call upon you!_” She then -described the disordered state of her father’s affairs, and painted -his sufferings with all the eloquence of filial sorrow, requesting my -advice, and flatteringly lamenting the destiny which placed us at such a -distance from each other. - -It is needless to add, that I determined to answer this letter in -person, and I only waited to embrace my loved and long estranged son on -my arrival in Ireland. When I set out for Inismore I found the castle -deserted, and learned, (with indescribable emotions of pity and -indignation,) that the Prince and his daughter were the inhabitants of a -_prison_. I flew to this sad receptacle of suffering virtue, and -effected the liberation of the Prince. There _was_ a time when the -haughty spirit of this proud chieftain would have revolted against the -idea of owing a pecuniary obligation to any man: but those only who have -laboured under a long and continued series of mental and bodily -affliction, can tell how the mind’s strength is to be subdued, the -energies of pride softened, and the delicacy of refined feelings -blunted, by the pressure of reiterated suffering, of harassing and -incessant disappointment. While the surprise of the Prince equalled his -emotion, he exclaimed in the vehemence of his gratitude--“Teach me at -least how to thank you, since to repay you is impossible.” Glorvina was -at that moment weeping on my shoulder, her hands were clasped in mine, -and her humid eyes beamed on me all the grateful feelings of her warm -and susceptible soul. I gazed on her for a moment,--she cast down her -eyes, and I thought pressed my hand; thus encouraged I ventured to say -to the Prince, “You talk in exaggerated terms of the little service I -have done you,--would indeed it had been sufficient to embolden me to -make that request which now trembles on my lips.” - -I paused--the Prince eagerly replied, “there is nothing you can ask I am -not anxious and ready to comply with.” - -I looked at Glorvina--she blushed and trembled. I felt I was understood, -and I added, “then give me a legal claim to become the protector of your -daughter, and through her to restore you to that independence necessary -for the repose of a proud and noble spirit. In a few days I shall openly -appear to the world, with honour and with safety, in my own name and -character. Take this letter, it is addressed to the Earl of M--------, -whom I solemnly swear is not more your enemy than mine, and who -consequently cannot be biased by partiality: from him you shall learn -who and what I am; and until that period I ask not to receive the hand -of your inestimable daughter.” - -The Prince took the letter and tore it in a thousand pieces; exclaiming, -“I cannot indeed equal, but I will at least endeavour to imitate your -generosity. You chose me as your protector in the hour of danger, when -confidence was more hazardous to him who reposed than him who received -it. You placed your life in my hands with no other bond for its security -than my _honour!_ In the season of my distress you flew to save me: you -lavished your property for my release, not considering the improbability -of its remuneration! Take my child; her esteem, her affections, have -long been yours; let me die in peace, by seeing her united to a worthy -man!--_that_ I _know_ you are; what else you may be I will only learn -from _the lips of a son-in-law_. Confidence at least shall be repaid by -confidence.” At these words the always generous, always vehement and -inconsiderate Prince rose from his pillow and placed the hand of his -daughter in mine, confirming the gift with a tear of joy and a tender -benediction. Glorvina bowed her head to receive it--her veil fell over -her face--the index of her soul was concealed: how then could I know -what passed there? She was silent--she was obedient--and I was---- -deceived. - -The Prince, on his arrival at the castle of In-ismore, felt the hour of -dissolution stealing fast on every principle of life. Sensible of his -situation, his tenderness, his anxiety for his child survived every -other feeling; nor would he suffer himself to be carried to his chamber -until he had bestowed her on me from the altar. I knew not then what -were the sentiments of Glorvina. Entwined in the arms of her doating, -dying father, she seemed insensible to every emotion, to every thought -but what his fate excited; but however gratified I might have been at -the intentions of the Prince, I was decidedly averse to their prompt -execution. I endeavoured to remonstrate: a _look_ from the Prince -silenced every objection: and----. But here let me drop the veil of -oblivion over the past: let me clear from the tablets of memory those -records of extraordinary and recent circumstances to which my heart can -never revert but with a pang vibrating on its tenderest nerve. It -is, however, the true spirit of philosophy to draw from the evil which -cannot be remedied all the good of which in its tendency it is yet -susceptible; and since the views of my parental ambition are thus -blasted in the bloom, let me at least make him happy whom it was once my -only wish to render eminent: know then, my imprudent but still dear -son, that the bride chosen for you by your father’s policy has, by an -elopement with a more ardent lover (who followed her hither,) left your -hand as free as your heart towards her ever was. - -Take then to thy bosom _her_ whom heaven seems to have chosen as -the intimate associate of thy soul, and whom national and hereditary -prejudice would in vain withhold from thee. In this the dearest, most -sacred, and most lasting of all human ties, let the names of Inismore -and M-------- be inseparably blended, and the distinctions of English -and Irish, of Protestant and Catholic, for ever buried. And, while -you look forward with hope to this family alliance being prophetically -typical of a national unity of interests and affections between those -who may be actually severed, but who are naturally allied, end your -_own individual efforts_ towards the consummation of an event so -devoutly to be wished by every liberal mind, by every benevolent heart. - -During my life, I would have you consider those estates as yours, which -I possess in this country; and at my death such as are not entailed. -But this consideration is to be indulged conditionally, on your spending -eight months out of every twelve on that spot from whence the very -nutrition of your existence is to be derived; and in the bosom of those -from whose labour and exertion your independence and prosperity are -to flow. Act not with the vulgar policy of vulgar greatness, by -endeavouring to exact respect through the medium of self-wrapt reserve, -proudly shut up in its own self-invested grandeur; nor think it can -derogate from the dignity of the _English landholder_ openly to appear -in the midst of his Irish peasantry, with an eye beaming complacency, -and a countenance smiling confidence, and inspiring what it expresses. -Show them you do not distrust them, and they will not betray you, give -them reason to believe you feel an interest in their welfare, and they -will endeavour to promote yours even at the risk of their lives; for the -life of an Irishman weighs but light in the scale of consideration with -his feelings; it is immolated without a murmur to the affections of his -heart; it is sacrificed without a sigh to the suggestions of his honour. - -Remember that you are not placed by despotism over a band of slaves, -creatures of the soil and as such to be considered; but by Providence, -over a certain portion of men, who, in common with the rest of their -nation, are the descendants of a brave, a free, and an enlightened -people. Be more anxious to remove _causes_ than to punish _effects_; for -trust me that it is only to - - “Scotch the snake--not kill it,” - -to confine error, and to awaken vengeance. - -Be cautious how you condemn; be more cautious how you deride, but be -ever watchful to moderate that ardent impetuosity which flows from -the natural tone of the national character, which is the inseparable -accompaniment of quick and acute feelings, which is the invariable -concomitant of constitutional sensibility: and remember that the same -ardour of disposition, the same vehemence of soul, which inflames -their errors beyond the line of moderate failing, nurtures their better -qualities beyond the growth of moderate excellence. - -Within the influence then of your own bounded circle, pursue those means -of promoting the welfare of the individuals consigned to your care and -protection, which lies within the scope of all those in whose hands -the destinies of their less fortunate brethren are placed. Cherish by -kindness into renovating life those national virtues, which though so -often blighted in the full luxuriance of their vigorous blow by the -fatality of circumstances, have still been ever found vital at the root, -which only want the nutritive beam of encouragement, the genial glow of -confiding affection, and the refreshing dew of tender commiseration, to -restore them to their pristine bloom and vigour: place the standard of -support within their sphere; and like the tender vine which has been -suffered by neglect to waste its treasures on the sterile earth, you -will behold them naturally turning and gratefully twining round the -fostering stem, which rescues them from a cheerless and grovelling -destiny: and when by justly and adequately rewarding the laborious -exertions of that life devoted to your service, the source of their -poverty shall be dried up, and the miseries that flowed from it shall be -forgotten; when the warm hand of benevolence shall have wiped away -the cold dew of despondency from their brow; when reiterated acts of -tenderness and humanity shall have thawed the ice which chills the -native flow of their ardent feelings; and when the light of instruction -shall have dispelled the gloom of ignorance and prejudice from their -neglected minds, and their lightened hearts shall again throb with the -cheery pulse of national exility;--then, _then, and not till then_, -will you behold the day-star of national virtue rising brightly over the -horizon of their happy existence; while the felicity which has awakened -to the touch of reason and humanity, shall return back to, and increase -the source from which it originally flowed: as the elements, which -in gradual progress brighten into flame, terminate in a liquid light, -which, reverberating in sympathy to its former kindred, genially warms -and gratefully cheers the whole order of universal nature. - -THE END. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wild Irish Girl, Vol. I and II, by -(AKA Sydney Owenson) Lady Sydney Morgan - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WILD IRISH GIRL, VOL. 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