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diff --git a/old/8tal410.zip b/old/8tal410.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bea0135 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8tal410.zip diff --git a/old/9439-h.htm.2021-01-26 b/old/9439-h.htm.2021-01-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..25f9553 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/9439-h.htm.2021-01-26 @@ -0,0 +1,19797 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Tales and Novels, Vol. IV, by Maria Edgeworth + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Tales And Novels, Volume 4 (of 10), by Maria Edgeworth + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: Tales And Novels, Volume 4 (of 10) + Castle Rackrent; An Essay on Irish Bulls; An Essay on the + Noble Science of Self-Justification; Ennui; and The Dun + +Author: Maria Edgeworth + + +Release Date: December, 2005 [EBook #9439] +This file was first posted on September 30, 2003 +Last Updated: December 20, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME 4 (OF 10) *** + + + + +Text file produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + TALES AND NOVELS, + </h1> + <h3> + VOLUME IV (of X) + </h3> + <h4> + Containing + </h4> + <h3> + CASTLE RACKRENT; AN ESSAY ON IRISH BULLS; AN ESSAY ON THE NOBLE SCIENCE OF + SELF-JUSTIFICATION; ENNUI; AND THE DUN. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Maria Edgeworth + </h2> + <h5> + In Ten Volumes. With Engravings On Steel.<br /> (Engravings not available + in this edition) + </h5> + <h3> + 1857. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A prudence undeceiving, undeceived, + That nor too little nor too much believed; + That scorn’d unjust suspicion’s coward fear, + And without weakness knew to be sincere.” + <i>Lord Lyttelton’s Monody on his Wife</i>. + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + The prevailing taste of the public for anecdote has been censured and + ridiculed by critics who aspire to the character of superior wisdom; but + if we consider it in a proper point of view, this taste is an + incontestable proof of the good sense and profoundly philosophic temper of + the present times. Of the numbers who study, or at least who read history, + how few derive any advantage from their labours! The heroes of history are + so decked out by the fine fancy of the professed historian; they talk in + such measured prose, and act from such sublime or such diabolical motives, + that few have sufficient taste, wickedness, or heroism, to sympathize in + their fate. Besides, there is much uncertainty even in the best + authenticated ancient or modern histories; and that love of truth, which + in some minds is innate and immutable, necessarily leads to a love of + secret memoirs and private anecdotes. We cannot judge either of the + feelings or of the characters of men with perfect accuracy, from their + actions or their appearance in public; it is from their careless + conversations, their half-finished sentences, that we may hope with the + greatest probability of success to discover their real characters. The + life of a great or of a little man written by himself, the familiar + letters, the diary of any individual published by his friends or by his + enemies, after his decease, are esteemed important literary curiosities. + We are surely justified, in this eager desire, to collect the most minute + facts relative to the domestic lives, not only of the great and good, but + even of the worthless and insignificant, since it is only by a comparison + of their actual happiness or misery in the privacy of domestic life that + we can form a just estimate of the real reward of virtue, or the real + punishment of vice. That the great are not as happy as they seem, that the + external circumstances of fortune and rank do not constitute felicity, is + asserted by every moralist: the historian can seldom, consistently with + his dignity, pause to illustrate this truth: it is therefore to the + biographer we must have recourse. After we have beheld splendid characters + playing their parts on the great theatre of the world, with all the + advantages of stage effect and decoration, we anxiously beg to be admitted + behind the scenes, that we may take a nearer view of the actors and + actresses. + </p> + <p> + Some may perhaps imagine, that the value of biography depends upon the + judgment and taste of the biographer: but on the contrary it may be + maintained, that the merits of a biographer are inversely as the extent of + his intellectual powers and of his literary talents. A plain unvarnished + tale is preferable to the most highly ornamented narrative. Where we see + that a man has the power, we may naturally suspect that he has the will to + deceive us; and those who are used to literary manufacture know how much + is often sacrificed to the rounding of a period, or the pointing of an + antithesis. + </p> + <p> + That the ignorant may have their prejudices as well as the learned cannot + be disputed; but we see and despise vulgar errors: we never bow to the + authority of him who has no great name to sanction his absurdities. The + partiality which blinds a biographer to the defects of his hero, in + proportion as it is gross, ceases to be dangerous; but if it be concealed + by the appearance of candour, which men of great abilities best know how + to assume, it endangers our judgment sometimes, and sometimes our morals. + If her grace the Duchess of Newcastle, instead of penning her lord’s + elaborate eulogium, had undertaken to write the life of Savage, we should + not have been in any danger of mistaking an idle, ungrateful libertine, + for a man of genius and virtue. The talents of a biographer are often + fatal to his reader. For these reasons the public often judiciously + countenance those who, without sagacity to discriminate character, without + elegance of style to relieve the tediousness of narrative, without + enlargement of mind to draw any conclusions from the facts they relate, + simply pour forth anecdotes, and retail conversations, with all the minute + prolixity of a gossip in a country town. + </p> + <p> + The author of the following Memoirs has upon these grounds fair claims to + the public favour and attention; he was an illiterate old steward, whose + partiality to <i>the family</i>, in which he was bred and born, must be + obvious to the reader. He tells the history of the Rackrent family in his + vernacular idiom, and in the full confidence that Sir Patrick, Sir + Murtagh, Sir Kit, and Sir Condy Rackrent’s affairs will be as interesting + to all the world as they were to himself. Those who were acquainted with + the manners of a certain class of the gentry of Ireland some years ago, + will want no evidence of the truth of honest Thady’s narrative: to those + who are totally unacquainted with Ireland, the following Memoirs will + perhaps be scarcely intelligible, or probably they may appear perfectly + incredible. For the information of the <i>ignorant</i> English reader, a + few notes have been subjoined by the editor, and he had it once in + contemplation to translate the language of Thady into plain English; but + Thady’s idiom is incapable of translation, and, besides, the authenticity + of his story would have been more exposed to doubt if it were not told in + his own characteristic manner. Several years ago he related to the editor + the history of the Rackrent family, and it was with some difficulty that + he was persuaded to have it committed to writing; however, his feelings + for “<i>the honour of the family</i>,” as he expressed himself, prevailed + over his habitual laziness, and he at length completed the narrative which + is now aid before the public. + </p> + <p> + The editor hopes his readers will observe that these are “tales of other + times:” that the manners depicted in the following pages are not those of + the present age: the race of the Rackrents has long since been extinct in + Ireland; and the drunken Sir Patrick, the litigious Sir Murtagh, the + fighting Sir Kit, and the slovenly Sir Condy, are characters which could + no more be met with at present in Ireland, than Squire Western or Parson + Trulliber in England. There is a time when individuals can bear to be + rallied for their past follies and absurdities, after they have acquired + new habits and a new consciousness. Nations, as well as individuals, + gradually lose attachment to their identity, and the present generation is + amused, rather than offended, by the ridicule that is thrown upon its + ancestors. + </p> + <p> + Probably we shall soon have it in our power, in a hundred instances, to + verify the truth of these observations. + </p> + <p> + When Ireland loses her identity by an union with Great Britain, she will + look back, with a smile of good-humoured complacency, on the Sir Kits and + Sir Condys of her former existence. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_TOC"> DETAILED CONTENTS: </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>CASTLE RACKRENT</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> CONTINUATION OF THE MEMOIRS OF THE RACKRENT + FAMILY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_GLOS"> GLOSSARY. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> <b>ESSAY ON IRISH BULLS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> <b>AN ESSAY ON THE NOBLE SCIENCE OF + SELF-JUSTIFICATION.</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> <b>TALES OF FASHIONABLE LIFE.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF2"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> ENNUI; OR, MEMOIRS OF THE EARL OF GLENTHORN. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> <b>THE DUN.</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_FOOT"> <b>FOOTNOTES</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_TOC" id="link2H_TOC"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class="middle"> + <p> + <b>DETAILED CONTENTS:</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> CASTLE RACKRENT </a> + </p> + CASTLE RACKRENT <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_GLOS"> GLOSSARY </a> + </p> + GLOSSARY <br /> FOOTNOTES <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ESSAY ON IRISH BULLS </a> + </p> + ESSAY ON IRISH BULLS <br /> Introduction <br /> CHAP. I. Originality of + Irish Bulls examined <br /> II. Irish Newspapers <br /> III. The Criminal + Law of Bulls and Blunders <br /> IV. Little Dominick <br /> V. The Bliss of + Ignorance <br /> VI. “Thoughts that breathe, and Words that burn” <br /> + VII. Practical Bulls <br /> VIII. The Dublin Shoeblack <br /> IX. The + Hibernian Mendicant <br /> X. Irish Wit and Eloquence <br /> XI. The Brogue + <br /> XII. Bath Coach Conversation <br /> XIII. Bath Coach Conversation + <br /> XIV. The Irish Incognito <br /> Conclusion <br /> Appendix <br /> + Footnotes <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> AN ESSAY ON THE NOBLE SCIENCE OF + SELF-JUSTIFICATION </a> + </p> + AN ESSAY ON THE NOBLE SCIENCE OF SELF-JUSTIFICATION <br /> ENNUI <br /> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> THE DUN </a> + </p> + THE DUN <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CASTLE RACKRENT + </h2> + <p> + <i>Monday Morning</i>.[A] + </p> + <p> + Having, out of friendship for the family, upon whose estate, praised be + Heaven! I and mine have lived rent-free, time out of mind, voluntarily + undertaken to publish the MEMOIRS of the RACKRENT FAMILY, I think it my + duty to say a few words, in the first place, concerning myself. My real + name is Thady Quirk, though in the family I have always been known by no + other than “<i>honest Thady</i>”—afterward, in the time of Sir + Murtagh, deceased, I remember to hear them calling me “<i>old Thady</i>,” + and now I’m come to “poor Thady;” for I wear a long great coat<a + href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> + winter and summer, which is very handy, as I never put my arms into the + sleeves; they are as good as new, though come Holantide next I’ve had it + these seven years; it holds on by a single button round my neck, cloak + fashion. To look at me, you would hardly think “poor Thady” was the father + of attorney Quirk; he is a high gentleman, and never minds what poor Thady + says, and having better than fifteen hundred a year, landed estate, looks + down upon honest Thady; but I wash my hands of his doings, and as I have + lived so will I die, true and loyal to the family. The family of the + Rackrents is, I am proud to say, one of the most ancient in the kingdom. + Every body knows this is not the old family name, which was O’Shaughlin, + related to the kings of Ireland—but that was before my time. My + grandfather was driver to the great Sir Patrick O’Shaughlin, and I heard + him, when I was a boy, telling how the Castle Rackrent estate came to Sir + Patrick; Sir Tallyhoo Rackrent was cousin-german to him, and had a fine + estate of his own, only never a gate upon it, it being his maxim that a + car was the best gate. Poor gentleman! he lost a fine hunter and his life, + at last, by it, all in one day’s hunt. But I ought to bless that day, for + the estate came straight into <i>the</i> family, upon one condition, which + Sir Patrick O’Shaughlin at the time took sadly to heart, they say, but + thought better of it afterwards, seeing how large a stake depended upon + it, that he should, by act of parliament, take and bear the surname and + arms of Rackrent. + </p> + <p> + Now it was that the world was to see what was <i>in</i> Sir Patrick. On + coming into the estate, he gave the finest entertainment ever was heard of + in the country; not a man could stand after supper but Sir Patrick + himself, who could sit out the best man in Ireland, let alone the three + kingdoms itself.[B] He had his house, from one year’s end to another, as + full of company as ever it could hold, and fuller; for rather than be left + out of the parties at Castle Rackrent, many gentlemen, and those men of + the first consequence and landed estates in the country, such as the + O’Neils of Ballynagrotty, and the Moueygawls of Mount Juliet’s Town, and + O’Shannons of New Town Tullyhog, made it their choice, often and often, + when there was no room to be had for love nor money, in long winter + nights, to sleep in the chicken-house, which Sir Patrick had fitted up for + the purpose of accommodating his friends and the public in general, who + honoured him with their company unexpectedly at Castle Rackrent; and this + went on, I can’t tell you how long—the whole country rang with his + praises!—Long life to him! I’m sure I love to look upon his picture, + now opposite to me; though I never saw him, he must have been a portly + gentleman—his neck something short, and remarkable for the largest + pimple on his nose, which, by his particular desire, is still extant in + his picture, said to be a striking likeness, though taken when young. He + is said also to be the inventor of raspberry whiskey, which is very + likely, as nobody has ever appeared to dispute it with him, and as there + still exists a broken punch-bowl at Castle Rackrent, in the garret, with + an inscription to that effect—a great curiosity. A few days before + his death he was very merry; it being his honour’s birth-day, he called my + grandfather in, God bless him! to drink the company’s health, and filled a + bumper himself, but could not carry it to his head, on account of the + great shake in his hand; on this he cast his joke, saying, “What would my + poor father say to me if he was to pop out of the grave, and see me now? I + remember when I was a little boy, the first bumper of claret he gave me + after dinner, how he praised me for carrying it so steady to my mouth. + Here’s my thanks to him—a bumper toast.” Then he fell to singing the + favourite song he learned from his father—for the last time, poor + gentleman—he sung it that night as loud and as hearty as ever with a + chorus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He that goes to bed, and goes to bed sober, + Falls as the leaves do, falls as the leaves do, and dies in October; + But he that goes to bed, and goes to bed mellow, + Lives as he ought to do, lives as he ought to do, and dies an honest + fellow.” + </pre> + <p> + Sir Patrick died that night: just as the company rose to drink his health + with three cheers, he fell down in a sort of fit, and was carried off; + they sat it out, and were surprised, on inquiry, in the morning, to find + that it was all over with poor Sir Patrick. Never did any gentleman live + and die more beloved in the country by rich and poor. His funeral was such + a one as was never known before or since in the county! All the gentlemen + in the three counties were at it; far and near, how they flocked! my great + grandfather said, that to see all the women even in their red cloaks, you + would have taken them for the army drawn out. Then such a fine + whillaluh![C] you might have heard it to the farthest end of the county, + and happy the man who could get but a sight of the hearse! But who’d have + thought it? just as all was going on right, through his own town they were + passing, when the body was seized for debt—a rescue was apprehended + from the mob; but the heir who attended the funeral was against that, for + fear of consequences, seeing that those villains who came to serve acted + under the disguise of the law: so, to be sure, the law must take its + course, and little gain had the creditors for their pains. First and + foremost, they had the curses of the country: and Sir Murtagh Rackrent, + the new heir, in the next place, on account of this affront to the body, + refused to pay a shilling of the debts, in which he was countenanced by + all the best gentlemen of property, and others of his acquaintance; Sir + Murtagh alleging in all companies, that he all along meant to pay his + father’s debts of honour, but the moment the law was taken of him, there + was an end of honour to be sure. It was whispered (but none but the + enemies of the family believe it), that this was all a sham seizure to get + quit of the debts, which he had bound himself to pay in honour. + </p> + <p> + It’s a long time ago, there’s no saying how it was, but this for certain, + the new man did not take at all after the old gentleman; the cellars were + never filled after his death, and no open house, or any thing as it used + to be; the tenants even were sent away without their whiskey.[D] I was + ashamed myself, and knew not what to say for the honour of the family; but + I made the best of a bad case, and laid it all at my lady’s door, for I + did not like her any how, nor any body else; she was of the family of the + Skinflints, and a widow; it was a strange match for Sir Murtagh; the + people in the country thought he demeaned himself greatly,[E] but I said + nothing: I knew how it was; Sir Murtagh was a great lawyer, and looked to + the great Skinflint estate; there, however, he overshot himself; for + though one of the co-heiresses, he was never the better for her, for she + outlived him many’s the long day—he could not see that to be sure + when he married her. I must say for her, she made him the best of wives, + being a very notable, stirring woman, and looking close to every thing. + But I always suspected she had Scotch blood in her veins; any thing else I + could have looked over in her from a regard to the family. She was a + strict observer for self and servants of Lent, and all fast days, but not + holidays. One of the maids having fainted three times the last day of + Lent, to keep soul and body together, we put a morsel of roast beef into + her mouth, which came from Sir Murtagh’s dinner, who never fasted, not he; + but somehow or other it unfortunately reached my lady’s ears, and the + priest of the parish had a complaint made of it the next day, and the poor + girl was forced, as soon as she could walk, to do penance for it, before + she could get any peace or absolution, in the house or out of it. However, + my lady was very charitable in her own way. She had a charity school for + poor children, where they were taught to read and write gratis, and where + they were kept well to spinning gratis for my lady in return; for she had + always heaps of duty yarn from the tenants, and got all her household + linen out of the estate from first to last; for after the spinning, the + weavers on the estate took it in hand for nothing, because of the looms my + lady’s interest could get from the Linen Board to distribute gratis. Then + there was a bleach-yard near us, and the tenant dare refuse my lady + nothing, for fear of a law-suit Sir Murtagh kept hanging over him about + the water-course. With these ways of managing, ‘tis surprising how cheap + my lady got things done, and how proud she was of it. Her table the same + way, kept for next to nothing;[F] duty fowls, and duty turkeys, and duty + geese, came as fast as we could eat ‘em, for my lady kept a sharp + look-out, and knew to a tub of butter every thing the tenants had, all + round. They knew her way, and what with fear of driving for rent and Sir + Murtagh’s lawsuits, they were kept in such good order, they never thought + of coming near Castle Rackrent without a present of something or other—nothing + too much or too little for my lady—eggs, honey, butter, meal, fish, + game, grouse, and herrings, fresh or salt, all went for something. As for + their young pigs, we had them, and the best bacon and hams they could make + up, with all young chickens in spring; but they were a set of poor + wretches, and we had nothing but misfortunes with them, always breaking + and running away. This, Sir Murtagh and my lady said, was all their former + landlord Sir Patrick’s fault, who let ‘em all get the half year’s rent + into arrear; there was something in that to be sure. But Sir Murtagh was + as much the contrary way; for let alone making English tenants[G] of them, + every soul, he was always driving and driving, and pounding and pounding, + and canting[H] and canting, and replevying and replevying, and he made a + good living of trespassing cattle; there was always some tenant’s pig, or + horse, or cow, or calf, or goose, trespassing, which was so great a gain + to Sir Murtagh, that he did not like to hear me talk of repairing fences. + Then his heriots and duty-work[I] brought him in something, his turf was + cut, his potatoes set and dug, his hay brought home, and, in short, all + the work about his house done for nothing; for in all our leases there + were strict clauses heavy with penalties, which Sir Murtagh knew well how + to enforce; so many days’ duty work of man and horse, from every tenant, + he was to have, and had, every year; and when a man vexed him, why the + finest day he could pitch on, when the cratur was getting in his own + harvest, or thatching his cabin, Sir Murtagh made it a principle to call + upon him and his horse; so he taught ‘em all, as he said, to know the law + of landlord and tenant. As for law, I believe no man, dead or alive, ever + loved it so well as Sir Murtagh. He had once sixteen suits pending at a + time, and I never saw him so much himself; roads, lanes, bogs, wells, + ponds, eel-wires, orchards, trees, tithes, vagrants, gravelpits, sandpits, + dunghills, and nuisances, every thing upon the face of the earth furnished + him good matter for a suit. He used to boast that he had a lawsuit for + every letter in the alphabet. How I used to wonder to see Sir Murtagh in + the midst of the papers in his office! Why he could hardly turn about for + them. I made bold to shrug my shoulders once in his presence, and thanked + my stars I was not born a gentleman to so much toil and trouble; but Sir + Murtagh took me up short with his old proverb, “learning is better than + house or land.” Out of forty-nine suits which he had, he never lost one + but seventeen;[J] the rest he gained with costs, double costs, treble + costs sometimes; but even that did not pay. He was a very learned man in + the law, and had the character of it; but how it was I can’t tell, these + suits that he carried cost him a power of money; in the end he sold some + hundreds a year of the family estate; but he was a very learned man in the + law, and I know nothing of the matter, except having a great regard for + the family; and I could not help grieving when he sent me to post up + notices of the sale of the fee-simple of the lands and appurtenances of + Timoleague. “I know, honest Thady,” says he, to comfort me, “what I’m + about better than you do; I’m only selling to get the ready money wanting + to carry on my suit with spirit with the Nugents of Carrickashaughlin.” + </p> + <p> + He was very sanguine about that suit with the Nugents of + Carrickashaughlin. He could have gained it, they say, for certain, had it + pleased Heaven to have spared him to us, and it would have been at the + least a plump two thousand a-year in his way; but things were ordered + otherwise, for the best to be sure. He dug up a fairy-mount<a + href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2" id="linknoteref-2"><small>2</small></a> + against my advice, and had no luck afterwards. Though a learned man in the + law, he was a little too incredulous in other matters. I warned him that I + heard the very Banshee<a href="#linknote-3" name="linknoteref-3" + id="linknoteref-3"><small>3</small></a> that my grandfather heard under + Sir Patrick’s window a few days before his death. But Sir Murtagh thought + nothing of the Banshee, nor of his cough, with a spitting of blood, + brought on, I understand, by catching cold in attending the courts, and + overstraining his chest with making himself heard in one of his favourite + causes. He was a great speaker with a powerful voice; but his last speech + was not in the courts at all. He and my lady, though both of the same way + of thinking in some things, and though she was as good a wife and great + economist as you could see, and he the best of husbands, as to looking + into his affairs, and making money for his family; yet I don’t know how it + was, they had a great deal of sparring and jarring between them. My lady + had her privy purse—and she had her weed ashes,[L] and her sealing + money[M] upon the signing of all the leases, with something to buy gloves + besides; and, besides, again often took money from the tenants, if offered + properly, to speak for them to Sir Murtagh about abatements and renewals. + Now the weed ashes and the glove money he allowed her clear perquisites; + though once when he saw her in a new gown saved out of the weed ashes, he + told her to my face (for he could say a sharp thing), that she should not + put on her weeds before her husband’s death. But in a dispute about an + abatement, my lady would have the last word, and Sir Murtagh grew mad;[N] + I was within hearing of the door, and now I wish I had made bold to step + in. He spoke so loud, the whole kitchen was out on the stairs.[O] All on a + sudden he stopped and my lady too. Something has surely happened, thought + I—and so it was, for Sir Murtagh in his passion broke a + blood-vessel, and all the law in the land could do nothing in that case. + My lady sent for five physicians, but Sir Murtagh died, and was buried. + She had a fine jointure settled upon her, and took herself away to the + great joy of the tenantry. I never said any thing one way or the other, + whilst she was part of the family, but got up to see her go at three + o’clock in the morning. “It’s a fine morning, honest Thady,” says she; + “good bye to ye,” and into the carriage she stepped, without a word more, + good or bad, or even half-a-crown; but I made my bow, and stood to see her + safe out of sight for the sake of the family. + </p> + <p> + Then we were all bustle in the house, which made me keep out of the way, + for I walk slow and hate a bustle; but the house was all hurry-skurry, + preparing for my new master. Sir Murtagh, I forgot to notice, had no + childer;<a href="#linknote-4" name="linknoteref-4" id="linknoteref-4"><small>4</small></a> + so the Rackrent estate went to his younger brother, a young dashing + officer, who came amongst us before I knew for the life of me where-abouts + I was, in a gig or some of them things, with another spark along with him, + and led horses, and servants, and dogs, and scarce a place to put any + Christian of them into; for my late lady had sent all the feather-beds off + before her, and blankets and household linen, down to the very knife + cloths, on the cars to Dublin, which were all her own, lawfully paid for + out of her own money. So the house was quite bare, and my young master, + the moment ever he set foot in it out of his gig, thought all those things + must come of themselves, I believe, for he never looked after any thing at + all, but harum-scarum called for every thing as if we were conjurers, or + he in a public-house. For my part, I could not bestir myself any how; I + had been so much used to my late master and mistress, all was upside down + with me, and the new servants in the servants’ hall were quite out of my + way; I had nobody to talk to, and if it had not been for my pipe and + tobacco, should, I verily believe, have broke my heart for poor Sir + Murtagh. + </p> + <p> + But one morning my new master caught a glimpse of me as I was looking at + his horse’s heels, in hopes of a word from him. “And is that old Thady?” + says he, as he got into his gig: I loved him from that day to this, his + voice was so like the family; and he threw me a guinea out of his + waistcoat pocket, as he drew up the reins with the other hand, his horse + rearing too; I thought I never set my eyes on a finer figure of a man, + quite another sort from Sir Murtagh, though withal, <i>to me</i>, a family + likeness. A fine life we should have led, had he stayed amongst us, God + bless him! He valued a guinea as little as any man: money to him was no + more than dirt, and his gentleman and groom, and all belonging to him, the + same; but the sporting season over, he grew tired of the place, and having + got down a great architect for the house, and an improver for the grounds, + and seen their plans and elevations, he fixed a day for settling with the + tenants, but went off in a whirlwind to town, just as some of them came + into the yard in the morning. A circular letter came next post from the + new agent, with news that the master was sailed for England, and he must + remit 500<i>l</i>. to Bath for his use before a fortnight was at an end; + bad news still for the poor tenants, no change still for the better with + them. Sir Kit Rackrent, my young master, left all to the agent; and though + he had the spirit of a prince, and lived away to the honour of his country + abroad, which I was proud to hear of, what were we the better for that at + home? The agent was one of your middle men,<a href="#linknote-5" + name="linknoteref-5" id="linknoteref-5"><small>5</small></a> who grind the + face of the poor, and can never bear a man with a hat upon his head: he + ferreted the tenants out of their lives; not a week without a call for + money, drafts upon drafts from Sir Kit; but I laid it all to the fault of + the agent; for, says I, what can Sir Kit do with so much cash, and he a + single man? but still it went. Rents must be all paid up to the day, and + afore; no allowance for improving tenants, no consideration for those who + had built upon their farms: no sooner was a lease out, but the land was + advertised to the highest bidder, all the old tenants turned out, when + they spent their substance in the hope and trust of a renewal from the + landlord. All was now let at the highest penny to a parcel of poor + wretches, who meant to run away, and did so, after taking two crops out of + the ground. Then fining down the year’s rent came into fashion,[P] any + thing for the ready penny; and with all this, and presents to the agent + and the driver,[Q] there was no such thing as standing it. I said nothing, + for I had a regard for the family; but I walked about thinking if his + honour Sir Kit knew all this, it would go hard with him, but he’d see us + righted; not that I had any thing for my own share to complain of, for the + agent was always very civil to me, when he came down into the country, and + took a great deal of notice of my son Jason. Jason Quirk, though he be my + son, I must say, was a good scholar from his birth, and a very ‘cute lad: + I thought to make him a priest,[R] but he did better for himself: seeing + how he was as good a clerk as any in the county, the agent gave him his + rent accounts to copy, which he did first of all for the pleasure of + obliging the gentleman, and would take nothing at all for his trouble, but + was always proud to serve the family. By-and-by a good farm bounding us to + the east fell into his honour’s hands, and my son put in a proposal for + it: why shouldn’t he, as well as another? The proposals all went over to + the master at the Bath, who knowing no more of the land than the child + unborn, only having once been out a grousing on it before he went to + England; and the value of lands, as the agent informed him, falling every + year in Ireland, his honour wrote over in all haste a bit of a letter, + saying he left it all to the agent, and that he must let it as well as he + could to the best bidder, to be sure, and send him over 200<i>l</i>., by + return of post: with this the agent gave me a hint, and I spoke a good + word for my son, and gave out in the country that nobody need bid against + us. So his proposal was just the thing, and he a good tenant; and he got a + promise of an abatement in the rent, after the first year, for advancing + the half year’s rent at signing the lease, which was wanting to complete + the agent’s 200<i>l</i>., by the return of the post, with all which my + master wrote back he was well satisfied. About this time we learned from + the agent as a great secret, how the money went so fast, and the reason of + the thick coming of the master’s drafts: he was a little too fond of play; + and Bath, they say, was no place for a young man of his fortune, where + there were so many of his own countrymen too hunting him up and down, day + and night, who had nothing to lose. At last, at Christmas, the agent wrote + over to stop the drafts, for he could raise no more money on bond or + mortgage, or from the tenants, or any how, nor had he any more to lend + himself, and desired at the same time to decline the agency for the + future, wishing Sir Kit his health and happiness, and the compliments of + the season, for I saw the letter before ever it was sealed, when my son + copied it. When the answer came, there was a new turn in affairs, and the + agent was turned out; and my son Jason, who had corresponded privately + with his honour occasionally on business, was forthwith desired by his + honour to take the accounts into his own hands, and look them over till + further orders. It was a very spirited letter to be sure: Sir Kit sent his + service, and the compliments of the season, in return to the agent, and he + would fight him with pleasure to-morrow, or any day, for sending him such + a letter, if he was born a gentleman, which he was sorry (for both their + sakes) to find (too late) he was not. Then, in a private postscript, he + condescended to tell us, that all would be speedily settled to his + satisfaction, and we should turn over a new leaf, for he was going to be + married in a fortnight to the grandest heiress in England, and had only + immediate occasion at present for 200<i>l</i>., as he would not choose to + touch his lady’s fortune for travelling expenses home to Castle Rackrent, + where he intended to be, wind and weather permitting, early in the next + month; and desired fires, and the house to be painted, and the new + building to go on as fast as possible, for the reception of him and his + lady before that time; with several words besides in the letter, which we + could not make out, because, God bless him! he wrote in such a flurry. My + heart warmed to my new lady when I read this; I was almost afraid it was + too good news to be true; but the girls fell to scouring, and it was well + they did, for we soon saw his marriage in the paper, to a lady with I + don’t know how many tens of thousand pounds to her fortune: then I watched + the post-office for his landing; and the news came to my son of his and + the bride being in Dublin, and on the way home to Castle Rackrent. We had + bonfires all over the country, expecting him down the next day, and we had + his coming of age still to celebrate, which he had not time to do properly + before he left the country; therefore a great ball was expected, and great + doings upon his coming, as it were, fresh to take possession of his + ancestors’ estate. I never shall forget the day he came home: we had + waited and waited all day long till eleven o’clock at night, and I was + thinking of sending the boy to lock the gates, and giving them up for that + night, when there came the carriages thundering up to the great hall door. + I got the first sight of the bride; for when the carriage door opened, + just as she had her foot on the steps, I held the flam[S] full in her face + to light her, at which she shut her eyes, but I had a full view of the + rest, of her, and greatly shocked I was, for by that light she was little + better than a blackamoor, and seemed crippled, but that was only sitting + so long in the chariot. “You’re kindly welcome to Castle Rackrent, my + lady,” says I (recollecting who she was); “did your honour hear of the + bonfires?” His honour spoke never a word, nor so much as handed her up the + steps—he looked to me no more like himself than nothing at all; I + know I took him for the skeleton of his honour: I was not sure what to say + next to one or t’other, but seeing she was a stranger in a foreign + country, I thought it but right to speak cheerful to her, so I went back + again to the bonfires. “My lady,” says I, as she crossed the hall, “there + would have been fifty times as many, but for fear of the horses, and + frightening your ladyship: Jason and I forbid them, please your honour.” + With that she looked at me a little bewildered. “Will I have a fire + lighted in the state-room to-night?” was the next question I put to her, + but never a word she answered, so I concluded she could not speak a word + of English, and was from foreign parts. The short and the long of it was, + I couldn’t tell what to make of her; so I left her to herself, and went + straight down to the servants’ hall to learn something for certain about + her. Sir Kit’s own man was tired, but the groom set him a talking at last, + and we had it all out before ever I closed my eyes that night. The bride + might well be a great fortune—she was a <i>Jewish</i> by all + accounts, who are famous for their great riches. I had never seen any of + that tribe or nation before, and could only gather, that she spoke a + strange kind of English of her own, that she could not abide pork or + sausages, and went neither to church or mass. Mercy upon his honour’s poor + soul, thought I; what will become of him and his, and all of us, with his + heretic blackamoor at the head of the Castle Rackrent estate! I never + slept a wink all night for thinking of it: but before the servants I put + my pipe in my mouth, and kept my mind to myself; for I had a great regard + for the family; and after this, when strange gentlemen’s servants came to + the house, and would begin to talk about the bride, I took care to put the + best foot foremost, and passed her for a nabob in the kitchen, which + accounted for her dark complexion and every thing. + </p> + <p> + The very morning after they came home, however, I saw plain enough how + things were between Sir Kit and my lady, though they were walking together + arm in arm after breakfast, looking at the new building and the + improvements. “Old Thady,” said my master, just as he used to do, “how do + you do?” “Very well, I thank your honour’s honour,” said I; but I saw he + was not well pleased, and my heart was in my mouth as I walked along after + him. “Is the large room damp, Thady?” said his honour. “Oh, damp, your + honour! how should it but be as dry as a bone,” says I, “after all the + fires we have kept in it day and night? it’s the barrack-room[T] your + honour’s talking on.” “And what is a barrack-room, pray, my dear?” were + the first words I ever heard out of my lady’s lips. “No matter, my dear!” + said he, and went on talking to me, ashamed like I should witness her + ignorance. To be sure, to hear her talk one might have taken her for an + innocent,[U] for it was, “what’s this, Sir Kit? and what’s that, Sir Kit?” + all the way we went. To be sure, Sir Kit had enough to do to answer her. + “And what do you call that, Sir Kit?” said she, “that, that looks like a + pile of black bricks, pray, Sir Kit?” “My turf stack, my dear,” said my + master, and bit his lip. Where have you lived, my lady, all your life, not + to know a turf stack when you see it? thought I, but I said nothing. Then, + by-and-by, she takes out her glass, and begins spying over the country. + “And what’s all that black swamp out yonder, Sir Kit?” says she. “My bog, + my dear,” says he, and went on whistling. “It’s a very ugly prospect, my + dear,” says she. “You don’t see it, my dear,” says he, “for we’ve planted + it out, when the trees grow up in summer time,” says he. “Where are the + trees,” said she, “my dear?” still looking through her glass. “You are + blind, my dear,” says he; “what are these under your eyes?” “These + shrubs,” said she. “Trees,” said he. “May be they are what you call trees + in Ireland, my dear,” said she; “but they are not a yard high, are they?” + “They were planted out but last year, my lady,” says I, to soften matters + between them, for I saw she was going the way to make his honour mad with + her: “they are very well grown for their age, and you’ll not see the bog + of Allyballycarricko’shaughlin at-all-at-all through the skreen, when once + the leaves come out. But, my lady, you must not quarrel with any part or + parcel of Allyballycarricko’shaughlin, for you don’t know how many hundred + years that same bit of bog has been in the family; we would not part with + the bog of Allyballycarricko’shaughlin upon no account at all; it cost the + late Sir Murtagh two hundred good pounds to defend his title to it and + boundaries against the O’Learys, who cut a road through it.” Now one would + have thought this would have been hint enough for my lady, but she fell to + laughing like one out of their right mind, and made me say the name of the + bog over for her to get it by heart, a dozen times—then she must ask + me how to spell it, and what was the meaning of it in English—Sir + Kit standing by whistling all the while; I verily believed she laid the + corner stone of all her future misfortunes at that very instant; but I + said no more, only looked at Sir Kit. + </p> + <p> + There were no balls, no dinners, no doings; the country was all + disappointed—Sir Kit’s gentleman said in a whisper to me, it was all + my lady’s own fault, because she was so obstinate about the cross. “What + cross?” says I; “is it about her being a heretic?” “Oh, no such matter,” + says he; “my master does not mind her heresies, but her diamond cross, + it’s worth I can’t tell you how much; and she has thousands of English + pounds concealed in diamonds about her, which she as good as promised to + give up to my master before he married, but now she won’t part with any of + them, and she must take the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + Her honey-moon, at least her Irish honey-moon, was scarcely well over, + when his honour one morning said to me, “Thady, buy me a pig!” and then + the sausages were ordered, and here was the first open breaking-out of my + lady’s troubles. My lady came down herself into the kitchen, to speak to + the cook about the sausages, and desired never to see them more at her + table. Now my master had ordered them, and my lady knew that. The cook + took my lady’s part, because she never came down into the kitchen, and was + young and innocent in housekeeping, which raised her pity; besides, said + she, at her own table, surely, my lady should order and disorder what she + pleases; but the cook soon changed her note, for my master made it a + principle to have the sausages, and swore at her for a Jew herself, till + he drove her fairly out of the kitchen; then, for fear of her place, and + because he threatened that my lady should give her no discharge without + the sausages, she gave up, and from that day forward always sausages, or + bacon, or pig meat in some shape or other, went up to table; upon which my + lady shut herself up in her own room, and my master said she might stay + there, with an oath: and to make sure of her, he turned the key in the + door, and kept it ever after in his pocket. We none of us ever saw or + heard her speak for seven years after that:<a href="#linknote-6" + name="linknoteref-6" id="linknoteref-6"><small>6</small></a> he carried + her dinner himself. Then his honour had a great deal of company to dine + with him, and balls in the house, and was as gay and gallant, and as much + himself as before he was married; and at dinner he always drank my Lady + Rackrent’s good health, and so did the company, and he sent out always a + servant, with his compliments to my Lady Rackrent, and the company was + drinking her ladyship’s health, and begged to know if there was any thing + at table he might send her; and the man came back, after the sham errand, + with my Lady Rackrent’s compliments, and she was very much obliged to Sir + Kit—she did not wish for any thing, but drank the company’s health. + The country, to be sure, talked and wondered at my lady’s being shut up, + but nobody chose to interfere or ask any impertinent questions, for they + knew my master was a man very apt to give a short answer himself, and + likely to call a man out for it afterwards; he was a famous shot; had + killed his man before he came of age, and nobody scarce dared look at him + whilst at Bath. Sir Kit’s character was so well known in the country, that + he lived in peace and quietness ever after, and was a great favourite with + the ladies, especially when in process of time, in the fifth year of her + confinement, my Lady Rackrent fell ill, and took entirely to her bed, and + he gave out that she was now skin and bone, and could not last through the + winter. In this he had two physicians’ opinions to back him (for now he + called in two physicians for her), and tried all his arts to get the + diamond cross from her on her death-bed, and to get her to make a will in + his favour of her separate possessions; but there she was too tough for + him. He used to swear at her behind her back, after kneeling to her to her + face, and call her in the presence of his gentleman his stiff-necked + Israelite, though before he married her, that same gentleman told me he + used to call her (how he could bring it out, I don’t know) “my pretty + Jessica!” To be sure it must have been hard for her to guess what sort of + a husband he reckoned to make her. When she was lying, to all expectation, + on her death-bed of a broken heart, I could not but pity her, though she + was a Jewish; and considering too it was no fault of hers to be taken with + my master so young as she was at the Bath, and so fine a gentleman as Sir + Kit was when he courted her; and considering too, after all they had heard + and seen of him as a husband, there were now no less than three ladies in + our county talked of for his second wife, all at daggers drawn with each + other, as his gentleman swore, at the balls, for Sir Kit for their + partner,—I could not but think them bewitched; but they all reasoned + with themselves, that Sir Kit would make a good husband to any Christian + but a Jewish, I suppose, and especially as he was now a reformed rake; and + it was not known how my lady’s fortune was settled in her will, nor how + the Castle Rackrent estate was all mortgaged, and bonds out against him, + for he was never cured of his gaming tricks; but that was the only fault + he had, God bless him! + </p> + <p> + My lady had a sort of fit, and it was given out she was dead, by mistake: + this brought things to a sad crisis for my poor master,—one of the + three ladies showed his letters to her brother, and claimed his promises, + whilst another did the same. I don’t mention names. Sir Kit, in his + defence, said he would meet any man who dared to question his conduct, and + as to the ladies, they must settle it amongst them who was to be his + second, and his third, and his fourth, whilst his first was still alive, + to his mortification and theirs. Upon this, as upon all former occasions, + he had the voice of the country with him, on account of the great spirit + and propriety he acted with. He met and shot the first lady’s brother; the + next day he called out the second, who had a wooden-leg; and their place + of meeting by appointment being in a new ploughed field, the wooden-leg + man stuck fast in it. Sir Kit, seeing his situation, with great candour + fired his pistol over his head; upon which the seconds interposed, and + convinced the parties there had been a slight misunderstanding between + them; thereupon they shook hands cordially, and went home to dinner + together. This gentleman, to show the world how they stood together, and + by the advice of the friends of both parties, to re-establish his sister’s + injured reputation, went out with Sir Kit as his second, and carried his + message next day to the last of his adversaries: I never saw him in such + fine spirits as that day he went out—sure enough he was within + ames-ace of getting quit handsomely of all his enemies; but unluckily, + after hitting the tooth-pick out of his adversary’s finger and thumb, he + received a ball in a vital part, and was brought home, in little better + than an hour after the affair, speechless on a hand-barrow, to my lady. We + got the key out of his pocket the first thing we did, and my son Jason ran + to unlock the barrack-room, where my lady had been shut up for seven + years, to acquaint her with the fatal accident. The surprise bereaved her + of her senses at first, nor would she believe but we were putting some new + trick upon her, to entrap her out of her jewels, for a great while, till + Jason bethought himself of taking her to the window, and showed her the + men bringing Sir Kit up the avenue upon the hand-barrow, which had + immediately the desired effect; for directly she burst into tears, and + pulling her cross from her bosom, she kissed it with as great devotion as + ever I witnessed; and lifting up her eyes to heaven, uttered some + ejaculation, which none present heard; but I take the sense of it to be, + she returned thanks for this unexpected interposition in her favour when + she had least reason to expect it. My master was greatly lamented: there + was no life in him when we lifted him off the barrow, so he was laid out + immediately, and <i>waked</i> the same night. The country was all in an + uproar about him, and not a soul but cried shame upon his murderer; who + would have been hanged surely, if he could have been brought to his trial, + whilst the gentlemen in the country were up about it; but he very + prudently withdrew himself to the continent before the affair was made + public. As for the young lady, who was the immediate cause of the fatal + accident, however innocently, she could never show her head after at the + balls in the county or any place; and by the advice of her friends and + physicians, she was ordered soon after to Bath, where it was expected, if + any where on this side of the grave, she would meet with the recovery of + her health and lost peace of mind. As a proof of his great popularity, I + need only add, that there was a song made upon my master’s untimely death + in the newspapers, which was in every body’s mouth, singing up and down + through the country, even down to the mountains, only three days after his + unhappy exit. He was also greatly bemoaned at the Curragh,[V] where his + cattle were well known; and all who had taken up his bets were + particularly inconsolable for his loss to society. His stud sold at the + cant[X] at the greatest price ever known in the county; his favourite + horses were chiefly disposed of amongst his particular friends, who would + give any price for them for his sake; but no ready money was required by + the new heir, who wished not to displease any of the gentlemen of the + neighbourhood just upon his coming to settle amongst them; so a long + credit was given where requisite, and the cash has never been gathered in + from that day to this. + </p> + <p> + But to return to my lady:—She got surprisingly well after my + master’s decease. No sooner was it known for certain that he was dead, + than all the gentlemen within twenty miles of us came in a body, as it + were, to set my lady at liberty, and to protest against her confinement, + which they now for the first time understood was against her own consent + The ladies too were as attentive as possible, striving who should be + foremost with their morning visits; and they that saw the diamonds spoke + very handsomely of them, but thought it a pity they were not bestowed, if + it had so pleased God, upon a lady who would have become them better. All + these civilities wrought little with my lady, for she had taken an + unaccountable prejudice against the country, and every thing belonging to + it, and was so partial to her native land, that after parting with the + cook, which she did immediately upon my master’s decease, I never knew her + easy one instant, night or day, but when she was packing up to leave us. + Had she meant to make any stay in Ireland, I stood a great chance of being + a great favourite with her; for when she found I understood the + weathercock, she was always finding some pretence to be talking to me, and + asking me which way the wind blew, and was it likely, did I think, to + continue fair for England. But when I saw she had made up her mind to + spend the rest of her days upon her own income and jewels in England, I + considered her quite as a foreigner, and not at all any longer as part of + the family. She gave no vails to the servants at Castle Rackrent at + parting, notwithstanding the old proverb of “<i>as rich as a Jew</i>,” + which she being a Jewish, they built upon with reason. But from first to + last she brought nothing but misfortunes amongst us; and if it had not + been all along with her, his honour, Sir Kit, would have been now alive in + all appearance. Her diamond cross was, they say, at the bottom of it all; + and it was a shame for her, being his wife, not to show more duty, and to + have given it up when he condescended to ask so often for such a bit of a + trifle in his distresses, especially when he all along made it no secret + he married for money. But we will not bestow another thought upon her. + This much I thought it lay upon my conscience to say, in justice to my + poor master’s memory. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tis an ill wind that blows nobody no good—the same wind that took + the Jew Lady Rackrent over to England, brought over the new heir to Castle + Rackrent. + </p> + <p> + Here let me pause for breath in my story, for though I had a great regard + for every member of the family, yet without compare Sir Conolly, commonly + called, for short, amongst his friends, Sir Condy Rackrent, was ever my + great favourite, and, indeed, the most universally beloved man I had ever + seen or heard of, not excepting his great ancestor Sir Patrick, to whose + memory he, amongst other instances of generosity, erected a handsome + marble stone in the church of Castle Rackrent, setting forth in large + letters his age, birth, parentage, and many other virtues, concluding with + the compliment so justly due, that “Sir Patrick Rackrent lived and died a + monument of old Irish hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONTINUATION OF THE MEMOIRS OF THE RACKRENT FAMILY. + </h2> + <h3> + HISTORY OF SIR CONOLLY RACKRENT. + </h3> + <p> + Sir Condy Rackrent, by the grace of God heir-at-law to the Castle Rackrent + estate, was a remote branch of the family: born to little or no fortune of + his own, he was bred to the bar; at which, having many friends to push + him, and no mean natural abilities of his own, he doubtless would, in + process of time, if he could have borne the drudgery of that study, have + been rapidly made king’s counsel, at the least; but things were disposed + of otherwise, and he never went the circuit but twice, and then made no + figure for want of a fee, and being unable to speak in public. He received + his education chiefly in the college of Dublin; but before he came to + years of discretion lived in the country, in a small but slated house, + within view of the end of the avenue. I remember him bare footed and + headed, running through the street of O’Shaughlin’s town, and playing at + pitch and toss, ball, marbles, and what not, with the boys of the town, + amongst whom my son Jason was a great favourite with him. As for me, he + was ever my white-headed boy: often’s the time when I would call in at his + father’s, where I was always made welcome; he would slip down to me in the + kitchen, and love to sit on my knee, whilst I told him stories of the + family, and the blood from which he was sprung, and how he might look + forward, if the <i>then</i> present man should die without childer, to + being at the head of the Castle Rackrent estate. This was then spoke quite + and clear at random to please the child, but it pleased Heaven to + accomplish my prophecy afterwards, which gave him a great opinion of my + judgment in business. He went to a little grammar-school with many others, + and my son amongst the rest, who was in his class, and not a little useful + to him in his book learning, which he acknowledged with gratitude ever + after. These rudiments of his education thus completed, he got + a-horseback, to which exercise he was ever addicted, and used to gallop + over the country while yet but a slip of a boy, under the care of Sir + Kit’s huntsman, who was very fond of him, and often lent him his gun, and + took him out a-shooting under his own eye. By these means he became well + acquainted and popular amongst the poor in the neighbourhood early; for + there was not a cabin at which he had not stopped some morning or other, + along with the huntsman, to drink a glass of burnt whiskey out of an + eggshell, to do him good and warm his heart, and drive the cold out of his + stomach. The old people always told him he was a great likeness of Sir + Patrick; which made him first have an ambition to take after him, as far + as his fortune should allow. He left us when of an age to enter the + college, and there completed his education and nineteenth year; for as he + was not born to an estate, his friends thought it incumbent on them to + give him the best education which could be had for love or money; and a + great deal of money consequently was spent upon him at College and temple. + He was a very little altered for the worse by what he saw there of the + great world; for when he came down into the country, to pay us a visit, we + thought him just the same man as ever, hand and glove with every one, and + as far from high, though not without his own proper share of family pride, + as any man ever you see. Latterly, seeing how Sir Kit and the Jewish lived + together, and that there was no one between him and the Castle Rackrent + estate, he neglected to apply to the law as much as was expected of him; + and secretly many of the tenants, and others, advanced him cash upon his + note of hand value received, promising bargains of leases and lawful + interest, should he ever come into the estate. All this was kept a great + secret, for fear the present man, hearing of it, should take it into his + head to take it ill of poor Condy, and so should cut him off for ever, by + levying a fine, and suffering a recovery to dock the entail.[Y] Sir + Murtagh would have been the man for that; but Sir Kit was too much taken + up philandering to consider the law in this case, or any other. These + practices I have mentioned, to account for the state of his affairs, I + mean Sir Condy’s, upon his coming into the Castle Rackrent estate. He + could not command a penny of his first year’s income; which, and keeping + no accounts, and the great sight of company he did, with many other causes + too numerous to mention, was the origin of his distresses. My son Jason, + who was now established agent, and knew every thing, explained matters out + of the face to Sir Conolly, and made him sensible of his embarrassed + situation. With a great nominal rent-roll, it was almost all paid away in + interest; which being for convenience suffered to run on, soon doubled the + principal, and Sir Condy was obliged to pass new bonds for the interest, + now grown principal, and so on. Whilst this was going on, my son requiring + to be paid for his trouble, and many years’ service in the family gratis, + and Sir Condy not willing to take his affairs into his own hands, or to + look them even in the face, he gave my son a bargain of some acres, which + Jell out of lease, at a reasonable rent. Jason set the land, as soon as + his lease was sealed, to under tenants, to make the rent, and got two + hundred a-year profit rent; which was little enough considering his long + agency. He bought the land at twelve years’ purchase two years afterwards, + when Sir Condy was pushed for money on an execution, and was at the same + time allowed for his improvements thereon. There was a sort of + hunting-lodge upon the estate, convenient to my son Jason’s land, which he + had his eye upon about this time; and he was a little jealous of Sir + Condy, who talked of setting it to a stranger, who was just come into the + country—Captain Moneygawl was the man. He was son and heir to the + Moneygawls of Mount Juliet’s town, who had a great estate in the next + county to ours; and my master was loth to disoblige the young gentleman, + whose heart was set upon the lodge; so he wrote him back, that the lodge + was at his service, and if he would honour him with his company at Castle + Rackrent, they could ride over together some morning, and look at it, + before signing the lease. Accordingly the captain came over to us, and he + and Sir Condy grew the greatest friends ever you see, and were for ever + out a-shooting or hunting together, and were very merry in the evenings; + and Sir Condy was invited of course to Mount Juliet’s town; and the family + intimacy that had been in Sir Patrick’s time was now recollected, and + nothing would serve Sir Condy but he must be three times a-week at the + least with his new friends, which grieved me, who knew, by the captain’s + groom and gentleman, how they talked of him at Mount Juliet’s town, making + him quite, as one may say, a laughing-stock and a butt for the whole + company; but they were soon cured of <i>that</i> by an accident that + surprised ‘em not a little, as it did me. There was a bit of a scrawl + found upon the waiting-maid of old Mr. Moneygawl’s youngest daughter, Miss + Isabella, that laid open the whole; and her father, they say, was like <i>one + out of his right mind</i>, and swore it was the last thing he ever should + have thought of, when he invited my master to his house, that his daughter + should think of such a match. But their talk signified not a straw, for, + as Miss. Isabella’s maid reported, her young mistress was fallen over head + and ears in love with Sir Condy, from the first time that ever her brother + brought him into the house to dinner: the servant who waited that day + behind my master’s chair was the first who knew it, as he says; though + it’s hard to believe him, for he did not tell it till a great while + afterwards; but, however, it’s likely enough, as the thing turned out, + that he was not far out of the way; for towards the middle of dinner, as + he says, they were talking of stage-plays, having a playhouse, and being + great play-actors at Mount Juliet’s town; and Miss Isabella turns short to + my master, and says, “Have you seen the play-bill, Sir Condy?” “No, I have + not,” said he. “Then more shame for you,” said the captain her brother, + “not to know that my sister is to play Juliet to-night, who plays it + better than any woman on or off the stage in all Ireland.” “I am very + happy to hear it,” said Sir Condy; and there the matter dropped for the + present. But Sir Condy all this time, and it great while afterwards, was + at a terrible nonplus; for he had no liking, not he, to stage-plays, nor + to Miss Isabella either; to his mind, as it came out over a bowl of + whiskey-punch at home, his little Judy M’Quirk, who was daughter to a + sister’s son of mine, was worth twenty of Miss Isabella. He had seen her + often when he stopped at her father’s cabin to drink whiskey out of the + egg-shell, out hunting, before he came to the estate, and, as she gave + out, was under something like a promise of marriage to her. Any how, I + could not but pity my poor master, who was so bothered between them, and + he an easy-hearted man, that could not disoblige nobody, God bless him! To + be sure, it was not his place to behave ungenerous to Miss Isabella, who + had disobliged all her relations for his sake, as he remarked; and then + she was locked up in her chamber, and forbid to think of him any more, + which raised his spirit, because his family was, as he observed, as good + as theirs at any rate, and the Rackrents a suitable match for the + Moneygawls any day in the year: all which was true enough; but it grieved + me to see, that upon the strength of all this, Sir Condy was growing more + in the mind to carry off Miss Isabella to Scotland, in spite of her + relations, as she desired. + </p> + <p> + “It’s all over with our poor Judy!” said I, with a heavy sigh, making bold + to speak to him one night when he was a little cheerful, and standing in + the servants’ hall all alone with me, as was often his custom. “Not at + all,” said he; “I never was fonder of Judy than at this present speaking; + and to prove it to you,” said he, and he took from my hand a halfpenny, + change that I had just got along with my tobacco, “and to prove it to you, + Thady,” says he, “it’s a toss up with me which I should marry this minute, + her or Mr. Moneygawl of Mount Juliet’s town’s daughter—so it is.” + “Oh, boo! boo!” <a href="#linknote-7" name="linknoteref-7" + id="linknoteref-7"><small>7</small></a> says I, making light of it, to see + what he would go on to next; “your honour’s joking, to be sure; there’s no + compare between our poor Judy and Miss Isabella, who has a great fortune, + they say.” “I’m not a man to mind a fortune, nor never was,” said Sir + Condy, proudly, “whatever her friends may say; and to make short of it,” + says he, “I’m come to a determination upon the spot;” with that he swore + such a terrible oath, as made me cross myself; “and by this book,” said + he, snatching up my ballad book, mistaking it for my prayer book, which + lay in the window; “and by this book,” says he, “and by all the books that + ever were shut and opened, it’s come to a toss-up with me, and I’ll stand + or fall by the toss; and so Thady, hand me over that <i>pin</i><a + href="#linknote-8" name="linknoteref-8" id="linknoteref-8"><small>8</small></a> + out of the ink-horn,” and he makes a cross on the smooth side of the + halfpenny; “Judy M’Quirk,” says he, “her mark.” <a href="#linknote-9" + name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9"><small>9</small></a> God bless + him! his hand was a little unsteadied by all the whiskey punch he had + taken, but it was plain to see his heart was for poor Judy. My heart was + all as one as in my mouth when I saw the halfpenny up in the air, but I + said nothing at all; and when it came down, I was glad I had kept myself + to myself, for to be sure now it was all over with poor Judy. “Judy’s out + a luck,” said I, striving to laugh. “I’m out a luck,” said he; and I never + saw a man look so cast down: he took up the halfpenny off the flag, and + walked away quite sober-like by the shock. Now, though as easy a man, you + would think, as any in the wide world, there was no such thing as making + him unsay one of these sort of vows,<a href="#linknote-10" + name="linknoteref-10" id="linknoteref-10"><small>10</small></a> which he + had learned to reverence when young, as I well remember teaching him to + toss up for bog-berries on my knee. So I saw the affair was as good as + settled between him and Miss Isabella, and I had no more to say but to + wish her joy, which I did the week afterwards, upon her return from + Scotland with my poor master. + </p> + <p> + My new lady was young, as might be supposed of a lady that had been + carried off, by her own consent, to Scotland; but I could only see her at + first through her veil, which, from bashfulness or fashion, she kept over + her face. “And am I to walk through all this crowd of people, my dearest + love?” said she to Sir Condy, meaning us servants and tenants, who had + gathered at the hack gate. “My dear,” said Sir Condy, “there’s nothing for + it but to walk, or to let me carry you as far as the house, for you see + the back road is too narrow for a carriage, and the great piers have + tumbled down across the front approach; so there’s no driving the right + way, by reason of the ruins.” “Plato, thou reasonest well!” said she, or + words to that effect, which I could no ways understand; and again, when + her foot stumbled against a broken bit of a car-wheel, she cried out, + “Angels and ministers of grace defend us!” Well, thought I, to be sure, if + she’s no Jewish, like the last, she is a mad woman for certain, which is + as bad: it would have been as well for my poor master to have taken up + with poor Judy, who is in her right mind, any how. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed like a mad woman, moreover, more than like any one I ever + saw afore or since, and I could not take my eyes off her, but still + followed behind her; and her feathers on the top of her hat were broke + going in at the low back door, and she pulled out her little bottle out of + her pocket to smell to when she found herself in the kitchen, and said, “I + shall faint with the heat of this odious, odious place.” “My dear, it’s + only three steps across the kitchen, and there’s a fine air if your veil + was up,” said Sir Condy, and with that threw hack her veil, so that I had + then a full sight of her face; she had not at all the colour of one going + to faint, but a fine complexion of her own, as I then took it to be, + though her maid told me after it was all put on; but even complexion and + all taken in, she was no way, in point of good looks, to compare to poor + Judy; and with all she had a quality toss with her; but may be it was my + over-partiality to Judy, into whose place I may say she stepped, that made + me notice all this. To do her justice, however, she was, when we came to + know her better, very liberal in her house-keeping, nothing at all of the + skinflint in her; she left every thing to the housekeeper; and her own + maid, Mrs. Jane, who went with her to Scotland, gave her the best of + characters for generosity. She seldom or ever wore a thing twice the same + way, Mrs. Jane told us, and was always pulling her things to pieces, and + giving them away; never being used, in her father’s house, to think of + expense in any thing; and she reckoned, to be sure, to go on the same way + at Castle Rackrent; but, when I came to inquire, I learned that her father + was so mad with her for running off, after his locking her up, and + forbidding her to think any more of Sir Condy, that he would not give her + a farthing; and it was lucky for her she had a few thousands of her own, + which had been left to her by a good grandmother, and these were very + convenient to begin with. My master and my lady set out in great style; + they had the finest coach and chariot, and horses and liveries, and cut + the greatest dash in the county, returning their wedding visits: and it + was immediately reported, that her father had undertaken to pay all my + master’s debts, and of course all his tradesmen gave him a new credit, and + every thing went on smack smooth, and I could not but admire my lady’s + spirit, and was proud to see Castle Rackrent again in all its glory. My + lady had a fine taste for building, and furniture, and playhouses, and she + turned every thing topsy-turvy, and made the barrack-room into a theatre, + as she called it, and she went on as if she had a mint of money at her + elbow; and, to be sure, I thought she knew best, especially as Sir Condy + said nothing to it one way or the other. All he asked, God bless him! was + to live in peace and quietness, and have his bottle or his whiskey punch + at night to himself. Now this was little enough, to be sure, for any + gentleman; but my lady couldn’t abide the smell of the whiskey punch. “My + dear,” says he, “you liked it well enough before we were married, and why + not now?” “My dear,” said she, “I never smelt it, or I assure you I should + never have prevailed upon myself to marry you.” “My dear, I am sorry you + did not smell it; but we can’t help that now,” returned my master, without + putting himself in a passion, or going out of his way, but just fair and + easy helped himself to another glass, and drank it off to her good health. + All this the butler told me, who was going backwards and forwards + unnoticed with the jug, and hot water, and sugar, and all he thought + wanting. Upon my master’s swallowing the last glass of whiskey punch, my + lady burst into tears, calling him an ungrateful, base, barbarous wretch! + and went off into a fit of hysterics, as I think Mrs. Jane called it, and + my poor master was greatly frightened, this being the first thing of the + kind he had seen; and he fell straight on his knees before her, and, like + a good-hearted cratur as he was, ordered the whiskey punch out of the + room, and bid ‘em throw open all the windows, and cursed himself: and then + my lady came to herself again, and when she saw him kneeling there, bid + him get up, and not forswear himself any more, for that she was sure he + did not love her, and never had: this we learned from Mrs. Jane, who was + the only person left present at all this. “My dear,” returns my master, + thinking, to be sure, of Judy, as well he might, “whoever told you so is + an incendiary, and I’ll have ‘em turned out of the house this minute, if + you’ll only let me know which of them it was.” “Told me what?” said my + lady, starting upright in her chair. “Nothing at all, nothing at all,” + said my master, seeing he had overshot himself, and that my lady spoke at + random; “but what you said just now, that I did not love you, Bella; who + told you that?” “My own sense,” she said, and she put her handkerchief to + her face, and leant back upon Mrs. Jane, and fell to sobbing as if her + heart would break. “Why now, Bella, this is very strange of you,” said my + poor master; “if nobody has told you—nothing, what is it you are + taking on for at this rate, and exposing yourself and me for this way?” + “Oh, say no more, say no more; every word you say kills me,” cried my + lady; and she ran on like one, as Mrs. Jane says, raving, “Oh, Sir Condy, + Sir Condy! I that had hoped to find in you——” “Why now, faith, + this is a little too much; do, Bella, try to recollect yourself, my dear; + am not I your husband, and of your own choosing; and is not that enough?” + “Oh, too much! too much!” cried my lady, wringing her hands. “Why, my + dear, come to your right senses, for the love of heaven. See, is not the + whiskey punch, jug and bowl, and all, gone out of the room long ago? What + is it, in the wide world, you have to complain of?” But still my lady + sobbed and sobbed, and called herself the most wretched of women; and + among other out-of-the-way provoking things, asked my master, was he fit + for company for her, and he drinking all night? This nettling him, which + it was hard to do, he replied, that as to drinking all night, he was then + as sober as she was herself, and that it was no matter how much a man + drank, provided it did no ways affect or stagger him: that as to being fit + company for her, he thought himself of a family to be fit company for any + lord or lady in the land; but that he never prevented her from seeing and + keeping what company she pleased, and that he had done his best to make + Castle Rackrent pleasing to her since her marriage, having always had the + house full of visitors, and if her own relations were not amongst them, he + said that was their own fault, and their pride’s fault, of which he was + sorry to find her ladyship had so unbecoming a share. So concluding, he + took his candle and walked off to his room, and my lady was in her + tantarums for three days after; and would have been so much longer, no + doubt, but some of her friends, young ladies, and cousins, and second + cousins, came to Castle Rackrent, by my poor master’s express invitation, + to see her, and she was in a hurry to get up, as Mrs. Jane called it, a + play for them, and so got well, and was as finely dressed, and as happy to + look at, as ever; and all the young ladies, who used to be in her room + dressing of her, said, in Mrs. Jane’s hearing, that my lady was the + happiest bride ever they had seen, and that to be sure a love-match was + the only thing for happiness, where the parties could any way afford it. + </p> + <p> + As to affording it, God knows it was little they knew of the matter; my + lady’s few thousands could not last for ever, especially the way she went + on with them; and letters from tradesfolk came every post thick and + threefold with bills as long as my arm, of years’ and years’ standing: my + son Jason had ‘em all handed over to him, and the pressing letters were + all unread by Sir Condy, who hated trouble, and could never be brought to + hear talk of business, but still put it off and put it off, saying, settle + it any how, or bid ‘em call again to-morrow, or speak to me about it some + other time. Now it was hard to find the right time to speak, for in the + mornings he was a-bed, and in the evenings over his bottle, where no + gentleman chooses to be disturbed. Things in a twelvemonth or so came to + such a pass there was no making a shift to go on any longer, though we + were all of us well enough used to live from hand to mouth at Castle + Rackrent. One day, I remember, when there was a power of company, all + sitting after dinner in the dusk, not to say dark, in the drawing-room, my + lady having rung five times for candles, and none to go up, the + housekeeper sent up the footman, who went to my mistress, and whispered + behind her chair how it was. “My lady,” says he, “there are no candles in + the house.” “Bless me,” says she; “then take a horse and gallop off as + fast as you can to Carrick O’Fungus, and get some.” “And in the mean time + tell them to step into the playhouse, and try if there are not some bits + left,” added Sir Condy, who happened to be within hearing. The man was + sent up again to my lady, to let her know there was no horse to go, but + one that wanted a shoe. “Go to Sir Condy then; I know nothing at all about + the horses,” said my lady; “why do you plague me with these things?” How + it was settled I really forget, but to the best of my remembrance, the boy + was sent down to my son Jason’s to borrow candles for the night. Another + time in the winter, and on a desperate cold day, there was no turf in for + the parlour and above stairs, and scarce enough for the cook in the + kitchen; the little <i>gossoon</i><a href="#linknote-11" + name="linknoteref-11" id="linknoteref-11"><small>11</small></a> was sent + off to the neighbours, to see and beg or borrow some, but none could he + bring back with him for love or money; so as needs must, we were forced to + trouble Sir Condy—“Well, and if there’s no turf to be had in the + town or country, why what signifies talking any more about it; can’t ye go + and cut down a tree?” “Which tree, please your honour?” I made bold to + say. “Any tree at all that’s good to burn,” said Sir Condy; “send off + smart and get one down, and the fires lighted, before my lady gets up to + breakfast, or the house will be too hot to hold us.” He was always very + considerate in all things about my lady, and she wanted for nothing whilst + he had it to give. Well, when things were tight with them about this time, + my son Jason put in a word again about the lodge, and made a genteel offer + to lay down the purchase-money, to relieve Sir Condy’s distresses. Now Sir + Condy had it from the best authority, that there were two writs come down + to the sheriff against his person, and the sheriff, as ill luck would have + it, was no friend of his, and talked how he must do his duty, and how he + would do it, if it was against the first man in the country, or even his + own brother; let alone one who had voted against him at the last election, + as Sir Condy had done. So Sir Condy was fain to take the purchase-money of + the lodge from my son Jason to settle matters; and sure enough it was a + good bargain for both parties, for my son bought the fee-simple of a good + house for him and his heirs for ever, for little or nothing, and by + selling of it for that same, my master saved himself from a gaol. Every + way it turned out fortunate for Sir Condy; for before the money was all + gone there came a general election, and he being so well beloved in the + county, and one of the oldest families, no one had a better right to stand + candidate for the vacancy; and he was called upon by all his friends, and + the whole county I may say, to declare himself against the old member, who + had little thought of a contest. My master did not relish the thoughts of + a troublesome canvass, and all the ill-will he might bring upon himself by + disturbing the peace of the county, besides the expense, which was no + trifle; but all his friends called upon one another to subscribe, and they + formed themselves into a committee, and wrote all his circular letters for + him, and engaged all his agents, and did all the business unknown to him; + and he was well pleased that it should be so at last, and my lady herself + was very sanguine about the election; and there was open house kept night + and day at Castle Rackrent, and I thought I never saw my lady look so well + in her life as she did at that time: there were grand dinners, and all the + gentlemen drinking success to Sir Condy till they were carried off; and + then dances and balls, and the ladies all finishing with a raking pot of + tea in the morning.[Z] Indeed it was well the company made it their choice + to sit up all nights, for there were not half beds enough for the sights + of people that were in it, though there were shake-downs in the + drawing-room always made up before sunrise for those that liked it. For my + part, when I saw the doings that were going on, and the loads of claret + that went down the throats of them that had no right to be asking for it, + and the sights of meat that went up to table and never came down, besides + what was carried off to one or t’other below stairs, I couldn’t but pity + my poor master, who was to pay for all; but I said nothing, for fear of + gaining myself ill-will. The day of election will come some time or other, + says I to myself, and all will be over; and so it did, and a glorious day + it was as any I ever had the happiness to see. “Huzza! huzza! Sir Condy + Rackrent for ever!” was the first thing I hears in the morning, and the + same and nothing else all day, and not a soul sober only just when + polling, enough to give their votes as became ‘em, and to stand the + browbeating of the lawyers, who came tight enough upon us; and many of our + freeholders were knocked off, having never a freehold that they could + safely swear to, and Sir Condy was not willing to have any man perjure + himself for his sake, as was done on the other side, God knows; but no + matter for that. Some of our friends were dumb-founded, by the lawyers + asking them: Had they ever been upon the ground where their free-holds + lay? Now, Sir Condy being tender of the consciences of them that had not + been on the ground, and so could not swear to a freehold when + cross-examined by them lawyers, sent out for a couple of cleaves-full of + the sods of his farm of Gulteeshinnagh<a href="#linknote-12" + name="linknoteref-12" id="linknoteref-12"><small>12</small></a> and as + soon as the sods came into town, he set each man upon his sod, and so + then, ever after, you know, they could fairly swear they had been upon the + ground.<a href="#linknote-13" name="linknoteref-13" id="linknoteref-13"><small>13</small></a> + We gained the day by this piece of honesty.[A2] I thought I should have + died in the streets for joy when I seed my poor master chaired, and he + bareheaded, and it raining as hard as it could pour; but all the crowds + following him up and down, and he bowing and shaking hands with the whole + town. “Is that Sir Condy Rackrent in the chair?” says a stranger man in + the crowd. “The same,” says I; “who else should it he? God bless him!” + “And I take it, then, you belong to him?” says he. “Not at all,” says I; + “but I live under him, and have done so these two hundred years and + upwards, me and mine.” “It’s lucky for you, then,” rejoins he, “that he is + where he is; for was he any where else but in the chair, this minute he’d + be in a worse place; for I was sent down on purpose to put him up,<a + href="#linknote-14" name="linknoteref-14" id="linknoteref-14"><small>14</small></a> + and here’s my order for so doing in my pocket.” It was a writ that villain + the wine merchant had marked against my poor master for some hundreds of + an old debt, which it was a shame to be talking of at such a time as this. + “Put it in your pocket again, and think no more of it any ways for seven + years to come, my honest friend,” says I; “he’s a member of parliament + now, praised be God, and such as you can’t touch him: and if you’ll take a + fool’s advice, I’d have you keep out of the way this day, or you’ll run a + good chance of getting your deserts amongst my master’s friends, unless + you choose to drink his health like every body else.” “I’ve no objection + to that in life,” said he; so we went into one of the public houses kept + open for my master; and we had a great deal of talk about this thing and + that. “And how is it,” says he, “your master keeps on so well upon his + legs? I heard say he was off Holantide twelvemonth past.” “Never was + better or heartier in his life,” said I. “It’s not that I’m after speaking + of,” said he; “but there was a great report of his being ruined.” “No + matter,” says I, “the sheriffs two years running were his particular + friends, and the sub-sheriffs were both of them gentlemen, and were + properly spoken to; and so the writs lay snug with them, and they, as I + understand by my son Jason the custom in them cases is, returned the writs + as they came to them to those that sent ‘em; much good may it do them! + with a word in Latin, that no such person as Sir Condy Rackrent, Bart., + was to be found in those parts.” “Oh, I understand all those ways better, + no offence, than you,” says he, laughing, and at the same time filling his + glass to my master’s good health, which convinced me he was a warm friend + in his heart after all, though appearances were a little suspicious or so + at first. “To be sure,” says he, still cutting his joke, “when a man’s + over head and shoulders in debt, he may live the faster for it, and the + better, if he goes the right way about it; or else how is it so many live + on so well, as we see every day, after they are ruined?” “How is it,” says + I, being a little merry at the time; “how is it but just as you see the + ducks in the chicken-yard, just after their heads are cut off by the cook, + running round and round faster than when alive?” At which conceit he fell + a laughing, and remarked he had never had the happiness yet to see the + chicken-yard at Castle Rackrent. “It won’t be long so, I hope,” says I; + “you’ll be kindly welcome there, as every body is made by my master: there + is not a freer spoken gentleman, or a better beloved, high or low, in all + Ireland.” And of what passed after this I’m not sensible, for we drank Sir + Condy’s good health and the downfall of his enemies till we could stand no + longer ourselves. And little did I think at the time, or till long after, + how I was harbouring my poor master’s greatest of enemies myself. This + fellow had the impudence, after coming to see the chicken-yard, to get me + to introduce him to my son Jason; little more than the man that never was + born did I guess at his meaning by this visit: he gets him a correct list + fairly drawn out from my son Jason of all my master’s debts, and goes + straight round to the creditors and buys them all up, which he did easy + enough, seeing the half of them never expected to see their money out of + Sir Condy’s hands. Then, when this base-minded limb of the law, as I + afterward detected him in being, grew to be sole creditor over all, he + takes him out a custodiam on all the denominations and sub-denominations, + and every carton[B2] and half carton upon the estate; and not content with + that, must have an execution against the master’s goods and down to the + furniture, though little worth, of Castle Rackrent itself. But this is a + part of my story I’m not come to yet, and its bad to be forestalling: ill + news flies fast enough all the world over. + </p> + <p> + To go back to the day of the election, which I never think of but with + pleasure and tears of gratitude for those good times; after the election + was quite and clean over, there comes shoals of people from all parts, + claiming to have obliged my master with their votes, and putting him in + mind of promises which he could never remember himself to have made: one + was to have a freehold for each of his four sons; another was to have a + renewal of a lease; another an abatement; one came to be paid ten guineas + for a pair of silver buckles sold my master on the hustings, which turned + out to be no better than copper gilt; another had a long bill for oats, + the half of which never went into the granary to my certain knowledge, and + the other half were not fit for the cattle to touch; but the bargain was + made the week before the election, and the coach and saddle horses were + got into order for the day, besides a vote fairly got by them oats; so no + more reasoning on that head; but then there was no end to them that were + telling Sir Condy he had engaged to make their sons excisemen, or high + constables, or the like; and as for them that had bills to give in for + liquor, and beds, and straw, and ribands, and horses, and postchaises for + the gentlemen freeholders that came from all parts and other counties to + vote for my master, and were not, to be sure, to be at any charges, there + was no standing against all these; and, worse than all, the gentlemen of + my master’s committee, who managed all for him, and talked how they’d + bring him in without costing him a penny, and subscribed by hundreds very + genteelly, forgot to pay their subscriptions, and had laid out in agents’ + and lawyers’ fees and secret service money the Lord knows how much; and my + master could never ask one of them for their subscription you are + sensible, nor for the price of a fine horse he had sold one of them; so it + all was left at his door. He could never, God bless him again! I say, + bring himself to ask a gentleman for money, despising such sort of + conversation himself; but others, who were not gentlemen born, behaved + very uncivil in pressing him at this very time, and all he could do to + content ‘em all was to take himself out of the way as fast as possible to + Dublin, where my lady had taken a house fitting for him as a member of + parliament, to attend his duty in there all the winter. I was very lonely + when the whole family was gone, and all the things they had ordered to go, + and forgot, sent after them by the car. There was then a great silence in + Castle Rackrent, and I went moping from room to room, hearing the doors + clap for want of right locks, and the wind through the broken windows, + that the glazier never would come to mend, and the rain coming through the + roof and best ceilings all over the house for want of the slater, whose + bill was not paid, besides our having no slates or shingles for that part + of the old building which was shingled and burnt when the chimney took + fire, and had been open to the weather ever since. I took myself to the + servants’ hall in the evening to smoke my pipe as usual, but missed the + bit of talk we used to have there sadly, and ever after was content to + stay in the kitchen and boil my little potatoes,<a href="#linknote-15" + name="linknoteref-15" id="linknoteref-15"><small>15</small></a> and put up + my bed there; and every post-day I looked in the newspaper, but no news of + my master in the House; he never spoke good or bad; but as the butler + wrote down word to my son Jason, was very ill used by the government about + a place that was promised him and never given, after his supporting them + against his conscience very honourably, and being greatly abused for it, + which hurt him greatly, he having the name of a great patriot in the + country before. The house and living in Dublin too were not to be had for + nothing, and my son Jason said, “Sir Condy must soon be looking out for a + new agent, for I’ve done my part, and can do no more:—if my lady had + the bank of Ireland to spend, it would go all in one winter, and Sir Condy + would never gainsay her, though he does not care the rind of a lemon for + her all the while.” + </p> + <p> + Now I could not bear to hear Jason giving out after this manner against + the family, and twenty people standing by in the street. Ever since he had + lived at the lodge of his own, he looked down, howsomever, upon poor old + Thady, and was grown quite a great gentleman, and had none of his + relations near him: no wonder he was no kinder to poor Sir Condy than to + his own kith or kin.<a href="#linknote-16" name="linknoteref-16" + id="linknoteref-16"><small>16</small></a> In the spring it was the villain + that got the list of the debts from him brought down the custodiam, Sir + Condy still attending his duty in parliament, and I could scarcely believe + my own old eyes, or the spectacles with which I read it, when I was shown + my son Jason’s name joined in the custodiam; but he told me it was only + for form’s sake, and to make things easier than if all the land was under + the power of a total stranger. Well, I did not know what to think; it was + hard to be talking ill of my own, and I could not but grieve for my poor + master’s fine estate, all torn by these vultures of the law; so I said + nothing, but just looked on to see how it would all end. + </p> + <p> + It was not till the month of June that he and my lady came down to the + country. My master was pleased to take me aside with him to the brewhouse + that same evening, to complain to me of my son and other matters, in which + he said he was confident I had neither art nor part; he said a great deal + more to me, to whom he had been fond to talk ever since he was my + white-headed boy, before he came to the estate; and all that he said about + poor Judy I can never forget, but scorn to repeat. He did not say an + unkind word of my lady, but wondered, as well he might, her relations + would do nothing for him or her, and they in all this great distress. He + did not take any thing long to heart, let it be as it would, and had no + more malice, or thought of the like in him, than a child that can’t speak; + this night it was all out of his head before he went to his bed. He took + his jug of whiskey punch—my lady was grown quite easy about the + whiskey punch by this time, and so I did suppose all was going on right + betwixt them, till I learnt the truth through Mrs. Jane, who talked over + their affairs to the housekeeper, and I within hearing. The night my + master came home thinking of nothing at all but just making merry, he + drank his bumper toast “to the deserts of that old curmudgeon my + father-in-law, and all enemies at Mount Juliet’s Town.” Now my lady was no + longer in the mind she formerly was, and did no ways relish hearing her + own friends abused in her presence, she said, “Then why don’t they show + themselves your friends,” said my master, “and oblige me with the loan of + the money I condescended, by your advice, my dear, to ask? It’s now three + posts since I sent off my letter, desiring in the postscript a speedy + answer by the return of the post, and no account at all from them yet.” “I + expect they’ll write to <i>me</i> next post,” says my lady, and that was + all that passed then; but it was easy from this to guess there was a + coolness betwixt them, and with good cause. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, being post-day, I sent off the gossoon early to the + post-office, to see was there any letter likely to set matters to rights, + and he brought back one with the proper post-mark upon it, sure enough, + and I had no time to examine, or make any conjecture more about it, for + into the servants’ hall pops Mrs. Jane with a blue bandbox in her hand, + quite entirely mad. “Dear ma’am, and what’s the matter?” says I. “Matter + enough,” says she; “don’t you see my bandbox is wet through, and my best + bonnet here spoiled, besides my lady’s, and all by the rain coming in + through that gallery window, that you might have got mended, if you’d had + any sense, Thady, all the time we were in town in the winter?” “Sure, I + could not get the glazier, ma’am,” says I. “You might have stopped it up + any how,” says she. “So I did, ma’am, to the best of my ability; one of + the panes with the old pillow-case, and the other with a piece of the old + stage green curtain; sure I was as careful as possible all the time you + were away, and not a drop of rain came in at that window of all the + windows in the house, all winter, ma’am, when under my care; and now the + family’s come home, and it’s summer time, I never thought no more about + it, to be sure; but dear, it’s a pity to think of your bonnet, ma’am; but + here’s what will please you, ma’am, a letter from Mount Juliet’s Town for + my lady.” With that she snatches it from me without a word more, and runs + up the back stairs to my mistress; I follows with a slate to make up the + window. This window was in the long passage, or gallery, as my lady gave + out orders to have it called, in the gallery leading to my master’s + bedchamber and hers. And when I went up with the slate, the door having no + lock, and the bolt spoilt, was a-jar after Mrs. Jane, and as I was busy + with the window, I heard all that was saying within. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s in your letter, Bella, my dear?” says he: “you’re a long + time spelling it over.” “Won’t you shave this morning, Sir Condy?” says + she, and put the letter into her pocket. “I shaved the day before + yesterday,” says he, “my dear, and that’s not what I’m thinking of now; + but any thing to oblige you, and to have peace and quietness, my dear”—and + presently I had the glimpse of him at the cracked glass over the + chimney-piece, standing up shaving himself to please my lady. But she took + no notice, but went on reading her book, and Mrs. Jane doing her hair + behind. “What is it you’re reading there, my dear?—phoo, I’ve cut + myself with this razor; the man’s a cheat that sold it me, but I have not + paid him for it yet: what is it you’re reading there? did you hear me + asking you, my dear?” “The Sorrows of Werter,” replies my lady, as well as + I could hear. “I think more of the sorrows of Sir Condy,” says my master, + joking like. “What news from Mount Juliet’s Town?” “No news,” says she, + “but the old story over again, my friends all reproaching me still for + what I can’t help now.” “Is it for marrying me?” said my master, still + shaving: “what signifies, as you say, talking of that, when it can’t be + help’d now?” + </p> + <p> + With that she heaved a great sigh, that I heard plain enough in the + passage. “And did not you use me basely, Sir Condy,” says she, “not to + tell me you were ruined before I married you?” “Tell you, my dear,” said + he; “did you ever ask me one word about it? and had not you friends enough + of your own, that were telling you nothing else from morning to night, if + you’d have listened to them slanders?” “No slanders, nor are my friends + slanderers; and I can’t bear to hear them treated with disrespect as I + do,” says my lady, and took out her pocket handkerchief; “they are the + best of friends; and if I had taken their advice—. But my father was + wrong to lock me up, I own; that was the only unkind thing I can charge + him with; for if he had not locked me up, I should never have had a + serious thought of running away as I did.” “Well, my dear,” said my + master, “don’t cry and make yourself uneasy about it now, when it’s all + over, and you have the man of your own choice, in spite of ‘em all.” “I + was too young, I know, to make a choice at the time you ran away with me, + I’m sure,” says my lady, and another sigh, which made my master, half + shaved as he was, turn round upon her in surprise. “Why, Bell,” says he, + “you can’t deny what you know as well as I do, that it was at your own + particular desire, and that twice under your own hand and seal expressed, + that I should carry you off as I did to Scotland, and marry you there.” + “Well, say no more about it, Sir Condy,” said my lady, pettish like—“I + was a child then, you know.” “And as far as I know, you’re little better + now, my dear Bella, to be talking in this manner to your husband’s <i>face</i>; + but I won’t take it ill of you, for I know it’s something in that letter + you put into your pocket just now, that has set you against me all on a + sudden, and imposed upon your understanding.” “It’s not so very easy as + you think it, Sir Condy, to impose upon <i>my</i> understanding,” said my + lady. “My dear,” says he, “I have, and with reason, the best opinion of + your understanding of any man now breathing; and you know I have never set + my own in competition with it till now, my dear Bella,” says he, taking + her hand from her book as kind as could be—“till now, when I have + the great advantage of being quite cool, and you not; so don’t believe one + word your friends say against your own Sir Condy, and lend me the letter + out of your pocket, till I see what it is they can have to say.” “Take it + then,” says she, “and as you are quite cool, I hope it is a proper time to + request you’ll allow me to comply with the wishes of all my own friends, + and return to live with my father and family, during the remainder of my + wretched existence, at Mount Juliet’s Town.” + </p> + <p> + At this, my poor master fell back a few paces, like one that had been + shot. “You’re not serious, Bella,” says he; “and could you find it in your + heart to leave me this way in the very middle of my distresses, all + alone?” But recollecting himself after his first surprise, and a moment’s + time for reflection, he said, with a great deal of consideration for my + lady, “Well, Bella, my dear, I believe you are right; for what could you + do at Castle Rackrent, and an execution against the goods coming down, and + the furniture to be canted, and an auction in the house all next week? so + you have my full consent to go, since that is your desire, only you must + not think of my accompanying you, which I could not in honour do upon the + terms I always have been, since our marriage, with your friends; besides, + I have business to transact at home; so in the mean time, if we are to + have any breakfast this morning, let us go down and have it for the last + time in peace and comfort, Bella.” + </p> + <p> + Then as I heard my master coming to the passage door, I finished fastening + up my slate against the broken pane; and when he came out, I wiped down + the window seat with my wig,<a href="#linknote-17" name="linknoteref-17" + id="linknoteref-17"><small>17</small></a> and bade him a good morrow as + kindly as I could, seeing he was in trouble, though he strove and thought + to hide it from me. “This window is all racked and tattered,” says I, “and + it’s what I’m striving to mend.” “It <i>is</i> all racked and tattered, + plain enough,” says he, “and never mind mending it, honest old Thady,” + says he; “it will do well enough for you and I, and that’s all the company + we shall have left in the house by-and-by.” “I’m sorry to see your honour + so low this morning,” says I; “but you’ll be better after taking your + breakfast.” “Step down to the servants’ hall,” said he, “and bring me up + the pen and ink into the parlour, and get a sheet of paper from Mrs. Jane, + for I have business that can’t brook to be delayed; and come into the + parlour with the pen and ink yourself, Thady, for I must have you to + witness my signing a paper I have to execute in a hurry.” Well, while I + was getting of the pen and ink-horn, and the sheet of paper, I ransacked + my brains to think what could be the papers my poor master could have to + execute in such a hurry, he that never thought of such a thing as doing + business afore breakfast, in the whole course of his life, for any man + living; but this was for my lady, as I afterwards found, and the more + genteel of him after all her treatment. + </p> + <p> + I was just witnessing the paper that he had scrawled over, and was shaking + the ink out of my pen upon the carpet, when my lady came in to breakfast, + and she started as if it had been a ghost! as well she might, when she saw + Sir Condy writing at this unseasonable hour. “That will do very well, + Thady,” says he to me, and took the paper I had signed to, without knowing + what upon the earth it might be, out of my hands, and walked, folding it + up, to my lady. + </p> + <p> + “You are concerned in this, my Lady Rackrent,” said he, putting it into + her hands; “and I beg you’ll keep this memorandum safe, and show it to + your friends the first thing you do when you get home; but put it in your + pocket now, my dear, and let us eat our breakfast, in God’s name.” “What + is all this?” said my lady, opening the paper in great curiosity. “It’s + only a bit of a memorandum of what I think becomes me to do whenever I am + able,” says my master; “you know my situation, tied hand and foot at the + present time being, but that can’t last always, and when I’m dead and + gone, the land will be to the good, Thady, you know; and take notice, it’s + my intention your lady should have a clear five hundred a year jointure + off the estate afore any of my debts are paid.” “Oh, please your honour,” + says I, “I can’t expect to live to see that time, being now upwards of + fourscore years of age, and you a young man, and likely to continue so, by + the help of God.” I was vexed to see my lady so insensible too, for all + she said was, “This is very genteel of you, Sir Condy. You need not wait + any longer, Thady;” so I just picked up the pen and ink that had tumbled + on the floor, and heard my master finish with saying, “You behaved very + genteel to me, my dear, when you threw all the little you had in your own + power along with yourself into my hands; and as I don’t deny but what you + may have had some things to complain of,”—to be sure he was thinking + then of Judy, or of the whiskey punch, one or t’other, or both,—“and + as I don’t deny but you may have had something to complain of, my dear, it + is but fair you should have something in the form of compensation to look + forward to agreeably in future; besides, it’s an act of justice to myself, + that none of your friends, my dear, may ever have it to say against me, I + married for money, and not for love.” “That is the last thing I should + ever have thought of saying of you, Sir Condy,” said my lady, looking very + gracious. “Then, my dear,” said Sir Condy, “we shall part as good friends + as we met; so all’s right.” + </p> + <p> + I was greatly rejoiced to hear this, and went out of the parlour to report + it all to the kitchen. The next morning my lady and Mrs. Jane set out for + Mount Juliet’s Town in the jaunting car: many wondered at my lady’s + choosing to go away, considering all things, upon the jaunting car, as if + it was only a party of pleasure; but they did not know, till I told them, + that the coach was all broke in the journey down, and no other vehicle but + the car to be had; besides, my lady’s friends were to send their coach to + meet her at the cross roads; so it was all done very proper. + </p> + <p> + My poor master was in great trouble after my lady left us. The execution + came down; and every thing at Castle Rackrent was seized by the gripers, + and my son Jason, to his shame be it spoken, amongst them. I wondered, for + the life of me, how he could harden himself to do it; but then he had been + studying the law, and had made himself Attorney Quirk; so he brought down + at once a heap of accounts upon my master’s head. To cash lent, and to + ditto, and to ditto, and to ditto, and oats, and bills paid at the + milliner’s and linen-draper’s, and many dresses for the fancy balls in + Dublin for my lady, and all the bills to the workmen and tradesmen for the + scenery of the theatre, and the chandler’s and grocer’s bills, and + tailor’s, besides butcher’s and baker’s, and worse than all, the old one + of that base wine merchant’s, that wanted to arrest my poor master for the + amount on the election day, for which amount Sir Condy afterwards passed + his note of hand, bearing lawful interest from the date thereof; and the + interest and compound interest was now mounted to a terrible deal on many + other notes and bonds for money borrowed, and there was besides hush money + to the sub-sheriffs, and sheets upon sheets of old and new attorneys’ + bills, with heavy balances, <i>as per former account furnished</i>, + brought forward with interest thereon; then there was a powerful deal due + to the crown for sixteen years’ arrear of quit-rent of the town-lands of + Carrickshaughlin, with driver’s fees, and a compliment to the receiver + every year for letting the quit-rent run on to oblige Sir Condy, and Sir + Kit afore him. Then there were bills for spirits and ribands at the + election time, and the gentlemen of the committee’s accounts unsettled, + and their subscription never gathered; and there were cows to be paid for, + with the smith and farrier’s bills to be set against the rent of the + demesne, with calf and hay money; then there was all the servants’ wages, + since I don’t know when, coming due to them, and sums advanced for them by + my son Jason for clothes, and boots, and whips, and odd moneys for + sundries expended by them in journeys to town and elsewhere, and + pocket-money for the master continually, and messengers and postage before + his being a parliament man; I can’t myself tell you what besides; but this + I know, that when the evening came on the which Sir Condy had appointed to + settle all with my son Jason, and when he comes into the parlour, and sees + the sight of bills and load of papers all gathered on the great + dining-table for him, he puts his hands before both his eyes, and cried + out, “Merciful Jasus! what is it I see before me?” Then I sets an + arm-chair at the table for him, and with a deal of difficulty he sits him + down, and my son Jason hands him over the pen and ink to sign to this + man’s bill and t’other man’s bill, all which he did without making the + least objections. Indeed, to give him his due, I never <i>seen</i> a man + more fair and honest, and easy in all his dealings, from first to last, as + Sir Condy, or more willing to pay every man his own as far as he was able, + which is as much as any one can do. “Well,” says he, joking like with + Jason, “I wish we could settle it all with a stroke of my grey goose + quill. What signifies making me wade through all this ocean of papers + here; can’t you now, who understand drawing out an account, debtor and + creditor, just sit down here at the corner of the table and get it done + out for me, that I may have a clear view of the balance, which is all I + need be talking about, you know?” “Very true, Sir Condy; nobody + understands business better than yourself,” says Jason. “So I’ve a right + to do, being born and bred to the bar,” says Sir Condy. “Thady, do step + out and see are they bringing in the things for the punch, for we’ve just + done all we have to do for this evening.” I goes out accordingly, and when + I came back, Jason was pointing to the balance, which was a terrible sight + to my poor master. “Pooh! pooh! pooh!” says he, “here’s so many noughts + they dazzle my eyes, so they do, and put me in mind of all I suffered, + larning of my numeration table, when I was a boy at the day-school along + with you, Jason—units, tens, hundreds, tens of hundreds. Is the + punch ready, Thady?” says he, seeing me. “Immediately; the boy has the jug + in his hand; it’s coming up stairs, please your honour, as fast as + possible,” says I, for I saw his honour was tired out of his life; but + Jason, very short and cruel, cuts me off with—“Don’t be talking of + punch yet a while; it’s no time for punch yet a bit—units, tens, + hundreds,” goes he on, counting over the master’s shoulder, units, tens, + hundreds, thousands. “A-a-ah! hold your hand,” cries my master; “where in + this wide world am I to find hundreds, or units itself, let alone + thousands?” “The balance has been running on too long,” says Jason, + sticking to him as I could not have done at the time, if you’d have given + both the Indies and Cork to boot; “the balance has been running on too + long, and I’m distressed myself on your account, Sir Condy, for money, and + the thing must be settled now on the spot, and the balance cleared off,” + says Jason. “I’ll thank you if you’ll only show me how,” says Sir Condy. + “There’s but one way,” says Jason, “and that’s ready enough: when there’s + no cash, what can a gentleman do, but go to the land?” “How can you go to + the land, and it under custodiam to yourself already,” says Sir Condy, + “and another custodiam hanging over it? and no one at all can touch it, + you know, but the custodees.” “Sure, can’t you sell, though at a loss? + sure you can sell, and I’ve a purchaser ready for you,” says Jason. “Have + ye so?” said Sir Condy; “that’s a great point gained; but there’s a thing + now beyond all, that perhaps you don’t know yet, barring Thady has let you + into the secret.” “Sarrah bit of a secret, or any thing at all of the + kind, has he learned from me these fifteen weeks come St. John’s eve,” + says I; “for we have scarce been upon speaking terms of late: but what is + it your honour means of a secret?” “Why, the secret of the little keepsake + I gave my Lady Rackrent the morning she left us, that she might not go + back empty-handed to her friends.” “My Lady Rackrent, I’m sure, has + baubles and keepsakes enough, as those bills on the table will show,” says + Jason; “but whatever it is,” says he, taking up his pen, “we must add it + to the balance, for to be sure it can’t be paid for.” “No, nor can’t till + after my decease,” said Sir Condy; “that’s one good thing.” Then colouring + up a good deal, he tells Jason of the memorandum of the five hundred + a-year jointure he had settled upon my lady; at which Jason was indeed + mad, and said a great deal in very high words, that it was using a + gentleman, who had the management of his affairs, and was moreover his + principal creditor, extremely ill, to do such a thing without consulting + him, and against his knowledge and consent. To all which Sir Condy had + nothing to reply, but that upon his conscience, it was in a hurry and + without a moment’s thought on his part, and he was very sorry for it, but + if it was to do over again he would do the same; and he appealed to me, + and I was ready to give my evidence, if that would do, to the truth of all + he said. + </p> + <p> + So Jason with much ado was brought to agree to a compromise. “The + purchaser that I have ready,” says he, “will be much displeased, to be + sure, at the incumbrance on the land, but I must see and manage him; + here’s a deed ready drawn up; we have nothing to do but to put in the + consideration money and our names to it.” “And how much am I going to + sell?—the lands of O’Shaughlin’s Town, and the lands of + Gruneaghoolaghan, and the lands of Crookagnawaturgh,” says he, just + reading to himself,—“and—oh, murder, Jason! sure you won’t put + this in—the castle, stable, and appurtenances of Castle Rackrent.” + “Oh, murder!” says I, clapping my hands, “this is too bad, Jason.” “Why + so?” said Jason, “when it’s all, and a great deal more to the back of it, + lawfully mine, was I to push for it.” “Look at him,” says I, pointing to + Sir Condy, who was just leaning back in his arm-chair, with his arms + falling beside him like one stupified; “is it you, Jason, that can stand + in his presence, and recollect all he has been to us, and all we have been + to him, and yet use him so at the last?” “Who will you find to use him + better, I ask you?” said Jason; “if he can get a better purchaser, I’m + content; I only offer to purchase, to make things easy, and oblige him: + though I don’t see what compliment I am under, if you come to that; I have + never had, asked, or charged more than sixpence in the pound, receiver’s + fees; and where would he have got an agent for a penny less?” “Oh, Jason! + Jason! how will you stand to this in the face of the county and all who + know you?” says I; “and what will people think and say, when they see you + living here in Castle Rackrent, and the lawful owner turned out of the + seat of his ancestors, without a cabin to put his head into, or so much as + a potatoe to eat?” Jason, whilst I was saying this, and a great deal more, + made me signs, and winks, and frowns; but I took no heed; for I was + grieved and sick at heart for my poor master, and couldn’t but speak. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the punch,” says Jason, for the door opened; “here’s the punch!” + Hearing that, my master starts up in his chair, and recollects himself, + and Jason uncorks the whiskey. “Set down the jug here,” says he, making + room for it beside the papers opposite to Sir Condy, but still not + stirring the deed that was to make over all. Well, I was in great hopes he + had some touch of mercy about him when I saw him making the punch, and my + master took a glass; but Jason put it back as he was going to fill again, + saying, “No, Sir Condy, it sha’n’t be said of me, I got your signature to + this deed when you were half-seas over: you know your name and + hand-writing in that condition would not, if brought before the courts, + benefit me a straw; wherefore let us settle all before we go deeper into + the punch-bowl.” “Settle all as you will,” said Sir Condy, clapping his + hands to his ears: “but let me hear no more; I’m bothered to death this + night.” “You’ve only to sign,” said Jason, putting the pen to him. “Take + all, and be content,” said my master. So he signed; and the man who + brought in the punch witnessed it, for I was not able, but crying like a + child; and besides, Jason said, which I was glad of, that I was no fit + witness, being so old and doting. It was so bad with me, I could not taste + a drop of the punch itself, though my master himself, God bless him! in + the midst of his trouble, poured out a glass for me, and brought it up to + my lips. “Not a drop; I thank your honour’s honour as much as if I took + it, though,” and I just set down the glass as it was, and went out, and + when I got to the street-door, the neighbour’s childer, who were playing + at marbles there, seeing me in great trouble, left their play, and + gathered about me to know what ailed me; and I told them all, for it was a + great relief to me to speak to these poor childer, that seemed to have + some natural feeling left in them: and when they were made sensible that + Sir Condy was going to leave Castle Rackrent for good and all, they set up + a whillalu that could be heard to the farthest end of the street; and one + fine boy he was, that my master had given an apple to that morning, cried + the loudest, but they all were the same sorry, for Sir Condy was greatly + beloved amongst the childer, for letting them go a-nutting in the demesne, + without saying a word to them, though my lady objected to them. The people + in the town, who were the most of them standing at their doors, hearing + the childer cry, would know the reason of it; and when the report was made + known, the people one and all gathered in great anger against my son + Jason, and terror at the notion of his coming to be landlord over them, + and they cried, “No Jason! no Jason! Sir Condy! Sir Condy! Sir Condy + Rackrent for ever!” and the mob grew so great and so loud, I was + frightened, and made my way back to the house to warn my son to make his + escape, or hide himself for fear of the consequences. Jason would not + believe me till they came all round the house, and to the windows with + great shouts: then he grew quite pale, and asked Sir Condy what had he + best do? “I’ll tell you what you’d best do,” said Sir Condy, who was + laughing to see his fright; “finish your glass first, then let’s go to the + window and show ourselves, and I’ll tell ‘em, or you shall, if you please, + that I’m going to the Lodge for change of air for my health, and by my own + desire, for the rest of my days.” “Do so,” said Jason, who never meant it + should have been so, but could not refuse him the Lodge at this + unseasonable time. Accordingly Sir Condy threw up the sash, and explained + matters, and thanked all his friends, and bid ‘em look in at the + punch-bowl, and observe that Jason and he had been sitting over it very + good friends; so the mob was content, and he sent ‘em out some whiskey to + drink his health, and that was the last time his honour’s health was ever + drunk at Castle Rackrent. + </p> + <p> + The very next day, being too proud, as he said to me, to stay an hour + longer in a house that did not belong to him, he sets off to the Lodge, + and I along with him not many hours after. And there was great bemoaning + through all O’Shaughlin’s Town, which I stayed to witness, and gave my + poor master a full account of when I got to the Lodge. He was very low, + and in his bed, when I got there, and complained of a great pain about his + heart, but I guessed it was only trouble, and all the business, let alone + vexation, he had gone through of late; and knowing the nature of him from + a boy, I took my pipe, and, whilst smoking it by the chimney, began + telling him how he was beloved and regretted in the county, and it did him + a deal of good to hear it. “Your honour has a great many friends yet, that + you don’t know of, rich and poor, in the county,” says I; “for as I was + coming along the road, I met two gentlemen in their own carriages, who + asked after you, knowing me, and wanted to know where you was and all + about you, and even how old I was: think of that.” Then he wakened out of + his doze, and began questioning me who the gentlemen were. And the next + morning it came into my head to go, unknown to any body, with my master’s + compliments, round to many of the gentlemen’s houses, where he and my lady + used to visit, and people that I knew were his great friends, and would go + to Cork to serve him any day in the year, and I made bold to try to borrow + a trifle of cash from them. They all treated me very civil for the most + part, and asked a great many questions very kind about my lady, and Sir + Condy, and all the family, and were greatly surprised to learn from me + Castle Rackrent was sold, and my master at the Lodge for health; and they + all pitied him greatly, and he had their good wishes, if that would do, + but money was a thing they unfortunately had not any of them at this time + to spare. I had my journey for my pains, and I, not used to walking, nor + supple as formerly, was greatly tired, but had the satisfaction of telling + my master, when I got to the Lodge, all the civil things said by high and + low. + </p> + <p> + “Thady,” says he, “all you’ve been telling me brings a strange thought + into my head: I’ve a notion I shall not be long for this world any how, + and I’ve a great fancy to see my own funeral afore I die.” I was greatly + shocked, at the first speaking, to hear him speak so light about his + funeral, and he, to all appearance, in good health, but recollecting + myself, answered, “To be sure, it would be as fine a sight as one could + see, I dared to say, and one I should be proud to witness, and I did not + doubt his honour’s would be as great a funeral as ever Sir Patrick + O’Shaughlin’s was, and such a one as that had never been known in the + county afore or since.” But I never thought he was in earnest about seeing + his own funeral himself, till the next day he returns to it again. + “Thady,” says he, “as far as the wake<a href="#linknote-18" + name="linknoteref-18" id="linknoteref-18"><small>18</small></a> goes, sure + I might without any great trouble have the satisfaction of seeing a bit of + my own funeral.” “Well, since your honour’s honour’s so bent upon it,” + says I, not willing to cross him, and he in trouble, “we must see what we + can do.” So he fell into a sort of a sham disorder, which was easy done, + as he kept his bed, and no one to see him; and I got my shister, who was + an old woman very handy about the sick, and very skilful, to come up to + the Lodge to nurse him; and we gave out, she knowing no better, that he + was just at his latter end, and it answered beyond any thing; and there + was a great throng of people, men, women, and childer, and there being + only two rooms at the Lodge, except what was locked up full of Jason’s + furniture and things, the house was soon as full and fuller than it could + hold, and the heat, and smoke, and noise wonderful great; and standing + amongst them that were near the bed, but not thinking at all of the dead, + I was started by the sound of my master’s voice from under the great coats + that had been thrown all at top, and I went close up, no one noticing. + “Thady,” says he, “I’ve had enough of this; I’m smothering, and can’t hear + a word of all they’re saying of the deceased.” “God bless you, and lie + still and quiet,” says I, “a bit longer, for my shister’s afraid of + ghosts, and would die on the spot with fright, was she to see you come to + life all on a sudden this way without the least preparation.” So he lays + him still, though well nigh stifled, and I made all haste to tell the + secret of the joke, whispering to one and t’other, and there was a great + surprise, but not so great as we had laid out it would. “And aren’t we to + have the pipes and tobacco, after coming so far to-night?” said some; but + they were all well enough pleased when his honour got up to drink with + them, and sent for more spirits from a shebean-house,<a href="#linknote-19" + name="linknoteref-19" id="linknoteref-19"><small>19</small></a> where they + very civilly let him have it upon credit. So the night passed off very + merrily, but, to my mind, Sir Condy was rather upon the sad order in the + midst of it all, not finding there had been such a great talk about + himself after his death as he had always expected to hear. + </p> + <p> + The next morning when the house was cleared of them, and none but my + shister and myself left in the kitchen with Sir Condy, one opens the door, + and walks in, and who should it be but Judy M’Quirk herself! I forgot to + notice, that she had been married long since, whilst young Captain + Moneygawl lived at the Lodge, to the captain’s huntsman, who after a + whilst listed and left her, and was killed in the wars. Poor Judy fell off + greatly in her good looks after her being married a year or two; and being + smoke-dried in the cabin, and neglecting herself like, it was hard for Sir + Condy himself to know her again till she spoke; but when she says, “It’s + Judy M’Quirk, please your honour, don’t you remember her?” “Oh, Judy, is + it you?” says his honour; “yes, sure, I remember you very well; but you’re + greatly altered, Judy.” “Sure it’s time for me,” says she; “and I think + your honour, since I <i>seen</i> you last,—but that’s a great while + ago,—is altered too.” “And with reason, Judy,” says Sir Condy, + fetching a sort of a sigh; “but how’s this, Judy?” he goes on; “I take it + a little amiss of you, that you were not at my wake last night.” “Ah, + don’t be being jealous of that,” says she; “I didn’t hear a sentence of + your honour’s wake till it was all over, or it would have gone hard with + me but I would have been at it sure; but I was forced to go ten miles up + the country three days ago to a wedding of a relation of my own’s, and + didn’t get home till after the wake was over; but,” says she, “it won’t be + so, I hope, the next time,<a href="#linknote-20" name="linknoteref-20" + id="linknoteref-20"><small>20</small></a> please your honour.” “That we + shall see, Judy,” says his honour, “and may be sooner than you think for, + for I’ve been very unwell this while past, and don’t reckon any way I’m + long for this world.” At this, Judy takes up the corner of her apron, and + puts it first to one eye and then to t’other, being to all appearance in + great trouble; and my shister put in her word, and bid his honour have a + good heart, for she was sure it was only the gout that Sir Patrick used to + have flying about him, and he ought to drink a glass or a bottle + extraordinary to keep it out of his stomach; and he promised to take her + advice, and sent out for more spirits immediately; and Judy made a sign to + me, and I went over to the door to her, and she said, “I wonder to see Sir + Condy so low! has he heard the news?” “What news?” says I. “Didn’t ye hear + it, then?” says she; “my Lady Rackrent that was is kilt[D2] and lying for + dead, and I don’t doubt but it’s all over with her by this time.” “Mercy + on us all,” says I; “how was it?” “The jaunting car it was that ran away + with her,” says Judy. “I was coming home that same time from Biddy + M’Guggin’s marriage, and a great crowd of people too upon the road, coming + from the fair of Crookaghnawaturgh, and I sees a jaunting car standing in + the middle of the road, and with the two wheels off and all tattered. + ‘What’s this?’ says I. ‘Didn’t ye hear of it?’ says they that were looking + on; ‘it’s my Lady Rackrent’s car, that was running away from her husband, + and the horse took fright at a carrion that lay across the road, and so + ran away with the jaunting car, and my Lady Rackrent and her maid + screaming, and the horse ran with them against a car that was coming from + the fair, with the boy asleep on it, and the lady’s petticoat hanging out + of the jaunting car caught, and she was dragged I can’t tell you how far + upon the road, and it all broken up with the stones just going to be + pounded, and one of the road-makers, with his sledge-hammer in his hand, + stops the horse at the last; but my Lady Rackrent was all kilt<a + href="#linknote-21" name="linknoteref-21" id="linknoteref-21"><small>21</small></a> + and smashed, and they lifted her into a cabin hard by, and the maid was + found after, where she had been thrown, in the gripe of the ditch, her cap + and bonnet all full of bog water, and they say my lady can’t live any + way.’ Thady, pray now is it true what I’m told for sartain, that Sir Condy + has made over all to your son Jason?” “All,” says I. “All entirely?” says + she again. “All entirely,” says I. “Then,” says she, “that’s a great + shame, but don’t be telling Jason what I say.” “And what is it you say?” + cries Sir Condy, leaning over betwixt us, which made Judy start greatly. + “I know the time when Judy M’Quirk would never have stayed so long talking + at the door, and I in the house.” “Oh!” says Judy, “for shame, Sir Condy; + times are altered since then, and it’s my Lady Rackrent you ought to be + thinking of.” “And why should I be thinking of her, that’s not thinking of + me now?” said Sir Condy. “No matter for that,” says Judy, very properly; + “it’s time you should be thinking of her, if ever you mean to do it at + all, for don’t you know she’s lying for death?” “My Lady Rackrent!” says + Sir Condy, in a surprise; “why it’s but two days since we parted, as you + very well know, Thady, in her full health and spirits, and she and her + maid along with her going to Mount Juliet’s Town on her jaunting car.” + “She’ll never ride no more on her jaunting car,” said Judy, “for it has + been the death of her, sure enough.” “And is she dead then?” says his + honour. “As good as dead, I hear,” says Judy; “but there’s Thady here has + just learnt the whole truth of the story as I had it, and it is fitter he + or any body else should be telling it you than I, Sir Condy: I must be + going home to the childer.” But he stops her, but rather from civility in + him, as I could see very plainly, than any thing else, for Judy was, as + his honour remarked at her first coming in, greatly changed, and little + likely, as far as I could see—though she did not seem to be clear of + it herself—little likely to be my Lady Rackrent now, should there be + a second toss-up to be made. But I told him the whole story out of the + face, just as Judy had told it to me, and he sent off a messenger with his + compliments to Mount Juliet’s Town that evening, to learn the truth of the + report, and Judy bid the boy that was going call in at Tim M’Enerney’s + shop in O’Shaughlin’s Town and buy her a new shawl. “Do so,” said Sir + Condy, “and tell Tim to take no money from you, for I must pay him for the + shawl myself.” At this my shister throws me over a look, and I says + nothing, but turned the tobacco in my mouth, whilst Judy began making a + many words about it, and saying how she could not be beholden for shawls + to any gentleman. I left her there to consult with my shister, did she + think there was any thing in it, and my shister thought I was blind to be + asking her the question, and I thought my shister must see more into it + than I did; and recollecting all past times and every thing, I changed my + mind, and came over to her way of thinking, and we settled it that Judy + was very like to be my Lady Rackrent after all, if a vacancy should have + happened. + </p> + <p> + The next day, before his honour was up, somebody comes with a double knock + at the door, and I was greatly surprised to see it was my son Jason. + “Jason, is it you?” said I; “what brings you to the Lodge?” says I; “is it + my Lady Rackrent? we know that already since yesterday.” “May be so,” says + he, “but I must see Sir Condy about it.” “You can’t see him yet,” says I; + “sure he is not awake.” “What then,” says he, “can’t he be wakened? and I + standing at the door.” “I’ll not be disturbing his honour for you, Jason,” + says I; “many’s the hour you’ve waited in your time, and been proud to do + it, till his honour was at leisure to speak to you. His honour,” says I, + raising my voice, at which his honour wakens of his own accord, and calls + to me from the room to know who it was I was speaking to. Jason made no + more ceremony, but follows me into the room. “How are you, Sir Condy?” + says he; “I’m happy to see you looking so well; I came up to know how you + did to-day, and to see did you want for any thing at the Lodge.” “Nothing + at all, Mr. Jason, I thank you,” says he; for his honour had his own share + of pride, and did not choose, after all that had passed, to be beholden, I + suppose, to my son; “but pray take a chair and be seated, Mr. Jason.” + Jason sat him down upon the chest, for chair there was none, and after he + had set there some time, and a silence on all sides, “What news is there + stirring in the country, Mr. Jason M’Quirk?” says Sir Condy, very easy, + yet high like. “None that’s news to you, Sir Condy, I hear,” says Jason: + “I am sorry to hear of my Lady Rackrent’s accident.” “I’m much obliged to + you, and so is her ladyship, I’m sure,” answered Sir Condy, still stiff; + and there was another sort of a silence, which seemed to lie the heaviest + on my son Jason. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Condy,” says he at last, seeing Sir Condy disposing himself to go to + sleep again, “Sir Condy, I dare say you recollect mentioning to me the + little memorandum you gave to Lady Rackrent about the 500<i>l</i>. a-year + jointure.” “Very true,” said Sir Condy; “it is all in my recollection.” + “But if my Lady Rackrent dies, there’s an end of all jointure,” says + Jason. “Of course,” says Sir Condy. “But it’s not a matter of certainty + that my Lady Rackrent won’t recover,” says Jason. “Very true, sir,” says + my master. “It’s a fair speculation, then, for you to consider what the + chance of the jointure on those lands, when out of custodiam, will be to + you.” “Just five hundred a-year, I take it, without any speculation at + all,” said Sir Condy. “That’s supposing the life dropt, and the custodiam + off, you know; begging your pardon, Sir Condy, who understands business, + that is a wrong calculation.” “Very likely so,” said Sir Condy; “but Mr. + Jason, if you have any thing to say to me this morning about it, I’d be + obliged to you to say it, for I had an indifferent night’s rest last + night, and wouldn’t be sorry to sleep a little this morning.” “I have only + three words to say, and those more of consequence to you, Sir Condy, than + me. You are a little cool, I observe; but I hope you will not be offended + at what I have brought here in my pocket,” and he pulls out two long + rolls, and showers down golden guineas upon the bed. “What’s this?” said + Sir Condy; “it’s long since”—but his pride stops him, “All these are + your lawful property this minute, Sir Condy, if you please,” said Jason. + “Not for nothing, I’m sure,” said Sir Condy, and laughs a little—“nothing + for nothing, or I’m under a mistake with you, Jason.” “Oh, Sir Condy, + we’ll not be indulging ourselves in any unpleasant retrospects,” says + Jason; “it’s my present intention to behave, as I’m sure you will, like a + gentleman in this affair. Here’s two hundred guineas, and a third I mean + to add, if you should think proper to make over to me all your right and + title to those lands that you know of.” “I’ll consider of it,” said my + master; and a great deal more, that I was tired listening to, was said by + Jason, and all that, and the sight of the ready cash upon the bed worked + with his honour; and the short and the long of it was, Sir Condy gathered + up the golden guineas, and tied them up in a handkerchief, and signed some + paper Jason brought with him as usual, and there was an end of the + business: Jason took himself away, and my master turned himself round and + fell asleep again. + </p> + <p> + I soon found what had put Jason in such a hurry to conclude this business. + The little gossoon we had sent off the day before with my master’s + compliments to Mount Juliet’s Town, and to know how my lady did after her + accident, was stopped early this morning, coming back with his answer + through O’Shaughlin’s Town, at Castle Rackrent, by my son Jason, and + questioned of all he knew of my lady from the servant at Mount Juliet’s + Town; and the gossoon told him my Lady Rackrent was not expected to live + over night; so Jason thought it high time to be moving to the Lodge, to + make his bargain with my master about the jointure afore it should be too + late, and afore the little gossoon should reach us with the news. My + master was greatly vexed, that is, I may say, as much as ever I <i>seen</i> + him, when he found how he had been taken in; but it was some comfort to + have the ready cash for immediate consumption in the house, any way. + </p> + <p> + And when Judy came up that evening, and brought the childer to see his + honour, he unties the handkerchief, and, God bless him! whether it was + little or much he had, ‘twas all the same with him, he gives ‘em all round + guineas a-piece. “Hold up your head,” says my shister to Judy, as Sir + Condy was busy filling out a glass of punch for her eldest boy—“Hold + up your head, Judy; for who knows but we may live to see you yet at the + head of the Castle Rackrent estate?” “Maybe so,” says she, “but not the + way you are thinking of.” I did not rightly understand which way Judy, was + looking when she makes this speech, till a-while after. “Why, Thady, you + were telling me yesterday, that Sir Condy had sold all entirely to Jason, + and where then does all them guineas in the handkerchief come from?” “They + are the purchase-money of my lady’s jointure,” says I. Judy looks a little + bit puzzled at this. “A penny for your thoughts, Judy,” says my shister; + “hark, sure Sir Condy is drinking her health.” He was at the table in <i>the + room</i>,<a href="#linknote-22" name="linknoteref-22" id="linknoteref-22"><small>22</small></a> + drinking with the exciseman and the gauger, who came up to see his honour, + and we were standing over the fire in the kitchen. “I don’t much care is + he drinking my health or not,” says Judy; “and it is not Sir Condy I’m + thinking of, with all your jokes, whatever he is of me.” “Sure you + wouldn’t refuse to be my Lady Rackrent, Judy, if you had the offer?” says + I. “But if I could do better!” says she. “How better?” says I and my + shister both at once. “How better?” says she; “why, what signifies it to + be my Lady Rackrent, and no castle? sure what good is the car, and no + horse to draw it?” “And where will ye get the horse, Judy?” says I. “Never + mind that,” says she; “may be it is your own son Jason might find that.” + “Jason!” says I; “don’t be trusting to him, Judy. Sir Condy, as I have + good reason to know, spoke well of you, when Jason spoke very + indifferently of you, Judy.” “No matter,” says Judy; “it’s often men speak + the contrary just to what they think of us.” “And you the same way of + them, no doubt,” answers I. “Nay, don’t be denying it, Judy, for I think + the better of ye for it, and shouldn’t be proud to call ye the daughter of + a shister’s son of mine, if I was to hear ye talk ungrateful, and any way + disrespectful of his honour.” “What disrespect,” says she, “to say I’d + rather, if it was my luck, be the wife of another man?” “You’ll have no + luck, mind my words, Judy,” says I; and all I remembered about my poor + master’s goodness in tossing up for her afore he married at all came + across me, and I had a choaking in my throat that hindered me to say more. + “Better luck, any how, Thady,” says she, “than to be like some folk, + following the fortunes of them that have none left.” “Oh! King of Glory!” + says I, “hear the pride and ungratitude of her, and he giving his last + guineas but a minute ago to her childer, and she with the fine shawl on + her he made her a present of but yesterday!” “Oh, troth, Judy, you’re + wrong now,” says my shister, looking at the shawl. “And was not he wrong + yesterday, then,” says she, “to be telling me I was greatly altered, to + affront me?” “But, Judy,” says I, “what is it brings you here then at all + in the mind you are in; is it to make Jason think the better of you?” + “I’ll tell you no more of my secrets, Thady,” says she, “nor would have + told you this much, had I taken you for such an unnatural fader as I find + you are, not to wish your own son prefarred to another.” “Oh, troth, <i>you</i> + are wrong now, Thady,” says my shister. Well, I was never so put to it in + my life: between these womens, and my son and my master, and all I felt + and thought just now, I could not, upon my conscience, tell which was the + wrong from the right. So I said not a word more, but was only glad his + honour had not the luck to hear all Judy had been saying of him, for I + reckoned it would have gone nigh to break his heart; not that I was of + opinion he cared for her as much as she and my shister fancied, but the + ungratitude of the whole from Judy might not plase him; and he could never + stand the notion of not being well spoken of or beloved like behind his + back. Fortunately for all parties concerned, he was so much elevated at + this time, there was no danger of his understanding any thing, even if it + had reached his ears. There was a great horn at the Lodge, ever since my + master and Captain Moneygawl was in together, that used to belong + originally to the celebrated Sir Patrick, his ancestor; and his honour was + fond often of telling the story that he learned from me when a child, how + Sir Patrick drank the full of this horn without stopping, and this was + what no other man afore or since could without drawing breath. Now Sir + Condy challenged the gauger, who seemed to think little of the horn, to + swallow the contents, and had it filled to the brim with punch; and the + gauger said it was what he could not do for nothing, but he’d hold Sir + Condy a hundred guineas he’d do it. “Done,” says my master; “I’ll lay you + a hundred golden guineas to a tester<a href="#linknote-23" + name="linknoteref-23" id="linknoteref-23"><small>23</small></a> you + don’t.” “Done,” says the gauger; and done and done’s enough between two + gentlemen. The gauger was cast, and my master won the bet, and thought + he’d won a hundred guineas, but by the wording it was adjudged to be only + a tester that was his due by the exciseman. It was all one to him; he was + as well pleased, and I was glad to see him in such spirits again. + </p> + <p> + The gauger, bad luck to him! was the man that next proposed to my master + to try himself could he take at a draught the contents of the great horn. + “Sir Patrick’s horn!” said his honour; “hand it to me: I’ll hold you your + own bet over again I’ll swallow it.” “Done,” says the gauger; “I’ll lay ye + anything at all you do no such thing.” “A hundred guineas to sixpence I + do,” says he: “bring me the handkerchief.” I was loth, knowing he meant + the handkerchief with the gold in it, to bring it out in such company, and + his honour not very able to reckon it. “Bring me the handkerchief, then, + Thady,” says he, and stamps with his foot; so with that I pulls it out of + my great coat pocket, where I had put it for safety. Oh, how it grieved me + to see the guineas counting upon the table, and they the last my master + had! Says Sir Condy to me, “Your hand is steadier than mine to-night, old + Thady, and that’s a wonder; fill you the horn for me.” And so, wishing his + honour success, I did; but I filled it, little thinking of what would + befall him. He swallows it down, and drops like one shot. We lifts him up, + and he was speechless, and quite black in the face. We put him to bed, and + in a short time he wakened, raving with a fever on his brain. He was + shocking either to see or hear. “Judy! Judy! have you no touch of feeling? + won’t you stay to help us nurse him?” says I to her, and she putting on + her shawl to go out of the house. “I’m frightened to see him,” says she, + “and wouldn’t nor couldn’t stay in it; and what use? he can’t last till + the morning.” With that she ran off. There was none but my shister and + myself left near him of all the many friends he had. The fever came and + went, and came and went, and lasted five days, and the sixth he was + sensible for a few minutes, and said to me, knowing me very well, “I’m in + burning pain all withinside of me, Thady.” I could not speak, but my + shister asked him would he have this thing or t’other to do him good? + “No,” says he, “nothing will do me good no more,” and he gave a terrible + screech with the torture he was in—then again a minute’s ease—“brought + to this by drink,” says he; “where are all the friends?—where’s + Judy?—Gone, hey? Ay, Sir Condy has been a fool all his days,” said + he; and there was the last word he spoke, and died. He had but a very poor + funeral, after all. + </p> + <p> + If you want to know any more, I’m not very well able to tell you; but my + Lady Rackrent did not die, as was expected of her, but was only disfigured + in the face ever after by the fall and bruises she got; and she and Jason, + immediately after my poor master’s death, set about going to law about + that jointure; the memorandum not being on stamped paper, some say it is + worth nothing, others again it may do; others say, Jason won’t have the + lands at any rate; many wishes it so: for my part, I’m tired wishing for + any thing in this world, after all I’ve seen in it—but I’ll say + nothing; it would be a folly to be getting myself ill-will in my old age. + Jason did not marry, nor think of marrying Judy, as I prophesied, and I am + not sorry for it; who is? As for all I have here set down from memory and + hearsay of the family, there’s nothing but truth in it from beginning to + end: that you may depend upon; for where’s the use of telling lies about + the things which every body knows as well as I do? + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The Editor could have readily made the catastrophe of Sir Condy’s history + more dramatic and more pathetic, if he thought it allowable to varnish the + plain round tale of faithful Thady. He lays it before the English reader + as a specimen of manners and characters, which are, perhaps, unknown in + England. Indeed, the domestic habits of no nation in Europe were less + known to the English than those of their sister country, till within these + few years. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Young’s picture of Ireland, in his tour through that country, was the + first faithful portrait of its inhabitants. All the features in the + foregoing sketch were taken from the life, and they are characteristic of + that mixture of quickness, simplicity, cunning, carelessness, dissipation, + disinterestedness, shrewdness, and blunder, which, in different forms, and + with various success, has been brought upon the stage, or delineated in + novels. + </p> + <p> + It is a problem of difficult solution to determine, whether an Union will + hasten or retard the amelioration of this country. The few gentlemen of + education, who now reside in this country, will resort to England: they + are few, but they are in nothing inferior to men of the same rank in Great + Britain. The best that can happen will be the introduction of British + manufacturers in their places. + </p> + <p> + Did the Warwickshire militia, who were chiefly artisans, teach the Irish + to drink beer? or did they learn from the Irish to drink whiskey? + </p> + <h3> + 1800. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_GLOS" id="link2H_GLOS"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GLOSSARY. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <i>Some friends, who have seen Thady’s history since it has been printed, + have suggested to the Editor, that many of the terms and idiomatic + phrases, with which it abounds, could not be intelligible to the English + reader without further explanation. The Editor has therefore furnished the + following Glossary</i>. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + [A] <i>Monday morning</i>,—Thady begins his memoirs of the Rackrent + Family by dating <i>Monday morning</i>, because no great undertaking can + be auspiciously commenced in Ireland on any morning but <i>Monday morning</i>. + “Oh, please God we live till Monday morning, we’ll set the slater to mend + the roof of the house. On Monday morning we’ll fall to, and cut the turf. + On Monday morning we’ll see and begin mowing. On Monday morning, please + your honour, we’ll begin and dig the potatoes,” &c. + </p> + <p> + All the intermediate days, between the making of such speeches and the + ensuing Monday, are wasted: and when Monday morning comes, it is ten to + one that the business is deferred to <i>the next</i> Monday morning. The + Editor knew a gentleman, who, to counteract this prejudice, made his + workmen and labourers begin all new pieces of work upon a Saturday. + </p> + <p> + [B] <i>Let alone the three kingdoms itself.</i>—<i>Let alone</i>, in + this sentence, means <i>put out of consideration</i>. The phrase, <i>let + alone</i>, which is now used as the imperative of a verb, may in time + become a conjunction, and may exercise the ingenuity of some future + etymologist. The celebrated Horne Tooke has proved most satisfactorily, + that the conjunction <i>but</i> comes from the imperative of the + Anglo-Saxon verb <i>(beoutan) to be out</i>; also, that <i>if</i> comes + from <i>gif</i>, the imperative of the Anglo-Saxon verb which signifies <i>to + give</i>, &c. + </p> + <p> + [C] <i>Whillaluh</i>.—Ullaloo, Gol, or lamentation over the dead— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Magnoque ululante tumultu.”—VIRGIL. + + “Ululatibus omne + Implevere nemus.”—OVID. +</pre> + <p> + A full account of the Irish Gol, or Ullaloo, and of the Caoinan or Irish + funeral song, with its first semichorus, second semichorus, full chorus of + sighs and groans, together with the Irish words and music, may be found in + the fourth volume of the transactions of the Royal Irish Academy. For the + advantage of <i>lazy</i> readers, who would rather read a page than walk a + yard, and from compassion, not to say sympathy, with their infirmity, the + Editor transcribes the following passages: + </p> + <p> + “The Irish have been always remarkable for their funeral lamentations; and + this peculiarity has been noticed by almost every traveller who visited + them; and it seems derived from their Celtic ancestors, the primaeval + inhabitants of this isle ... ... + </p> + <p> + “It has been affirmed of the Irish, that to cry was more natural to them + than to any other nation, and at length the Irish cry became + proverbial.... ... ... + </p> + <p> + “Cambrensis in the twelfth century says, the Irish then musically + expressed their griefs; that is, they applied the musical art, in which + they excelled all others, to the orderly celebration of funeral obsequies, + by dividing the mourners into two bodies, each alternately singing their + part, and the whole at times joining in full chorus.... ... The body of + the deceased, dressed in grave clothes, and ornamented with flowers, was + placed on a bier, or some elevated spot. The relations and keepers (<i>singing + mourners</i>) ranged themselves in two divisions, one at the head, and the + other at the feet of the corpse. The bards and croteries had before + prepared the funeral Caoinan. The chief bard of the head chorus began by + singing the first stanza, in a low, doleful tone, which was softly + accompanied by the harp: at the conclusion, the foot semichorus began the + lamentation, or Ullaloo, from the final note of the preceding stanza, in + which they were answered by the head semichorus; then both united in one + general chorus. The chorus of the first stanza being ended, the chief bard + of the foot semichorus began the second Gol or lamentation, in which he + was answered by that of the head; and then, as before, both united in the + general full chorus. Thus alternately were the song and choruses performed + during the night. The genealogy, rank, possessions, the virtues and vices + of the dead were rehearsed, and a number of interrogations were addressed + to the deceased; as, Why did he die? If married, whether his wife was + faithful to him, his sons dutiful, or good hunters or warriors? If a + woman, whether her daughters were fair or chaste? If a young man, whether + he had been crossed in love; or if the blue-eyed maids of Erin treated him + with scorn?” + </p> + <p> + We are told, that formerly the feet (the metrical feet) of the Caoinan + were much attended to; but on the decline of the Irish bards these feet + were gradually neglected, and the Caoinan fell into a sort of slipshod + metre amongst women. Each province had different Caoinans, or at least + different imitations of the original. There was the Munster cry, the + Ulster cry, &c. It became an extempore performance, and every set of + keepers varied the melody according to their own fancy. + </p> + <p> + It is curious to observe how customs and ceremonies degenerate. The + present Irish cry, or howl, cannot boast of such melody, nor is the + funeral procession conducted with much dignity. The crowd of people who + assemble at these funerals sometimes amounts to a thousand, often to four + or five hundred. They gather as the bearers of the hearse proceed on their + way, and when they pass through any village, or when they come near any + houses, they begin to cry—Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Agh! Agh! raising + their notes from the first <i>Oh!</i> to the last <i>Agh!</i> in a kind of + mournful howl. This gives notice to the inhabitants of the village that <i>a + funeral is passing</i>, and immediately they flock out to follow it. In + the province of Munster it is a common thing for the women to follow a + funeral, to join in the universal cry with all their might and main for + some time, and then to turn and ask—“Arrah! who is it that’s dead?—who + is it we’re crying for?” Even the poorest people have their own + burying-places, that is, spots of ground in the church-yards where they + say that their ancestors have been buried ever since the wars of Ireland; + and if these burial-places are ten miles from the place where a man dies, + his friends and neighbours take care to carry his corpse thither. Always + one priest, often five or six priests, attend these funerals; each priest + repeats a mass, for which he is paid, sometimes a shilling, sometimes + half-a-crown, sometimes half-a-guinea, or a guinea, according to their + circumstances, or, as they say, according to the <i>ability</i> of the + deceased. After the burial of any very poor man, who has left a widow or + children, the priest makes what is called <i>a collection</i> for the + widow; he goes round to every person present, and each contributes + sixpence or a shilling, or what they please. The reader will find in the + note upon the word <i>Wake</i>, more particulars respecting the conclusion + of the Irish funerals. + </p> + <p> + Certain old women, who cry particularly loud and well, are in great + request, and, as a man said to the Editor, “Every one would wish and be + proud to have such at his funeral, or at that of his friends.” The lower + Irish are wonderfully eager to attend the funerals of their friends and + relations, and they make their relationships branch out to a great extent. + The proof that a poor man has been well beloved during his life is his + having a crowded funeral. To attend a neighbour’s funeral is a cheap proof + of humanity, but it does not, as some imagine, cost nothing. The time + spent in attending funerals may be safely valued at half a million to the + Irish nation; the Editor thinks that double that sum would not be too high + an estimate. The habits of profligacy and drunkenness which are acquired + at <i>wakes</i>, are here put out of the question. When a labourer, a + carpenter, or a smith, is not at his work, which frequently happens, ask + where he is gone, and ten to one the answer is—“Oh, faith, please + your honour, he couldn’t do a stroke to-day, for he’s gone to <i>the</i> + funeral.” + </p> + <p> + Even beggars, when they grow old, go about begging <i>for their own + funerals</i>; that is, begging for money to buy a coffin, candles, pipes, + and tobacco. For the use of the candles, pipes, and tobacco, see <i>Wake</i>. + </p> + <p> + Those who value customs in proportion to their antiquity, and nations in + proportion to their adherence to ancient customs, will doubtless, admire + the Irish <i>Ullaloo</i>, and the Irish nation, for persevering in this + usage from time immemorial. The Editor, however, has observed some + alarming symptoms, which seem to prognosticate the declining taste for the + Ullaloo in Ireland. In a comic theatrical entertainment, represented not + long since on the Dublin stage, a chorus of old women was introduced, who + set up the Irish howl round the relics of a physician, who is supposed to + have fallen under the wooden sword of Harlequin. After the old women have + continued their Ullaloo for a decent time, with all the necessary + accompaniments of wringing their hands, wiping or rubbing their eyes with + the corners of their gowns or aprons, &c. one of the mourners suddenly + suspends her lamentable cries, and, turning to her neighbour, asks, “Arrah + now, honey, who is it we’re crying for?” + </p> + <p> + [D] <i>The tenants were sent away without their whiskey.</i>—It is + usual with some landlords to give their inferior tenants a glass of + whiskey when they pay their rents. Thady calls it <i>their</i> whiskey; + not that the whiskey is actually the property of the tenants, but that it + becomes their <i>right</i> after it has been often given to them. In this + general mode of reasoning respecting <i>rights</i> the lower Irish are not + singular, but they are peculiarly quick and tenacious in claiming these + rights. “Last year your honour gave me some straw for the roof of my house + and I <i>expect</i> your honour will be after doing the same this year.” + In this manner gifts are frequently turned into tributes. The high and low + are not always dissimilar in their habits. It is said, that the Sublime + Ottoman Porte is very apt to claim gifts as tributes: thus it is dangerous + to send the Grand Seignor a fine horse on his birthday one year, lest on + his next birthday he should expect a similar present, and should proceed + to demonstrate the reasonableness of his expectations. + </p> + <p> + [E] <i>He demeaned himself greatly</i>—means, he lowered or + disgraced himself much. + </p> + <p> + [F] <i>Duty fowls, duty turkeys, and duty geese</i>.—In many leases + in Ireland, tenants were <i>formerly</i> bound to supply an inordinate + quantity of poultry to their landlords. The Editor knew of thirty turkeys + being reserved in one lease of a small farm. + </p> + <p> + [G] <i>English tenants</i>.—An English tenant does not mean a tenant + who is an Englishman, but a tenant who pays his rent the day that it is + due. It is a common prejudice in Ireland, amongst the poorer classes of + people, to believe that all tenants in England pay their rents on the very + day when they become due. An Irishman, when he goes to take a farm, if he + wants to prove to his landlord that he is a substantial man, offers to + become an <i>English tenant</i>. If a tenant disobliges his landlord by + voting against him, or against his opinion, at an election, the tenant is + immediately informed by the agent, that he must become an <i>English + tenant</i>. This threat does not imply that he is to change his language + or his country, but that he must pay all the arrear of rent which he owes, + and that he must thenceforward pay his rent on that day when it becomes + due. + </p> + <p> + [H] <i>Canting</i>—does not mean talking or writing hypocritical + nonsense, but selling substantially by auction. + </p> + <p> + [I] <i>Duty work</i>.—It was formerly common in Ireland to insert + clauses in leases, binding tenants to furnish their landlords with + labourers and horses for several days in the year. Much petty tyranny and + oppression have resulted from this feudal custom. Whenever a poor man + disobliged his landlord, the agent sent to him for his duty work; and + Thady does not exaggerate when he says, that the tenants were often called + from their own work to do that of their landlord. Thus the very means of + earning their rent were taken from them: whilst they were getting home + their landlord’s harvest, their own was often ruined, and yet their rents + were expected to be paid as punctually as if their time had been at their + own disposal. This appears the height of absurd injustice. + </p> + <p> + In Esthonia, amongst the poor Sclavonian race of peasant slaves, they pay + tributes to their lords, not under the name of duty work, duty geese, duty + turkeys, &c., but under the name of <i>righteousnesses</i>. The + following ballad is a curious specimen of Esthonian poetry:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “This is the cause that the country is ruined, + And the straw of the thatch is eaten away, + The gentry are come to live in the land— + Chimneys between the village, + And the proprietor upon the white floor! + The sheep brings forth a lamb with a white forehead, + This is paid to the lord for a <i>righteousness sheep</i>. + The sow farrows pigs, + They go to the spit of the lord. + The hen lays eggs, + They go into the lord’s frying-pan. + The cow drops a male calf, + That goes into the lord’s herd as a bull. + The mare foals a horse foal, + That must be for my lord’s nag. + The boor’s wife has sons, + They must go to look after my lord’s poultry.” + </pre> + <p> + [J] <i>Out of forty-nine suits which he had, he never lost one but + seventeen</i>,—Thady’s language in this instance is a specimen of a + mode of rhetoric common in Ireland. An astonishing assertion is made in + the beginning of a sentence, which ceases to be in the least surprising, + when you hear the qualifying explanation that follows. Thus a man who is + in the last stage of staggering drunkenness will, if he can articulate, + swear to you—“Upon his conscience now, and may he never stir from + the spot alive if he is telling a lie, upon his conscience he has not + tasted a drop of any thing, good or bad, since morning at-all-at-all, but + half a pint of whiskey, please your honour.” + </p> + <p> + [K] <i>Fairy Mounts</i>—Barrows. It is said that these high mounts + were of great service to the natives of Ireland when Ireland was invaded + by the Danes. Watch was always kept on them, and upon the approach of an + enemy a fire was lighted to give notice to the next watch, and thus the + intelligence was quickly communicated through the country. <i>Some years + ago</i>, the common people believed that these barrows were inhabited by + fairies, or, as they called them, by the <i>good people</i>. “Oh, troth, + to the best of my belief, and to the best of my judgment and opinion,” + said an elderly man to the Editor, “it was only the old people that had + nothing to do, and got together, and were telling stories about them + fairies, but to the best of my judgment there’s nothing in it. Only this I + heard myself not very many years hack from a decent kind of a man, a + grazier, that as he was coming just <i>fair and easy (quietly)</i> from + the fair, with some cattle and sheep, that he had not sold, just at the + church of ——, at an angle of the road like, he was met by a + good-looking man, who asked him where he was going? And he answered, ‘Oh, + far enough, I must be going all night.’ ‘No, that you mustn’t nor won’t + (says the man), you’ll sleep with me the night, and you’ll want for + nothing, nor your cattle nor sheep neither, nor your <i>beast (horse)</i>; + so come along with me.’ With that the grazier <i>lit (alighted)</i> from + his horse, and it was dark night; but presently he finds himself, he does + not know in the wide world how, in a fine house, and plenty of every thing + to eat and drink; nothing at all wanting that he could wish for or think + of. And he does not <i>mind (recollect</i> or <i>know</i>) how at last he + falls asleep; and in the morning he finds himself lying, not in ever a bed + or a house at all, but just in the angle of the road where first he met + the strange man: there he finds himself lying on his back on the grass, + and all his sheep feeding as quiet as ever all round about him, and his + horse the same way, and the bridle of the beast over his wrist. And I + asked him what he thought of it; and from first to last he could think of + nothing, but for certain sure it must have been the fairies that + entertained him so well. For there was no house to see any where nigh + hand, or any building, or barn, or place at all, but only the church and + the <i>mote (barrow)</i>. There’s another odd thing enough that they tell + about this same church, that if any person’s corpse, that had not a right + to be buried in that church-yard, went to be burying there in it, no, not + all the men, women, or childer in all Ireland could get the corpse any way + into the church-yard; but as they would be trying to go into the + church-yard, their feet would seem to be going backwards instead of + forwards; ay, continually backwards the whole funeral would seem to go; + and they would never set foot with the corpse in the church-yard. Now they + say that it is the fairies do all this; but it is my opinion it is all + idle talk, and people are after being wiser now.” + </p> + <p> + The country people in Ireland certainly <i>had</i> great admiration mixed + with reverence, if not dread, of fairies. They believed that beneath these + fairy mounts were spacious subterraneous palaces, inhabited by <i>the good + people</i>, who must not on any account be disturbed. When the wind raises + a little eddy of dust upon the road, the poor people believe that it is + raised by the fairies, that it is a sign that they are journeying from one + of the fairies’ mounts to another, and they say to the fairies, or to the + dust as it passes, “God speed ye, gentlemen; God speed ye.” This averts + any evil that <i>the good people</i> might be inclined to do them. There + are innumerable stories told of the friendly and unfriendly feats of these + busy fairies; some of these tales are ludicrous, and some romantic enough + for poetry. It is a pity that poets should lose such convenient, though + diminutive machinery. By-the-bye, Parnell, who showed himself so deeply + “skilled in faerie lore,” was an Irishman; and though he has presented his + fairies to the world in the ancient English dress of “Britain’s isle, and + Arthur’s days,” it is probable that his first acquaintance with them began + in his native country. + </p> + <p> + Some remote origin for the most superstitious or romantic popular + illusions or vulgar errors may often be discovered. In Ireland, the old + churches and church-yards have been usually fixed upon as the scenes of + wonders. Now antiquaries tell us, that near the ancient churches in that + kingdom caves of various constructions have from time to time been + discovered, which were formerly used as granaries or magazines by the + ancient inhabitants, and as places to which they retreated in time of + danger. There is (p. 84 of the R.I.A. Transactions for 1789) a particular + account of a number of these artificial caves at the west end of the + church of Killossy, in the county of Kildare. Under a rising ground, in a + dry sandy soil, these subterraneous dwellings were found: they have + pediment roofs, and they communicate with each other by small apertures. + In the Brehon laws these are mentioned, and there are fines inflicted by + those laws upon persons who steal from the subterraneous granaries. All + these things show that there was a real foundation for the stories which + were told of the appearance of lights, and of the sounds of voices, near + these places. The persons who had property concealed there, very willingly + countenanced every wonderful relation that tended to make these places + objects of sacred awe or superstitious terror. + </p> + <p> + [L] <i>Weed-ashes</i>.—By ancient usage in Ireland, all the weeds on + a farm belonged to the farmer’s wife, or to the wife of the squire who + holds the ground in his own hands. The great demand for alkaline salts in + bleaching rendered these ashes no inconsiderable perquisite. + </p> + <p> + [M] <i>Sealing money</i>.—Formerly it was the custom in Ireland for + tenants to give the squire’s lady from two to fifty guineas as a + perquisite upon the sealing of their leases. The Editor not very long + since knew of a baronet’s lady accepting fifty guineas as sealing money, + upon closing a bargain for a considerable farm. + </p> + <p> + [N] <i>Sir Murtagh grew mad</i>.—Sir Murtagh grew angry. + </p> + <p> + [O] <i>The whole kitchen was out on the stairs</i>—means that all + the inhabitants of the kitchen came out of the kitchen, and stood upon the + stairs. These, and similar expressions, show how much the Irish are + disposed to metaphor and amplification. + </p> + <p> + [P] <i>Fining down the year’s rent</i>.—When an Irish gentleman, + like Sir Kit Rackrent, has lived beyond his income, and finds himself + distressed for ready money, tenants obligingly offer to take his land at a + rent far below the value, and to pay him a small sum of money in hand, + which they call fining down the yearly rent. The temptation of this ready + cash often blinds the landlord to his future interest. + </p> + <p> + [Q] <i>Driver</i>.—A man who is employed to drive tenants for rent; + that is, to drive the cattle belonging to tenants to pound. The office of + driver is by no means a sinecure. + </p> + <p> + [R] <i>I thought to make him a priest</i>.—It was customary amongst + those of Thady’s rank in Ireland, whenever they could get a little money, + to send their sons abroad to St. Omer’s, or to Spain, to be educated as + priests. Now they are educated at Maynooth. The Editor has lately known a + young lad, who began by being a post-boy, afterwards turn into a + carpenter, then quit his plane and work-bench to study his <i>Humanities</i>, + as he said, at the college of Maynooth; but after he had gone through his + course of Humanities, he determined to be a soldier instead of a priest. + </p> + <p> + [S] <i>Flam</i>.—Short for flambeau. + </p> + <p> + [T] <i>Barrack-room</i>.—Formerly it was customary, in gentlemen’s + houses in Ireland, to fit up one large bedchamber with a number of beds + for the reception of occasional visitors. These rooms were called + Barrack-rooms. + </p> + <p> + [U] <i>An innocent</i>—in Ireland, means a simpleton, an idiot. + </p> + <p> + [V] <i>The Curragh</i>—is the Newmarket of Ireland. + </p> + <p> + [X] <i>The cant</i>.—The auction. + </p> + <p> + [Y] <i>And so should cut him off for ever, by levying a fine, and + suffering a recovery to dock the entail</i>.—The English reader may + perhaps be surprised at the extent of Thady’s legal knowledge, and at the + fluency with which he pours forth law-terms; but almost every poor man in + Ireland, be he farmer, weaver, shopkeeper, or steward, is, besides his + other occupations, occasionally a lawyer. The nature of processes, + ejectments, custodiams, injunctions, replevins, &c. is perfectly known + to them, and the terms as familiar to them as to any attorney. They all + love law. It is a kind of lottery, in which every man, staking his own wit + or cunning against his neighbour’s property, feels that he has little to + lose, and much to gain. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll have the law of you, so I will!” is the saying of an Englishman who + expects justice. “I’ll have you before his honour,” is the threat of an + Irishman who hopes for partiality. Miserable is the life of a justice of + the peace in Ireland the day after a fair, especially if he resides near a + small town. The multitude of the <i>kilt</i> (<i>kilt</i> does not mean <i>killed</i>, + but hurt) and wounded who come before his honour with black eyes or bloody + heads is astonishing: but more astonishing is the number of those who, + though they are scarcely able by daily labour to procure daily food, will + nevertheless, without the least reluctance, waste six or seven hours of + the day lounging in the yard or court of a justice of the peace, waiting + to make some complaint about—nothing. It is impossible to convince + them that <i>time is money</i>. They do not set any value upon their own + time, and they think that others estimate theirs at less than nothing. + Hence they make no scruple of telling a justice of the peace a story of an + hour long about a <i>tester</i> (sixpence); and if he grows impatient, + they attribute it to some secret prejudice which he entertains against + them. + </p> + <p> + Their method is to get a story completely by heart, and to tell it, as + they call it, <i>out of the face</i>, that is, from the beginning to the + end, without interruption. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my good friend, I have seen you lounging about these three hours in + the yard; what is your business?” + </p> + <p> + “Please your honour, it is what I want to speak one word to your honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak then, but be quick—What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “The matter, please your honour, is nothing at-all-at-all, only just about + the grazing of a horse, please your honour, that this man here sold me at + the fair of Gurtishannon last Shrove fair, which lay down three times with + myself, please your honour, and <i>kilt</i> me; not to be telling your + honour of how, no later back than yesterday night, he lay down in the + house there within, and all the childer standing round, and it was God’s + mercy he did not fall a-top of them, or into the fire to burn himself. So + please your honour, to-day I took him back to this man, which owned him, + and after a great deal to do, I got the mare again I <i>swopped + (exchanged)</i> him for; but he won’t pay the grazing of the horse for the + time I had him, though he promised to pay the grazing in case the horse + didn’t answer; and he never did a day’s work, good or bad, please your + honour, all the time he was with me, and I had the doctor to him five + times any how. And so, please your honour, it is what I expect your honour + will stand my friend, for I’d sooner come to your honour for justice than + to any other in all Ireland. And so I brought him here before your honour, + and expect your honour will make him pay me the grazing, or tell me, can I + process him for it at the next assizes, please your honour?” + </p> + <p> + The defendant now turning a quid of tobacco with his tongue into some + secret cavern in his mouth, begins his defence with— + </p> + <p> + “Please your honour, under favour, and saving your honour’s presence, + there’s not a word of truth in all this man has been saying from beginning + to end, upon my conscience, and I wouldn’t for the value of the horse + itself, grazing and all, be after telling your honour a lie. For, please + your honour, I have a dependence upon your honour that you’ll do me + justice, and not be listening to him or the like of him. Please your + honour, it’s what he has brought me before your honour, because he had a + spite against me about some oats I sold your honour, which he was jealous + of, and a shawl his wife got at my shister’s shop there without, and never + paid for; so I offered to set the shawl against the grazing, and give him + a receipt in full of all demands, but he wouldn’t out of spite, please + your honour; so he brought me before your honour, expecting your honour + was mad with me for cutting down the tree in the horse park, which was + none of my doing, please your honour—ill luck to them that went and + belied me to your honour behind my back! So if your honour is pleasing, + I’ll tell you the whole truth about the horse that he swopped against my + mare out of the face. Last Shrove fair I met this man, Jemmy Duffy, please + your honour, just at the corner of the road, where the bridge is broken + down, that your honour is to have the presentment for this year—long + life to you for it! And he was at that time coming from the fair of + Gurtishannon, and I the same way. ‘How are you, Jemmy?’ says I. ‘Very + well, I thank ye kindly, Bryan,’ says he; ‘shall we turn back to Paddy + Salmon’s and take a naggin of whiskey to our better acquaintance?’ ‘I + don’t care if I did, Jemmy,’ says I; ‘only it is what I can’t take the + whiskey, because I’m under an oath against it for a month.’ Ever since, + please your honour, the day your honour met me on the road, and observed + to me I could hardly stand, I had taken so much; though upon my conscience + your honour wronged me greatly that same time—ill luck to them that + belied me behind my back to your honour! Well, please your honour, as I + was telling you, as he was taking the whiskey, and we talking of one thing + or t’other, he makes me an offer to swop his mare that he couldn’t sell at + the fair of Gurtishannon, because nobody would be troubled with the beast, + please your honour, against my horse, and to oblige him I took the mare—sorrow + take her! and him along with her! She kicked me a new car, that was worth + three pounds ten, to tatters the first time I ever put her into it, and I + expect your honour will make him pay me the price of the car, any how, + before I pay the grazing, which I’ve no right to pay at-all-at-all, only + to oblige him. But I leave it all to your honour; and the whole grazing he + ought to be charging for the beast is but two and eight pence halfpenny, + any how, please your honour. So I’ll abide by what your honour says, good + or bad. I’ll leave it all to your honour.” + </p> + <p> + I’ll leave <i>it</i> all to your honour—literally means, I’ll leave + all the trouble to your honour. + </p> + <p> + The Editor knew a justice of the peace in Ireland, who had such a dread of + <i>having it all left to his honour</i>, that he frequently gave the + complainants the sum about which they were disputing, to make peace + between them, and to get rid of the trouble of hearing their stories <i>out + of the face</i>. But he was soon cured of this method of buying off + disputes, by the increasing multitude of those who, out of pure regard to + his honour, came “to get justice from him, because they would sooner come + before him than before any man in all Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + [Z] <i>A raking pot of tea</i>.—We should observe, this custom has + long since been banished from the higher orders of Irish gentry. The + mysteries of a raking pot of tea, like those of the Bona Dea, are supposed + to be sacred to females; but now and then it has happened, that some of + the male species, who were either more audacious, or more highly favoured + than the rest of their sex, have been admitted by stealth to these orgies. + The time when the festive ceremony begins varies according to + circumstances, but it is never earlier than twelve o’clock at night; the + joys of a raking pot of tea depending on its being made in secret, and at + an unseasonable hour. After a ball, when the more discreet part of the + company has departed to rest, a few chosen female spirits, who have footed + it till they can foot it no longer, and till the sleepy notes expire under + the slurring hand of the musician, retire to a bedchamber, call the + favourite maid, who alone is admitted, bid her <i>put down the kettle</i>, + lock the door, and amidst as much giggling and scrambling as possible, + they get round a tea-table, on which all manner of things are huddled + together. Then begin mutual railleries and mutual confidences amongst the + young ladies, and the faint scream and the loud laugh is heard, and the + romping for letters and pocket-books begins, and gentlemen are called by + their surnames, or by the general name of fellows! pleasant fellows! + charming fellows! odious fellows! abominable fellows! and then all prudish + decorums are forgotten, and then we might be convinced how much the + satirical poet was mistaken when he said, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “There is no woman where there’s no reserve.” + </pre> + <p> + The merit of the original idea of a raking pot of tea evidently belongs to + the washerwoman and the laundry-maid. But why should not we have <i>Low + life above stairs</i> as well as <i>High life below stairs</i>? + </p> + <p> + [A2] <i>We gained the day by this piece of honesty</i>.—In a dispute + which occurred some years ago in Ireland, between Mr. E. and Mr. M., about + the boundaries of a farm, an old tenant of Mr. M.‘s cut a <i>sod</i> from + Mr. M.‘s land, and inserted it in a spot prepared for its reception in Mr. + E.‘s land; so nicely was it inserted, that no eye could detect the + junction of the grass. The old man, who was to give his evidence as to the + property, stood upon the inserted sod when the <i>viewers</i> came, and + swore that the ground he <i>then stood upon</i> belonged to his landlord, + Mr. M. + </p> + <p> + The Editor had flattered himself that the ingenious contrivance which + Thady records, and the similar subterfuge of this old Irishman, in the + dispute concerning boundaries, were instances of <i>‘cuteness</i> + unparalleled in all but Irish story: an English friend, however, has just + mortified the Editor’s national vanity by an account of the following + custom, which prevails in part of Shropshire. It is discreditable for + women to appear abroad after the birth of their children till they have + been <i>churched</i>. To avoid this reproach, and at the same time to + enjoy the pleasure of gadding, whenever a woman goes abroad before she has + been to church, she takes a tile from the roof of her house, and puts it + upon her head: wearing this panoply all the time she pays her visits, her + conscience is perfectly at ease; for she can afterwards safely declare to + the clergyman, that she “has never been from under her own roof till she + came to be churched.” + </p> + <p> + [B2] <i>Carton, and half carton</i>.—Thady means cartron, and half + cartron. “According to the old record in the black book of Dublin, a <i>cantred</i> + is said to contain 30 <i>villatas terras</i>, which are also called <i>quarters</i> + of land (quarterons, <i>cartrons</i>); every one of which quarters must + contain so much ground as will pasture 400 cows, and 17 plough-lands. A + knight’s fee was composed of 8 hydes, which amount to 160 acres, and that + is generally deemed about a <i>ploughland</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The Editor was favoured by a learned friend with the above extract, from a + MS. of Lord Totness’s in the Lambeth library. + </p> + <p> + [C2] <i>Wake</i>.—A wake in England means a festival held upon the + anniversary of the saint of the parish. At these wakes, rustic games, + rustic conviviality, and rustic courtship, are pursued with all the ardour + and all the appetite which accompany such pleasures as occur but seldom. + In Ireland a wake is a midnight meeting, held professedly for the + indulgence of holy sorrow, but usually it is converted into orgies of + unholy joy. When an Irish man or woman of the lower order dies, the straw + which composed the bed, whether it has been contained in a bag to form a + mattress, or simply spread upon the earthen floor, is immediately taken + out of the house, and burned before the cabin door, the family at the same + time setting up the death howl. The ears and eyes of the neighbours being + thus alarmed, they flock to the house of the deceased, and by their + vociferous sympathy excite and at the same time soothe the sorrows of the + family. + </p> + <p> + It is curious to observe how good and bad are mingled in human + institutions. In countries which were thinly inhabited, this custom + prevented private attempts against the lives of individuals, and formed a + kind of coroner’s inquest upon the body which had recently expired, and + burning the straw upon which the sick man lay became a simple preservative + against infection. At night the dead body is waked, that is to say, all + the friends and neighbours of the deceased collect in a barn or stable, + where the corpse is laid upon some boards, or an unhinged door, supported + upon stools, the face exposed, the rest of the body covered with a white + sheet. Bound the body are stuck in brass candlesticks, which have been + borrowed perhaps at five miles’ distance, as many candles as the poor + person can beg or borrow, observing always to have an odd number. Pipes + and tobacco are first distributed, and then, according to the <i>ability</i> + of the deceased, cakes and ale, and sometimes whiskey, are <i>dealt</i> to + the company: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Deal on, deal on, my merry men all, + Deal on your cakes and your wine, + For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day + Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine.” + </pre> + <p> + After a fit of universal sorrow, and the comfort of a universal dram, the + scandal of the neighbourhood, as in higher circles, occupies the company. + The young lads and lasses romp with one another, and when the fathers and + mothers are at last overcome with sleep and whiskey (<i>vino et somno</i>), + the youth become more enterprising, and are frequently successful. It is + said that more matches are made at wakes than at weddings. + </p> + <p> + [D2] <i>Kilt</i>.—This word frequently occurs in the preceding + pages, where it means not <i>killed</i>, but much <i>hurt</i>. In Ireland, + not only cowards, but the brave “die many times before their death.”—There + killing is no murder. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ESSAY ON IRISH BULLS + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Summos posse viros, et magna exempla daturos, Vervecum in patria, + crassoque sub aëre nasci. JUVENAL. +</pre> + <h3> + IRISH BULLS + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION. + </h2> + <p> + What mortal, what fashionable mortal, is there who has not, in the midst + of a formidable circle, been reduced to the embarrassment of having + nothing to say? Who is there that has not felt those oppressive fits of + silence which ensue after the weather, and the fashions, and the politics, + and the scandal, and all the common-place topics of the day have been + utterly exhausted? Who is there that, at such a time, has not tried in + vain to call up an idea, and found that <i>none would come when they did + call</i>, or that all that came were impertinent, and must be rejected, + some as too grave, others too gay, some too vulgar, some too refined for + the hearers, some relating to persons, others to circumstances that must + not be mentioned? Not one will do! and all this time the silence lasts, + and the difficulty of breaking it increases every instant in an + incalculable proportion. + </p> + <p> + Let it be some comfort to those whose polite sensibility has laboured + under such distress to be assured, that they need never henceforward fear + to be reduced to similar dilemmas. They may be insured for ever against + such dangers at the slight premium and upon the easy condition of perusing + the following little volume. It will satisfy them that there is a subject + which still affords inexhausted and inexhaustible sources of conversation, + suited to all tastes, all ranks, all individuals, democratic, + aristocratic, commercial, or philosophic; suited to every company which + can be combined, purposely or fortuitously, in this great metropolis, or + in any of the most remote parts of England, Wales, or Scotland. There is a + subject which dilates the heart of every true Briton, which relaxes his + muscles, however rigid, to a smile,—which opens his lips, however + closed, to conversation. There is a subject “which frets another’s spleen + to cure our own,” and which makes even the angelic part of the creation <i>laugh + themselves mortal</i>. For who can forbear to laugh at the bare idea of an + Irish bull? + </p> + <p> + Nor let any one apprehend that this subject can ever become trite and + vulgar. Custom cannot stale its infinite variety. It is in the main + obvious, and palpable enough for every common understanding; yet it leads + to disquisitions of exquisite subtlety, it branches into innumerable + ramifications, and involves consequences of surprising importance; it may + exercise the ingenuity of the subtlest wit, the fancy of the oddest + humourist, the imagination of the finest poet, and the judgment of the + most profound metaphysician. Moreover, this happy subject is enveloped in + all that doubt and confusion which are so favourable to the reputation of + disputants, and which secures the glorious possibility of talking + incessantly, without being stopped short by a definition or a + demonstration. For much as we have all heard and talked of Irish bulls, it + has never yet been decided what it is that constitutes a bull. <i>Incongruity + of ideas</i>, says one. But this supposition touches too closely upon the + definition of wit, which, according to the best authorities, Locke, Burke, + and Stewart, consists in an unexpected assemblage of ideas, apparently + discordant, but in which some point of resemblance or aptitude is suddenly + discovered. + </p> + <p> + Then, perhaps, says another, the essence of a bull lies in <i>confusion of + ideas</i>. This sounds plausible in theory, but it will not apply in + practice; for confusion of ideas is common to both countries: for + instance, was there not some slight confusion of ideas in the mind of that + English student, who, when he was asked what progress he had made in the + study of medicine, replied, “I hope I shall soon be qualified to be a + physician, for I think I am now able to cure a child?” + </p> + <p> + To amend our bill, suppose we insert the word laughable, and say that a <i>laughable + confusion of ideas</i> constitutes a bull. But have we not a laughable + confusion of ideas in our English poet Blackmore’s famous lines in Prince + Arthur?— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A painted vest prince Vortigern had on, + Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won.” + </pre> + <p> + We are sensible that, to many people, the most vulgar Irish bull would + appear more laughable merely from its being Irish,—therefore we + cannot make the propensity to laughter in one man the criterion of what is + ridiculous in another; though we have a precedent for this mode of judging + in the laws of England, which are allowed to be the perfection of human + reason. If a man swear that his neighbour has put him in bodily fear, he + may have the cause of his terror sent to gaol; thus the feelings of the + plaintiff become the measure of the defendant’s guilt. As we cannot extend + this convenient principle to all matters of taste, and all subjects of + risibility, we are still compelled to acknowledge that no accurate + definition of a bull has yet been given. The essence of an Irish bull must + be of the most ethereal nature, for notwithstanding the most indefatigable + research, it has hitherto escaped from analysis. The crucible always + breaks in the long-expected moment of projection: we have nevertheless the + courage to recommence the process in a new mode. Perhaps by ascertaining + what it is not, we may at last discover what it is: we must distinguish + the genuine from the spurious, the original from all imitations, the + indigenous from the exotic; in short, it must be determined in what an + Irish bull essentially differs from a blunder, or in what Irish blunders + specifically differ from English blunders, and from those of all other + nations. To elucidate these points, or to prove to the satisfaction of all + competent judges that they are beyond the reach of the human + understanding, is the object of the following <i>Essay concerning the + Nature of Bulls and Blunders</i>. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <h3> + ORIGINALITY OF IRISH BULLS EXAMINED. + </h3> + <p> + The difficulty of selecting from the vulgar herd of Irish bulls one that + shall be entitled to the prize, from the united merits of pre-eminent + absurdity, and indisputable originality, is greater than hasty judges may + imagine. Many bulls, reputed to be bred and born in Ireland, are of + foreign extraction; and many more, supposed to be unrivalled in their + kind, may be matched in all their capital <i>points</i>: for instance, + there is not a more celebrated bull than Paddy Blake’s. When Paddy heard + an English gentleman speaking of the fine echo at the lake of Killarney, + which repeats the sound forty times, he very promptly observed, “Faith, + that’s nothing at all to the echo in my father’s garden, in the county of + Galway: if you say to it, ‘How do you do, Paddy Blake?’ it will answer, + ‘Pretty well, I thank you, sir.’” + </p> + <p> + Now this echo of Paddy Blake’s, which has long been the admiration of the + world, is not a prodigy <i>unique</i> in its kind; it can be matched by + one recorded in the immortal works of the great Lord Verulam.<a + href="#linknote-24" name="linknoteref-24" id="linknoteref-24"><small>24</small></a> + </p> + <p> + “I remember well,” says this father of philosophy, “that when I went to + the echo at Port Charenton, there was an old Parisian that took it to be + the work of spirits, and of good spirits, ‘for,’ said he, ‘call Satan, and + the echo will not deliver back the devil’s name, but will say, ‘Va t’en.’” + </p> + <p> + The Parisian echo is surely superior to the Hibernian! Paddy Blake’s + simply understood and practised the common rules of good-breeding; but the + Port Charenton echo is “instinct with spirit,” and endowed with a nice + moral sense. + </p> + <p> + Amongst the famous bulls recorded by the illustrious Joe Miller, there is + one which has been continually quoted as an example of original Irish + genius. An English gentleman was writing a letter in a coffee-house, and + perceiving that an Irishman stationed behind him was taking that liberty + which Hephaestion used with his friend Alexander, instead of putting his + seal upon the lips of the <i>curious impertinent</i>, the English + gentleman thought proper to reprove the Hibernian, if not with delicacy, + at least with poetical justice: he concluded writing his letter in these + words: “I would say more, but a damned tall Irishman is reading over my + shoulder every word I write.” + </p> + <p> + “You lie, you scoundrel!” said the self-convicted Hibernian. + </p> + <p> + This blunder is unquestionably excellent; but it is not originally Irish: + it comes, with other riches, from the East, as the reader may find by + looking into a book by M. Galland, entitled, “The Remarkable Sayings of + the Eastern Nations.” + </p> + <p> + “A learned man was writing to a friend; a troublesome fellow was beside + him, who was looking over his shoulder at what he was writing. The learned + man, who perceived this, continued writing in these words, ‘If an + impertinent chap, who stands beside me, were not looking at what I write, + I would write many other things to you, which should be known only to you + and to me.’ + </p> + <p> + “The troublesome fellow, who was reading on, now thought it incumbent upon + him to speak, and said, ‘I swear to you, that I have not read or looked at + what you are writing.’ + </p> + <p> + “The learned man replied, ‘Blockhead, as you are, why then do you say to + me what you are now saying?’” <a href="#linknote-25" name="linknoteref-25" + id="linknoteref-25"><small>25</small></a> + </p> + <p> + Making allowance for the difference of manners in eastern and northern + nations, there is, certainly, such a similarity between this oriental + anecdote and Joe Miller’s story, that we may conclude the latter is stolen + from the former. Now, an <i>Irish</i> bull must be a species of blunder <i>peculiar</i> + to Ireland; those that we have hitherto examined, though they may be + called Irish bulls by the ignorant vulgar, have no right, title, or claim + to such a distinction. We should invariably exclude from that class all + blunders which can be found in another country. For instance, a speech of + the celebrated Irish beauty, Lady C——, has been called a bull; + but as a parallel can be produced in the speech of an English nobleman, <i>it + tells for nothing</i>. When her ladyship was presented at court, his + majesty, George the Second, politely hoped, “that, since her arrival in + England, she had been entertained with the gaieties of London.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, please your majesty, I have seen every sight in London worth + seeing, except a coronation.” + </p> + <p> + This <i>naïveté</i> is certainly not equal to that of the English earl + marshal, who, when his king found fault with some arrangement at his + coronation, said, “Please your majesty, I hope it will be better next + time.” + </p> + <p> + A <i>naïveté</i> of the same species entailed a heavy tax upon the + inhabitants of Beaune, in France. Beaune is famous for burgundy; and Henry + the Fourth, passing through his kingdom, stopped there, and was well + entertained by his loyal subjects. His Majesty praised the burgundy which + they set before him—“It was excellent! it was admirable!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sire!” cried they, “do you think this excellent? <i>we have much + finer</i> burgundy than this.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you so? then you can afford to pay for it,” replied Harry the + Fourth; and he laid a double tax thenceforward upon the burgundy of + Beaune. + </p> + <p> + Of the same class of blunders is the following speech, which we actually + heard not long ago from an Irishman:— + </p> + <p> + “Please your worship, he sent me to the devil, and I came straight to your + honour.” + </p> + <p> + We thought this an original Irish blunder, till we recollected its + prototype in Marmontel’s Annette and Lubin. Lubin concludes his harangue + with, “The bailiff sent us to the devil, and we come to put ourselves + under your protection, my lord.” <a href="#linknote-26" + name="linknoteref-26" id="linknoteref-26"><small>26</small></a> + </p> + <p> + The French, at least in former times, were celebrated for politeness; yet + we meet with a <i>naïve</i> compliment of a Frenchman, which would have + been accounted a bull if it had been found in Ireland. + </p> + <p> + A gentleman was complimenting Madame Denis on the manner in which she had + just acted Zaire. “To act that part,” said she, “a person should be young + and handsome.” “Ah, madam!” replied the complimenter <i>naïvement</i>, + “you are a complete proof of the contrary.” <a href="#linknote-27" + name="linknoteref-27" id="linknoteref-27"><small>27</small></a> + </p> + <p> + We know not any original Irish blunder superior to this, unless it be that + which Lord Orford pronounced to be the best bull that he ever heard. + </p> + <p> + “I hate that woman,” said a gentleman, looking at one who had been his + nurse; “I hate that woman, for she changed me at nurse.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Orford particularly admires this bull, because in the confusion of + the blunderer’s ideas he is not clear even of his personal identity. + Philosophers will not perhaps be so ready as his lordship has been to call + this a blunder of the first magnitude. Those who have never been initiated + into the mysteries of metaphysics may have the presumptuous ignorance to + fancy that they understand what is meant by the common words <i>I</i>, or + <i>me</i>; but the able metaphysician knows better than Lord Orford’s + changeling how to prove, to our satisfaction, that we know nothing of the + matter. + </p> + <p> + “Personal identity,” says Locke, “consists not in the identity of + substance, but in the identity of consciousness, wherein Socrates and the + present mayor of Queenborough agree they are the same person: if the same + Socrates, sleeping and waking, do not partake of the same consciousness, + Socrates waking and sleeping is not the same person; and to punish + Socrates waking for what sleeping Socrates thought, and waking Socrates + was never conscious of, would be no more of right than to punish one twin + for what his brother twin did, whereof he knew nothing, because their + outsides are so like that they could not be distinguished; for such twins + have been seen.” <a href="#linknote-28" name="linknoteref-28" + id="linknoteref-28"><small>28</small></a> + </p> + <p> + We may presume that our Hibernian’s consciousness could not retrograde to + the time when he was changed at nurse; consequently there was no + continuity of identity between the infant and the man who expressed his + hatred of the nurse for perpetrating the fraud. At all events, the + confusion of identity which excited Lord Orford’s admiration in our + Hibernian is by no means unprecedented in France, England, or ancient + Greece, and consequently it cannot be an instance of national + idiosyncracy, or an Irish bull. We find a similar blunder in Spain, in the + time of Cervantes:— + </p> + <p> + “Pray tell me, squire,” says the duchess, in Don Quixote, “is not your + master the person whose history is printed under the name of the sage + Hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha, who professes himself the admirer of one + Dulcinea del Toboso?” + </p> + <p> + “The very same, my lady,” answered Sancho; “and I myself am that very + squire of his, who is mentioned, or ought to be mentioned, in that + history, <i>unless they have changed me in the cradle</i>.” + </p> + <p> + In Molière’s Amphitrion there is a dialogue between Mercure and Sosie, + evidently taken from the <i>Attic</i> Lucian. Sosie being completely + puzzled out of his personal identity, if not out of his senses, says + literally, “of my being myself I begin to doubt in good earnest; yet when + I feel myself, and when I recollect myself, it seems to me that <i>I am I</i>.” + <a href="#linknote-29" name="linknoteref-29" id="linknoteref-29"><small>29</small></a> + </p> + <p> + We see that the puzzle about identity proves at last to be of Grecian + origin. It is really edifying to observe how those things which have long + been objects of popular admiration shrink and fade when exposed to the + light of strict examination. An experienced critic proposed that a work + should be written to inquire into the pretensions of modern writers to + original invention, to trace their thefts, and to restore the property to + the ancient owners. Such a work would require powers and erudition beyond + what can be expected from any ordinary individual; the labour must be + shared amongst numbers, and we are proud to assist in ascertaining the + rightful property even of bulls and blunders; though without pretending, + like some literary blood-hounds, to follow up a plagiarism, where common + sagacity is at a fault. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <h3> + IRISH NEWSPAPERS. + </h3> + <p> + We presume that we have successfully disputed the claims imposed upon the + public, in behalf of certain spurious alien blunders, pretending to be + native, original Irish bulls; and we shall now with pleasure proceed to + examine those which have better titles to notice. Even nonsense ceases to + be worthy of attention and public favour, unless it be original. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Lady Emily,” says Miss Allscrip, in the excellent comedy of the + Heiress—“Dear Lady Emily, don’t you dote upon folly?” + </p> + <p> + “To ecstasy!” replies her ladyship; “I only despair of seeing it well kept + up.” + </p> + <p> + We flatter ourselves, “there is no great danger of that,” for we have the + Irish newspapers before us, where, no doubt, we shall find a fresh harvest + of indigenous absurdity ripe for the sickle. + </p> + <p> + The first advertisement that meets our eye is promising. + </p> + <p> + It is the late proclamation of an Irish mayor, in which we are informed, + that certain business is to be transacted in that city “every Monday + (Easter Sunday only excepted).” This seems rather an unnecessary + exception; but it is not an inadvertency, caused by any hurry of business + in his worship; it is deliberately copied from a precedent, set in + England, by a baronet formerly well known in parliament, who, in the + preamble to a bill, proposed that certain regulations should take place + “on every Monday (Tuesday excepted).” We fear, also, that an English mayor + has been known to blunder. Some years ago the mayor of a capital English + city published a proclamation and advertisement, previous to the races, + “that no gentleman will be allowed to ride on the course, but <i>the + horses</i> that are to run.” A mayor’s blundering proclamation is not, + however, worth half so much in the eye of ridicule as a lord lieutenant’s. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.” + </pre> + <p> + A bull on the throne is worth twice as much as a bull in the chair. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “By the lord lieutenant and council of Ireland. + + A proclamation. + + ———, + + “Whereas the greatest economy is necessary in the consumption + of <i>all species of grain, and especially in the consumption of + potatoes, &c</i>. + + “Given at the council chamber in Dublin.” + </pre> + <p> + This is the first time we have been informed, by authority, that potatoes + are a species of grain; but we must accede to this new botanical + arrangement, when published under such splendid auspices. The assertion + certainly is not made in distinct terms: but all who understand the + construction of language must imply the conclusion that we draw from these + premises. A general position is in the first member of the sentence laid + down, “<i>that the greatest economy is necessary in the consumption of all + species of grain</i>.” A particular exemplification of the principle is + made in the next clause, “<i>especially in the consumption of potatoes</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The inference is as plain as can be made. + </p> + <p> + The next article in our newspaper is an advertisement of lands to be let + to <i>an improving tenant</i>:—“A few miles from Cork, in <i>a most + sporting country</i>, bounded by an <i>uncommon fine</i> turf bog, on the + verge of which there are a number of fine <i>lime kilns</i>, where <i>that + manure</i> may be had on very moderate terms, the distance for carriage + not being many hundred yards. The whole lands being now in great heart, + and completely laid down, entirely surrounded, and divided by <i>impenetrable + furze ditches, made of quarried stones laid edgeways</i>.” + </p> + <p> + It will be a matter of difficulty to the untravelled English reader to + comprehend how furze ditches can be made of quarried stones laid edgeways, + or any way; and we fear that we should only puzzle his intellects still + more if we should attempt to explain to him the mysteries of Irish + ditching in the technical terms of the country. With the face of a ditch + he may be acquainted, but to <i>the back</i> and <i>gripe</i>, and bottom + of the gripe, and top of the back of a ditch, we fear he is still to be + introduced. + </p> + <p> + We can never sufficiently admire these furze ditches made of quarried + stones; they can, indeed, be found only in Ireland; but we have heard in + England of things almost as extraordinary. Dr. Grey, in his erudite and + entertaining notes on Hudibras, records the deposition of a lawyer, who, + in an action of battery, told the judge “that the defendant beat his + client with a certain <i>wooden instrument</i> called <i>an iron pestle</i>.” + Nay, to go further still, a wise annotator on the Pentateuch, named Peter + Harrison, observed of Moses’ two <i>tables of stone</i>, that they were + made of <i>shittim-wood</i>. The stone furze ditches are scarcely bolder + instances of the catachresis than the stone tables of shittim-wood. This + bold figure of rhetoric in an Irish advertisement of an estate may lead us + to expect that Hibernian advertisers may, in time, emulate the fame of + Christie, the prince of auctioneers, whose fine descriptive powers can + make more of an estate on paper than ever was made of it in any other + shape, except in the form of an ejectment. The fictions of law, indeed, + surpass even the auctioneer’s imagination; and a man may be said never to + know the extent of his own possessions until he is served with a process + of ejectment. He then finds himself required to give up the possession of + a multitude of barns, orchards, fish-ponds, horse-ponds, dwelling-houses, + pigeon-houses, dove-cotes, out-houses, and appurtenances, which he never + saw or heard of, and which are nowhere to be found upon the surface of the + habitable globe; so that we cannot really express this English legal + transaction without being guilty of an Irish bull, and saying that the + person ejected is <i>ousted</i> from places which he never entered. + </p> + <p> + To proceed with our newspapers.—The next advertisement is from a + schoolmaster: but we shall not descant upon its grammatical errors, + because they are not blunders peculiar to Irish schoolmasters. We have + frequently observed that the advertisements of schoolmasters, even in + England, are seldom free from solecisms: too much care in writing, it + seems, is almost as bad as too little. In the preface of the dictionary of + the French Academy, there are, as it is computed by an able French critic, + no less than sixteen faults; and in Harris, the celebrated grammarian’s + dedication of his Hermes, there is one bull, and almost as many faults as + lines. It appears as if the most precise and learned writers sometimes, + like the ladies in one of Congreve’s plays, “run into the danger to avoid + the apprehension.” + </p> + <p> + After a careful scrutiny of the Hibernian advertisements, we are compelled + to confess that we have not met with any blunders that more nearly + resemble our notion of an Irish bull than one which, some years ago, + appeared in our English papers. It was the title to an advertisement of a + washing machine, in these words: “Every <i>Man</i> his own <i>Washerwoman</i>!” + We have this day, Nov. 19, 1807, seen the following: “This day were + published, Memoirs of the Life of Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, with a <i>new + edition</i> of her Poems, some of which have <i>never</i> before + appeared.” And an eye-witness assures us, that lately he saw an + advertisement in the following terms stuck up on the walls of an English + coffee-house: “This coffee-house removed up-stairs!” + </p> + <p> + A Roman emperor used to draw his stairs up after him every night into his + bedchamber, and we have heard of throwing a house out of the windows; but + drawing a whole house up into itself is new. + </p> + <p> + How can we account for such a blunder, in an advertisement on the wall of + an English coffee-house, except by supposing that it was penned by an + Irish waiter? If that were the case, it would an admirable example of an + Irish bull! and therefore we had best take it for granted. + </p> + <p> + Let not any conscientious person be startled at the mode of reasoning by + which we have convicted an imaginary Irish waiter of a real bull: it is at + least as good, if not better logic, than that which was successfully + employed in the time of the <i>popish plot</i>, to convict an Irish + physician of forgery. The matter is thus recorded by L’Estrange. The Irish + physician “was charged with writing a treasonable libel, but denied the + thing, and appealed to the unlikeness of the characters. It was agreed + that there was no resemblance at all in the hands; but asserted that the + doctor had two hands; his <i>physic hand</i> and his <i>plot hand</i>, and + the one not a jot like the other. Now this was the doctor’s plot hand, and + it was insisted that, because it was not like one of his hands, it must be + like the other.” + </p> + <p> + By this convenient mode of reasoning, an Irishman may, at any time, be + convicted of any crime, or of any absurdity. + </p> + <p> + But what have we next in our newspaper?—“Murder, Robbery, and + Reward.” This seems a strange connexion of things, according to our vulgar + notions of distributive justice; but we are told that the wicked shall + have their <i>reward</i> even in this world; and we suppose it is upon + this principle, that over the stocks in a town in Ireland there appears + this inscription: “A reward for vagabonds.” + </p> + <p> + Upon proceeding further in our advertisement, which begins with “Murder, + Robbery, and Reward,” we find, however, that contrary to the just + expectations raised by the title, the reward is promised, not to the + robbers and murderers, but to those who shall discover and prosecute them + to conviction. Here we were led into error by that hasty mode of elision + which sometimes obtains in the titles even of our English law processes; + as sci-fa, fi-fa, qui-tam, &c.; names which, to preserve the glorious + uncertainty of the law, never refer to the sense, but to the first words + of the writs. + </p> + <p> + In our newspaper, a formidable list of unanimous resolutions of various + committees and corps succeeds to the advertisement of murder, robbery, and + reward; and we have, at the close of each day’s business, thanksgivings, + in various formulas, for the very proper, upright, or spirited behaviour + of our worthy, gallant, or respected chairman. Now that a man may behave + properly, or sit upright in a chair, we can readily comprehend; but what + are we to understand by a <i>spirited</i> behaviour in a chair? Perhaps it + alludes to the famous duel fought by a gouty Irish gentleman in his arm + chair. As the gallant chairman actually in that position shot his + adversary, it behoves us to <i>understand</i> the meaning of spirited + behaviour in the chair. + </p> + <p> + We may, however, venture to hint, fas est et ab hoste doceri, that in the + publication of corps and committees, this formula should be omitted—“Resolved + <i>unanimously</i> (with only <i>one</i> dissentient voice).” Here the + obloquy, meant to rest on the one dissentient voice, unfortunately falls + upon the publishers of the disgrace, exposing them to the ridicule of + resolving an Irish bull. If this be a bull, however, we are concerned to + find it is matched by that of the government of Munich, who published a + catalogue of forbidden books, and afterwards, under heavy penalties, + forbade the reading of the catalogue. But this might be done in the hurry + occasioned by the just dread of revolutionary principles. + </p> + <p> + What shall we say for the blunder of a French academician, in a time of + profound peace, who gave it as his opinion, that nothing should be read in + the public sittings of the academy “par dela ce qui est imposé par les + statuts: il motivait son avis en disant—En fait <i>d’inutilités</i> + il ne faut que <i>le nécessaire</i>.” If this speech had been made by a + member of the Royal Irish academy, it would have had the honour to be + noticed all over England as a bull. <i>The honour to be noticed</i>, we + say, in imitation of the exquisitely polite expression of a correspondent + of the English Royal Society, who talks of “the earthquake that had the + honour to be noticed by the Royal Society.” + </p> + <p> + It will, we fear, be long before the Irish emerge so far from barbarism as + to write in this style. The Irish are, however, we are happy to observe, + making some little approaches to a refined and courtly style; kings, and + in imitation of them, great men, and all who think themselves great—a + numerous class—speak and write as much as possible in the plural + number instead of the singular. Instead of <i>I</i>, they always say <i>we</i>; + instead of <i>my, our</i>, according to the Italian idiom, which flatters + this humour so far as to make it a point of indispensable politeness. It + is, doubtless, in humble imitation of such illustrious examples, that an + Irishman of the lowest class, when he means to express that he is a member + of a committee, says, <i>I am a committee</i>; thus consolidating the + power, wisdom, and virtue of a whole committee in his own person. Superior + even to the Indian, who believes that he shall inherit the powers and + virtues of his enemies after he has destroyed them;<a href="#linknote-30" + name="linknoteref-30" id="linknoteref-30"><small>30</small></a> this + committee-man takes possession of the faculties of his living friends and + associates. When some of the <i>united men</i>, as they called themselves, + were examined, they frequently answered to the questions, who, or what are + you? I am a com’mittéé. + </p> + <p> + However extraordinary it may at first sound, to hear one man assert that + he is a whole committee, it is not more wonderful than that the whole + parliament of Bordeaux should be found in a one-horse chair.<a + href="#linknote-31" name="linknoteref-31" id="linknoteref-31"><small>31</small></a> + </p> + <p> + We forbear to descant further upon Irish committee-men, lest we should + call to mind, merely by the similarity of name, the times when England had + her committee-men, who were not perfectly free from all tinge of + absurdity. It is remarkable, that in times of popular ferment, a variety + of new terms are coined to serve purposes and passions of the moment. In + the days of the English committee-men this practice had risen to such a + height, that it was fair game for ridicule. Accordingly, Sir John + Birkenhead, about that time, found it necessary to publish, “<i>The + Children’s Dictionary; an exact Collection of all New Words born since + Nov. 3, 1640, in Speeches, Prayers, and Sermons, as well those that + signify something as nothing</i>.” We observe that it has been likewise + found necessary to publish, in France, <i>un Dictionnaire néologique</i>, + a dictionary of the new terms adopted since the revolution. + </p> + <p> + It must be supposed, that during the late disturbances in Ireland, many <i>cant</i> + terms have been brought into use, which are not yet to be reckoned amongst + the acknowledged terms of the country. However absurd these may be, they + are not for our purpose proper subjects of animadversion. Some countries + have their birds of passage, and some their follies of passage, which it + is scarcely worth while to shoot as they fly. It has been often said, that + the language of a people is a just criterion of their progress in + civilization; but we must not take a specimen of their vocabulary during + the immediate prevalence of any transient passion or prejudice. It is to + be hoped, that all party barbarisms in language will now be disused and + forgotten; for some time has elapsed since we read the following article + of country intelligence in a Dublin paper:— + </p> + <p> + “General —— scoured the country yesterday, but had not the + good fortune to meet with a single rebel.” + </p> + <p> + The author of this paragraph seems to have been a keen sportsman; he + regrets the not meeting with a single rebel, as he would the not meeting + with a single hare or partridge; and he justly considers the human biped + as fair game, to be hunted down by all who are properly qualified and + licensed by government. To the English, perhaps, it may seem a strange + subject of lamentation, that a general could not meet with a single rebel + in the county of Wicklow, when they have so lately been informed, from the + high authority of a noble lord, that Ireland was so disturbed, that + whenever he went out, he called as regularly for his pistols as for his + hat and gloves. Possibly, however, this was only a figure of speech, like + that of Bishop Wilkins, who prophesied that the time would come when + gentlemen, when they were to go a journey, would call for their wings as + regularly as they call for their boots.—We <i>believe</i> that the + hyperboles of the privy-counsellor and the bishop are of equal magnitude. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <h3> + THE CRIMINAL LAW OF BULLS AND BLUNDERS. + </h3> + <p> + Madame de Sevigné observes, that there are few people sufficiently candid, + or sufficiently enlightened, to distinguish, in their judgments of others, + between those faults and mistakes which proceed from <i>manque d’esprit</i>, + and those which arise merely from <i>manque d’usage</i>. We cannot + appreciate the talents or character of foreigners, without making + allowance for their ignorance of our manners, of the idiom of our + language, and the multifarious significations of some of our words. A + French gentleman, who dined in London, in company with the celebrated + author of the Rambler, wishing to show him a mark of peculiar respect, + drank Dr. Johnson’s health in these words: “Your health, Mr. Vagabond.” + Assuredly no well-judging Englishman would undervalue the Frenchman’s + abilities, because he mistook the meaning of the words Vagabond and + Rambler; he would recollect, that in old English and modern French + authors, vagabond means wanderer: des eaux vagabondes is a phrase far from + inelegant. But independently of this consideration, no well-bred gentleman + would put a foreigner out of countenance by openly laughing at such a + mistake: he would imitate the politeness of the Frenchman, who, when Dr. + Moore said, “I am afraid the expression I have just used is not French,” + replied, “Non, monsieur—mais il mérite bien de l’être.” It would, + indeed, be a great stretch of politeness to extend this to our Irish + neighbours: for no Irishism can ever deserve to be Anglicised, though so + many Gallicisms have of late not only been naturalized in England, but + even adopted by the most fashionable speakers and writers. The mistaking a + feminine for a masculine noun, or a masculine for a feminine, must, in all + probability, have happened to every Englishman that ever opened his lips + in Paris; yet without losing his reputation for common sense. But when a + poor Irish haymaker, who had but just learned a few phrases of the English + language by rote, mistook a feminine for a masculine noun, and began his + speech in a court of justice with these words: “My lord, I am a poor + widow,” instead of, “My lord, I am a poor widower;” it was sufficient to + throw a grave judge and jury into convulsions of laughter. It was + formerly, in law, no murder to kill a <i>merus Hibernicus</i>; and it is + to this day no offence against good manners to laugh at any of this + species. It is of a thousand times more consequence to have the laugh than + the argument on our side, as all those know full well who have any + experience in the management of the great or little vulgar. By the common + custom and courtesy of England we <i>have</i> the laugh on our side: let + us keep it by all means. All means are justifiable to obtain a great end, + as all great men maintain in practice, if not in theory. We need not, in + imitating them, have any scruples of conscience; we need not apprehend, + that to ridicule our Hibernian neighbours unmercifully is unfriendly or + ungenerous. Nations, it has been well observed, are never generous in + their conduct towards each other. We must follow the common <i>custom</i> + of nations where we have no <i>law</i> to guide our proceedings. We must + therefore carefully continue the laudable practice of ridiculing the + blunders, whether real or imaginary, of Irishmen. In conversation, + Englishmen are permitted sometimes to blunder, but without ever being + called blunderers. It would, indeed, be an intolerable restraint upon + social intercourse, if every man were subject to be taxed for each + inaccuracy of language—if he were compelled to talk, upon all + occasions, as if he were amenable to a star-chamber of criticism, and + surrounded by informers. + </p> + <p> + Much must be allowed in England for the licence of conversation; but by no + means must this conversation-licence be extended to the Irish. If, for + instance, at the convivial hour of dinner, when men are not usually intent + upon grammatical or mathematical niceties, an Irish gentleman desires him + “who rules the roast,” to cut the sirloin of beef <i>horizontally + downwards</i>, let the mistake immediately be set down in our note-books, + and conned over, and got by heart; and let it be repeated to all eternity + as a bull. But if an English lady observe, when the candles have long + stood unsnuffed, that “those odious long wicks will soon grow up to the + ceiling,” she can be accused only of an error of vision. We conjure our + readers to attend to these distinctions in their intercourse with their + Hibernian neighbours: it must be done habitually and technically; and we + must not listen to what is called reason; we must not enter into any + argument, pro or con, but silence every Irish opponent, if we can, with a + laugh. + </p> + <p> + The Abbé Girard, in his accurate work, “Synonymes François,” makes a <i>plausible</i> + distinction between <i>un âne</i> et <i>un ignorant</i>; he says, “On est + âne par disposition: on est ignorant par défaut d’instruction.” An + ignorant person may certainly, even in the very circumstances which betray + his ignorance, evince considerable ability. For instance, the native + Indian, who for the first time saw a bottle of porter uncorked, and who + expressed great astonishment at the quantity of froth which he saw burst + from the bottle, and much curiosity to know whether it could all be put in + again, showed even in his ignorance a degree of capacity, which in + different situations might have saved his life, or have made his fortune. + In the situation of the poor fisher-man, and the great giant of smoke, who + issued from the small vessel, well known to all versed in the Arabian + Tales, such acuteness would have saved his life; and a similar spirit of + inquiry, applied to chemistry, might, in modern times, have made his + fortune. Even where no positive abilities are displayed at the time by + those who manifest ignorance, we should not (<i>except the culprits be + natives of Ireland</i>) hastily give them up. Ignorance of the most common + objects is not only incident to certain situations, but absolutely + unavoidable; and the individuals placed in those situations are no more + blameable than they would be for becoming blind in the snows of Lapland, + or for having goitres amongst the Cretins of Le Vallais. Would you blame + the ignorant nuns who, insensible of the danger of an eruption of Mount + Vesuvius,<a href="#linknote-32" name="linknoteref-32" id="linknoteref-32"><small>32</small></a> + warmed themselves at the burning lava which flowed up to the windows of + their cells? or would you think the French canoness an idiot who, at the + age of fifty, was, on account of her health, to go out of her convent, and + asked, when she met a cow for the first time, what strange animal that + was? or would you think that those poor children deserved to be + stigmatized as fools, who, after being confined for a couple of years in + an English workhouse, actually at eight years old had forgotten the names + of a pig and a calf?<a href="#linknote-33" name="linknoteref-33" + id="linknoteref-33"><small>33</small></a> their ignorance was surely more + deplorable than ridiculous. When the London young lady kept a collection + of chicken-bones on her plate at dinner, as a bonne-bouche for her + brother’s horse,<a href="#linknote-34" name="linknoteref-34" + id="linknoteref-34"><small>34</small></a> Dr. Johnson would not suffer her + to be called an idiot, but very judiciously defended her, by maintaining, + that her action merely demonstrated her ignorant of points of natural + history, on which a London miss had no immediate opportunity of obtaining + information. Had the world always judged upon such subjects with similar + candour, the reproachful cant term of <i>cockney</i> would never have been + disgracefully naturalized in the English language. This word, as we are + informed by a learned philologist, originated from the mistake of a + learned citizen’s son, who having been bred up entirely in the metropolis, + was so gloriously ignorant of country life and country animals, that the + first time he heard a <i>cock</i> crow, he called it <i>neighing</i>. If + such a mistake had been made by an Irishman, it would surely have been + called a bull: it has, at least, as good pretensions to the title as many + mistakes made by ignorant Hibernians; for instance, the well-known blunder + relative to the sphinx:—An uninformed Irishman, hearing the sphinx + alluded to in company whispered to a friend, “The sphinx! who is that + now?” + </p> + <p> + “A monster-man.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a <i>Munster</i>-man: I thought he was from Connaught,” replied our + Irishman, determined not to seem totally unacquainted with the family. + Gross and ridiculous as this blunder appears, we are compelled by candour + to allow, that the affectation of showing knowledge has betrayed to shame + men far superior to our Hibernian, both in reputation and in the means of + acquiring knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Cardinal Richelieu, the Maecenas or would-be Maecenas of France, once + mistook the name of a noted grammarian, <i>Maurus Terentianus</i>, for a + play of Terence’s. This is called by the French writer who records it, + “une <i>bévue</i> bien grossière.” However gross, a mistake can never be + made into a bull. We find <i>bévues</i> French, English, Italian, German, + Latin, and Greek, of theologians, historians, antiquaries, poets, critics, + and translators, without end. The learned Budaeus takes Sir Thomas More’s + Utopia for a true history; and proposes sending missionaries to work the + conversion of so wise a people as the Utopians. An English antiquary<a + href="#linknote-35" name="linknoteref-35" id="linknoteref-35"><small>35</small></a> + mistakes a tomb in a Gothic cathedral for the tomb of Hector. Pope, our + great poet, and prince of translators, mistakes <i>Dec. the 8th, Nov. the + 5th</i>, of Cinthio, for Dec. 8th, Nov. 5th; and Warburton, his learned + critic, improves upon the blunder, by afterward writing the words December + and November at full length. Better still, because more comic, is the + blunder of a Frenchman, who, puzzled by the title of one of Cibber’s + plays, “Love’s Last Shift,” translates it “La Dernière Chemise de + l’Amour.” We laugh at these mistakes, and forget them; but who can forget + the blunder of the Cork almanack-maker, who informs the world that the + principal republics in <i>Europe</i>, are Venice, Holland, and <i>America</i>? + </p> + <p> + The blunders of men of all countries, except Ireland, do not affix an + indelible stigma upon individual or national character. A free pardon is, + and ought to be, granted by every Englishman to the vernacular and + literary errors of those who have the happiness to be born subjects of + Great Britain. What enviable privileges are annexed to the birth of an + Englishman! and what a misfortune it is to be a native of Ireland! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <h3> + LITTLE DOMINICK. + </h3> + <p> + We have laid down the general law of bulls and blunders; but, as there is + no rule without an exception, we may perhaps allow an exception in favour + of little Dominick. + </p> + <p> + Little Dominick was born at Fort-Reilly, in Ireland, and bred nowhere + until his tenth year, when he was sent to Wales to learn manners and + grammar at the school of Mr. Owen ap Davies ap Jenkins ap Jones. This + gentleman had reason to think himself the greatest of men; for he had over + his chimney-piece a well-smoked genealogy, duly attested, tracing his + ancestry in a direct line up to Noah; and moreover he was nearly related + to the learned etymologist, who, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, wrote a + folio to prove that the language of Adam and Eve in Paradise was pure + Welsh. With such causes to be proud, Mr. Owen ap Davies ap Jenkins ap + Jones was excusable for sometimes seeming to forget that a schoolmaster is + but a man. He, however, sometimes entirely forgot that a boy is but a boy; + and this happened most frequently with respect to little Dominick. + </p> + <p> + This unlucky wight was flogged every morning by his master, not for his + vices, but for his vicious constructions, and laughed at by his companions + every evening for his idiomatic absurdities. They would probably have been + inclined to sympathize in his misfortunes, but that he was the only Irish + boy at school; and as he was at a distance from all his relations, and + without a friend to take his part, he was a just object of obloquy and + derision. Every sentence he spoke was a bull; every two words he put + together proved a false concord; and every sound he articulated betrayed + the brogue. But as he possessed some of the characteristic boldness of + those who have been dipped in the Shannon, he showed himself able and + willing to fight his own battles with the host of foes by whom he was + encompassed. Some of these, it was said, were of nearly twice his stature. + This may be exaggerated, but it is certain that our hero sometimes + ventured with sly Irish humour to revenge himself upon his most powerful + tyrant by mimicking the Welsh accent, in which Mr. Owen ap Jones said to + him, “Cot pless me, you plockit, and shall I never <i>learn</i> you + Enclish crammer?” + </p> + <p> + It was whispered in the ear of this Dionysius, that our little hero was a + mimick; and he was treated with increased severity. + </p> + <p> + The midsummer holydays approached; but he feared that they would shine no + holydays for him. He had written to his mother to tell her that school + would break up the 21st, and to beg an answer, without fail, by return of + post; but no answer came. + </p> + <p> + It was now nearly two months since he had heard from his dear mother or + any of his friends in Ireland. His spirits began to sink under the + pressure of these accumulated misfortunes: he slept little, ate less, and + played not at all; indeed nobody would play with him upon equal terms, + because he was nobody’s equal; his schoolfellows continued to consider him + as a being, if not of a different species, at least of a different <i>caste</i> + from themselves. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Owen ap Jones’s triumph over the little Irish plockit was nearly + complete, for the boy’s heart was almost broken, when there came to the + school a new scholar—oh, how unlike the others! His name was + Edwards; he was the son of a neighbouring Welsh gentleman; and he had + himself the spirit of a gentleman. When he saw how poor Dominick was + persecuted, he took him under his protection, fought his battles with the + Welsh boys, and, instead of laughing at him for speaking Irish, he + endeavoured to teach him to speak English. In his answers to the first + question Edwards ever asked him, little Dominick made two blunders, which + set all his other companions in a roar; yet Edwards would not allow them + to be genuine bulls. + </p> + <p> + In answer to the question, “Who is your father?” Dominick said, with a + deep sigh, “I have no father—I am an orphan<a href="#linknote-36" + name="linknoteref-36" id="linknoteref-36"><small>36</small></a>—I + have only a mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any brothers and sisters?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I wish I had; perhaps they would love me, and not laugh at me,” said + Dominick, with tears in his eyes; “but I have no brothers but myself.” + </p> + <p> + One day Mr. Jones came into the schoolroom with an open letter in his + hand, saying, “Here, you little Irish plockit, here’s a letter from your + mother.” + </p> + <p> + The little Irish blockhead started from his form, and, throwing his + grammar on the floor, leaped up higher than he or any boy in the school + had ever been seen to leap before, and, clapping his hands, he exclaimed, + “A letter from my mother! And <i>will</i> I hear the letter? And <i>will</i> + I see her once more? And <i>will</i> I go home these holydays? Oh, then I + will be too happy!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no tanger of that,” said Mr. Owen ap Jones; “for your mother, + like a wise ooman, writes me here, that py the atvice of your cardian, to + oom she is coing to be married, she will not pring you home to Ireland + till I send her word you are perfect in your Enclish crammer at least.” + </p> + <p> + “I have my lesson perfect, sir,” said Dominick, taking his grammar up from + the floor; “<i>will</i> I say it now?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Will</i> I say it now? No, you plockit, no; and I will write your + mother word you have proke Priscian’s head four times this tay, since her + letter came. You Irish plockit!” continued the relentless grammarian, + “will you never learn the tifference between <i>shall</i> and <i>will</i>? + <i>Will</i> I hear the letter, and <i>will</i> I see her once more? What + Enclish is this, plockit?” + </p> + <p> + The Welsh boys all grinned, except Edwards, who hummed, loud enough to be + heard, two lines of the good old English song, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And <i>will</i> I see him once again? + And <i>will</i> I hear him speak?” + </pre> + <p> + Many of the boys were fortunately too ignorant to feel the force of the + quotation; but Mr. Owen ap Jones understood it, turned upon his heel, and + walked off. Soon afterwards he summoned Dominick to his awful desk; and, + pointing with his ruler to the following page in Harris’s Hermes, bade him + “reat it, and understant it, if he could.” Little Dominick read, but could + not understand. + </p> + <p> + “Then read it loud, you plockit.” + </p> + <p> + Dominick read aloud— + </p> + <p> + “There is <i>nothing appears so clearly</i> an object of the mind or + intellect only as <i>the future</i> does, since we can find no place for + its existence any where else: not but the same, if we consider, is <i>equally + true</i> of the past—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, co on—What stops the plockit? Can’t you reat Enclish now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; but I was trying to understand it. I was considering, that this + is like what they would call an Irish bull, if I had said it.” + </p> + <p> + Little Dominick could not explain what he meant in English, that Mr. Owen + ap Jones <i>would</i> understand; and, to punish him for his impertinent + observation, the boy was doomed to learn all that Harris and Lowth have + written to explain the nature of <i>shall</i> and <i>will</i>. The reader, + if he be desirous of knowing the full extent of the penance enjoined, may + consult Lowth’s Grammar, p. 52, ed. 1799, and Harris’s Hermes, p. 10, 11, + and 12, 4th edition. Undismayed at the length of his task, little Dominick + only said, “I hope, if I say it all without missing a word, you will not + give my mother a bad account of me and my grammar studies, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Say it all first, without missing a word, and then I shall see what I + shall say,” replied Mr. Owen ap Jones. + </p> + <p> + Even the encouragement of this oracular answer excited the boy’s fond + hopes so keenly, that he lent his little soul to the task, learned it + perfectly, said it at night, without missing one word, to his friend + Edwards, and said it the next morning, without missing one word, to his + master. + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir,” said the boy, looking up, “will you write to my mother? + And <i>shall</i> I see her? And <i>shall</i> I go home?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me first, whether you understant all this that you have learnt so + cliply,” said Mr. Owen ap Jones. + </p> + <p> + That was more than his bond. Our hero’s countenance fell: and he + acknowledged that he did not understand it perfectly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I cannot write a coot account of you and your crammer studies to + your mother; my conscience coes against it,” said the conscientious Mr. + Owen ap Jones. + </p> + <p> + No entreaties could move him. Dominick never saw the letter that was + written to his mother; but he felt the consequence. She wrote word this + time punctually <i>by return of the post</i>, that she was sorry that she + could not send for him home these holydays, as she heard so bad an account + from Mr. Jones, &c. and as she thought it her duty not to interrupt + the course of his education, especially his grammar studies. Little + Dominick heaved many a sigh when he saw the packings-up of all his + school-fellows, and dropped a few tears as he looked out of the window, + and saw them, one after another, get on their Welsh ponies, and gallop off + towards their homes. + </p> + <p> + “I have no home to go to,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have,” cried Edwards; “and <i>our</i> horses are at the door to + carry us there.” + </p> + <p> + “To Ireland? me!—the horses!” said the poor boy, quite bewildered: + “and will they bring me to Ireland?” + </p> + <p> + “No; the horses cannot carry you to Ireland,” said Edwards, laughing + good-naturedly, “but you have a home now in England. I asked my father to + let me <i>take</i> you home with me; and he says ‘Yes,’ like a dear, good + father, and has sent the horses. Come, let’s away.” + </p> + <p> + “But will Mr. Jones let me go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he dare not refuse; for my father has a living in his gift that + Jones wants, and which he will not have, if he do not change his tone to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Little Dominick could not speak one word, his heart was so full. No boy + could be happier than he was during these holydays: “the genial current of + his soul,” which had been frozen by unkindness, flowed with all its + natural freedom and force. When Dominick returned to school after these + holydays were over, Mr. Owen ap Jones, who now found that the Irish boy + had an English protector with a living in his gift, changed his tone. He + never more complained unjustly that Dominick broke Priscian’s head, seldom + called him Irish plockit, and once would have flogged a Welsh boy for + taking up this cast-off expression of the master’s, but the Irish + blockhead begged the culprit off. + </p> + <p> + Little Dominick sprang forward rapidly in his studies: he soon surpassed + every boy in the school, his friend Edwards only excepted. In process of + time his guardian removed him to a higher seminary of education. Edwards + had a tutor at home. The friends separated. Afterwards they followed + different professions in distant parts of the world; and they neither saw + nor heard any more of each other for many years. From boys they grew into + men, and Dominick, now no longer little Dominick, went over to India as + private secretary to one of our commanders in chief. How he got into this + situation, or by what gradations he rose in the world, we are not exactly + informed: we know only that he was the reputed author of a much-admired + pamphlet on Indian affairs; that the despatches of the general to whom he + was secretary were remarkably well written, and that Dominick O’Reilly, + Esq. returned to England, after several years’ absence, not miraculously + rich, but with a fortune equal to his wishes. His wishes were not + extravagant: his utmost ambition was to return to his native country with + a fortune that should enable him to live independently of all the world, + especially of some of his relations, who had not used him well. His mother + was no more. + </p> + <p> + Upon his arrival in London, one of the first things he did was to read the + Irish newspapers.—To his inexpressible joy, he saw the estate of + Fort-Reilly advertised to be sold—the very estate which had formerly + belonged to his own family. Away he posted directly to an attorney’s who + was empowered to dispose of the land. + </p> + <p> + When this attorney produced a map of the well-known pleasure-ground, and + an elevation of that house in which he had spent the happiest hours of his + infancy, his heart was so touched, that he was on the point of paying down + more for an old ruin than a good new house would cost. The attorney acted + <i>honestly by his client</i>, and seized this moment to exhibit a plan of + the stabling and offices, which, as sometimes is the case in Ireland, were + in a style far superior to the dwelling-house. Our hero surveyed these + with transport. He rapidly planned various improvements in imagination, + and planted certain favourite spots in the pleasure-ground. During this + time the attorney was giving directions to a clerk about some other + business: suddenly the name of <i>Owen ap Jones</i> struck his ear—He + started. + </p> + <p> + “Let him wait in the front parlour; his money is not forthcoming,” said + the attorney; “and if he keep Edwards in gaol till he rots.” + </p> + <p> + “Edwards! Good heavens!—in gaol! What Edwards?” exclaimed our hero. + </p> + <p> + It was his friend Edwards. + </p> + <p> + The attorney told him that Mr. Edwards had been involved in great distress + by taking upon himself his father’s debts, which had been incurred in + exploring a mine in Wales; that of all the creditors none had refused to + compound, except a Welsh parson, who had been presented to his living by + old Edwards; and that this Mr. Owen ap Jones had thrown young Mr. Edwards + into gaol for the debt. + </p> + <p> + “What is the rascal’s demand? He shall be paid off this instant,” cried + Dominick, throwing down the plan of Fort-Reilly: “send for him up, and let + me pay him off upon the spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Had not we best finish our business first, about the O’Reilly estate, + sir?” said the attorney. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; damn the O’Reilly estate,” cried he, huddling the maps together + on the desk, and taking up the bank notes, which he had begun to reckon + for the purchase money. “I beg your pardon, sir. If you knew the facts, + you would excuse me. Why does not this rascal come up to be paid?” + </p> + <p> + The attorney, thunderstruck by this Hibernian impetuosity, had not yet + found time to take his pen out of his mouth. As he sat transfixed in his + arm-chair, O’Reilly ran to the head of the stairs, and called out in a + stentorian voice, “Here, you Mr. Owen ap Jones; come up and be paid off + this instant, or you shall never be paid <i>at all</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Up stairs hobbled the old schoolmaster, as fast as the gout and Welsh ale + would let him. “Cot pless me, that voice,” he began— + </p> + <p> + “Where’s your bond, sir?” said the attorney. + </p> + <p> + “Safe here, Cot be praised,” said the terrified Owen ap Jones, pulling out + of his bosom, first a blue pocket-handkerchief, and then a tattered Welsh + grammar, which O’Reilly kicked to the farther end of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Here is my bond,” said he, “in the crammer,” which he gathered from the + ground; then fumbling over the leaves, he at length unfolded the precious + deposit. + </p> + <p> + O’Reilly saw the bond, seized it, looked at the sum, paid it into the + attorney’s hands, tore the seal from the bond; then, without looking at + old Jones, whom he dared not trust himself to speak to, he clapped his hat + upon his head, and rushed out of the room. Arrived at the King’s Bench + prison, he hurried to the apartment where Edwards was confined. The bolts + flew back; for even the turnkeys seemed to catch our hero’s enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Edwards, my dear boy! how do you do? Here’s a bond debt, justly due to + you for my education. Oh, never mind asking any unnecessary questions; + only just make haste out of this undeserved abode: our old rascal is paid + off—Owen ap Jones, you know.—Well, how the man stares! Why, + now, will you have the assurance to pretend to forget who I am? and must I + <i>spake</i>,” continued he, assuming the tone of his childhood, “and must + I <i>spake</i> to you again in my ould Irish brogue before you will + ricollict your own <i>little Dominick</i>?” + </p> + <p> + When his friend Edwards was out of prison, and when our hero had leisure + to look into business, he returned to the attorney to see that Mr. Owen ap + Jones had been legally satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the attorney, “I have paid the plaintiff in this suit; and he + is satisfied: but I must say,” added he, with a contemptuous smile, “that + you Irish gentlemen are rather in too great a hurry in doing business: + business, sir, is a thing that must be done slowly to be done well.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready now to do business as slowly as you please; but when my friend + was in prison, I thought the quicker I did his business the better. Now + tell me what mistake I have made, and I will rectify it instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Instantly!</i> ‘Tis well, sir, with your promptitude, that you have to + deal with what prejudice thinks uncommon—an honest attorney. Here + are some bank notes of yours, sir, amounting to a good round sum. You made + a little blunder in this business: you left me the penalty, instead of the + principal, of the bond—just twice as much as you should have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Just twice as much as was in the bond, but not twice as much as I should + have done, nor half as much as I should have done, in my opinion,” said + O’Reilly; “but whatever I did was with my eyes open: I was persuaded you + were an honest man; in which you see I was not mistaken; and as a man of + business, I knew you would pay Jones only his due. The remainder of the + money I meant, and mean, should lie in your hands for my friend Edwards’s + use. I feared he would not have taken it from my hands: I therefore left + it in yours. To have taken my friend out of prison merely to let him go + back again to-day, for want of money to keep himself clear with the world, + would have been a blunder indeed, but not an Irish blunder: our Irish + blunders are never blunders of the heart.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <h3> + THE BLISS OF IGNORANCE. + </h3> + <p> + No <i>well-informed</i> Englishman would laugh at the blunders of such a + character as little Dominick; but there are people who justify the + assertion, that laughter always arises from a sense of real or imaginary + superiority. Now if it be true, that laughter has its source in vanity, as + the most ignorant are generally the most vain, they must enjoy this + pleasure in its highest perfection. Unconscious of their own deficiencies, + and consequently fearless of becoming in their turn the objects of + ridicule, they enjoy in full security the delight of humbling their + superiors. How much are they to be admired for the courage with which they + apply, on all occasions, their test of truth! Wise men may be struck with + admiration, respect, doubt, or humility; but the ignorant, happily + unconscious that they know nothing, can be checked in their merriment by + no consideration, human or divine. Theirs is the sly sneer, the dry joke, + and the horse laugh: theirs the comprehensive range of ridicule, which + takes “every creature in, of every kind.” No fastidious delicacy spoils + their sports of fancy: though ten times told, the tale to them never can + be tedious; though dull “as the fat weed that grows on Lethe’s bank,” the + jest for them has all the poignancy of satire: on the very offals, the + garbage of wit, they can feed and batten. Happy they who can find in every + jester the wit of Sterne or Swift; who else can wade through hundreds of + thickly-printed pages to obtain for their reward such witticisms as the + following:— + </p> + <p> + “Two Irishmen having travelled on foot from Chester to Barnet, were + confoundedly tired and fatigued by their journey; and the more so when + they were told that they had still about ten miles to go. ‘By my shoul and + St. Patrick,’ cries one of them, ‘it is but five miles a-piece.’” + </p> + <p> + Here, notwithstanding the promise of a jest held forth by the words, “By + my shoul and St. Patrick,” we are ultimately cheated of our hopes. To the + ignorant, indeed, the word of promise is kept to the mind as well as to + the ear; but others perceive that, instead of a bull, they have only a + piece of sentimental arithmetic, founded upon the elegant theorem, that + friendship doubles all our pleasures, and divides all our pains. + </p> + <p> + We must not, from false delicacy to our countrymen, here omit a piece of + advice to English retailers or inventors of Irish blunders. Let them + beware of such prefatory exclamations as—“<i>By my shoul and St. + Patrick! By Jasus! Arrah, honey! My dear joy!</i>” &c., because all + such phrases, besides being absolutely out of date and fashion in Ireland, + raise too high an expectation in the minds of a British audience, + operating as much to the disadvantage of the story-teller as the dangerous + exordium of—“I’ll tell you an excellent story;” an exordium ever to + be avoided by all prudent wits. + </p> + <p> + Another caution should be given to well-meaning ignorance. Never produce + that as an Irish bull for which any person of common literature can + immediately supply a precedent from our best authors. Never be at the + pains, for instance, of telling, from Joe Miller, a <i>good</i> story of + an <i>Irish</i> sailor, who <i>travelled</i> with Captain Cook <i>round</i> + the world, and afterwards swore to his companions that it was as flat as a + table. + </p> + <p> + This anecdote, however excellent, immediately finds a parallel in Pope: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mad Mathesis alone was unconfined, + Too mad for mere material chains to bind; + Now to pure space lifts her ecstatic stare, + Now running <i>round</i> the circle finds it square.” + </pre> + <p> + Pope was led into the blunder of representing Mad Mathesis running <i>round + the circle</i>, and finding it <i>square</i> by a confused notion that + mathematicians had considered the circle as composed of straight lines. + His mathematical friends could have told him, that though it was talked of + as a polygon, it was not supposed to be a square; but <i>polygon</i> would + not have rhymed to <i>stare</i>; and poets, when they launch into the + ocean of words, must have an eye to the helm; at all events a poet, who is + not supposed to be a student of the exact sciences, may be forgiven for a + mathematical blunder. This affair of squaring the circle seems to be + peculiarly liable to error; for even an accurate mathematician cannot + speak of it without committing something very like a bull. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Hutton, in his Treatise on Mensuration, p. 119, says, “As the <i>famous</i> + quadrature of the late Mr. John Machin, professor of astronomy in Gresham + College, is extremely expeditious and <i>but little known</i>, I shall + take this opportunity of explaining it.” + </p> + <p> + It is to be presumed, that the doctor here uses the word <i>famous</i> in + that acceptation in which it is daily and hourly employed by our + Bond-street loungers, by city apprentices, and men of the ton. “That was a + <i>famous</i> good joke;” “He is a <i>famous</i> whip;” “We had a <i>famous</i> + hop,” &c. Now it cannot be supposed that any of these things are in + themselves entitled to fame; but they may, indeed, by the courtesy of + England, be at once <i>famous</i>, and but little known. It is unnecessary + to enter into the defence either of Dr. Hutton or of Pope, for they were + not born in Ireland, therefore they cannot make bulls; and assuredly their + mistakes will not, in the opinion of any person of common sense or + candour, derogate from their reputation. + </p> + <p> + “Never strike till you are sure to wound,” is a maxim well known to the + polite<a href="#linknote-37" name="linknoteref-37" id="linknoteref-37"><small>37</small></a> + and politic part of the world. “Never laugh when the laugh can be turned + against you,” should be the maxim of those who find their chief pleasure + in making others ridiculous. This principle, if applied to our subject, + would lead, however, to a very extensive and troublesome system of mutual + forbearance; troublesome in proportion to the good or ill humour of the + parties concerned; extensive in proportion to their knowledge and + acquirements. A man of cultivated parts will foresee the possibility of + the retort courteous, where an ignorant man will enjoy the fearless bliss + of ignorance. For example, an illiterate person may enjoy a hearty laugh + at the common story of an old Irish beggar-man, who, pretending to be + dumb, was thrown off his guard by the question, “How many years have you + been dumb?” and answered, “Five years last St. John’s Eve, please your + honour.” + </p> + <p> + But our triumph over the Irishman abates, when we recollect in the History + of England, and in Shakspeare, the case of Saunder Simcox, who pretended + to be miraculously and instantaneously cured of blindness at St. Alban’s + shrine. + </p> + <p> + Since we have bestowed so much criticism on the blunder of a beggar-man, a + word or two must be permitted on the blunder of a thief. It is natural for + ignorant people to laugh at the Hibernian who said that he had stolen a + pound of chocolate <i>to make tea of</i>. But philosophers are disposed to + abstain from the laugh of superiority when they recollect that the + Irishman could probably make as good tea from chocolate as the chemist + could make butter, sugar, and cream, from antimony, sulphur, and tartar. + The absurdities in the ancient chemical nomenclature could not be + surpassed by any in the Hibernian catalogue. If the reader should think + this a rash and unwarrantable assertion, we refer him to an essay,<a + href="#linknote-38" name="linknoteref-38" id="linknoteref-38"><small>38</small></a> + in which the flagrant abuses of speech in the old language of chemistry + are admirably exposed and ridiculed. Could an Irishman confer a more + appropriate appellation upon a white powder than that of <i>beautiful + black</i>? + </p> + <p> + It is really provoking to perceive, that as our knowledge of science or + literature extends, we are in more danger of finding, in our own and + foreign languages, parallels and precedents for Irish blunders; so that a + very well informed man can scarcely with any grace or conscience smile, + where a booby squire might enjoy a long and loud horse-laugh of contempt. + </p> + <p> + What crowds were collected to see the Irish bottle conjuror<a + href="#linknote-39" name="linknoteref-39" id="linknoteref-39"><small>39</small></a> + get into a quart bottle; but Dr. Desaguliers had prepared the English to + think such a condensation of animal particles not impossible. He says, + vol. i. p. 5, of his Lectures on Natural Philosophy, “that the nature of + things should last, and their natural course continue the same; all the + changes made in bodies must arise only from the various separations, new + conjunctions, and motions, of these original particles. <i>These must be + imagined of an unconceivable smallness</i>, but by the union of them there + are made bigger lumps,” &c. + </p> + <p> + Indeed things are now come to such a lamentable pass, that without either + literary or scientific acquirements, mere local knowledge, such as can be + obtained from a finger-post, may sometimes prevent us from the full + enjoyment of the Boeotian absurdity of our neighbours. What can, at first + view, appear a grosser blunder than that of the Irishman who begged a + friend to look over his library, to find for him the history of the world + before the creation? Yet this anachronism of ideas is not unparalleled; it + is matched, though on a more contracted scale, by an inscription on a + British finger-post— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Had you seen these roads before they were made, + You’d lift up your eyes, and bless Marshal Wade!” + </pre> + <p> + There is, however, a rabbi, mentioned by Bayle, who far exceeds both the + Irishman and the finger-post. He asserts, that Providence questioned Adam + concerning the creation before he was born; and that Adam knew more of the + matter than the angels who had laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + Those who see things in a philosophical light must have observed more + frequently than others, that there is in this world a continual recurrence + or rotation of ideas, events, and blunders. With his utmost ingenuity, or + his utmost absurdity, a man, in modern days, cannot contrive to produce a + system for which there is no prototype in antiquity, or to commit a + blunder for which there is no precedent. For example: during the late + rebellion in Ireland, at the military execution of some wretched rebel, + the cord broke, and the criminal, who had been only half hanged, fell to + the ground. The Major, who was superintending the execution, exclaimed, + “You rascal, if you do that again, I’ll kill you, as sure as you breathe.” + </p> + <p> + Now this is by no means an original idea. In an old French book, called + “La Charlatanerie des Savans,” is the following note:—“D’autres ont + proposé et résolu en même tems des questions ridicules; par exemple + celle-ci: Devroit-on faire souffrir une seconde fois le même genre de mort + à un criminel, qui après avoir eu la tête coupée viendroit à résusciter?”—<i>Finkelth</i>, + Praef. ad Observationes Pract. num. 12. + </p> + <p> + The passionate major, instead of being a mere Irish <i>blunderer</i>, was, + without knowing it, a learned casuist; for he was capable of deciding, in + one word, a question, which, it seems, had puzzled the understandings of + the ablest lawyers of France, or which had appalled their conscientious + sensibility. + </p> + <p> + Alas! there is nothing new under the sun. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <h3> + “THOUGHTS THAT BREATHE, AND WORDS THAT BURN.” + </h3> + <p> + We lamented, in our last chapter, that there is nothing new under the sun; + yet, perhaps, the thoughts and phraseology of the following story may not + be familiar to the English. + </p> + <p> + “Plase your honour,” says a man, whose head is bound up with a garter, in + token and commemoration of his having been at a fair the preceding night—“Plase + your honour, it’s what I am striving since six o’clock and before, this + morning, becààse I’d sooner trouble your honour’s honour than any man in + all Ireland, on account of your character, and having lived under your + family, me and mine, twinty years, aye, say forty again to the back o’ + that, in the old gentleman’s time, as I well remember before I was born; + that same time I heard tell of your own honour’s riding a little horse in + green with your gun before you, a grousing over our town-lands, which was + the mill and abbey of Ballynagobogg, though ‘tis now set away from me + (owing to them that belied my father) to Christy Salmon, becààse he’s an + Orangeman—or his wife—though he was once (let him deny it who + can), to <i>my certain knowledge</i>, behind the haystack in Tullygore, <i>sworn</i> + in a United man by Captain Alick, who was hanged——Pace to the + dead any how!———Well, not to be talking too much of that + now, only for this Christy Salmon, I should be still living under your + honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely; but what has all this to do with the present business? If + you have any complaint to make against Christy Salmon, make it—if + not, let me go to dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it would be too bad to be keeping your honour from your dinner, but + I’ll make your honour sinsible immadiately. It is not of Christy Salmon + at-all-at-all I’m talking. May be your honour is not sinsible yet who I am—I + am Paddy M’Doole, of the Curragh, and I’ve been a flax-dresser and dealer + since I parted your honour’s land, and was last night at the fair of + Clonaghkilty, where I went just in a quiet way thinking of nothing at all, + as any man might, and had my little yarn along with me, my wife’s and the + girl’s year’s spinning, and all just hoping to bring them back a few + honest shillings as they desarved—none better!—Well, plase + your honour, my beast lost a shoe, which brought me late to the fair, but + not so late but what it was as throng as ever; you could have walked over + the heads of the men, women, and childer, a foot and a horseback, all + buying and selling; so I to be sure thought no harm of doing the like; so + I makes the best bargain I could of the little hanks for my wife and the + girl, and the man I sold them to was just weighing them at the crane, and + I standing forenent him—‘Success to myself!’ said I, looking at the + shillings I was putting into my waistcoat pocket for my poor family, when + up comes the inspector, whom I did not know, I’ll take my oath, from Adam, + nor couldn’t know, becááse he was the deputy inspector, and had been but + just made, of which I was ignorant, by this book and all the books that + ever were shut and opened—but no matter for that; he seizes my hanks + out of the scales that I had just sold, saying they were unlawful and + forfeit, becááse by his watch it was past four o’clock, which I denied to + be possible, plase your honour, becááse not one, nor two, nor three, but + all the town and country were selling the same as myself in broad day, + only when the deputy came up they stopped, which I could not, by rason I + did not know him.—‘Sir,’ says I (very civil), ‘if I had known you, + it would have been another case, but any how I hope no jantleman will be + making it a crime to a poor man to sell his little matter of yarn for his + wife and childer after four o’clock, when he did not know it was contrary + to law at-all-at-all.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I gave you notice that it was contrary to law at the fair of + Edgerstown,’ said he.—‘I axe your pardon, sir,’ said I, ‘it was my + brother, for I was by.’ With that he calls me liar, and what not, and + takes a grip<a href="#linknote-40" name="linknoteref-40" + id="linknoteref-40"><small>40</small></a> of me, and I a grip of my flax, + and he had a shilala<a href="#linknote-41" name="linknoteref-41" + id="linknoteref-41"><small>41</small></a> and I had none; so he gave it me + over the head, I crying ‘murder! murder!’ and clinging to the scales to + save me, and they set a swinging and I with them, plase your honour, till + the bame comes down a’top o’ the back o’ my head, and <i>kilt</i> me, as + your honour sees.” + </p> + <p> + “I see that you are alive still, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not his fault if I am, plase your honour, for he left me for dead, + and I am as good as dead still: if it be plasing to your honour to examine + my head, you’ll be sinsible I’m telling nothing but the truth. Your honour + never <i>seen</i> a man kilt as I was and am—all which I’m ready + (when convanient) to swear before your honour.” <a href="#linknote-42" + name="linknoteref-42" id="linknoteref-42"><small>42</small></a> + </p> + <p> + The reiterated assurances which this hero gives us of his being killed, + and the composure with which he offers to swear to his own assassination + and decease, appear rather surprising and ludicrous to those who are not + aware that <i>kilt</i> is here used in a metaphorical sense, and that it + has not the full force of our word killed. But we have been informed by a + lady of unquestionable veracity, that she very lately received a petition + worded in this manner— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To the Right Hon. Lady E—— P——. + “Humbly showeth; + “That your poor petitioner is now lying dead in a ditch,” &c. +</pre> + <p> + This poor Irish petitioner’s expression, however preposterous it sounds, + might perhaps be justified, if we were inclined to justify an Irishman by + the example, not only of poets comic and tragic, but of prose writers of + various nations. The evidence in favour both of the fact and the belief, + that people can speak and walk after they are dead, is attested by stout + warriors and grave historians. Let us listen to the solemn voice of a + princess, who comes sweeping in the sceptred pall of gorgeous tragedy, to + inform us that half herself has buried the other half. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Weep, eyes; melt into tears these cheeks to lave: + One half myself lays t’other in the grave.” <a href="#linknote-43" + name="linknoteref-43" id="linknoteref-43">43</a> +</pre> + <p> + For six such lines as these Corneille received six thousand livres, and + the admiration of the French court and people during the Augustan age of + French literature. But an Italian is not content with killing by halves. + Here is a man from Italy who goes on fighting, not like Witherington, upon + his stumps, but fairly after he is dead. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Nor yet perceived the vital spirit fled, + But still fought on, nor knew that he was dead.” <a href="#linknote-44" + name="linknoteref-44" id="linknoteref-44">44</a> +</pre> + <p> + Common sense is somewhat shocked at this single instance of an individual + fighting after he is dead; but we shall, doubtless, be reconciled to the + idea by the example of a gallant and modern commander, who has declared + his opinion, that nothing is more feasible than for a garrison to fight, + or at least to surrender, after they are dead, nay, after they are buried.—Witness + this public document. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Liberty and Equality. + “May 29th, | Garrison of Ostend. + 30th Floréal, 6 | + + “Muscar, commandant of Ostend, to the commandant in + chief of his British majesty. + + “General, + + “The council of war was sitting when I received the honour + of your letters. We have unanimously resolved not to surrender + the place until we shall have been buried in its ruins,” &c. +</pre> + <p> + One step further in hyperbole is reserved for him, who, being buried, + carries about his own sepulchre. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To live a life half dead, a living death, + And buried; but oh, yet more miserable! + Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave!” + </pre> + <p> + No person, if he heard this passage for the first time from the lips of an + Irishman, could hesitate to call it a series of bulls; yet these lines are + part of the beautiful complaint of Samson Agonistes on his blindness. Such + are the hyperboles sanctioned by the genius, or, what with some judges may + have more influence, the name of Milton. The bounds which separate + sublimity from bombast, and absurdity from wit, are as fugitive as the + boundaries of taste. Only those who are accustomed to examine and appraise + literary goods are sensible of the prodigious change that can be made in + their apparent value by a slight change in the manufacture. The absurdity + of a man’s swearing he was killed, or declaring that he is now dead in a + ditch, is revolting to common sense; yet the <i>living death</i> of + Dapperwit, in the “Rape of the Lock,” is not absurd, but witty; and + representing men as dying many times before their death is in Shakspeare + sublime: + </p> + <p> + “Cowards die many times before their death; The brave can never taste of + death but once.” + </p> + <p> + The most direct contradictions in words do not (<i>in English writers</i>) + destroy the eflect of irony, wit, pathos, or sublimity. + </p> + <p> + In the classic ode on Eton College, the poet exclaims— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “To each their sufferings, all are men + Condemned alike to groan; + The feeling for another’s pain, + Th’ <i>unfeeling</i> for their own.” + </pre> + <p> + Who but a half-witted dunce would ask how those that are unfeeling can + have sufferings? When Milton in melodious verse inquires, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Who shall tempt with <i>wandering feet</i> + The dark <i>unbottom’d</i> infinite abyss, + And through the <i>palpable obscure</i> find out + His uncouth way!”— +</pre> + <p> + what Zoilus shall dare interrupt this flow of poetry to object to the + palpable obscure, or to ask how feet can wander upon that which has no + bottom? + </p> + <p> + It is easy, as Tully has long ago observed, to fix the brand of ridicule + upon the <i>verbum ardens</i> of orators and poets—the “Thoughts + that breathe, and words that burn.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <h3> + PRACTICAL BULLS. + </h3> + <p> + As we have not hitherto been successful in finding original Irish bulls in + language, we must now look for them in conduct. A person may be guilty of + a solecism without uttering a single syllable—“That man has been + guilty of a solecism with his hand,” an ancient critic said of an actor, + who had pointed his hand upwards when invoking the infernal gods. “You may + act a lie as well as speak one,” says Wollaston. Upon the same, principle, + the Irish may be said to act, as well as to utter bulls. We shall give + some instances of their practical bulls, which we hope to find unmatched + by the blunders of all other nations. Most people, whether they be savage + or civilized, can contrive to revenge themselves upon their enemies + without blundering; but the Irish are exceptions. They cannot even do this + without <i>a bull</i>. During the late Irish rebellion, there was a banker + to whom they had a peculiar dislike, and on whom they had vowed vengeance: + accordingly they got possession of as many of his bank-notes as they + could, and made a bonfire of them! This might have been called a feu de + joie, perhaps, but certainly not un feu d’artifice; for nothing could show + less art than burning a banker’s notes in order to destroy his credit. How + much better do the English understand the arts of vengeance! Captain + Drinkwater<a href="#linknote-45" name="linknoteref-45" id="linknoteref-45"><small>45</small></a> + informs us, that during the siege of Gibraltar, the English, being half + famished, were most violently enraged against the Jews, who withheld their + stores of provision, and made money of the public distress—a crime + <i>never committed except by Jews:</i> at length the fleet relieved the + besieged, and as soon as the provisions were given out, the English + soldiers and sailors, to revenge themselves upon the Jews, burst open + their stores, and actually roasted a pig at a fire made of cinnamon. There + are other persons, as well as the Irish, who do not always understand + their own interests where their passions are concerned. That great + warrior, Hyder Ali, once lost a battle by a practical bull. Being encamped + within sight of the British, he resolved to give them a high idea of his + forces and of his artillery; for this purpose, before the engagement,<a + href="#linknote-46" name="linknoteref-46" id="linknoteref-46"><small>46</small></a> + he ordered his army to march early, and conveying some large pieces of + cannon to the top of a hill, he caused them to be pointed at the English + camp, which they reached admirably well, and occasioned a kind of disorder + and haste in striking and removing tents, &c. Hyder, delighted at + having thus insulted the English, caused all his artillery, even the very + smallest pieces, to be drawn up the hill for the purpose of making a vain + parade, though the greater part of the balls could never reach the + English: he imagined he should give the enemy a high idea of his forces, + and intimidate them by showing all his artillery, and the vivacity with + which it was worked; and in order that his intention might be answered, he + encouraged the soldiers himself, by giving money to the cannoneers of + those pieces that appeared to be the best served. + </p> + <p> + The English presently, after this farce was over, obliged Hyder to come + down from labour-in-vain hill and to give them battle in earnest. As the + historian observes, “The ridiculous cannonade at the top of the hill had + exhausted his ammunition, his great guns were useless to him, and he lost + the day by his premature rejoicings before the battle.” A still more + ancient precedent for this preposterous practical bull, of rejoicing for + an anticipated victory, was given by Xerxes, we believe, who brought with + him an immense block of marble, on which he intended to inscribe the date + and manner of his victory over the Greeks. When Xerxes was defeated, the + Greeks dedicated this stone to Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance. But + Xerxes was in the habit of making practical bulls, such as whipping the + sea, and begging pardon for it afterwards; throwing fetters into the + Hellespont as a token of subjugation, and afterwards expiating his offence + by an offering of a golden cup and Persian scimetar. + </p> + <p> + To such blunders can the passions betray the most renowned heroes, + although they had not the misfortune to have been born in Ireland. + </p> + <p> + The impatience which induced Hyder Ali to anticipate victory is not + confined to military men and warlike operations; if we descend to common + life and vulgar business, we shall find the same disposition even in the + precincts of Change-alley: those who bargained for South Sea stock, that + was not actually forthcoming, were called <i>bears</i>, in allusion to the + practice of the hunters of bears in Canada, who were accustomed to bargain + for the skin of the bear before it was caught; but whence the correlative + term <i>bull</i> is derived we are at a loss to determine, and we must + also leave it to the mercantile speculators of England to explain why + gentlemen call themselves bulls of wheat and bulls of coals: all we can + say is, that these are not Irish bulls. There is one distinguished + peculiarity of the Irish bull—<i>its horns are tipped with brass</i>.<a + href="#linknote-47" name="linknoteref-47" id="linknoteref-47"><small>47</small></a> + It is generally supposed that persons who have been dipped in the Shannon<a + href="#linknote-48" name="linknoteref-48" id="linknoteref-48"><small>48</small></a> + are ever afterwards endowed with a supernatural portion of what is called, + by enemies, impudence or assurance, by friends, self-possession or <i>civil + courage</i>. These invulnerable mortals are never oppressed with <i>mauvaise + honte</i>, that malady which keeps the faculties of the soul under + imaginary imprisonment. A well-dipped Irishman, on the contrary, can move, + speak, think, like Demosthenes, with as much ease, when the eyes of + numbers are upon him, as if the spectators were so many cabbage-stalks. + This virtue of <i>civil courage</i> is of inestimable value in the opinion + of the best judges. The great Lord Verulam—no one, by-the-by, could + be a better judge of its value than he, who wanted it so much—the + great Lord Verulam declares, that if he were asked what is the first, + second, and third thing necessary to success in public business, he should + answer boldness, boldness, boldness. Success to the nation which possesses + it in perfection! Bacon was too acute and candid a philosopher not to + acknowledge, that like all the other goods of life this same boldness has + its countervailing disadvantages. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” says he, “to men of great judgment, bold persons are a sport + to behold; nay, and to the vulgar, boldness hath somewhat of the + ridiculous; for if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not but + great boldness is seldom without some absurdity; especially it is a sport + to see when a bold fellow is out of countenance, for that puts his face + into a most shrunken and wooden posture, as needs it must.” + </p> + <p> + The man, however, who possesses boldness in perfection, can never be put + out of countenance, and consequently can never exhibit, for the sport of + his enemies, a face in this wooden posture. It is the deficiency, and not + the excess of this quality, that is to be feared. Civil boldness without + military courage would, indeed, be somewhat ridiculous: but we cannot + accuse the Irish of any want of military courage; on the contrary, it is + supposed in England, that an Irishman is always ready <i>to give any + gentleman satisfaction</i>, even when none is desired. + </p> + <p> + At the close of the American war, as a noble lord of high naval character + was returning home to his family after various escapes from danger, he was + detained a day at Holyhead by contrary winds. Reading in a summer-house, + he heard the well-known sound of bullets whistling near him: he looked + about, and found that two balls had just passed through the door close + beside him; he looked out of the window, and saw two gentlemen who were + just charging their pistols again, and, as he guessed that they had been + shooting at a mark upon the door, he rushed out, and very civilly + remonstrated with them on the imprudence of firing at the door of a house + without having previously examined whether any one was withinside. One of + them immediately answered, in a tone which proclaimed at once his + disposition and his country, “Sir, I did not know you were within there, + and I don’t know who you are now; but if I’ve given offence, I am + willing,” said he, holding out the ready-charged pistols, “to give you the + <i>satisfaction of a gentleman</i>—take your choice.” + </p> + <p> + With his usual presence of mind the noble lord seized hold of both the + pistols, and said to his astonished countryman, “Do me the justice, sir, + to go into that summer-house, shut the door, and let me have two shots at + you; then we shall be upon equal terms, and I shall be quite at your + service to give or receive the <i>satisfaction of a gentleman</i>.” + </p> + <p> + There was an air of drollery and of superiority in his manner which at + once struck and pleased the Hibernian. “Upon my conscience, sir, I believe + you are a very honest fellow,” said he, looking him earnestly in the face, + “and I have a great mind to shake hands with you. Will you only just tell + me who you are?” + </p> + <p> + The nobleman told his name—a name dear to every Briton and every + Irishman. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, and that’s what no man ever accused me of doing + before,” cried the gallant Hibernian; “and had I known who you were, I + would as soon have <i>shot my own soul</i> as have fired at the door. But + how could I tell who was withinside?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the very thing of which I complain,” said his lordship. + </p> + <p> + His candid opponent admitted the justice of the complaint as soon as he + understood it, and he promised never more to be guilty of such a practical + bull. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <h3> + THE DUBLIN SHOEBLACK. + </h3> + <p> + Upon looking over our last chapter on practical bulls, we were much + concerned to find that we have so few Irish and so many foreign blunders. + It is with still more regret we perceive, that notwithstanding our utmost + diligence, we have not yet been able to point out the distinguishing + characteristic of an Irish bull. But to compensate for this disappointment + we have devised a syllogism, which some people may prefer to an à priori + argument, to prove irrefragably, that the Irish are blunderers. + </p> + <p> + After the instances we have produced, chapter 6th, of the <i>verbum ardens</i> + of English and foreign poets, and after the resemblance that we have + pointed out betwixt certain figures of rhetoric and the Irish bull, we + have little reason to fear that the candid and enlightened reader should + object to our major. + </p> + <p> + <i>Major</i>.—Those who use figurative language are disposed to make + bulls. + </p> + <p> + <i>Minor</i>.—The Irish use figurative language. + </p> + <p> + <i>Conclusion</i>.—Therefore the Irish are disposed to make bulls. + </p> + <p> + We proceed to establish the truth of our minor, and the first evidence we + shall call is a Dublin shoeblack. He is not in circumstances peculiarly + favourable for the display of figurative language; he is in a court of + justice, upon his trial for life or death. A quarrel happened between two + shoeblacks, who were playing at what in England is called pitch-farthing, + or heads and tails, and in Ireland, head or harp. One of the combatants + threw a small paving stone at his opponent, who drew out the knife with + which he used to scrape shoes, and plunged it up to the hilt in his + companion’s breast. It is necessary for our story to say, that near the + hilt of this knife was stamped the name of Lamprey, an eminent cutler in + Dublin. The shoeblack was brought to trial. With a number of significant + gestures, which on his audience had all the powers that Demosthenes + ascribes to action, he, in a language not purely Attic, gave the following + account of the affair to his judge. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my l<i>a</i>rd, as I was going past the Royal Exchange I meets + Billy. ‘Billy,’ says I, ‘will you sky a copper?’ ‘Done,’ says he; ‘Done,’ + says I; and done and done’s enough between two jantlemen. With that I + ranged them fair and even with my hook-em-snivey—up they go. + ‘Music!’ says he—‘Skulls!’ says I; and down they come, three brown + mazards. ‘By the holy! you flesh’d ‘em,’ says he. ‘You lie,’ says I. With + that he ups with a lump of a two year old, and lets drive at me. I outs + with my bread-earner, and gives it him up to Lamprey in the bread-basket.” + </p> + <p> + To make this intelligible to the English, some comments are necessary. Let + us follow the text, step by step, and it will afford our readers, as Lord + Kames says of Blair’s Dissertation on Ossian, a delicious morsel of + criticism. + </p> + <p> + <i>As I was going past the Royal Exchange I meets Billy.</i> + </p> + <p> + In this apparently simple exordium, the scene and the meeting with Billy + are brought before the eye by the judicious use of the present tense. + </p> + <p> + <i>Billy, says I, will you sky a copper?</i> + </p> + <p> + A copper! genus pro specie! the generic name of copper for the base + individual halfpenny. + </p> + <p> + <i>Sky a copper.</i> + </p> + <p> + <i>To sky</i> is a new verb, which none but a master hand could have + coined: a more splendid metonymy could not be applied upon a more trivial + occasion; the lofty idea of raising a metal to the skies is substituted + for the mean thought of tossing up a halfpenny. Our orator compresses his + hyperbole into a single word. Thus the mind is prevented from dwelling + long enough upon the figure to perceive its enormity. This is the + perfection of the art. Let the genius of French exaggeration and of + eastern hyperbole hide their diminished heads—Virgil is scarcely + more sublime. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Ingrediturque solo, et caput inter nubila condit.” + + “Her feet on earth, her head amidst the clouds.” + </pre> + <p> + Up they go, continues our orator. + </p> + <p> + <i>Music! says he—Skulls! says I.</i> + </p> + <p> + Metaphor continually: on one side of an Irish halfpenny there is a harp; + this is expressed by the general term music, which is finely contrasted + with the word skull. + </p> + <p> + <i>Down they come, three brown mazards.</i> + </p> + <p> + Mazards! how the diction of our orator is enriched from the vocabulary of + Shakspeare! the word head, instead of being changed for a more general + term, is here brought distinctly to the eye by the term mazard, or face, + which is more appropriate to his majesty’s profile than the word skull or + head. + </p> + <p> + <i>By the holy! you flesh’d ‘em, says he</i>. + </p> + <p> + By the holy! is an oath in which more is meant than meets the ear; it is + an ellipsis—an abridgment of an oath. The full formula runs thus—By + the holy poker of hell! This instrument is of Irish invention or + imagination. It seems a useful piece of furniture in the place for which + it is intended, to stir the devouring flames, and thus to increase the + torments of the damned. Great judgment is necessary to direct an orator + how to suit his terms to his auditors, so as not to shock their feelings + either by what is too much above or too much below common life. In the use + of oaths, where the passions are warm, this must be particularly attended + to, else they lose their effect, and seem more the result of the head than + the heart. But to proceed:— + </p> + <p> + <i>By the holy! you flesh’d ‘em</i>. + </p> + <p> + <i>To flesh</i> is another verb of Irish coinage; it means, in shoeblack + dialect, to touch a halfpenny, as it goes up into the air, with the fleshy + part of the thumb, so as to turn it which way you please, and thus to + cheat your opponent. What an intricate explanation saved by one word! + </p> + <p> + <i>You lie, says I</i>. + </p> + <p> + Here no periphrasis would do the business. + </p> + <p> + <i>With that he ups with a lump of a two year old, and lets drive at me</i>. + </p> + <p> + <i>He ups with</i>.—A verb is here formed of two prepositions—a + novelty in grammar. Conjunctions, we all know, are corrupted Anglo-Saxon + verbs; but prepositions, according to Horne Tooke, derive only from + Anglo-Saxon nouns. + </p> + <p> + All this time it is possible that the mere English reader may not be able + to guess what it is that our orator ups with or takes up. He should be + apprised, that a lump of a two year old is a middle-sized stone. This is a + metaphor, borrowed partly from the grazier’s vocabulary, and partly from + the arithmetician’s vade-mecum. A stone, to come under the denomination of + a lump of a two year old, must be to a less stone as a two year old calf + is to a yearling; or it must be to a larger stone than itself, as a two + year old calf is to an ox. Here the scholar sees that there must be two + statements, one in the rule of three direct and one in the rule of three + inverse, to obtain precisely the thing required; yet the untutored + Irishman, without suspecting the necessity of this operose process, + arrives at the solution of the problem by some short cut of his own, as he + clearly evinces by the propriety of his metaphor. To be sure, there seems + some incongruity in his throwing this lump of a two year old calf at his + adversary. No arm but that of Milo could be strong enough for such a feat. + Upon recollection, however, bold as this figure may seem, there are + precedents for its use. + </p> + <p> + “We read in a certain author,” says Beattie, “of a giant, who, in his + wrath, tore off the top of the promontory, and flung it at the enemy; and + so huge was the mass, that you might, says he, have seen goats browsing on + it as it flew through the air.” Compared with this, our orator’s figure is + cold and tame. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I outs with my bread-earner</i>,” continues he. + </p> + <p> + We forbear to comment on <i>outs with</i>, because the intelligent critic + immediately perceives that it has the same sort of merit ascribed to <i>ups + with</i>. What our hero dignifies with the name of his bread-earner is the + knife with which, by scraping shoes, he earned his bread. Pope’s ingenious + critic, Mr. Warton, bestows judicious praise upon the art with which this + poet, in the Rape of the Lock, has used many “periphrases and uncommon + expressions,” to avoid mentioning the name of <i>scissars</i>, which would + sound too vulgar for epic dignity—fatal engine, forfex, + meeting-points, &c. Though the metonymy of <i>bread-earner</i> for a + shoeblack’s knife may not equal these in elegance, it perhaps surpasses + them in ingenuity. + </p> + <p> + <i>I gives it him up to Lamprey in the bread-basket.</i><a + href="#linknote-49" name="linknoteref-49" id="linknoteref-49"><small>49</small></a> + </p> + <p> + Homer is happy in his description of wounds, but this surpasses him in the + characteristic choice of circumstance. <i>Up to Lamprey</i>, gives us at + once a complete idea of the length, breadth, and thickness of the wound, + without the assistance of the coroner. It reminds us of a passage in + Virgil— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Cervice orantis <i>capulo tenus</i> abdidit ensem.” + + “Up to the hilt his shining falchion sheathed.” + </pre> + <p> + Let us now compare the Irish shoeblack’s metaphorical language with the + sober <i>slang</i> of an English blackguard, who, fortunately for the + fairness of the comparison, was placed somewhat in similar circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Lord Mansfield, examining a man who was a witness in the court of King’s + Bench, asked him what he knew of the defendant. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my lord, I knew him. <i>I was up to him</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Up to him!” says his lordship; “what do you mean by being up to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Mean, my lord! why, <i>I was down upon him</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Up to him, and down upon him!” says his lordship, turning to Counsellor + Dunning, “what does the fellow mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I mean, my lord, as deep as he thought himself, <i>I stagged him</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot conceive, friend,” says his lordship, “what you mean by this + sort of language; I do not understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not understand it!” rejoined the fellow, with surprise: “<i>Lord, what a + flat you must be!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Though he undervalued Lord Mansfield, this man does not seem to have been + a very bright genius. In his cant words, “<i>up to him, down upon him, + stagged him</i>,” there are no metaphors; and we confess ourselves to be + as great <i>flats</i> as his lordship, for we do not understand this sort + of language. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “True no meaning puzzles more than wit,” + </pre> + <p> + as we may see in another English example. Proverbs have been called the + wisdom of nations; therefore it is fair to have recourse to them in + estimating national abilities. Now there is an old English proverb, + “Tenterden steeple is the cause of Goodwin sands.” + </p> + <p> + “This proverb,” says Mr. Ray, “is used when an absurd and ridiculous + reason is given of any thing in question; an account of the original + whereof, I find in one of Bishop Latimer’s sermons in these words—‘Mr. + Moore was once sent with commission into Kent to try out, if it might be, + what was the cause of Goodwin sands, and the shelf which stopped up + Sandwich haven. Thither cometh Mr. Moore, and calleth all the country + before him, such as were thought to be men of experience, and men that + could, of all likelihood, best satisfy him of the matter concerning the + stopping of Sandwich haven. Among the rest came in before him an old man + with a white head, and one that was thought to be little less than a + hundred years old. When Mr. Moore saw this aged man, he thought it + expedient to hear him say his mind in this matter (for being so old a man, + it was likely that he knew the most in that presence or company); so Mr. + Moore called this old aged man unto him and said, ‘Father,’ said he, ‘tell + me, if you can, what is the cause of the great arising of the sands and + shelves here about this haven, which stop it up so that no ships can + arrive here. You are the oldest man I can espy in all the company, so that + if any man can tell any cause of it, you, of all likelihood, can say most + to it, or, at leastwise, more than any man here assembled.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yea, forsooth, good Mr. Moore,’ quoth this old man, ‘for I am well nigh + a hundred years old, and no man here in this company any thing near my + age.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well then,’ quoth Mr. Moore, ‘how say you to this matter? What think you + to be the cause of these shelves and sands which stop up Sandwich haven?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Forsooth, sir,’ quoth he, ‘I am an old man; I think that, Tenterden + steeple is the cause of Goodwin sands. For I am an old man, sir,’ quoth + he, ‘I may remember the building of Tenterden steeple, and I may remember + when there was no steeple at all there; and before that Tenterden or <i>Totterden</i> + steeple was in building, there was no manner of talking of any flats or + sands that stopped up the haven, and therefore I think that Tenterden + steeple is the cause of the decay and destroying of Sandwich haven.’” <a + href="#linknote-50" name="linknoteref-50" id="linknoteref-50"><small>50</small></a>—Thus + far the bishop. + </p> + <p> + The prolix pertinacity with which this <i>old aged</i> man adheres to the + opinion that he had formed, without any intelligible reason, is + characteristic of an English peasant; but however absurd his mode of + judging may be, and however confused and incongruous his ideas, his + species of absurdity surely bears no resemblance to an Hibernian blunder. + We cannot even suspect it to be possible that a man of this slow, + circumspect character could be in any danger of making an Irish bull; and + we congratulate the English peasantry and populace, as a body, upon their + possessing that temper which + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Wisely rests content with sober sense, + Nor makes to dangerous wit a vain pretence.” + </pre> + <p> + Even the <i>slang</i> of English pickpockets and coiners is, as we may see + in Colquhoun’s View of the Metropolis, free from all seducing mixture of + wit and humour. What Englishman would ever have thought of calling persons + in the pillory <i>the babes in the wood</i>? This is a common cant phrase + amongst Dublin reprobates. Undoubtedly such phrases tend to lessen the + power of shame and the effect of punishment, and a witty rogue will lead + numbers to the gallows. English morality is not in so much danger as Irish + manners must be from these humourous talents in their knights of industry. + If, nevertheless, there be frequent executions for capital crimes in + England, we must account for this in the words of the old Lord Chief + Justice Fortescue—“More men,” says his lordship, “are hanged in <i>Englonde</i> + in one year than <i>in Fraunce</i> in seven, <i>because the English have + better hartes</i>; the <i>Scotchmenne</i> likewise never <i>dare rob</i>, + but only commit larcenies.” At all events, the phlegmatic temper of <i>Englonde</i> + secures her from making bulls. The propensity to this species of blunder + exists in minds of a totally different cast; in those who are quick and + enthusiastic, who are confounded by the rapidity and force with which + undisciplined multitudes of ideas crowd for utterance. Persons of such + intellectual characters are apt to make elisions in speaking, which they + trust the capacities of their audience will supply: passing rapidly over a + long chain of thought, they sometimes forget the intermediate links, and + no one but those of equally rapid habits can follow them successfully. + </p> + <p> + We hope that the evidence of the Dublin shoeblack has, in some degree, + tended to prove our <i>minor</i>, that the Irish are disposed to use + figurative language: we shall not, however, rest our cause on a single + evidence, however respectable; but before we summon our other witnesses, + we beg to relieve the reader’s attention, which must have been fatigued by + such a chapter of criticism. They shall now have the tale of a mendicant. + A specimen of city rhetoric is given in the shoeblack; the country + mendicant’s eloquence is of a totally different species. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <h3> + THE HIBERNIAN MENDICANT. + </h3> + <p> + Perhaps the reader may wish to see as well as hear the petitioner. At + first view you might have taken him for a Spaniard. He was tall; and if he + had been a gentleman, you would have said that there was an air of dignity + in his figure. He seemed very old, yet he appeared more worn by sorrow + than by time. Leaning upon a thick oaken stick as he took off his hat to + ask for alms, his white hair was blown by the wind. + </p> + <p> + “Health and long life to you!” said he. “Give an old man something to help + to bury him. He is past his labour, and cannot trouble this world long any + way.” + </p> + <p> + He held his hat towards us, with nothing importunate in his manner, but + rather with a look of confidence in us, mixed with habitual resignation. + His thanks were: “Heaven bless you!—Long life and success to you! to + you and yours! and may you never want a friend, as I do.” + </p> + <p> + The last words were spoken low. He laid his hand upon his heart as he + bowed to us, and walked slowly away. We called him back; and upon our + questioning him farther, he gave the following account of himself:— + </p> + <p> + “I was bred and born—but no matter where such a one as I was bred + and born, no more than where I may die and be buried. <i>I</i>, that have + neither son, nor daughter, nor kin, nor friend on the wide earth, to mourn + over my grave when I am laid in it, as I soon must. Well! when it pleases + God to take me, I shall never be missed out of this world, so much as by a + dog: and why should I?—having never in my time done good to any—but + evil—which I have lived to repent me of, many’s the long day and + night, and ever shall whilst I have sense and reason left. In my youthful + days God was too good to me: I had friends, and a little home of my own to + go to—a pretty spot of land for a farm, as you could see, with a + snug cabin, and every thing complete, and all to be mine; for I was the + only one my father and mother had, and accordingly was made much of, too + much; for I grew headstrong upon it, and high, and thought nothing of any + man, and little of any woman, but one. That one I surely did think of; and + well worth thinking of she was. Beauty, they say, is all fancy; but she + was a girl every man might fancy. Never was one more sought after. She was + then just in her prime, and full of life and spirits; but nothing light in + her behaviour—quite modest—yet obliging. She was too good for + me to be thinking of, no doubt; but ‘faint heart never won fair lady,’ so + I made bold to speak to Rose, for that was her name, and after a world of + pains, I began to gain upon her good liking, but couldn’t get her to say + more than that she never <i>seen</i> the man she should fancy so well. + This was a great deal from her, for she was coy and proud-like, as she had + a good right to be; and, besides being young, loved her little innocent + pleasure, and could not easy be brought to give up her sway. No fault of + hers: but all very natural. Well! I always considered she never would have + held out so long, nor have been so stiff with me, had it not been for an + old aunt Honour of hers—God rest her soul! One should not be talking + ill of the dead; but she was more out of my way than enough; yet the + cratur had no malice in her against me, only meaning her child’s good, as + she called it, but mistook it, and thought to make Rose happy by some + greater match than me, counting her fondness for me, which she could not + but see something of, childishness, that she would soon be broke of. Now + there was a party of English soldiers quartered in our town, and there was + a sergeant amongst them that had money, and a pretty place, as they said, + in his own country. He courted Rose, and the aunt favoured him. He and I + could never relish one another at all. He was a handsome portly man, but + very proud, and looked upon me as dirt under his feet, because I was an + Irishman; and at every word would say, ‘<i>That’s an Irish, bull!</i>’ or + <i>‘Do you hear Paddy’s brogue?’’</i> at which his fellow-soldiers, being + all English, would look greatly delighted. Now all this I could have taken + in good part from any but him, for I was not an ill-humoured fellow; but + there was a spite in him I plainly saw against me, and I could not, nor + would not take a word from him against me or my country, especially when + Rose was by, who did not like me the worse for having a proper spirit. She + little thought what would come of it. Whilst all this was going on, her + aunt Honour found to object against me, that I was wild, and given to + drink; both which charges were false and malicious, and I knew could come + from none other than the sergeant, which enraged me the more against him + for speaking <i>so mean</i> behind my back. Now I knew, that though the + sergeant did not drink spirits, he drank plenty of beer. Rose took it, + however, to heart, and talked very serious upon it, observing she could + never think to marry a man given to drink, and that the sergeant was + remarkably sober and staid, therefore most like, as her aunt Honour said, + to make a good husband. The words went straight to my heart, along with + Rose’s look. I said not a word, but went out, resolving, before I slept, + to take an oath against spirits, of all sorts, for Rose’s sweet sake. That + evening I fell in with some boys of the neighbours, who would have had me + along with them, but I <i>denied myself</i> and them; and all I would + taste was one parting glass, and then made my vow in the presence of the + priest, forswearing spirits for two years. Then I went straight to her + house to tell her what I had done, not being sensible that I was that same + time a little elevated with the parting glass I had taken. The first thing + I noticed on going into the room was the man I least wished to see there, + and least looked for at this minute: he was in high talk with the aunt, + and Rose sitting on the other side of him, no way strange towards him, as + I fancied; but that was only fancy, and effect of the liquor I had drunk, + which made me see things wrong. I went up, and put my head between them, + asking Rose, did she know what I had been about? + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes; too well!’ said she, drawing back from my breath. And the aunt + looked at her, and she at the aunt, and the sergeant stopped his nose, + saying he had not been long enough in Ireland to love the smell of + whiskey. I observed, that was an uncivil remark in the present company, + and added, that I had not taken a drop that night, but one glass. At which + he sneered, and said that was a bull and a blunder, but no wonder, as I + was an Irishman. I replied in defence of myself and country. We went on + from one smart word to another; and some of his soldiermen being of the + company, he had the laugh against me still. I was vexed to see Rose bear + so well what I could not bear myself. And the talk grew higher and higher; + and from talking of blunders and such trifles, we got, I cannot myself + tell you how, on to great party matters, and politics, and religion. And I + was a catholic, and he a protestant; and there he had the thing still + against me. The company seeing matters not agreeable, dropped off till + none were left but the sergeant, and the aunt, and Rose, and myself. The + aunt gave me a hint to part, but I would not take it; for I could not bear + to go away worsted, and borne down as it were by the English faction, and + Rose by to judge. The aunt was called out by one who wanted her to go to a + funeral next day: the Englishman then let fall something about our Irish + howl, and savages, which Rose herself said was uncivil, she being an Irish + woman, which he, thinking only of making game on me, had forgot. I knocked + him down, telling him that it was he that was the savage to affront a + lady. As he got up he said that he’d have the law of me, if any law was to + be had in Ireland. + </p> + <p> + “‘The law!’ said I, ‘and you a soldier!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you mean to call me coward?’ said he. ‘This is what an English + soldier must not bear.’ With that he snatches at his arms that were beside + him, asking me again, did I mean to call an Englishman coward? + </p> + <p> + “‘Tell me first,’ said I, ‘did you mean to call us Irish savages?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘That’s no answer to <i>my</i> question,’ says he, ‘or only an Irish + answer.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It is not the worse for that, may be,” says I, very coolly, despising + the man now, and just took up a knife, that was on the table, to cut off a + button that was hanging at my knee. As I was opening of the knife he asks + me, was I going to stab at him with my Irish knife, and directly fixes a + bayonet at me; on which I seizes a musket and bayonet one of his men had + left, telling him I knew the use of it as well as he or any Englishman, + and better; for that I should never have gone, as he did, to charge it + against an unarmed man. + </p> + <p> + “‘You had your knife,’ said he, drawing back. + </p> + <p> + “’ If I had, it was not thinking of you,’ said I, throwing the knife away. + ‘See! I’m armed like yourself now: fight me like a man and a soldier, if + you dare,” says I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Fight me, if you dare,’ says he. + </p> + <p> + “Rose calls to me to stop; but we were both out of ourselves at the + minute. We thrust at each other—he missed me—I hit him. Rose + ran in between us to get the musket from my hand: it was loaded, and went + off in the struggle, and the ball lodged in her body. She fell! and what + happened next I cannot tell, for the sight left my eyes, and all sense + forsook me. When I came to myself the house was full of people, going to + and fro, some whispering, some crying; and till the words reached my ears, + ‘Is she quite dead?’ I could not understand where I was, or what had + happened. I wished to forget again, but could not. The whole truth came + upon me, and yet I could not shed a tear; but just pushed my way through + the crowd into the inner room, and up to the side of the bed. There she + lay stretched, almost a corpse—quite still! Her sweet eyes closed, + and no colour in her cheeks, that had been so rosy! I took hold of one of + her hands, that hung down, and she then opens her eyes, and knew me + directly, and smiles upon me, and says, ‘It was no fault of yours: take + notice, all of you, it was no fault of his if I die; but <i>that</i> I + won’t do for his sake, if I can help it!’—that was the word she + spoke. I thinking, from her speaking so strong, that she was not badly + hurt, knelt down to whisper her, that if my breath did smell of spirits, + it was the parting glass I had tasted before making the vow I had done + against drink for her sake; and that there was nothing I would not do for + her, if it would please God to spare her to me. She just pressed my hand, + to show me she was sensible. The priest came in, and they forced our hands + asunder, and carried me away out of the room. Presently there was a great + cry, and I knew all was over.” + </p> + <p> + Here the old man’s voice failed, and he turned his face from us. When he + had somewhat recovered himself, to change the course of his thoughts, we + asked whether he were prosecuted for his assault on the English sergeant, + and what became of him? + </p> + <p> + “Oh! to do him justice, as one should do to every one,” said the old man, + “he behaved very handsome to me when I was brought to trial; and told the + whole truth, only blamed himself more than I would have done, and said it + was all his fault for laughing at me and my nation more than a man could + bear, situated as I was. They acquitted me through his means. We shook + hands, and he hoped all would go right with me, he said; but nothing ever + went right with me after. I took little note ever after of worldly + matters: all belonging to me went to rack and ruin. The hand of God was + upon me: I could not help myself, nor settle mind or body to any thing. I + heard them say sometimes I was a little touched in my head: however that + might be I cannot say. But at the last I found it was as good for me to + give all that was left to my friends, who were better able to manage, and + more eager for it than I; and fancying a roving life would agree with me + best, I quitted the place, taking nothing with me, but resolved to walk + the world, and just trust to the charity of good Christians, or die, as it + should please God. How I have lived so long He only knows, and his will be + done.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <h3> + IRISH WIT AND ELOQUENCE. + </h3> + <p> + “Wild wit, invention ever new,” appear in high perfection amongst even the + youngest inhabitants of an Irish cottage. The word <i>wit</i>, amongst the + lower classes of Ireland, means not only quickness of repartee, but + cleverness in action; it implies invention and address, with no slight + mixture of cunning; all which is expressed in their dialect by the single + word <i>‘cuteness</i> (acuteness). Examples will give a better notion of + this than can be conveyed by any definition. + </p> + <p> + An Irish boy (a ‘cute lad) saw a train of his companions leading their + cars, loaded with kishes<a href="#linknote-51" name="linknoteref-51" + id="linknoteref-51"><small>51</small></a> of turf, coming towards his + father’s cabin; his father had no turf, and the question was how some + should be obtained. To beg he was ashamed; to dig he was unwilling—but + his head went to work directly. He took up a turf which had fallen from + one of the cars the preceding day, and stuck it on the top of a pole near + the cabin. When the cars were passing, he appeared throwing turf at the + mark. “Boys!” cried he, “which of ye will hit?” Each leader of the car, as + he passed, could not forbear to fling a turf at the mark; the turf fell at + the foot of the pole, and when all the cars had passed, there was a heap + left sufficient to reward the ingenuity of our little Spartan. + </p> + <p> + The same ‘cuteness which appears in youth continues and improves in old + age. When General V—— was quartered in a small town in + Ireland, he and his lady were regularly besieged, whenever they got into + their carriage, by an old beggar-woman, who kept her post at the door, + assailing them daily with fresh importunities and fresh tales of distress. + At last the lady’s charity, and the general’s patience, were nearly + exhausted, but their petitioner’s wit was still in its pristine vigour. + One morning, at the accustomed hour, when the lady was getting into her + carriage, the old woman began—“Agh! my lady; success to your + ladyship, and success to your honour’s honour, this morning, of all days + in the year; for sure didn’t I dream last night that her ladyship gave me + a pound of tea, and that your honour gave me a pound of tobacco?” + </p> + <p> + “But, my good woman,” said the general, “do not you know that dreams + always go by the rule of contrary?” + </p> + <p> + “Do they so, plase your honour?” rejoined the old woman. “Then it must be + your honour that will give me the tea, and her ladyship that will give me + the tobacco?” + </p> + <p> + The general being of Sterne’s opinion, that a bon-mot is always worth more + than a pinch of snuff, gave the ingenious dreamer the value of her dream. + </p> + <p> + Innumerable instances might be quoted of the Hibernian genius, not merely + for repartee, but for what the Italians call pasquinade. We shall cite + only one, which is already so well known in Ireland, that we cannot be + found guilty of <i>publishing</i> a libel. Over the ostentatious front of + a nobleman’s house in Dublin, the owner had this motto cut in stone:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Otium cum dignitate.—Leisure with dignity.” + </pre> + <p> + In process of time his lordship changed his residence; or, since we must + descend to plebeian language, was committed to Newgate, and immediately + there appeared over the front of his apartment his chosen motto, as large + as the life, in white chalk, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Otium cum dignitate.” + </pre> + <p> + Mixed with keen satire, the Irish often show a sort of cool good sense and + dry humour, which gives not only effect, but value to their impromptus. Of + this class is the observation made by the Irish hackney coachman, upon + seeing a man of the ton driving four-in-hand down Bond-street. + </p> + <p> + “That fellow,” said our observer, “looks like a coachman, but drives like + a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + As an instance of humour mixed with sophistry, we beg the reader to + recollect the popular story of the Irishman who was run over by a troop of + horse, and miraculously escaped unhurt. + </p> + <p> + “Down upon your knees and thank God, you reprobate,” said one of the + spectators. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God! for what? Is it for letting a troop of horse run over me?” + </p> + <p> + In this speech there is the same sort of humour and sophistry that appears + in the Irishman’s celebrated question: “What has posterity done for me, + that I should do so much for posterity?” + </p> + <p> + The Irish nation, from the highest to the lowest, in daily conversation + about the ordinary affairs of life, employ a superfluity of wit and + metaphor which would be astonishing and unintelligible to a majority of + the respectable body of English yeomen. Even the cutters of turf and + drawers of whiskey are orators; even the <i>cottiers</i> and <i>gossoons</i> + speak in trope and figure. Ask an Irish gossoon to go early in the + morning, on an errand, and he answers, + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be off at the flight of night.” + </p> + <p> + If an Irish cottager would express to his landlord that he wishes for a + long lease of his land, he says,— + </p> + <p> + “I would be proud to live on your honour’s land as long as grass grows or + water runs.” + </p> + <p> + One of our English poets has nearly the same idea:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “As long as streams in silver mazes run, + Or spring with annual green renews the grove.” + </pre> + <p> + Without the advantages of a classical education, the lower Irish sometimes + make similes that bear a near resemblance to those of the admired poets of + antiquity. A loyalist, during the late rebellion, was describing to us the + number of the rebels who had gathered on one spot, and were dispersed by + the king’s army; rallied, and were again put to flight. + </p> + <p> + “They were,” said he, “like swarms of flies on a summer’s day, that you + brush away with your hand, and still they will be returning.” + </p> + <p> + There is a simile of Homer’s which, literally translated, runs thus: “As + the numerous troops of flies about a shepherd’s cottage in the spring, + when the milk moistens the pails, such numbers of Greeks stood in the + field against the Trojans.” Lord Kames observes, that it is false taste to + condemn such comparisons for the lowness of the images introduced. In + fact, great objects cannot be degraded by comparison with small ones in + these similes, because the only point of resemblance is number; the mind + instantly perceives this, and therefore requires no other species of + similitude. + </p> + <p> + When we attempt to judge of the genius of the lower classes of the people, + we must take care that we are not under the influence of any prejudice of + an aristocratic or literary nature. But this is no easy effort of liberty. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Agk! Dublin, sweet Jasus be wid you!</i>” exclaimed a poor Irishman, + as he stood on the deck of a vessel, which was carrying him out of the bay + of Dublin. The pathos of this poor fellow will not probably affect + delicate sensibility, because he says <i>wid</i> instead of <i>with</i>, + and <i>Jasus</i> instead of <i>Jesus</i>. Adam Smith is certainly right in + his theory, that the sufferings of those in exalted stations have + generally most power to command our sympathy. The very same sentiment of + sorrow at leaving his country, which was expressed so awkwardly by the + poor Irishman, appears, to every reader of taste, exquisitely pathetic + from the lips of Mary queen of Scots. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, France! Farewell, beloved country! which I shall never more + behold!” <a href="#linknote-52" name="linknoteref-52" id="linknoteref-52"><small>52</small></a> + </p> + <p> + In anger as well as in sorrow the Irishman is eloquent. A gentleman who + was lately riding through the county of ——, in Ireland, to + canvass, called to ask a vote from a poor man, who was planting willows in + a little garden by the road side. + </p> + <p> + “You have a vote, my good sir, I am told,” said the candidate, in an + insinuating tone. + </p> + <p> + The poor man stuck the willow which he had in his hand into the ground, + and with a deliberate pace came towards the candidate to parley with him. + </p> + <p> + “Please your honour,” said he, gravely, “I have a vote, and I have not a + vote.” + </p> + <p> + “How can that be?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, sir,” said he, leaning, or rather lying down slowly upon + the back of the ditch facing the road, so that the gentleman, who was on + horseback, could see only his head and arms. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said he, “out of this little garden, with my five acres of land and + my own labour, I once had a freehold; but I have been robbed of my + freehold: and who do you think has robbed me? why, that man!” pointing to + his landlord’s steward, who stood beside the candidate. “With my own hands + I sowed my own ground with oats, and a fine crop I expected—but I + never reaped that crop: not a bushel, no, nor half a bushel, did I ever + see; for into my little place comes this man, with I don’t know how many + more, with their shovels and their barrows, and their horses and their + cars, and to work they fell, and they ran a road straight through the best + part of my land, turning all to heaps of rubbish, and a bad road it was, + and a bad time of year to make it! But where was <i>I</i> when he did + this? not where I am now,” said the orator, raising himself up and + standing firm; “not as you see me now, but lying on my back in my bed in a + fever. When I got up I was not able to make my rent out of my land. + Besides myself, I had my five children to support. I sold my clothes, and + have never been able to buy any since but such as a recruit could sell, + who was in haste to get into regimentals—such clothes as these,” + said he, looking down at his black rags. “Soon I had nothing to eat: but + that’s not all. I am a weaver, sir: for my rent they seized my two looms; + then I had nothing to do. But of all this I do not complain. There was an + election some time ago in this county, and a man rode up to me in this + garden as you do now, and asked me for my vote, but I refused him, for I + was steady to my landlord. The gentleman observed I was a poor man, and + asked if I wanted for nothing? but all did not signify; so he rode on + gently, and at the corner of the road, within view of my garden, I saw him + drop a purse, and I knew, by his looking at me, it was on purpose for me + to pick it up. After a while he came back, thinking, to be sure, I had + taken up the purse, and had changed my mind, but he found his purse where + he left it. My landlord knew all this, and he promised to see justice done + me, but he forgot. Then, as for the candidate’s lady, before the election + nothing was too fair-speaking for me; but afterward, in my distress, when + I applied to her to get me a loom, which she could have had from <i>the + Linen Board</i> by only asking for it, her answer to me was, ‘I don’t know + that I shall ever want a vote again in the county.’ + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” continued he, “when justice is done to me (and no sooner), I + shall be glad to assist my landlord or his friend. I know who <i>you</i> + are, sir, very well: you bear a good character: success to you! but I have + no vote to give to you or any man.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were to attempt to make you any amends for what you have suffered,” + replied the candidate, “I should do you an injury; it would be said that I + had bribed you; but I will repeat your story where it will meet with + attention. I cannot, however, tell it so well as you have told it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” was his answer, “for you cannot feel it as I do.” + </p> + <p> + This is almost in terms the conclusion of Pope’s epistle from Eloisa to + Abelard:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He best can paint them who shall feel them most.” + </pre> + <p> + In objurgation and pathetic remonstrancing eloquence, the females of the + lower class in Ireland are not inferior to the men. A thin tall woman + wrapped in a long cloak, the hood of which was drawn over her head, and + shaded her pale face, came to a gentleman to complain of the cruelty of + her landlord. + </p> + <p> + “He is the most hard-hearted man alive, so he is, sir,” said she; “he has + just seized all I have, which, God knows, is little enough! and has driven + my cow to pound, the only cow I have, and only dependence I have for a + drop of milk to drink; and the cow itself too standing there starving in + the pound, for not a wisp of hay would he give to cow or Christian to save + their lives, if it was ever so! And the rent for which he is driving me, + please your honour, has not been due but one week: a hard master he is; + but these <i>middle</i> men are all so, one and all. Oh! if it had been + but my lot to be a tenant to a <i>gentleman born</i>, like your honour, + who is the poor man’s friend, and the orphan’s, and the widow’s—the + friend of them that have none other. Long life to you! and long may you + live to reign over us! Would you but speak three words to my landlord, to + let my cow out of pound, and give me a fortnight’s time, that I might see + and fatten her to sell against the fair, I could pay him then all + honestly, and not be racked entirely, and he would be ashamed to refuse + your honour, and afraid to disoblige the like of you, or get your + ill-will. May the blessing of Heaven be upon you, if you’ll just send and + speak to him three words for the poor woman and widow, that has none other + to speak for her in the wide world!” + </p> + <p> + Moved by this lamentable story, the effect of which the woman’s whole + miserable appearance corroborated and heightened, the gentleman sent + immediately for her hard-hearted landlord. The landlord appeared; not a + gentleman, not a rich man, as the term landlord might denote, but a stout, + square, stubbed, thick-limbed, grey-eyed man, who seemed to have come + smoking hot from hard labour. The gentleman repeated the charge made + against him by the poor widow, and mildly remonstrated on his cruelty: the + man heard all that was said with a calm but unmoved countenance. + </p> + <p> + “And now have you done?” said he, turning to the woman, who had + recommenced her lamentations. “Look at her standing there, sir. It’s easy + for her to put on her long cloak, and to tell her long story, and to make + her poor mouth to your honour; but if you are willing to hear, I’ll tell + you what she is, and what I am. She is one that has none but herself in + this world to provide for; she is one that is able to afford herself a + glass of whiskey when she pleases, and she pleases it often; she is one + that never denies herself the bit of <i>staggering bob</i><a + href="#linknote-53" name="linknoteref-53" id="linknoteref-53"><small>53</small></a> + when in season; she is one that has a snug house well thatched to live in + all the year round, and nothing to do or nothing that she does; and this + is the way of her life, and this is what she is. And what am I? I am the + father of eight children, and I have a wife and myself to provide for. I + am a man that is at hard labour of one kind or another from sunrise to + sunset. The straw that thatched the house she lives in I brought two miles + on my back; the walls of the house she lives in I built with my own hands; + I did the same by five other houses, and they are all sound and dry, and + good to live in, summer or winter. I set them for rent to put bread into + my children’s mouth, and after all I cannot get it! And to support my + eight children, and my wife, and myself, what have I in this world,” cried + he, striding suddenly with colossal firmness upon his sturdy legs, and + raising to heaven arms which looked like fore-shortenings of the limbs of + Hercules; “what have <i>I</i> in this wide world but these four bones?” <a + href="#linknote-54" name="linknoteref-54" id="linknoteref-54"><small>54</small></a> + </p> + <p> + No provocation could have worked up a phlegmatic English countryman to + this pitch of eloquence. He never suffers his anger to evaporate in idle + figures of speech: it is always concentrated in a few words, which he + repeats in reply to every argument, persuasive, or invective, that can be + employed to irritate or to assuage his wrath. We recollect having once + been present at a scene between an English gentleman and a churchwarden, + whose feelings were grievously hurt by the disturbance that had been given + to certain bones in levelling a wall which separated the churchyard from + the pleasure ground of the lord of the manor. The bones belonged, as the + churchwarden believed or averred, to his great great grandmother, though + how they were identified it might be difficult to explain to an + indifferent judge; yet we are to suppose that the confirmation of the + suspicion was strong and satisfactory to the party concerned. The pious + great great grandson’s feelings were all in arms, but <i>indignation</i> + did not inspire him with a single poetic idea or expression. In his + eloquence, indeed, there was the principal requisite, action: in reply to + all that could be said, he repeatedly struck his long oak stick + perpendicularly upon the floor, and reiterated these words— + </p> + <p> + “It’s death, sir! death by the law! It’s sacrilege, sir! sacrilege by act + of parliament! It’s death, sir! death by the law! and the law I’ll have of + him, for it’s lawful to have the law.” + </p> + <p> + This was the whole range of his ideas, even when the passions had tumbled + them all out of their dormitories. + </p> + <p> + Innumerable fresh instances of Irish eloquence and wit crowd upon our + recollection, but we forbear. The examples we have cited are taken from + real life, and given without alteration or embellishment. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <h3> + THE BROGUE. + </h3> + <p> + Having proved by a perfect syllogism that the Irish must blunder, we might + rest satisfied with our labours; but there are minds of so perverse a + sort, that they will not yield their understandings to the torturing power + of syllogism. + </p> + <p> + It may be waste of time to address ourselves to persons of such a cast; we + shall therefore change our ground, and adapt our arguments to the level of + vulgar capacities. Much of the comic effect of Irish bulls, or of such + speeches as are mistaken for bulls, has depended upon the tone, or <i>brogue</i>, + as it is called, with which they are uttered. The first Irish blunders + that we hear are made or repeated in this peculiar tone, and afterward, + from the power of association, whenever we hear the tone we expect the + blunder. Now there is little danger that the Irish should be cured of + their brogue; and consequently there is no great reason to apprehend that + we should cease to think or call them blunderers. + </p> + <p> + Of the powerful effect of any peculiarity of pronunciation to prepossess + the mind against the speaker, nay, even to excite dislike amounting to + antipathy, we have an instance attested by an eye-witness, or rather an + ear-witness. + </p> + <p> + “In the year 1755,” says the Rev. James Adams, “I attended a public + disputation in a foreign university, when at least 400 Frenchmen literally + hissed a grave and learned <i>English</i> doctor, not by way of insult, + but irresistibly provoked by the quaintness of the repetition of sh. The + thesis was, the concurrence of God <i>in actionibus viciosis</i>: the + whole hall resounded with the hissing cry of sh, and its continual + occurrence in <i>actio, actione, viciosa</i>, &c.” + </p> + <p> + It is curious that Shibboleth should so long continue a criterion among + nations! + </p> + <p> + What must have been the degree of irritation that could so far get the + better of the politeness of 400 Frenchmen as to make them hiss in the days + of <i>l’ancien régime</i>! The dread of being the object of that species + of antipathy or ridicule, which is excited by unfashionable peculiarity of + accent, has induced many of the <i>misguided</i> natives of Ireland to + affect what they imagine to be the English pronunciation. They are seldom + successful in this attempt, for they generally overdo the business. We are + told by Theophrastus, that a <i>barbarian</i>, who had taken some pains to + attain the true Attic dialect, was discovered to be a foreigner by his + speaking the Attic dialect with a greater degree of precision and purity + than was usual amongst the Athenians themselves. To avoid the imputation + of committing barbarisms, people sometimes run into solecisms, which are + yet more ridiculous. Affectation is always more ridiculous than ignorance. + </p> + <p> + There are Irish ladies, who, ashamed of their country, betray themselves + by mincing out their abjuration, by calling tables <i>teebles</i>, and + chairs <i>cheers</i>! To such renegadoes we prefer the honest quixotism of + a modern champion<a href="#linknote-55" name="linknoteref-55" + id="linknoteref-55"><small>55</small></a> for the Scottish accent, who + boldly asserted that “the broad dialect rises above reproach, scorn, and + laughter,” enters the lists, as he says of himself, in Tartan dress and + armour, and throws down the gauntlet to the most prejudiced antagonist. + “How weak is prejudice!” pursues this patriotic enthusiast. “The sight of + the Highland kelt, the flowing plaid, the buskined leg, provokes my + antagonist to laugh! Is this dress ridiculous in the eyes of reason and + common sense? No; nor is the dialect of speech: both are characteristic + and national distinctions. + </p> + <p> + “The arguments of general vindication,” continues he, “rise powerful + before my sight, like the Highland bands in full array. A louder strain of + apologetic speech swells my words. What if it should rise high as the + unconquered summits of Scotia’s hills, and call back, with voice sweet as + Caledonian song, the days of ancient Scotish heroes; or attempt the + powerful speech of the Latian orator, or his of Greece! The subject, + methinks, would well accord with the attempt: <i>Cupidum, Scotia optima, + vires deficiunt</i>. I leave this to the <i>king of songs</i>, Dunbar and + Dunkeld, Douglas in <i>Virgilian</i> strains, and later poets, Ramsay, + Ferguson, and Burns, awake from your graves; you have already immortalized + the Scotish dialect in raptured melody! Lend me your golden target and + well-pointed spear, that I might victoriously pursue, to the extremity of + South Britain, reproachful ignorance and scorn still lurking there: let + impartial candour seize their usurped throne. Great, then, is the birth of + this national dialect,” &c. + </p> + <p> + So far so good. We have some sympathy with the rhapsodist, whose + enthusiasm kindles at the names of Allan Ramsay and of Burns; nay, we are + willing to hear (with a grain of allowance) that “the manly eloquence of + the Scotish bar affords a singular pleasure to the candid English hearer, + and gives merit and dignity to the noble speakers, who retain so much of + their own dialect and tempered propriety of English sounds, that they may + be emphatically termed <i>British orators</i>.” But we confess that we + lose our patient decorum, and are almost provoked to laughter, when our + philological Quixote seriously sets about to prove that Adam and Eve spoke + broad Scotch in Paradise. + </p> + <p> + How angry has this grave patriot reason to be with his ingenious + countryman Beattie,<a href="#linknote-56" name="linknoteref-56" + id="linknoteref-56"><small>56</small></a> the celebrated champion of <i>Truth</i>, + who acknowledges that he never could, when a boy or man, look at a certain + translation of Ajax’s speech into one of the vulgar Scotch dialects + without laughing! + </p> + <p> + We shall now with boldness, similar to that of the Scotch champion, try + the risible muscles of our English reader; we are not, indeed, inclined to + go quite such lengths as he has gone: he insists that the Scotch dialect + ought to be adopted all over England; we are only going candidly to + confess, that we think the Irish, in general, speak <i>better English</i> + than is commonly spoken by the natives of England. To limit this + proposition so as to make it appear less absurd, we should observe, that + we allude to the lower classes of the people in both countries. In some + counties in Ireland, a few of the poorest labourers and cottagers do not + understand English, they speak only Irish, as in Wales there are vast + numbers who speak only Welsh; but amongst those who speak English we find + fewer vulgarisms than amongst the same rank of persons in England. The + English which they speak is chiefly such as has been traditional in their + families from the time of the early settlers in the island. During the + reign of Elizabeth and the reign of Shakspeare, numbers of English + migrated to Ireland; and whoever attends to the phraseology of the lower + Irish may, at this day, hear many of the phrases and expressions used by + Shakspeare. Their vocabulary has been preserved nearly in its pristine + purity since that time, because they have not had intercourse with those + counties in England which have made for themselves a jargon unlike to any + language under heaven. The Irish <i>brogue</i> is a great and shameful + defect, but it does not render the English language absolutely + unintelligible. There are but a few variations of the brogue, such as the + long and the short, the Thady brogue and Paddy brogue, which differ much + in tone, and but little in phraseology; but in England, almost all of our + fifty-two counties have peculiar vulgarisms, dialects, and brogues, + unintelligible to their neighbours. Herodotus tells us that some of the + nations of Greece, though they used the same language, spoke it so + differently, that they could not understand each other’s conversation. + This is literally the case at present between the provincial inhabitants + of remote parts of England. Indeed the language peculiar to the + metropolis, or the <i>cockney</i> dialect, is proverbially ridiculous. The + Londoners, who look down with contempt upon all that have not been <i>bred + and born</i> within the sound of Bow, talk with unconscious absurdity of + <i>w</i>eal and <i>w</i>inegar, and <i>v</i>ine and <i>v</i>indors, and + idea<i>r</i>s, and ask you <i>ow</i> you do? and ‘<i>ave ye bin taking</i> + the <i>h</i>air in ‘yde park? and ‘<i>as</i> your ‘orse ‘ad any <i>h</i>oats, + &c.? aspirating always where they should not, and never aspirating + where they should. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Zummerzetzheer</i> dialect, full of broad <i>oos</i> and eternal <i>zeds</i>, + supplies never-failing laughter when brought upon the stage. Even a + cockney audience relishes the broad pronunciation of John Moody, in the + Journey to London, or of Sim in Wild Oats. + </p> + <p> + The cant of Suffolk, the vulgarisms of Shropshire, the uncouth phraseology + of the three ridings of Yorkshire, amaze and bewilder foreigners, who + perhaps imagine that they do not understand English, when they are in + company with those who cannot speak it. The patois of Languedoc and + Champagne, such as “<i>Mein fis sest ai bai via</i>,” Mon fils c’est un + beau veau, exercises, it is true, the ingenuity of travellers, and renders + many scenes of Molière and Marivaux difficult, if not unintelligible, to + those who have never resided in the French provinces; but no French patois + is more unintelligible than the following specimen of <i>Tummas</i> and <i>Meary’s</i> + Lancashire dialogue:— + </p> + <p> + <i>Thomas</i>. “Whau, but I startit up to goa to th’ tits, on slurr’d + deawn to th’ lower part o’ th’ heymough, on by th’ maskins, lord! whot + dust think? boh leet hump stridd’n up o’ summot ot felt meety heury, on it + startit weh meh on its back, deawn th’ lower part o’ th’ mough it jumpt, + crost th’ leath, eaw’t o’ th’ dur whimmey it took, on into th’ weturing + poo, os if th’ dule o’ hell had driv’n it, on there it threw meh en, or I + fell off, I connaw tell whether, for th’ life o’ meh, into the poo.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Mary</i>. “Whoo-wo, whoo-wo, whoo! whot, ith neme o’ God! widneh sey?” + </p> + <p> + <i>Thomas</i>. “If it wur naw Owd Nick, he wur th’ orderer on’t, to be + shure——. Weh mitch powlering I geet eawt o’ th’ poo, ‘lieve<a + href="#linknote-57" name="linknoteref-57" id="linknoteref-57"><small>57</small></a> + meh, as to list, I could na tell whether i’r in a sleawm or wak’n, till eh + groapt ot meh een; I crope under a wough and stode like o’ gawmbling,<a + href="#linknote-58" name="linknoteref-58" id="linknoteref-58"><small>58</small></a> + or o parfit neatril, till welly day,” &c. + </p> + <p> + Let us now listen to a conversation which we hope will not be quite so + unintelligible. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <h3> + BATH COACH CONVERSATION. + </h3> + <p> + In one of the coaches which travel between Bath and London, an Irish, a + Scotch, and an English gentleman happened to be passengers. They were well + informed and well-bred, had seen the world, had lived in good company, and + were consequently superior to local and national prejudice. As their + conversation was illustrative of our subject, we shall make no apology for + relating it. We pass the usual preliminary compliments, and the + observations upon the weather and the roads. The Irish gentleman first + started a more interesting subject—the Union; its probable + advantages and disadvantages were fully discussed, and, at last, the + Irishman said, “Whatever our political opinions may be, there is one wish + in which we shall all agree, that the Union may make us better acquainted + with one another.” + </p> + <p> + “It is surprising,” said the Englishman, “how ignorant we English in + general are of Ireland: to be sure we do not now, as in the times of Bacon + and Spenser, believe that wild Irishmen have wings; nor do we all of us + give credit, to Mr. Twiss’s assertion, that if you look at an Irish lady, + she answers, ‘<i>port if you please</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“That traveller seems to be almost as liberal as + he who defined <i>oats</i>—food for horses in England, and for men + in Scotland: such illiberal notions die away of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“Or they are contradicted by more liberal + travellers. I am sure my country has great obligations to the gallant + English and Scotch military, not only for so readily assisting to defend + and quiet us, but for spreading in England a juster notion of Ireland. + Within these few months, I suppose, more real knowledge of the state and + manners of that kingdom has been diffused in England by their means, than + had been obtained during a whole century.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“Indeed, I do not recollect having read any author + of note who has given me a notion of Ireland since Spenser and Davies, + except Arthur Young.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“What little knowledge I have of Ireland has been + drawn more from observation than from books. I remember when I first went + over there, I did not expect to see twenty trees in the whole island: I + imagined that I should have nothing to drink but whiskey, that I should + have nothing to eat but potatoes, that I should sleep in mud-walled + cabins; that I should, when awake, hear nothing but the Irish howl, the + Irish brogue, Irish answers, and Irish bulls; and that if I smiled at any + of these things, a hundred pistols would fly from their holsters to <i>give</i> + or <i>demand</i> satisfaction. But experience taught me better things: I + found that the stories I had heard were <i>tales of other times</i>. Their + hospitality, indeed, continues to this day.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“It does, I believe; but of later days, as we have + been honoured with the visits of a greater number of foreigners, our + hospitality has become less extravagant.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“Not less agreeable: Irish hospitality, I speak + from experience, does not now consist merely in pushing about the bottle; + the Irish are convivial, but their conviviality is seasoned with wit and + humour; they have plenty of good conversation as well as good cheer for + their guests; and they not only have wit themselves, but they love it in + others; they can take as well as give a joke. I never lived with a more + good-humoured, generous, open-hearted people than the Irish.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“I wish Englishmen, in general, were half as + partial to poor Ireland as you are, sir.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“Or rather you wish that they knew the country as + well, and then they would do it as much justice.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“You do it something more than justice, I fear. + There are little peculiarities in my countrymen which will long be justly + the subject of ridicule in England.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman.</i>—“Not among well-bred and well-informed people: + those who have seen or read of great varieties of customs and manners are + never apt to laugh at all that may differ from their own. As the sensible + author of the Government of the Tongue says, ‘Half-witted people are + always the bitterest revilers.’” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman.</i>—“You are very indulgent, gentlemen; but in spite of + all your politeness, you must allow, or, at least, I must confess, that + there are little defects in the Irish government of the tongue at which + even <i>whole</i>-witted people must laugh.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman.</i>—“The well-educated people in all countries, I + believe, escape the particular accent, and avoid the idiom, that are + characteristic of the vulgar.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman.</i>—“But even when we escape Irish brogue, we cannot + escape Irish bulls.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman.</i>—“You need not say <i>Irish</i> bulls with such + emphasis; for bulls are not peculiar to Ireland. I have been informed by a + person of unquestionable authority, that there is a town in Germany, + Hirschau, in the Upper Palatinate, where the inhabitants are famous for + making bulls.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman.</i>—“I am truly glad to hear we have companions in + disgrace. Numbers certainly lessen the effect of ridicule as well as of + shame: but, after all, the Irish idiom is peculiarly unfortunate, for it + leads perpetually to blunder.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman.</i>—“I have heard the same remarked of the Hebrew. I + am told that the Hebrew and Irish idiom are much alike.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman (laughing).</i>—“That is a great comfort to us, + certainly, particularly to those amongst us who are fond of tracing our + origin up to the remotest antiquity; but still there are many who would + willingly give up the honour of this high alliance to avoid its + inconveniences; for my own part, if I could ensure myself and my + countrymen from all future danger of making bulls and blunders, I would + this instant give up all Hebrew roots; and even the Ogham character itself + I would renounce, ‘to make assurance doubly sure.’” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman.—</i>”‘To make <i>assurance doubly sure.</i>’ Now + there is an example in our great Shakspeare of what I have often observed, + that we English allow our poets and ourselves a licence of speech that we + deny to our Hibernian neighbours. If an Irishman, instead of Shakspeare, + had talked of making ‘assurance doubly sure,’ we should have asked how + that could be. The vulgar in England are too apt to catch at every slip of + the tongue made by Irishmen. I remember once being present when an Irish + nobleman, of talents and literature, was actually hissed from the hustings + at a Middlesex election because in his speech he happened to say, ‘We have + laid the root to the axe of the tree of liberty,’ instead of ‘we have laid + the axe to the root of the tree.’” + </p> + <p> + Scotchman,—“A lapsus linguae, that might have been made by the + greatest orators, ancient or modern; by Cicero or Chatham, by Burke, or by + ‘the fluent Murray.’” + </p> + <p> + Englishman,—“Upon another occasion I have heard that an Irish orator + was silenced with ‘<i>inextinguishable</i> laughter’ merely for saying, ‘I + am sorry to hear my honourable friend stand mute.’” + </p> + <p> + Scotchman.—“If I am not mistaken, that very same Irish orator made + an allusion at which no one could laugh. ‘The protection,’ said he, ‘which + Britain affords to Ireland in the day of adversity, is like that which the + oak affords to the ignorant countryman, who flies to it for shelter in the + storm; it draws down upon his head the lightning of heaven:’ may be I do + not repeat the words exactly, but I could not forget the idea.” + </p> + <p> + Englishman.—“I would with all my heart bear the ridicule of a + hundred blunders for the honour of having made such a simile: after all, + his saying, ‘I am sorry to hear my honourable friend stand <i>mute</i>,’ + if it be a bull, is justified by Homer; one of the charms in the cestus of + Venus is, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Silence that speaks, and eloquence of eyes.’” + </pre> + <p> + Scotchman.—“Silence that speaks, sir, is, I am afraid, an English, + not a Grecian charm. It is not in the Greek; it is one of those beautiful + liberties which Mr. Pope has taken with his original. But silence that + speaks can be found in France as well as in England. Voltaire, in his + chef-d’oeuvre, his Oedipus, makes Jocasta say, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Tout parle centre nous jusqu’à notre <i>silence</i>.’” <a + href="#linknote-59" name="linknoteref-59" id="linknoteref-59">59</a> +</pre> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“And in our own Milton, Samson Agonistes makes as + good, indeed a better bull; for he not only makes the mute speak, but + speak loud:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘The deeds themselves, though <i>mute, spoke loud</i> the doer.’ +</pre> + <p> + And in Paradise Lost we have, to speak in <i>fashionable</i> language, two + <i>famous</i> bulls. Talking of Satan, Milton says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘God and his Son except, + Created thing nought valued he nor shunn’d.’ +</pre> + <p> + And speaking of Adam and Eve, and their sons and daughters, he confounds + them all together in a manner for which any Irishman would have been + laughed to scorn:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Adam, the goodliest man of men since born, + His sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve.’ +</pre> + <p> + Yet Addison, who notices these blunders, calls them only little + blemishes.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“He does so; and he quotes Horace, who tells us we + should impute such venial errors to a pardonable inadvertency; and, as I + recollect, Addison makes another very just remark, that the ancients, who + were actuated by a spirit of candour, not of cavilling, invented a variety + of figures of speech, on purpose to palliate little errors of this + nature.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, gentlemen,” interrupted the Hibernian, who had sat all this time + in silence that spoke his grateful sense of the politeness of his + companions, “you will put the finishing stroke to my obligations to you, + if you will prove that the ancient figures of speech were invented to + palliate Irish blunders.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“No matter for what purpose they were invented; + if we can make so good a use of them we shall be satisfied, especially if + you are pleased. I will, however, leave the burden of the proof upon my + friend here, who has detected me already in quoting from Pope’s Iliad + instead of Homer’s. I am sure he will manage the ancient figures of + rhetoric better than I should; however, if I can fight behind his shield I + shall not shun the combat.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“I stand corrected for quoting Greek. Now I will + not go to Longinus for my tropes and figures; I have just met with a + little book on the subject, which I put into my pocket to-day, intending + to finish it on my journey, but I have been better employed.” + </p> + <p> + He drew from his pocket a book, called, “Deinology; or, the Union of + Reason and Elegance.” “Look,” said he, “look at this long list of tropes + and figures; amongst them we could find apologies for every species of + Irish bulls; but in mercy, I will select, from ‘the twenty chief and most + moving figures of speech,’ only the oxymoron, as it is a favourite with + Irish orators. In the oxymoron contradictions meet: to reconcile these, + Irish ingenuity delights. I will further spare four out of the seven + figures of less note: emphasis, enallage, and the hysteron proteron you + must have; because emphasis graces Irish diction, enallage unbinds it from + strict grammatical fetters, and hysteron proteron allows it sometimes to + put the cart before the horse. Of the eleven grammatical figures, Ireland + delights chiefly in the antimeria, or changing one part of speech for + another, and in the ellipsis or defect. Of the remaining long list of + figures, the Irish are particularly disposed to the epizeuxis, as ‘indeed, + indeed—at all, at all,’ and antanaclasis, or double meaning. The + tautotes, or repetition of the same thing, is, I think, full as common + amongst the English. The hyperbole and catachresis are so nearly related + to a bull, that I shall dwell upon them with pleasure. You must listen to + the definition of a catachresis:—‘A catachresis is the boldest of + any trope. <i>Necessity makes it borrow and employ an expression or term + contrary to the thing it means to express</i>.’” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word this is something like a description of an Irish bull,” + interrupted the Hibernian. + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“For instance, it has been said, <i>Equitare in + arundine longá</i>, to ride on horseback on a stick. Reason condemns the + contradiction, but necessity has allowed it, and use has made it + intelligible. The same trope is employed in the following metaphorical + expression:—the seeds of the Gospel have been <i>watered</i> by the + <i>blood</i> of the martyrs.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“That does seem an absurdity, I grant; but you + know great orators <i>trample on impossibilities</i>.” <a + href="#linknote-60" name="linknoteref-60" id="linknoteref-60"><small>60</small></a> + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“And great poets get the letter of them. You + recollect Shakspeare says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Now bid me run, + And I will strive with things <i>impossible</i>, + Yea, <i>get the better of them</i>.’” + </pre> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“And Corneille, in the Cid, I believe, makes his + hero a compliment upon his having performed impossibilities—‘Vos + mains seules ont le droit de vaincre un invincible.’” <a + href="#linknote-61" name="linknoteref-61" id="linknoteref-61"><small>61</small></a> + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“Ay, that would be a bull in an Irishman, but it + is only an hyperbole in a Frenchman.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“Indeed this line of Corneille’s <i>out-hyperboles</i> + the hyperbole, considered in any but a prophetic light; as a prophecy, it + exactly foretels the taking of Bonaparte’s <i>invincible</i> standard by + the glorious forty-second regiment of the British: ‘Your hands alone <i>have + a right</i> to vanquish the invincible.’ By-the-by, the phrase <i>ont le + droit</i> cannot, I believe, be literally translated into English; but the + Scotch and Irish, <i>have a right</i>, translates it exactly. But do not + let me interrupt my country’s defence, gentlemen; I am heartily glad to + find Irish blunderers may shelter themselves in such good company in the + ancient sanctuary of the hyperbole. But I am afraid you must deny + admittance to the poor mason, who said, ‘This house will stand as long as + the world, and longer.’” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“Why should we ‘shut the gates of mercy’ upon him + when we pardon his betters for more flagrant sins? For instance, Mr. Pope, + who, in his Essay on Criticism, makes a blunder, or rather uses an + hyperbole, stronger than that of your poor Irish mason:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘When first young Maro in his noble mind + A work <i>t’outlast immortal</i> Rome design’d.’ +</pre> + <p> + And to give you a more modern case, I lately heard an English shopkeeper + say to a lady in recommendation of his goods, ‘Ma’am, it will wear for + ever, and make you a petticoat afterwards.’” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“Upon my word, I did not think you could have found + a match for the mason; but what will you say to my countryman, who, on + meeting an acquaintance, accosted him with this ambiguous compliment—‘When + first I saw you I thought it was you, but now I see it is your brother.’” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“If I were not afraid you would take me for a + pedant, I should quote a sentence from Cicero that is not far behind this + blunder.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“I can take you for nothing but a friend: pray let + us have the Latin.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“It is one of Cicero’s compliments to Caesar—‘Qui, + cum ipse imperator in toto imperio populi Romani unus esset, esse me + alterum passus est.‘<a href="#linknote-62" name="linknoteref-62" + id="linknoteref-62"><small>62</small></a> Perhaps,” continued the + Scotchman, “my way of pronouncing Latin sounds strangely to you, + gentlemen?” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“And perhaps ours would be unintelligible to Cicero + himself, if he were to overhear us: I fancy we are all so far from right, + that we need not dispute about degrees of wrong.” + </p> + <p> + The coach stopped at this instant, and the conversation was interrupted. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <h3> + BATH COACH CONVERSATION. + </h3> + <p> + After our travellers had dined, the conversation was renewed by the + English gentleman’s repeating Goldsmith’s celebrated lines on Burke: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, + And thought of convincing, whilst they thought of dining; + In short, ‘twas his fate, unemployed or in place, sir, + To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.” + </pre> + <p> + “What humour and wit there are in that poem of Goldsmith’s! and where is + there any thing equal to his ‘Traveller?’” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“Yet this is the man who used to be the butt of the + company for his bulls.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“No, not for his bulls, but for <i>blurting</i> + out opinions in conversation that could not stand the test of Dr. + Johnson’s critical powers. But what would become of the freedom of wit and + humour if every word that came out of our mouths were subject to the tax + of a professed critic’s censure, or if every sentence were to undergo a + logical examination? It would be well for Englishmen if they were a little + more inclined, like your open-hearted countrymen, to <i>blurt</i> out + their opinions freely.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>,—“I cannot forgive Dr. Johnson for calling + Goldsmith an inspired idiot; I confess I see no idiotism, but much + inspiration, in his works.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“But we must remember, that if Johnson did laugh at + Goldsmith, he would let no one else laugh at him, and he was his most + sincere and active friend. The world would, perhaps, never have seen the + ‘Vicar of Wakefield’ if Johnson had not recommended it to a bookseller; + and Goldsmith might have died in jail if the doctor had not got him a + hundred pounds for it, when poor Goldsmith did not know it was worth a + shilling. When we recollect this, we must forgive the doctor for calling + him, in jest, an inspired idiot.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“Especially as Goldsmith has wit enough to bear + him up against a thousand such jests.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“It is curious to observe how nearly wit and + absurdity are allied. We may forgive the genius of Ireland if he sometimes + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Leap his light courser o’er the bounds of taste.’ +</pre> + <p> + Even English genius is not always to be restrained within the strict + limits of common sense. For instance, Young is witty when he says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘How would a miser startle to be told + Of such a wonder as insolvent gold.’ +</pre> + <p> + But Johnson is, I am afraid, absurd when he says, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Turn from the glittering bribe your scornful eye, + Nor sell for gold what gold can never buy.’” + </pre> + <p> + “One case, to be sure, must be excepted,” said the Irishman; “a patriot + may sell his reputation, and the purchaser get nothing by it. But, + gentlemen, I have just recollected an example of an Irish bull in which + are all the happy requisites, incongruity, confusion, and laughable + confusion, both in thought and expression. When Sir Richard Steele was + asked, how it happened that his countrymen made so many bulls, he replied, + ‘It is the effect of climate, sir; if an Englishman were born in Ireland, + he would make as many.’” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“This is an excellent bull, I allow; but I think I + can match it.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“And if he can, you will allow yourself to be + fairly vanquished?” + </p> + <p> + <i>Irishman</i>.—“Most willingly.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Scotchman</i>.—“Then I shall owe my victory to our friend Dr. + Johnson, the leviathan of English literature. In his celebrated preface to + Shakspeare he says, that ‘he has not only shown human nature as it acts in + real exigencies, but as it <i>would be found in situations to which it + cannot be exposed</i>.’ These are his own words; I think I remember them + accurately.” + </p> + <p> + The English gentleman smiled, and our Hibernian acknowledged that the + Scotchman had fairly gained the victory. “My friends,” added he, “as I + cannot pretend to be ‘convinced against my will,’ I certainly am not ‘of + the same opinion still.’ But stay—there are such things as practical + bulls: did you never hear of the Irishman who ordered a painter to draw + his picture, and to represent him standing behind a tree?” + </p> + <p> + <i>Englishman</i>.—“No: but I have heard the very same story told of + an Englishman. The dealers in <i>good jokes</i> give them first to one + nation and then to another, first to one celebrated character and then to + another, as it suits the demand and fashion of the day: just as our + printsellers, with a few touches, change the portrait of General + Washington into the head of the king of France, and a capital print of Sir + Joshua Reynolds into a striking likeness of <i>the Monster</i>. + </p> + <p> + “But I can give you an instance of a practical bull that is not only + indisputably English, but was made by one of the greatest men that England + ever produced, Sir Isaac Newton, who, after he had made a large hole in + his study-door for his cat to creep through, made a small hole beside it + for the kitten. You will acknowledge, sir, that this is a good practical + bull.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” said the Hibernian, “we have still some miles further to go, + and, if you will give me leave, I will relate ‘an Hibernian tale,’ which + exemplifies some of the opinions held in this conversation.” + </p> + <p> + The Scotch and English gentlemen begged to hear the story, and he began in + the following manner. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <h3> + THE IRISH INCOGNITO. + </h3> + <p> + Sir John Bull was a native of Ireland, <i>bred</i> and <i>born</i> in the + city of Cork. His real name was Phelim O’Mooney, and he was by profession + a <i>stocah</i>, or walking gentleman; that is, a person who is too proud + to earn his bread, and too poor to have bread without earning it. He had + always been told that none of his ancestors had ever been in trade or + business of any kind, and he resolved, when a boy, never to <i>demean</i> + himself and family, as his elder brother had done, by becoming a rich + merchant. When he grew up to be a young man, he kept this spirited + resolution as long as he had a relation or friend in the world who would + let him hang upon them; but when he was shaken off by all, what could he + do but go into business? He chose the most genteel, however; he became a + wine merchant. I’m <i>only</i> a wine merchant, said he to himself, and + that is next door to being nothing at all. His brother furnished his + cellars; and Mr. Phelim O’Mooney, upon the strength of the wine that he + had in his cellars, and of the money he expected to make of it, + immediately married a wife, set up a gig, and gave excellent dinners to + men who were ten times richer than he even ever expected to be. In return + for these excellent dinners, his new friends bought all their wine from + Mr. O’Mooney, and never paid for it; he lived upon credit himself, and + gave all his friends credit, till he became a bankrupt. Then nobody came + to dine with him, and every body found out that he had been very + imprudent; and he was obliged to sell his gig, but not before it had + broken his wife’s neck; so that when accounts came to be finally settled, + he was not much worse than when he began the world, the loss falling upon + his creditors, and he being, as he observed, free to begin life again, + with the advantage of being once more a bachelor. He was such a + good-natured, free-hearted fellow, that every body liked him, even his + creditors. His wife’s relations made up the sum of five hundred pounds for + him, and his brother offered to take him into his firm as partner; but + O’Mooney preferred, he said, going to try, or rather to make, his fortune + in England, as he did not doubt but he should by marriage, being, as he + did not scruple to acknowledge, a personable, clever-looking man, and a + great favourite with the sex. + </p> + <p> + “My last wife I married for love, my next I expect will do the same by me, + and of course the money must come on her side this time,” said our hero, + half jesting, half in earnest. His elder and wiser brother, the merchant, + whom he still held in more than sufficient contempt, ventured to hint some + slight objections to this scheme of Phelim’s seeking fortune in England. + He observed that so many had gone upon this plan already, that there was + rather a prejudice in England against Irish adventurers. + </p> + <p> + This could not affect <i>him</i> any ways, Phelim replied, because he did + not mean to appear in England as an Irishman at all. + </p> + <p> + “How then?” + </p> + <p> + “As an Englishman, since that is most agreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “How can that be?” + </p> + <p> + “Who should hinder it?” + </p> + <p> + His brother, hesitatingly, said “Yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Myself!—What part of myself? Is it my tongue?—You’ll + acknowledge, brother, that I do not speak with the brogue.” + </p> + <p> + It was true that Phelim did not speak with any Irish brogue: his mother + was an English woman, and he had lived much with English officers in Cork, + and he had studied and imitated their manner of speaking so successfully, + that no one, merely by his accent, could have guessed that he was an + Irishman. + </p> + <p> + “Hey! brother, I say!” continued Phelim, in a triumphant English tone; “I + never was taken for an Irishman in my life. Colonel Broadman told me the + other day, I spoke English better than the English themselves; that he + should take me for an Englishman, in any part of the known world, the + moment I opened my lips. You must allow that not the smallest particle of + brogue is discernible on my tongue.” + </p> + <p> + His brother allowed that not the smallest particle of brogue was to be + discerned upon Phelim’s tongue, but feared that some Irish idiom might be + perceived in his conversation. And then the name of O’Mooney! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that, I need not trouble an act of parliament, or even a king’s + letter, just to change my name for a season; at the worst, I can travel + and appear incognito.” + </p> + <p> + “Always?” + </p> + <p> + “No: only just till I’m upon good terms with the lady —— Mrs. + Phelim O’Mooney, that is to be, God willing. Never fear, nor shake your + head, brother; <i>you</i> men of business are out of this line, and not + proper judges: I beg your pardon for saying so, but as you are my own + brother, and nobody by, you’ll excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + His brother did excuse him, but continued silent for some minutes; he was + pondering upon the means of persuading Phelim to give up this scheme. + </p> + <p> + “I would lay you any wager, my dear Phelim,” said he, “that you could not + continue four days in England incognito.” + </p> + <p> + “Done!” cried Phelim. “Done for a hundred pounds; done for a thousand + pounds, and welcome.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you lose, how will you pay?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith! that’s the last thing I thought of, being sure of winning.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will not object to any mode of payment I shall propose.” + </p> + <p> + “None: only remembering always, that I was a bankrupt last week, and shall + be little better till I’m married; but then I’ll pay you honestly if I + lose.” + </p> + <p> + “No, if you lose I must be paid before that time, my good sir,” said his + brother, laughing. “My bet is this:—I will lay you one hundred + guineas that you do not remain four days in England incognito; be upon + honour with me, and promise, that if you lose, you will, instead of laying + down a hundred guineas, come back immediately, and settle quietly again to + business.” + </p> + <p> + The word <i>business</i> was always odious to our hero’s proud ears; but + he thought himself so secure of winning his wager, that he willingly bound + himself in a penalty which he believed would never become due; and his + generous brother, at parting, made the bet still more favourable, by + allowing that Phelim should not be deemed the loser unless he was, in the + course of the first four days after he touched English ground, detected + eight times in being an Irishman. + </p> + <p> + “Eight times!” cried Phelim. “Good bye to a hundred guineas, brother, you + may say.” + </p> + <p> + “You may say,” echoed his brother, and so they parted. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Phelim O’Mooney the next morning sailed from Cork harbour with a + prosperous gale, and with a confidence in his own success which supplied + the place of auspicious omens. He embarked at Cork, to go by long sea to + London, and was driven into Deal, where Julius Caesar once landed before + him, and with the same resolution to see and conquer. It was early in the + morning; having been very sea-sick, he was impatient, as soon as he got + into the inn, for his breakfast: he was shown into a room where three + ladies were waiting to go by the stage; his air of easy confidence was the + best possible introduction. + </p> + <p> + “Would any of the company choose eggs?” said the waiter. + </p> + <p> + “I never touch an egg for my share,” said O’Mooney, carelessly; he knew + that it was supposed to be an Irish custom to eat eggs at breakfast; and + when the malicious waiter afterwards set a plate full of eggs in salt upon + the table, our hero magnanimously abstained from them; he even laughed + heartily at a story told by one of the ladies, of an Hibernian at Buxton, + who declared that “no English hen ever laid a fresh egg.” + </p> + <p> + O’Mooney got through breakfast much to his own satisfaction, and to that + of the ladies, whom he had taken a proper occasion to call the <i>three + graces</i>, and whom he had informed that he was an <i>old</i> baronet of + an English family, and that his name was Sir John Bull. The youngest of + the graces civilly observed, “that whatever else he might be, she should + never have taken him for an <i>old</i> baronet.” The lady who made this + speech was pretty, but O’Mooney had penetration enough to discover, in the + course of the conversation, that she and her companions were far from + being divinities; his three graces were a greengrocer’s wife, a + tallowchandler’s widow, and a milliner. When he found that these ladies + were likely to be his companions if he were to travel in the coach, he + changed his plan, and ordered a postchaise and four. + </p> + <p> + O’Mooney was not in danger of making any vulgar Irish blunders in paying + his bill at an inn. No landlord or waiter could have suspected him, + especially as he always left them to settle the matter first, and then + looked over the bill and money with a careless gentility, saying, “Very + right,” or “Very well, sir;” wisely calculating, that it was better to + lose a few shillings on the road, than to lose a hundred pounds by the + risk of Hibernian miscalculation. + </p> + <p> + Whilst the chaise was getting ready he went to the custom-house to look + after his baggage. He found a red-hot countryman of his own there, roaring + about four and fourpence, and fighting the battle of his trunks, in which + he was ready to make affidavit there was not, nor never had been, any + thing contraband; and when the custom-house officer replied by pulling out + of one of them a piece of Irish poplin, the Hibernian fell immediately + upon the Union, which he swore was Disunion, as the custom-house officers + managed it. Sir John Bull appeared to much advantage all this time, + maintaining a dignified silence; from his quiet appearance and deportment, + the custom-house officers took it for granted that he was an Englishman. + He was in no hurry; he begged <i>that</i> gentleman’s business might be + settled first; he would wait the officer’s leisure, and as he spoke he + played so dexterously with half-a-guinea between his fingers, as to make + it visible only where he wished. The custom-house officer was his humble + servant immediately; but the Hibernian would have been his enemy, if he + had not conciliated him by observing, “that even Englishmen must allow + there was something very like a bull in professing to make a complete + identification of the two kingdoms, whilst, at the same time, certain + regulations continued in full force to divide the countries by art, even + more than the British Channel does by nature.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John talked so plausibly, and, above all, so candidly and coolly on + Irish and English politics, that the custom-house officer conversed with + him for a quarter of an hour without guessing of what country he was, till + in an unlucky moment Phelim’s heart got the better of his head. Joining in + the praises bestowed by all parties on the conduct of a distinguished + patriot of his country, he, in the height of his enthusiasm, inadvertently + called him the <i>Speaker</i>. + </p> + <p> + “The Speaker!” said the officer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the Speaker—<i>our</i> Speaker!” cried Phelim, with + exultation. He was not aware how he had betrayed himself, till the officer + smiled and said— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I really never should have found out that you were an Irishman but + from the manner in which you named your countryman, who is as highly + thought of by all parties in this country as in yours: your enthusiasm + does honour to your heart.” + </p> + <p> + “And to my head, I’m sure,” said our hero, laughing with the best grace + imaginable. “Well, I am glad you have found me out in this manner, though + I lose the eighth part of a bet of a hundred guineas by it.” + </p> + <p> + He explained the wager, and begged the custom-house officer to keep his + secret, which he promised to do faithfully, and assured him, “that he + should be happy to do any thing in his power to serve him.” Whilst he was + uttering these last words, there came in a snug, but soft-looking + Englishman, who opining from the words “happy to do any thing in my power + to serve you,” that O’Mooney was a friend of the custom-house officer’s, + and encouraged by something affable and good-natured in our hero’s + countenance, crept up to him, and whispered a request—“Could you + tell a body, sir, how to get out of the custom-house a very valuable box + of Sèvre china that has been <i>laying</i> in the custom-house three + weeks, and which I was commissioned to get out if I could, and bring up to + town for a lady.” + </p> + <p> + As a lady was in the case, O’Mooney’s gallantry instantly made his + good-nature effective. The box of Sèvre china was produced, and opened + only as a matter of form, and only as a matter of curiosity its contents + were examined—a beautiful set of Sèvre china and a pendule, said to + have belonged to M. Egalité! “These things must be intended,” said Phelim, + “for some lady of superior taste or fortune.” + </p> + <p> + As Phelim was a proficient in the Socratic art of putting judicious + interrogatories, he was soon happily master of the principal points it + concerned him to know: he learnt that the lady was rich—a spinster—of + full age—at her own disposal—living with a single female + companion at Blackheath—furnishing a house there in a superior style—had + two carriages—her Christian name Mary—her surname Sharperson. + </p> + <p> + O’Mooney, by the blessing of God, it shall soon he, thought Phelim. He + politely offered the Englishman a place in his chaise for himself and + Sèvre china, as it was for a lady, and would run great hazard in the + stage, which besides was full. Mr. Queasy, for that was our soft + Englishman’s name, was astonished by our hero’s condescension and + affability, especially as he heard him called Sir John: he bowed sundry + times as low as the fear of losing his wig would permit, and accepted the + polite offer with many thanks for himself and the lady concerned. + </p> + <p> + Sir John Bull’s chaise and four was soon ready; and Queasy seated in the + corner of it, and the Sèvre china safely stowed between his knees. Captain + Murray, a Scotch officer, was standing at the inn-door, with his eyes + intently fixed on the letters that were worked in nails on the top of Sir + John’s trunk; the letters were P. O’M. Our hero, whose eyes were at least + as quick as the Scotchman’s, was alarmed lest this should lead to a second + detection. He called instantly, with his usual presence of mind, to the + ostler, and desired him to uncord <i>that</i> trunk, as it was not to go + with him; raising his voice loud enough for all <i>the yard</i> to hear, + he added—“It is not mine at all; it belongs to my friend, Mr. + O’Mooney: let it be sent after me, at leisure, by the waggon, as directed, + to the care of Sir John Bull.” + </p> + <p> + Our hero was now giving his invention a prodigious quantity of superfluous + trouble; and upon this occasion, as upon most others, he was more in + danger from excess than deficiency of ingenuity: he was like the man in + the fairy tale, who was obliged to tie his legs lest he should outrun the + object of which he was in pursuit. The Scotch officer, though his eyes + were fixed on the letters PO’S., had none of the suspicions which Phelim + was counteracting; he was only considering how he could ask for the third + place in Sir John’s chaise during the next stage, as he was in great haste + to get to town upon particular business, and there were no other horses at + the inn. When he heard that the heavy baggage was to go by the waggon, he + took courage and made his request. It was instantly granted by the + good-natured Hibernian, who showed as much hospitality about his chaise as + if it had been his house. Away they drove as fast as they could. Fresh + dangers awaited him at the next inn. He left his hat upon the table in the + hall whilst he went into the parlour, and when he returned, he heard some + person inquiring what Irish gentleman was there. Our hero was terribly + alarmed, for he saw that his hat was in the inquirers hand, and he + recollected that the name of Phelim O’Mooney was written in it. This the + inquisitive gentleman did not see, for it was written in no very legible + characters on the leather withinside of the front; but “F. Guest, hatter, + Damestreet, Dublin,” was a printed advertisement that could not be + mistaken, and <i>that</i> was pasted within the crown. O’Mooney’s presence + of mind did not forsake him upon this emergency. + </p> + <p> + “My good sir,” said he, turning to Queasy, who, without hearing one word + of what was passing, was coming out of the parlour, with his own hat and + gloves in his hand; “My good sir,” continued he, loading him with parcels, + “will you have the goodness to see these put into my carriage? Ill take + care of your hat and gloves,” added O’Mooney, in a low voice. Queasy + surrendered his hat and gloves instantly, unknowing wherefore; then + squeezed forward with his load through the crowd, crying—“Waiter! + hostler! pray, somebody put these into Sir John Bull’s chaise.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John Bull, equipped with Queasy’s hat, marched deliberately through + the defile, bowing with the air of at least an English county member to + this side and to that, as way was made for him to his carriage. No one + suspected that the hat did not belong to him; no one, indeed, thought of + the hat, for all eyes were fixed upon the man. Seated in the carriage, he + threw money to the waiter, hostler, and boots, and drew up the glass, + bidding the postilions drive on. By this cool self-possession our hero + effected his retreat with successful generalship, leaving his new Dublin + beaver behind him, without regret, as bona waviata. Queasy, before whose + eyes things passed continually without his seeing them, thanked Sir John + for the care he had taken of his hat, drew on his gloves, and calculated + aloud how long they should be going to the next stage. At the first town + they passed through, O’Mooney bought a new hat, and Queasy deplored the + unaccountable mistake by which Sir John’s hat had been forgotten. No + further <i>mistakes</i> happened upon the journey. The travellers rattled + on, and neither ‘stinted nor stayed’ till they arrived at Blackheath, at + Miss Sharperson’s. Sir John sat Queasy down without having given him the + least hint of his designs upon the lady; but as he helped him out with the + Sèvre china, he looked through the large opening double doors of the hall, + and slightly said—“Upon my word, this seems to be a handsome house: + it would be worth looking at, if the family were not at home.” + </p> + <p> + “I am morally sure, Sir John,” said the soft Queasy, “that Miss Sharperson + would be happy to let you see the house tonight, and this minute, if she + knew you were at the door, and who you were, and all your civility about + me and the china.—Do, pray, walk in.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for the world: a gentleman could not do such a thing without an + invitation from the lady of the house herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if that’s all, I’ll step up myself to the young lady; I’m certain + she’ll be proud——” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Queasy, by no means; I would not have the lady disturbed for the + world at this unseasonable hour.—It is too late—quite too + late.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, begging pardon, Sir John,” said Queasy, taking out his watch: + “only just tea-time by me.—Not at all unseasonable for any body; + besides, the message is of my own head:—all, you know, if not well + taken——” + </p> + <p> + Up the great staircase he made bold to go on his mission, as he thought, + in defiance of Sir John’s better judgment. He returned in a few minutes + with a face of self-complacent exultation, <i>and</i> Miss Sharperson’s + compliments, and begs Sir John Bull will walk up and rest himself with a + dish of tea, and has her thanks to him for the china. + </p> + <p> + Now Queasy, who had the highest possible opinion of Sir John Bull and of + Miss Sharperson, whom he thought the two people of the greatest + consequence and affability, had formed the notion that they were made for + each other, and that it must be a match if they could but meet. The + meeting he had now happily contrived and effected; and he had done his + part for his friend Sir John, with Miss Sharperson, by as many + exaggerations as he could utter in five minutes, concerning his perdigious + politeness and courage, his fine person and carriage, his ancient family, + and vast connexions and importance wherever he appeared on the road, at + inns, and over all England. He had previously, during the journey, done + his part for his friend Miss Sharperson with Sir John, by stating that + “she had a large fortune left her by her mother, and was to have twice as + much from her grandmother; that she had thousands upon thousands in the + funds, and an estate of two thousand a year, called Rascàlly, in Scotland, + besides plate and jewels without end.” + </p> + <p> + Thus prepared, how could this lady and gentleman meet without falling + desperately in love with each other! + </p> + <p> + Though a servant in handsome livery appeared ready to show Sir John up the + great staircase, Mr. Queasy acted as a gentleman usher, or rather as + showman. He nodded to Sir John as they passed across a long gallery and + through an ante-chamber, threw open the doors of various apartments as he + went along, crying—“Peep in! peep in! peep in here! peep in there!—Is + not this spacious? Is not this elegant! Is not that grand? Did I say too + much?” continued he, rubbing his hands with delight. “Did you ever see so + magnificent and such highly-polished steel grates out of Lon’on?” + </p> + <p> + Sir John, conscious that the servant’s eyes were upon him, smiled at this + question, “looked superior down;” and though with reluctant complaisance + he leaned his body to this side or to that, as Queasy pulled or swayed, + yet he appeared totally regardless of the man’s vulgar reflections. He had + seen every thing as he passed, and was surprised at all he saw; but + evinced not the slightest symptom of astonishment. He was now ushered into + a spacious, well-lighted apartment: he entered with the easy, + unembarrassed air of a man who was perfectly accustomed to such a home. + His quick coup-d’oeil took in the whole at a single glance. Two + magnificent candelabras stood on Egyptian tables at the farther end of the + room, and the lights were reflected on all sides from mirrors of no common + size. Nothing seemed worthy to attract our hero’s attention but the lady + of the house, whom he approached with an air of distinguished respect. She + was reclining on a Turkish sofa, her companion seated beside her, tuning a + harp. Miss Sharperson half rose to receive Sir John: he paid his + compliments with an easy, yet respectful air. He was thanked for his + civilities to <i>the person</i> who had been commissioned to bring the box + of Sèvre china from Deal. + </p> + <p> + “Vastly sorry it should have been so troublesome,” Miss Sharperson said, + in a voice fashionably unintelligible, and with a most becoming yet + intimidating nonchalance of manner. Intimidating it might have been to any + man but our hero; he, who had the happy talent of catching, wherever he + went, the reigning manner of the place, replied to the lady in equal + strains; and she, in her turn, seemed to look upon him more as her equal. + Tea and coffee were served. <i>Nothings</i> were talked of quite easily by + Sir John. He practised the art “not to admire,” so as to give a justly + high opinion of his taste, consequence, and knowledge of the world. Miss + Sharperson, though her nonchalance was much diminished, continued to + maintain a certain dignified reserve; whilst her companion, Miss Felicia + Flat, condescended to ask Sir John, who had doubtless seen every fine + house in England and on the continent, his opinion with respect to the + furniture and finishing of the room, the placing of the Egyptian tables + and the candelabras. + </p> + <p> + No mortal could have guessed by Sir John Bull’s air, when he heard this + question, that he had never seen a candelabra before in his life. He was + so much, and yet seemingly so little upon his guard, he dealt so + dexterously in generals, and evaded particulars so delicately, that he + went through this dangerous conversation triumphantly. Careful not to + protract his visit beyond the bounds of propriety, he soon rose to take + leave, and he mingled “intrusion, regret, late hour, happiness, and + honour,” so charmingly in his parting compliment, as to leave the most + favourable impression on the minds of both the ladies, and to procure for + himself an invitation to see the house next morning. + </p> + <p> + The first day was now ended, and our hero had been detected but once. He + went to rest this night well satisfied with himself, but much more + occupied with the hopes of marrying the heiress of Rascàlly than of + winning a paltry bet. + </p> + <p> + The next day he waited upon the ladies in high spirits. Neither of them + was <i>visible</i>, but Mr. Queasy had orders to show him the house, which + he did with much exultation, dwelling particularly in his praises on the + beautiful high polish of the steel grates. Queasy boasted that it was he + who had recommended the ironmonger who furnished the house in that line; + and that his bill, as he was proud to state, amounted to <i>many, many</i> + hundreds. Sir John, who did not attend to one word Queasy said, went to + examine the map of the Rascàlly estate, which was unrolled, and he had + leisure to count the number of lords’ and ladies’ visiting tickets which + lay upon the chimney-piece. He saw names of the people of first quality + and respectability: it was plain that Miss Sharperson must be a lady of + high family as well as large fortune, else she would not be visited by + persons of such distinction. Our hero’s passion for her increased every + moment. Her companion, Miss Flat, now appeared, and entered very freely + into conversation with Sir John; and as he perceived that she was + commissioned to sit in judgment upon him, he evaded all her leading + questions with the skill of an Irish witness, but without giving any + Hibernian answers. She was fairly at a fault. Miss Sharperson at length + appeared, elegantly dressed; her person was genteel, and her face rather + pretty. Sir John, at this instant, thought her beautiful, or seemed to + think so. The ladies interchanged looks, and afterwards Sir John found a + softness in his fair one’s manner, a languishing tenderness in her eyes, + in the tone of her voice, and at the same time a modest perplexity and + reserve about her, which altogether persuaded him that he was quite right, + and his brother quite wrong <i>en fait d’amour</i>. Miss Flat appeared now + to have the most self-possession of the three, and Miss Sharperson looked + at her from time to time, as if she asked leave to be in love. Sir John’s + visit lasted a full half hour before he was sensible of having been five + minutes engaged in this delightful conversation. + </p> + <p> + Miss Sharperson’s coach now came to the door: he handed her into it, and + she gave him a parting look, which satisfied him all was yet safe in her + heart. Miss Flat, as he handed her into the carriage, said, “Perhaps they + should meet Sir John at Tunbridge, where they were going in a few days.” + She added some words as she seated herself, which he scarcely noticed at + the time, but they recurred afterwards disagreeably to his memory. The + words were, “I’m so glad we’ve a roomy coach, for of all things it annoys + me to be <i>squeedged</i> in a carriage.” + </p> + <p> + This word <i>squeedged</i>, as he had not been used to it in Ireland, + sounded to him extremely vulgar, and gave him suspicions of the most + painful nature. He had the precaution, before he left Blackheath, to go + into several shops, and to inquire something more concerning his fair + ladies. All he heard was much to their advantage; that is, much to the + advantage of Miss Sharperson’s fortune. All agreed that she was a rich + Scotch heiress. A rich Scotch heiress, Sir John wisely considered, might + have an humble companion who spoke bad English. He concluded that <i>squeedged</i> + was Scotch, blamed himself for his suspicions, and was more in love with + his mistress and with himself than ever. As he returned to town, he framed + the outline of a triumphant letter to his brother on his approaching + marriage. The bet was a matter, at present, totally beneath his + consideration. However, we must do him the justice to say, that like a man + of honour he resolved that, as soon as he had won the lady’s heart, he + would <i>candidly</i> tell her his circumstances, and then leave her the + choice either to marry him or break her heart, as she pleased. Just as he + had formed this generous resolution, at a sudden turn of the road he + overtook Miss Sharperson’s coach: he bowed and looked in as he passed, + when, to his astonishment, he saw, <i>squeedged</i> up in the corner by + Miss Felicia, Mr. Queasy. He thought that this was a blunder in etiquette + that would never have been made in Ireland. Perhaps his mistress was of + the same opinion, for she hastily pulled down the blind as Sir John + passed. A cold qualm came over the lover’s heart. He lost no time in idle + doubts and suspicions, but galloped on to town as fast as he could, and + went immediately to call upon the Scotch officer with whom he had + travelled, and whom he knew to be keen and prudent. He recollected the map + of the Rascàlly estate, which he saw in Miss Sharperson’s breakfast-room, + and he remembered that the lands were said to lie in that part of Scotland + from which Captain Murray came; from him he resolved to inquire into the + state of the premises, before he should offer himself as tenant for life. + Captain Murray assured him that there was no such place as Rascàlly in + that part of Scotland; that he had never heard of any such person as Miss + Sharperson, though he was acquainted with every family and every estate in + the neighbourhood where she fabled hers to be. O’Mooney drew from memory, + the map of the Rascàlly estate. Captain Murray examined the boundaries, + and assured him that his cousin the general’s lands joined his own at the + very spot which he described, and that unless two straight lines could + enclose a space, the Rascàlly estate could not be found. + </p> + <p> + Sir John, naturally of a warm temper, proceeded, however, with prudence. + The Scotch officer admired his sagacity in detecting this adventurer. Sir + John waited at his hotel for Queasy, who had promised to call to let him + know when the ladies f would go to Tunbridge. Queasy came. Nothing could + equal his astonishment and dismay when he was told the news. + </p> + <p> + “No such place as the Rascàlly estate! Then I’m an undone man! an undone + man!” cried poor Queasy, bursting into tears: “but I’m certain it’s + impossible; and you’ll find, Sir John, you’ve been misinformed. I would + stake my life upon it, Miss Sharperson’s a rich heiress, and has a rich + grandmother. Why, she’s five hundred pounds in my debt, and I know of her + being thousands and thousands in the books of as good men as myself, to + whom I’ve recommended her, which I wouldn’t have done for my life if I had + not known her to be solid. You’ll find she’ll prove a rich heiress, Sir + John.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John hoped so, but the proofs were not yet satisfactory. Queasy + determined to inquire about her payments to certain creditors at + Blackheath, and promised to give a decisive answer in the morning. + O’Mooney saw that this man was too great a fool to be a knave; his + perturbation was evidently the perturbation of a dupe, not of an + accomplice: Queasy was made to “be an anvil, not a hammer.” In the midst + of his own disappointment, our good-natured Hibernian really pitied this + poor currier. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Sir John went early to Blackheath. All was confusion at + Miss Sharperson’s house; the steps covered with grates and furniture of + all sorts; porters carrying out looking-glasses, Egyptian tables, and + candelabras; the noise of workmen was heard in every apartment; and louder + than all the rest, O’Mooney heard the curses that were denounced against + his rich heiress—curses such as are bestowed on a swindler in the + moment of detection by the tradesmen whom she has ruined. + </p> + <p> + Our hero, who was of a most happy temper, congratulated himself upon + having, by his own wit and prudence, escaped making the practical bull of + marrying a female swindler. + </p> + <p> + Now that Phelim’s immediate hopes of marrying a rich heiress were over, + his bet with his brother appeared to him of more consequence, and he + rejoiced in the reflection that this was the third day he had spent in + England, and that he had but once been detected.—The ides of March + were come, but not passed! + </p> + <p> + “My lads,” said he to the workmen, who were busy in carrying out the + furniture from Miss Sharperson’s house, “all hands are at work, I see, in + saving what they can from the wreck of <i>the Sharperson</i>. She was as + well-fitted out a vessel, and in as gallant trim, as any ship upon the + face of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Ship upon the face of the <i>yearth</i>.’” repeated an English porter + with a sneer; “ship upon the face of the water, you should say, master; + but I take it you be’s an Irishman.” + </p> + <p> + O’Mooney had reason to be particularly vexed at being detected by this + man, who spoke a miserable jargon, and who seemed not to have a very + extensive range of ideas. He was one of those half-witted geniuses who + catch at the shadow of an Irish bull. In fact, Phelim had merely made a + lapsus lingual, and had used an expression justifiable by the authority of + the elegant and witty Lord Chesterfield, who said—no, who wrote—that + the English navy is the finest navy upon the face of the earth! But it was + in vain for our hero to argue the point; he was detected—no matter + how or by whom. But this was only his second detection, and three of his + four days of probation were past. + </p> + <p> + He dined this day at Captain Murray’s. In the room in which they dined + there was a picture of the captain, painted by Romney. Sir John, who + happened to be seated opposite to it, observed that it was a very fine + picture; the more he looked at it, the more he liked it. His admiration + was at last unluckily expressed: he said, “That’s an incomparable, an + inimitable picture; it is absolutely <i>more like than the original</i>.” + <a href="#linknote-63" name="linknoteref-63" id="linknoteref-63"><small>63</small></a> + </p> + <p> + A keen Scotch lady in company smiled, and repeated, “<i>More like than the + original</i>! Sir John, if I had not been told by my relative here that + you were an Englishman, I should have set you <i>doon</i>, from that + speech, for an Irishman.” + </p> + <p> + This unexpected detection brought the colour, for a moment, into Sir + John’s face; but immediately recovering his presence of mind, he said, + “That was, I acknowledge, an excellent Irish bull; but in the course of my + travels I have heard as good English bulls as Irish.” + </p> + <p> + To this Captain Murray politely acceded, and he produced some laughable + instances in support of the assertion, which gave the conversation a new + turn. + </p> + <p> + O’Mooney felt extremely obliged to the captain for this, especially as he + saw, by his countenance, that he also had suspicions of the truth. The + first moment he found himself alone with Murray, our hero said to him, + “Murray, you are too good a fellow to impose upon, even in jest. Your keen + country-woman guessed the truth—I am an Irishman, but not a + swindler. You shall hear why I conceal my country and name; only keep my + secret till to-morrow night, or I shall lose a hundred guineas by my + frankness.” + </p> + <p> + O’Mooney then explained to him the nature of his bet. “This is only my + third detection, and half of it voluntary, I might say, if I chose to + higgle, which I scorn to do.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Murray was so much pleased by this openness, that as he shook + hands with O’Mooney, he said, “Give me leave to tell you, sir, that even + if you should lose your bet by this frank behaviour, you will have gained + a better thing—a friend.” + </p> + <p> + In the evening our hero went with his friend and a party of gentlemen to + Maidenhead, near which place a battle was to be fought next day, between + two famous pugilists, Bourke and Belcher. At the appointed time the + combatants appeared upon the stage; the whole boxing corps and the + gentlemen <i>amateurs</i> crowded to behold the spectacle. Phelim + O’Mooney’s heart beat for the Irish champion Bourke; but he kept a guard + upon his tongue, and had even the forbearance not to bet upon his + countryman’s head. How many rounds were fought, and how many minutes the + fight lasted, how many blows were put <i>in</i> on each side, or which was + the <i>game man</i> of the two, we forbear to decide or relate, as all + this has been settled in the newspapers of the day; where also it was + remarked, that Bourke, who lost the battle, “was put into a post-chaise, + and left <i>standing</i> half an hour, while another fight took place. + This was very scandalous on the part of his friends,” says the humane + newspaper historian, “as the poor man might possibly be dying.” + </p> + <p> + Our hero O’Mooney’s heart again got the better of his head. Forgetful of + his bet, forgetful of every thing but humanity, he made his way up to the + chaise, where Bourke was left. “How are you, my gay fellow?” said he. “Can + you <i>see at all with the eye that’s knocked out</i>?” + </p> + <p> + The brutal populace, who overheard this question, set up a roar of + laughter: “A bull! a bull! an Irish bull! Did you hear the question this + Irish gentleman asked his countryman?” + </p> + <p> + O’Mooney was detected a fourth time, and this time he was not ashamed. + There was one man in the crowd who did not join in the laugh: a poor + Irishman, of the name of Terence M’Dermod. He had in former times gone out + a grousing, near Cork, with our hero; and the moment he heard his voice, + he sprang forward, and with uncouth but honest demonstrations of joy, + exclaimed, “Ah, my dear master! my dear young master! Phelim O’Mooney, + Esq. And I have found your honour alive again? By the blessing of God + above, I’ll never part you now till I die; and I’ll go to the world’s end + to <i>sarve yees</i>.” + </p> + <p> + O’Mooney wished him at the world’s end this instant, yet could not prevail + upon himself to check this affectionate follower of the O’Mooneys. He, + however, put half a crown into his hand, and hinted that if he wished + really to serve him, it must be at some other time. The poor fellow threw + down the money, saying, he would never leave him. “Bid me do any thing, + barring that. No, you shall never part me. Do what you plase with me, + still I’ll be close to your heart, like your own shadow: knock me down if + you will, and wilcome, ten times a day, and I’ll be up again like a + ninepin: only let me sarve your honour; I’ll ask no wages nor take none.” + </p> + <p> + There was no withstanding all this; and whether our hero’s good-nature + deceived him we shall not determine, but he thought it most prudent, as he + could not get rid of Terence, to take him into his service, to let him + into his secret, to make him swear that he would never utter the name of + Phelim O’Mooney during the remainder of this day. Terence heard the secret + of the bet with joy, entered into the jest with all the readiness of an + Irishman, and with equal joy and readiness swore by the hind leg of the + holy lamb that he would never mention, even to his own dog, the name of + Phelim O’Mooney, Esq., good or bad, till past twelve o’clock; and further, + that he would, till the clock should strike that hour, call his master Sir + John Bull, and nothing else, to all men, women, and children, upon the + floor of God’s creation. + </p> + <p> + Satisfied with the fulness of this oath, O’Mooney resolved to return to + town with his man Terence M’Dermod. He, however, contrived, before he got + there, to make a practical bull, by which he was detected a fifth time. He + got into the coach which was driving <i>from</i> London instead of that + which was driving <i>to</i> London, and he would have been carried rapidly + to Oxford, had not his man Terence, after they had proceeded a mile and a + half on the wrong road, put his head down from the top of the coach, + crying, as he looked in at the window, “Master, Sir John Bull, are you + there? Do you know we’re in the wrong box, going to Oxford?” + </p> + <p> + “Your master’s an Irishman, dare to say, as well as yourself,” said the + coachman, as he let Sir John out. He walked back to Maidenhead, and took a + chaise to town. + </p> + <p> + It was six o’clock when he got to London, and he went into a coffee-house + to dine. He sat down beside a gentleman who was reading the newspaper. + “Any news to-day, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman told him the news of the day, and then began to read aloud + some paragraphs in a strong Hibernian accent. Our hero was sorry that he + had met with another countryman; but he resolved to set a guard upon his + lips, and he knew that his own accent could not betray him. The stranger + read on till he came to a trial about a legacy which an old woman had left + to her cats. O’Mooney exclaimed, “I hate cats almost as much as old women; + and if I had been the English minister, I would have laid the <i>dog-tax</i> + upon cats.” + </p> + <p> + “If you had been the <i>Irish</i> minister, you mean,” said the stranger, + smiling; “for I perceive now you are a countryman of my own.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you think so, sir?” said O’Mooney: “you have no reason to suppose + so from my accent, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “None in life—quite the contrary; for you speak remarkably pure + English—not the least note or half note of the brogue; but there’s + another sort of freemason sign by which we Hibernians know one another, + and are known all over the globe. Whether to call it a confusion of + expressions or of ideas, I can’t tell. Now an Englishman, if he had been + saying what you did, sir, just now, would have taken time to separate the + dog and the tax, and he would have put the tax upon cats, and let the dogs + go about their business.” Our hero, with his usual good-humour, + acknowledged himself to be fairly detected. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said the stranger, “if I had not found you out before by the + blunder, I should be sure now you were my countryman by your good-humour. + An Irishman can take what’s said to him, provided no affront’s meant, with + more good-humour than any man on earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that he can,” cried O’Mooney: “he lends himself, like the whale, to + be tickled even by the fellow with the harpoon, till he finds what he is + about, and then he pays away, and pitches the fellow, boat and all, to the + devil. Ah, countryman! you would give me credit indeed for my good humour + if you knew what danger you have put me in by detecting me for an + Irishman. I have been found out six times, and if I blunder twice more + before twelve o’clock this night, I shall lose a hundred guineas by it: + but I will make sure of my bet; for I will go home straight this minute, + lock myself up in my room, and not say a word to any mortal till the + watchman cries ‘past twelve o’clock,’—then the fast and long Lent of + my tongue will be fairly over; and if you’ll meet me, my dear friend, at + the King’s Arms, we will have a good supper and keep Easter for ever.” + </p> + <p> + Phelim, pursuant to his resolution, returned to his hotel, and shut + himself up in his room, where he remained in perfect silence and + consequent safety till about nine o’clock. Suddenly he heard a great + huzzaing in the street; he looked out of the window, and saw that all the + houses in the street were illuminated. His landlady came bustling into his + apartment, followed by waiters with candles. His spirits instantly rose, + though he did not clearly know the cause of the rejoicings. “I give you + joy, ma’am. What are you all illuminating for?” said he to his landlady. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir, with all my heart. I am not sure. It is either for a + great victory or the peace. Bob—waiter—step out and inquire + for the gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman preferred stepping out to inquire for himself. The + illuminations were in honour of the peace. He totally forgot his bet, his + silence, and his prudence, in his sympathy with the general joy. He walked + rapidly from street to street, admiring the various elegant devices. A + crowd was standing before the windows of a house that was illuminated with + extraordinary splendour. He inquired whose it was, and was informed that + it belonged to a contractor, who had made an immense fortune by the war. + </p> + <p> + “Then I’m sure these illuminations of his for the peace are none of the + most sincere,” said O’Mooney. The mob were of his opinion; and Phelim, who + was now, alas! worked up to the proper pitch for blundering, added, by way + of pleasing his audience still more—“If this contractor had <i>illuminated</i> + in character, it should have been with <i>dark lanterns</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Should it? by Jasus! that would be an Irish illumination,” cried some + one. “Arrah, honey! you’re an Irishman, whoever you are, and have spoke + your mind in character.” + </p> + <p> + Sir John Bull was vexed that the piece of wit which he had aimed at the + contractor had recoiled upon himself. “It is always, as my countryman + observed, by having too much wit that I blunder. The deuce take me if I + sport a single bon mot more this night. This is only my seventh detection, + I have an eighth blunder still <i>to the good</i>; and if I can but keep + my wit to myself till I am out of purgatory, then I shall be in heaven, + and may sing Io Triumphe in spite of my brother.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, Phelim had not made it any part of his bet that he should not + speak to himself an Irish idiom, or that he should not <i>think</i> a + bull. Resolved to be as obstinately silent as a monk of La Trappe, he once + more shut himself up in his cell, and fell fast asleep—dreamed that + fat bulls of Basan encompassed him round about—that he ran down a + steep bill to escape them—that his foot slipped—he rolled to + the bottom—felt the bull’s horns in his side—heard the bull + bellowing in his—ears—wakened—and found Terence M’Dermod + bellowing at his room door. + </p> + <p> + “Sir John Bull! Sir John Bull! murder! murder! my dear master, Sir John + Bull! murder, robbery, and reward! let me in! for the love of the Holy + Virgin! they are all after you!” + </p> + <p> + “Who? are you drunk, Terence?” said Sir John, opening the door. + </p> + <p> + “No, but they are mad—all mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “The constable. They are all mad entirely, and the lord mayor, all along + with your honour’s making me swear I would not tell your name. Sure they + are all coming armed in a body to put you in jail for a forgery, unless I + run back and tell them the truth—will I?” + </p> + <p> + “First tell me the truth, blunderer!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll make my affidavit I never blundered, plase your honour, but just + went to the merchant’s, as you ordered, with the draft, signed with the + name I swore not to utter till past twelve. I presents the draft, and + waits to be paid. ‘Are you Mr. O’Mooney’s servant?’ says one of the clerks + after a while. ‘No, sir, not at all, sir,’ said I; ‘I’m Sir John Bull’s, + at your sarvice.’ He puzzles and puzzles, and asks me did I bring the + draft, and was that your writing at the bottom of it? I still said it was + my master’s writing, <i>Sir John Bull’s</i>, and no other. They whispered + from one up to t’other, and then said it was a forgery, as I overheard, + and I must go before the mayor. With that, while the master, who was + called down to be examined as to his opinion, was putting on his glasses + to spell it out, I gives them, one and all, the slip, and whips out of the + street door and home to give your honour notice, and have been breaking my + heart at the door this half hour to make you hear—and now you have + it all.” + </p> + <p> + “I am in a worse dilemma now than when between the horns of the bull,” + thought Sir John: “I must now either tell my real name, avow myself an + Irishman, and so lose my bet, or else go to jail.” + </p> + <p> + He preferred going to jail. He resolved to pretend to be dumb, and he + charged Terence not to betray him. The officers of justice came to take + him up: Sir John resigned himself to them, making signs that he could not + speak. He was carried before a magistrate. The merchant had never seen Mr. + Phelim O’Mooney, but could swear to his handwriting and signature, having + many of his letters and drafts. The draft in question was produced. Sir + John Bull would neither acknowledge nor deny the signature, but in dumb + show made signs of innocence. No art or persuasion could make him speak; + he kept his fingers on his lips. One of the bailiffs offered to open Sir + John’s mouth. Sir John clenched his hand, in token that if they used + violence he knew his remedy. To the magistrate he was all bows and + respect: but the law, in spite of civility, must take its course. + </p> + <p> + Terence McDermod beat his breast, and called upon all the saints in the + Irish calendar when he saw the committal actually made out, and his dear + master given over to the constables. Nothing but his own oath and his + master’s commanding eye, which was fixed upon him at this instant, could + have made him forbear to utter, what he had never in his life been before + so strongly tempted to tell—the truth. + </p> + <p> + Determined to win his wager, our hero suffered himself to be carried to a + lock-up house, and persisted in keeping silence till the clock struck + twelve! Then the charm was broken, and he spoke. He began talking to + himself, and singing as loud as he possibly could. The next morning + Terence, who was no longer bound by his oath to conceal Phelim’s name, + hastened to his master’s correspondent in town, told the whole story, and + O’Mooney was liberated. Having won his bet by his wit and steadiness, he + had now the prudence to give up these adventuring schemes, to which he had + so nearly become a dupe; he returned immediately to Ireland to his + brother, and determined to settle quietly to business. His good brother + paid him the hundred guineas most joyfully, declaring that he had never + spent a hundred guineas better in his life than in recovering a brother. + Phelim had now conquered his foolish dislike to trade: his brother took + him into partnership, and Phelim O’Mooney never relapsed into Sir John + Bull. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCLUSION. + </h2> + <p> + Unable any longer to support the tone of irony, we joyfully speak in our + own characters, and explicitly declare our opinion, that the Irish are an + ingenious, generous people; that the bulls and blunders of which they are + accused are often imputable to their neighbours, or that they are + justifiable by ancient precedents, or that they are produced by their + habits of using figurative and witty language. By what their good-humour + is produced we know not; but that it exists we are certain. In Ireland, + the countenance and heart expand at the approach of wit and humour: the + poorest labourer forgets his poverty and toil, in the pleasure of enjoying + a joke. Amongst all classes of the people, provided no malice is obviously + meant, none is apprehended. That such is the character of the majority of + the nation there cannot <i>to us</i> be a more convincing and satisfactory + proof than the manner in which a late publication<a href="#linknote-64" + name="linknoteref-64" id="linknoteref-64"><small>64</small></a> was + received in Ireland. The Irish were the first to laugh at the caricature + of their ancient foibles, and it was generally taken merely as + good-humoured raillery, not as insulting satire. If gratitude for this + generosity has now betrayed us unawares into the language of panegyric, we + may hope for pardon from the liberal of both nations. Those who are + thoroughly acquainted with Ireland will most readily acknowledge the + justice of our praises; those who are ignorant of the country will not, + perhaps, be displeased to have their knowledge of the people of Ireland + extended. Many foreign pictures of Irishmen are as grotesque and absurd as + the Chinese pictures of lions: having never seen that animal, the Chinese + can paint him only from the descriptions of voyagers, which are sometimes + ignorantly, sometimes wantonly exaggerated. + </p> + <p> + In Voltaire’s Age of Lewis the Fourteenth we find the following passage:—“Some + nations seem made to be subject to others. The English have always had + over the Irish the superiority of genius, wealth, and arms. The <i>superiority + which the whites have over the negroes</i>.” <a href="#linknote-65" + name="linknoteref-65" id="linknoteref-65"><small>65</small></a> A note in + a subsequent edition informs us, that the injurious expression—“<i>The + superiority which the whites have over the negroes,</i>” was erased by + Voltaire; and his editor subjoins his own opinion. “The nearly savage + state in which Ireland was when she was conquered, her superstition, the + oppression exercised by the English, the religious fanaticism which + divides the Irish into two hostile nations, such were the causes which + have held down this people in depression and weakness. Religious hatreds + are appeased, and this country has recovered her liberty. The Irish no + longer yield to the English, either in industry or in information.” <a + href="#linknote-66" name="linknoteref-66" id="linknoteref-66"><small>66</small></a> + </p> + <p> + The last sentence of this note might, if it had reached the eyes or ears + of the incensed Irish historian, Mr. O’Halloran, have assuaged his wrath + against Voltaire for the unguarded expression in the text; unless the amor + patriae of the historian, like the amour propre of some individuals, + instead of being gratified by congratulations on their improvement, should + be intent upon demonstrating that there never was anything to improve. As + we were neither <i>born nor</i> bred in Ireland, we cannot be supposed to + possess this amor patriae in its full force: we profess to be attached to + the country only for its merits; we acknowledge that it is a matter of + indifference to us whether the Irish derive their origin from the + Spaniards, or the Milesians, or the Welsh: we are not so violently anxious + as we ought to be to determine whether or not the language spoken by the + Phoenician slave, in Terence’s play, was Irish; nay, we should not break + our hearts if it could never be satisfactorily proved that Albion is only + another name for Ireland.<a href="#linknote-67" name="linknoteref-67" + id="linknoteref-67"><small>67</small></a> We moreover candidly confess + that we are more interested in the fate of the present race of its + inhabitants than in the historian of St. Patrick, St. Facharis, St. + Cormuc; the renowned Brien Boru; Tireldach, king of Connaught; M’Murrough, + king of Leinster; Diarmod; Righ-Damnha; Labra-Loing-seach; Tighermas; + Ollamh-Foldha; the M’Giolla-Pha-draigs; or even the great William of + Ogham; and by this declaration we have no fear of giving offence to any + but rusty antiquaries. We think it somewhat, more to the honour of Ireland + to enumerate the names of some of the men of genius whom she has produced: + Milton and Shakspeare stand unrivalled; but Ireland can boast of Usher, + Boyle, Denham, Congreve, Molyneux, Farquhar, Sir Richard Steele, + Bickerstaff, Sir Hans Sloane, Berkeley, Orrery, Parnell, Swift, T. + Sheridan, Welsham, Bryan Robinson, Goldsmith, Sterne, Johnsons<a + href="#linknote-68" name="linknoteref-68" id="linknoteref-68"><small>68</small></a>, + Tickel, Brooke, Zeland, Hussey Burgh, three Hamiltons, Young, Charlemont, + Macklin, Murphy, Mrs. Sheridan,<a href="#linknote-69" name="linknoteref-69" + id="linknoteref-69"><small>69</small></a> Francis Sheridan, Kirwan, + Brinsley Sheridan, and Burke. + </p> + <p> + We enter into no invidious comparisons: it is our sincere wish to + conciliate both countries; and if in this slight essay we should succeed + in diffusing a more just and enlarged idea of the Irish than has been + generally entertained, we hope the English will deem it not an + unacceptable service. Whatever might have been the policy of the English + nation towards Ireland whilst she was a separate kingdom, since the union + it can no longer be her wish to depreciate the talents or ridicule the + language of Hibernians. One of the Czars of Russia used to take the cap + and bells from his fool, and place it on the head of any of his subjects + whom he wished to disgrace. The idea of extending such a punishment to a + whole nation was ingenious and magnanimous; but England cannot now put it + into execution towards Ireland. Would it not be a practical bull to place + the bells upon her own imperial head? + </p> + <h3> + 1801. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_APPE" id="link2H_APPE"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The following collection of Foreign Bulls was given us by a man of + letters, who is now father of the French Academy. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + RECUEIL DE BÊTISES. + </p> + <p> + Toutes les nations ont des contes plaisans de bêtises échappées non + seulement à des personnes vraiment bêtes, mais aux distractions de gens + qui ne sont pas sans esprit. Les Italiens ont leurs <i>spropositi</i>, + leur arlequin ses balourdises, les Anglois leurs <i>blunders</i>, les + Irlandois leurs <i>bulls</i>. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Maria Edgeworth ayant fait un recueil de ces derniers, je + prends la liberté de lui offrir un petit recueil de nos bêtises qui + méritent le nom qu’elles portent aussi bien que les <i>Irish bulls</i>. + J’ai fait autrefois une dissertation où je recherchois quelle étoit la + cause du rire qu’excitent les bêtises, et dans laquelle j’appuyois mon + explication de beaucoup d’exemples et peut-être même du mien sans m’en + appercevoir; mais la femme d’esprit à qui j’ai adressé cette folie l’a + perdue, et je n’ai pas pu la recouvrir. + </p> + <p> + Je me souviens seulement que j’y prouvois <i>savamment</i> que le rire + excité par les bêtises est l’effet du contraste que nous saisissons entre + l’effort que fait l’homme qui dit la bêtise, et le mauvais succès de son + effort. J’assimilois la marche de l’esprit dans celui qui dit une bêtise, + à ce qui arrive à un homme qui cherchant à marcher légèrement sur un pavé + glissant, tombe lourdement, ou aux tours mal-adroits du paillasse de la + foire. Si l’on veut examiner les bêtises rassemblèes ici, on y trouvera + toujours un effort manqué de ce genre. + </p> + <p> + Un homme, dont la femme avoit été saignée, interrogé le lendemain pourquoi + elle ne paroissoit pas à table, répondit:—“Elle garde la chambre: + Morand l’a saignée hier, et une saignée affoiblit beaucoup quand elle est + faite par un habile homme.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Baville, intendant du Languedoc, avoit un secrétaire fort bête: il + se servoit un jour de lui pour écrire au ministre sur des affaires très + importantes et dicta ces mots: “Ne soyez point surpris de ce que je me + sers d’une main étrangère pour vous écrire sur cet objet. Mon secrétaire + est si bête qu’à ce moment même il ne s’apperçoit pas que je vous parle de + lui.” + </p> + <p> + On demandoit à un abbé de Laval Montmorency quel âge avoit son frère le + maréchal dont il étoit l’aîné. “Dans deux ans,” dit-il, “nous serons du + même âge.” + </p> + <p> + On se préparoit à observer une éclipse, et le roi devoit assister à + l’observation. M. de Jonville disoit à M. Cassini—“N’attendra-t-on + pas le roi pour commencer l’éclipse?” + </p> + <p> + Une femme du peuple qui avoit une petite fille malade avec le transport au + cerveau, disoit au médecin, “Ah, monsieur, si vous l’aviez entendu cette + nuit! elle a déraisonnée comme une grande personne.” + </p> + <p> + Un homme avoit parié 25 louis qu’il traverseroit le grand bassin des + Thuileries par un froid très rigoureux; il alla jusqu’au milieu, renonça à + son entreprise, et revint par le même chemin en disant, “J’aime mieux + perdre vingt-cinq louis que d’avoir une fluxion de poitrine.” + </p> + <p> + Un homme voyoit venir de loin un médecin de sa connoissance qui l’avoit + traité plusieurs années auparavant dans une maladie; il se détourna, et + cacha son visage pour n’être pas reconnu. On lui demandoit, “Pourquoi.”—“C’est,” + dit-il, “que je suis honteux devant lui de ce qu’il y a fort long temps + que je n’ai été malade.” + </p> + <p> + On demande à un homme qui vouloit vendre un cheval, “Votre cheval est-il + peureux?” “Oh, point du tout,” répond-il; “il vient de passer plusieurs + nuits tout seul dans son écurie.” + </p> + <p> + Dans une querelle entre un père et son fils, le père reprochoit à celui-ci + son ingratitude. “Je ne vous ai point d’obligations,” disoit le fils; + “vous m’avez fait beaucoup de tort; si vous n’étiez point né, je serois à + présent l’héritier de mon grand-père.” + </p> + <p> + Un avare faisant son testament, se fit lui-même son héritier. + </p> + <p> + Un homme voyoit un bateau si chargé que les bords en étoient à fleur + d’eau: “Ma foi,” dit-il, “si la rivière étoit un peu plus haute le bateau + iroit à fond.” + </p> + <p> + M. Hume, dans son histoire d’Angleterre, parlant de la conspiration + attribuée aux Catholiques en 1678 sous Charles II. rapporte le mot d’un + chevalier Player qui félicitoit la ville des précautions qu’elle avoit + prises—“Et sans lesquelles,” disoit-il, “tous les citoyens auroient + couru risque de se trouver égorgés le lendemain à leur réveil.” + </p> + <p> + Le maire d’une petite ville, entendant une querelle dans la rue au milieu + de la nuit, se lève du lit, et ouvrant la fenêtre, crie aux passans, + “Messieurs, me lèverai-je?” + </p> + <p> + Un sot faisoit compliment à une demoiselle don’t la mère venoit de se + marier en secondes noces avec un ancien ami de la maison—“Mademoiselle,” + lui dit-il, “je suis ravi de ce que monsieur votre père vient d’épouser + madame votre mère.” + </p> + <p> + Racine, qui avoit été toute sa vie courtisan très attentif, étoit enterré + à Port Royal des Champs dont les solitaires s’étoient attirés + l’indignation de Louis XIV. M. de Boissy, célèbre par ses distractions, + disoit, “Racine n’auroit pas fait cela de son vivant.” + </p> + <p> + On racontait dans une conversation que Monsieur de Buffon avoit disséqué + une de ses cousines, et une femme se récrioit sur l’inhumanité de + l’anatomiste. M. de Mairan lui dit, “Mais, madame, elle étoit morte.” + </p> + <p> + On parloit avec admiration de la belle vieillesse d’un homme de + quatre-vingt dix ans, quelqu’un dit—“Cela vous étonne, messieurs; si + mon père n’étoit pas mort, il auroit à présent cent ans accomplis.” + </p> + <p> + Mouet, de l’opera comique, conte qu’arrivant de Lyon, et ne voulant pas + qu’on sut qu’il étoit à Paris, il recommanda à son laquais, supposé qu’il + fut rencontré, de dire qu’il étoit à Lyon. Le laquais trouve un ami de son + maitre, qui lui en demande des nouvelles. “Il est à Lyon,” dit-il, “et il + ne sera de retour que la semaine prochaine.” “Mais,” continue le + questionneur, “que portez-vous là?” “Ce sont quelques provisions qu’il m’a + envoyé chercher pour son diner.” + </p> + <p> + Un homme examinoit un dessin représentant la coupe d’un vaisseau construit + en Hollande; quelqu’un lui dit, “Est-ce que monsieur entend le + Hollandois?” + </p> + <p> + Un homme de loi disoit qu’on ne pouvait pas faire une stipulation valable + avec un muet. Un des écoutans lui dit, “Monsieur le docteur, et avec un + boiteux, seroit-elle bonne?” + </p> + <p> + Un homme se plaignoit que la maison de son voisin lui ôtoit la vue d’une + de ses fenêtres; un autre lui dit, “Vous avez un remède; faites murer + cette fenêtre.” + </p> + <p> + Un homme ayarit écrit à sa maitresse, avoit glissé le billet sous la + porte, et puis s’avisant que la fille ne pourroit pas s’en appercevoir il + en écrivit un autre en ces termes, “J’ai mis un billet sous votre porte; + prenez-y garde quand vous sortirez.” + </p> + <p> + <i>Un homme étant sur le point de marier sa fille unique, se brouille avec + le prétendant, et dans sa colere il dit, “Non, monsieur, vous ne serez + jamais mon gendre, et quand j’aurois cent filles uniques, je ne vous en + donnerois pas une.</i>” + </p> + <p> + On avoit reçu à la grande poste une lettre avec cette adresse, <i>à + Monsieur mon fils, Rue, &c</i>. On alloit la mettre au rebut; un + commis s’y oppose, et dit qu’on trouvera à qui la lettre s’adresse. Dix ou + douze jours se passent. On voit arriver un grand benêt, qui dit, + “Messieurs, je viens savoir si on n’auroit pas garde ici une lettre de mon + cher père?” “Oui, monsieur,” lui dit le commis, “la voilà.” On prête ce + trait à Bouret, fermier général. + </p> + <p> + Milord Albemarle étant aux eaux d’Aix-la-Chapelle, et ne voulant pas être + connu, ordonna a un negre qui le servoit, si on lui demandoit qui étoit + son maitre, de dire qu’il étoit Frangois. On ne manqua pas de faire la + question an noir, qui répondit, “<i>Mon maître est Franpois, et mot aussi</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Un marchand, en finissant d’écrire une lettre à un de ses correspondans, + mourut subitement. Son commis ajouta en P.S. “Depuis ma lettre écrite je + suis mort ce matin. Mardi an soir <i>7ème</i>,” &c. + </p> + <p> + Un petit marchand prétendoit avoir acheté trois sols ce qu’il vendoit pour + deux. On lui représente que ce commerce le ruinera—“Ah,” dit-il, “je + me sauve sur la quantité.” + </p> + <p> + Le chevalier de Lorenzi, étant à Florence, étoit allé se promener avec + trois de ses amis à quelques lieues de la ville, à pied. Ils revenoient + fort las; la nuit approchoit; il veut se reposer: on lui dit qu’il restoit + quatres milles à faire—“Oh,” dit-il, “nous sommes quatres; ce n’est + qu’un mille chacun.” + </p> + <p> + On pretend qu’un fermier général voulant s’éviter l’ennui ou s’épargner + les frais des lettres dont on l’accabloit au nouvel an, écrivoit au mois + de Décembre à tous les employés de son département qu’il les dispensoit du + cérémonial, et que ceux-ci lui réponderoient pour l’assurer qu’ils se + conformeroient à ses ordres. + </p> + <p> + Maupertuis faisoit instruire un perroquet par son laquais, et vouloit + qu’on lui apprit des mots extraordinaires. Depuis deux ans le laquais, + enseignoit à l’animal à dire <i>monomotapa</i>, et le perroquet n’en + disoit que des syllabes séparées. Maupertuis faisoit des reproches au + laquais; “Oh, monsieur,” dit celui-ci, “cela ne va pas si vîte; je lui ai + d’abord appris <i>mo</i> et puis <i>no</i>.” “Vous êtes un bête,” dit + Maupertuis, “il faut lui dire le mot entier.” “Monsieur,” reprend le + laquais, “il faut lui donner le temps de comprendre.” + </p> + <p> + Il y a en Italien une lettre pleine de <i>spropositi</i> assez plaisans. + Un homme écrit à son ami, “Abbiamo avuto un famosissimo tremoto, che se + per la misericordia de Dio avesse durato una mezza hora di piu, saremmo + tutti andati al paradiso, che Dio ce ne liberi. Vi mando quatordici pere, + e sono tutti boni cristiani. A questa fiéra i porci sono saliti al cielo. + O ricevete, o non ricevete questa, datemene aviso.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN ESSAY ON THE NOBLE SCIENCE OF SELF-JUSTIFICATION. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For which an eloquence that aims <i>to vex</i>, + With native tropes of anger arms the <i>sex</i>.”—<i>Parnell.</i> + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Endowed as the fair sex indisputably are, with a natural genius for the + invaluable art of self-justification, it may not be displeasing to them to + see its rising perfection evinced by an attempt to reduce it to a science. + Possessed, as are all the fair daughters of Eve, of an hereditary + propensity, transmitted to them undiminished through succeeding + generations, to be “soon moved with slightest touch of blame;” very little + precept and practice will confirm them in the habit, and instruct them in + all the maxims of self-justification. + </p> + <p> + Candid pupil, you will readily accede to my first and fundamental axiom—that + a lady can do no wrong. + </p> + <p> + But simple as this maxim may appear, and suited to the level of the + meanest capacity, the talent of applying it on all the important, but more + especially on all the most trivial, occurrences of domestic life, so as to + secure private peace and public dominion, has hitherto been monopolized by + the female adepts in the art of self-justification. + </p> + <p> + Excuse me for insinuating by this expression, that there may yet be + amongst you some novices. To these, if any such, I principally address + myself. + </p> + <p> + And now, lest fired by ambition you lose all by aiming at too much, let me + explain and limit my first principle, “That you can do no wrong.” You must + be aware that real perfection is beyond the reach of mortals, nor would I + have you aim at it; indeed it is not in any degree necessary to our + purpose. You have heard of the established belief in the infallibility of + the sovereign pontiff, which prevailed not many centuries ago:—if + man was allowed to be infallible, I see no reason why the same privilege + should not be extended to woman;—but times have changed; and since + the happy age of credulity is past, leave the opinions of men to their + natural perversity—their actions are the best test of their faith. + Instead then of a belief in your infallibility, endeavour to enforce + implicit submission to your authority. This will give you infinitely less + trouble, and will answer your purpose as well. + </p> + <p> + Right and wrong, if we go to the foundation of things, are, as casuists + tell us, really words of very dubious signification, perpetually varying + with custom and fashion, and to be adjusted ultimately by no other + standards but opinion and force. Obtain power, then, by all means: power + is the law of man; make it yours. But to return from a frivolous + disquisition about right, let me teach you the art of defending the wrong. + After having thus pointed out to you the glorious end of your labours, I + must now instruct you in the equally glorious means. + </p> + <p> + For the advantage of my subject I address myself chiefly to married + ladies; but those who have not as yet the good fortune to have that common + enemy, a husband, to combat, may in the mean time practise my precepts + upon their fathers, brothers, and female friends; with caution, however, + lest by discovering their arms too soon, they preclude themselves from the + power of using them to the fullest advantage hereafter. I therefore + recommend it to them to prefer, with a philosophical moderation, the + future to the present. + </p> + <p> + Timid brides, you have, probably, hitherto been addressed as angels. + Prepare for the time when you shall again become mortal. Take the alarm at + the first approach of blame; at the first hint of a discovery that you are + any thing less than infallible:—contradict, debate, justify, + recriminate, rage, weep, swoon, do any thing but yield to conviction. + </p> + <p> + I take it for granted that you have already acquired sufficient command of + voice; you need not study its compass; going beyond its pitch has a + peculiarly happy effect upon some occasions. But are you voluble enough to + drown all sense in a torrent of words? Can you be loud enough to overpower + the voice of all who shall attempt to interrupt or contradict you? Are you + mistress of the petulant, the peevish, and the sullen tone? Have you + practised the sharpness which provokes retort, and the continual monotony + which by setting your adversary to sleep effectually precludes reply? an + event which is always to be considered as decisive of the victory, or at + least as reducing it to a drawn battle:—you and Somnus divide the + prize. + </p> + <p> + Thus prepared for an engagement, you will next, if you have not already + done it, study the weak part of the character of your enemy—your + husband, I mean: if he be a man of high spirit, jealous of command and + impatient of control, one who decides for himself, and who is little + troubled with the insanity of minding what the world says of him, you must + proceed with extreme circumspection; you must not dare to provoke the + combined forces of the enemy to a regular engagement, but harass him with + perpetual petty skirmishes: in these, though you gain little at a time, + you will gradually weary the patience, and break the spirit of your + opponent. If he be a man of spirit, he must also be generous; and what man + of generosity will contend for trifles with a woman who submits to him in + all affairs of consequence, who is in his power, who is weak, and who + loves him? + </p> + <p> + “Can superior with inferior power contend?” No; the spirit of a lion is + not to be roused by the teasing of an insect. + </p> + <p> + But such a man as I have described, besides being as generous as he is + brave, will probably be of an active temper: then you have an inestimable + advantage; for he will set a high value upon a thing for which you have + none—time; he will acknowledge the force of your arguments merely + from a dread of their length; he will yield to you in trifles, + particularly in trifles which do not militate against his authority; not + out of regard for you, but for his time; for what man can prevail upon + himself to debate three hours about what could be as well decided in three + minutes? + </p> + <p> + Lest amongst infinite variety the difficulty of immediate selection should + at first perplex you, let me point out, that matters of <i>taste</i> will + afford you, of all others, the most ample and incessant subjects of + debate. Here you have no criterion to appeal to. Upon the same principle, + next to matters of taste, points of opinion will afford the most constant + exercise to your talents. Here you will have an opportunity of citing the + opinions of all the living and dead you have ever known, besides the dear + privilege of repeating continually:—“Nay, you must allow <i>that</i>.” + Or, “You can’t deny this, for it’s the universal opinion—every body + says so! every body thinks so! I wonder to hear you express such an + opinion! Nobody but yourself is of that way of thinking!” with innumerable + other phrases, with which a slight attention to polite conversation will + furnish you. This mode of opposing authority to argument, and assertion to + proof, is of such universal utility, that I pray you to practise it. + </p> + <p> + If the point in dispute be some opinion relative to your character or + disposition, allow in general, that “you are sure you have a great many + faults;” but to every specific charge reply, “Well, I am sure I don’t + know, but I did not think <i>that</i> was one of my faults! nobody ever + accused me of that before! Nay, I was always remarkable for the contrary; + at least before I was acquainted with you, sir: in my own family I was + always remarkable for the contrary: ask any of my own friends; ask any of + them; they must know me best.” + </p> + <p> + But if, instead of attacking the material parts of your character, your + husband should merely presume to advert to your manners, to some slight + personal habit which might be made more agreeable to him; prove, in the + first place, that it is his fault that it is not agreeable to him; ask + which is most to blame, “she who ceases to please, or he who ceases to be + pleased"<a href="#linknote-70" name="linknoteref-70" id="linknoteref-70"><small>70</small></a>—His + eyes are changed, or opened. But it may perhaps have been a matter almost + of indifference to him, till you undertook its defence: then make it of + consequence by rising in eagerness, in proportion to the insignificance of + your object; if he can draw consequences, this will be an excellent + lesson: if you are so tender of blame in the veriest trifles, how + impeachable must you be in matters of importance! As to personal habits, + begin by denying that you have any; or in the paradoxical language of + Rousseau,<a href="#linknote-71" name="linknoteref-71" id="linknoteref-71"><small>71</small></a> + declare that the only habit you have is the habit of having none: as all + personal habits, if they have been of any long standing, must have become + involuntary, the unconscious culprit may assert her innocence without + hazarding her veracity. + </p> + <p> + However, if you happen to be detected in the very fact, and a person + cries, “Now, now, you are doing it!” submit, but declare at the same + moment—“That it is the very first time in your whole life that you + were ever known to be guilty of it; and therefore it can be no habit, and + of course nowise reprehensible.” + </p> + <p> + Extend the rage for vindication to all the objects which the most remotely + concern you; take even inanimate objects under your protection. Your + dress, your furniture, your property, every thing which is or has been + yours, defend, and this upon the principles of the soundest philosophy: + each of these things all compose a part of your personal merit (Vide + Hume); all that connected the most distantly with your idea gives pleasure + or pain to others, becomes an object of blame or praise, and consequently + claims your support or vindication. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the management of your house, children, family, and + affairs, probably some few errors of omission or commission may strike + your husband’s pervading eye; but these errors, admitting them to be + errors, you will never, if you please, allow to be charged to any + deficiency in memory, judgment, or activity, on your part. + </p> + <p> + There are surely people enough around you to divide and share the blame; + send it from one to another, till at last, by universal rejection, it is + proved to belong to nobody. You will say, however, that facts remain + unalterable; and that in some unlucky instance, in the changes and chances + of human affairs, you may be proved to have been to blame. Some stubborn + evidence may appear against you; still you may prove an alibi, or balance + the evidence. There is nothing equal to balancing evidence; doubt is, you + know, the most philosophic state of the human mind, and it will be kind of + you to keep your husband perpetually in this sceptical state. + </p> + <p> + Indeed the short method of denying absolutely all blameable facts, I + should recommend to pupils as the best; and if in the beginning of their + career they may startle at this mode, let them depend upon it that in + their future practice it must become perfectly familiar. The nice + distinction of simulation and dissimulation depends but on the trick of a + syllable; palliation and extenuation are universally allowable in + self-defence; prevarication inevitably follows, and falsehood “is but in + the next degree.” + </p> + <p> + Yet I would not destroy this nicety of conscience too soon. It may be of + use in your first setting out, because you must establish credit; in + proportion to your credit will be the value of your future asseverations. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time, however, argument and debate are allowed to the most + rigid moralist. You can never perjure yourself by swearing to a false + opinion. + </p> + <p> + I come now to the art of reasoning: don’t be alarmed at the name of + reasoning, fair pupils; I will explain to you my meaning. + </p> + <p> + If, instead of the fiery-tempered being I formerly described, you should + fortunately be connected with a man, who, having formed a justly high + opinion of your sex, should propose to treat you as his equal, and who in + any little dispute which might arise between you, should desire no other + arbiter than reason; triumph in his mistaken candour, regularly appeal to + the decision of reason at the beginning of every contest, and deny its + jurisdiction at the conclusion. I take it for granted that you will be on + the wrong side of every question, and indeed, in general, I advise you to + choose the wrong side of an argument to defend; whilst you are young in + the science, it will afford the best exercise, and, as you improve, the + best display of your talents. + </p> + <p> + If, then, reasonable pupils, you would succeed in argument, attend to the + following instructions. + </p> + <p> + Begin by preventing, if possible, the specific statement of any position, + or if reduced to it, use the most general terms, and take advantage of the + ambiguity which all languages and which most philosophers allow. Above all + things, shun definitions; they will prove fatal to you; for two persons of + sense and candour, who define their terms, cannot argue long without + either convincing, or being convinced, or parting in equal good-humour; to + prevent which, go over and over the same ground, wander as wide as + possible from the point, but always with a view to return at last + precisely to the same spot from which you set out. I should remark to you, + that the choice of your weapons is a circumstance much to be attended to: + choose always those which your adversary cannot use. If your husband is a + man of wit, you will of course undervalue a talent which is never + connected with judgment: “for your part, you do not presume to contend + with him in wit.” + </p> + <p> + But if he be a sober-minded man, who will go link by link along the chain + of an argument, follow him at first, till he grows so intent that he does + not perceive whether you follow him or not; then slide back to your own + station; and when with perverse patience he has at last reached the last + link of the chain, with one electric shock of wit make him quit his hold, + and strike him to the ground in an instant. Depend upon the sympathy of + the spectators, for to one who can understand <i>reason</i>, you will find + ten who admire <i>wit.</i> + </p> + <p> + But if you should not be blessed with “a ready wit,” if demonstration + should in the mean time stare you in the face, do not be in the least + alarmed—anticipate the blow. Whilst you have it yet in your power, + rise with becoming magnanimity, and cry, “I give it up! I give it up! La! + let us say no more about it; I do so hate disputing about trifles. I give + it up!” Before an explanation on the word trifle can take place, quit the + room with flying colours. + </p> + <p> + If you are a woman of sentiment and eloquence, you have advantages of + which I scarcely need apprize you. From the understanding of a man, you + have always an appeal to his heart, or, if not, to his affection, to his + weakness. If you have the good fortune to be married to a weak man, always + choose the moment to argue with him when you have a full audience. Trust + to the sublime power of numbers; it will be of use even to excite your own + enthusiasm in debate; then as the scene advances, talk of his cruelty, and + your sensibility, and sink with “becoming woe” into the pathos of injured + innocence. + </p> + <p> + Besides the heart and the weakness of your opponent, you have still + another chance, in ruffling his temper; which, in the course of a long + conversation, you will have a fair opportunity of trying; and if—for + philosophers will sometimes grow warm in the defence of truth—if he + should grow absolutely angry, you will in the same proportion grow calm, + and wonder at his rage, though you well know it has been created by your + own provocation. The by-standers, seeing anger without any adequate cause, + will all be of your side. + </p> + <p> + Nothing provokes an irascible man, interested in debate, and possessed of + an opinion of his own eloquence, so much as to see the attention of his + hearers go from him: you will then, when he flatters himself that he has + just fixed your eye with his <i>very best</i> argument, suddenly grow + absent:—your house affairs must call you hence—or you have + directions to give to your children—or the room is too hot, or too + cold—the window must be opened—or door shut—or the + candle wants snuffing. Nay, without these interruptions, the simple motion + of your eye may provoke a speaker; a butterfly, or the figure in a carpet + may engage your attention in preference to him; or if these objects be + absent, the simply averting your eye, looking through the window in quest + of outward objects, will show that your mind has not been abstracted, and + will display to him at least your wish of not attending. He may, however, + possibly have lost the habit of watching your eye for approbation; then + you may assault his ear: if all other resources fail, beat with your foot + that dead march of the spirits, that incessant tattoo, which so well + deserves its name. Marvellous must be the patience of the much-enduring + man whom some or other of these devices do not provoke: slight causes + often produce great effects; the simple scratching of a pick-axe, properly + applied to certain veins in a mine, will cause the most dreadful + explosions. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto we have only professed to teach the defensive; let me now + recommend to you the offensive part of the art of justification. As a + supplement to reasoning comes recrimination: the pleasure of proving that + you are right is surely incomplete till you have proved that your + adversary is wrong; this might have been a secondary, let it now become a + primary object with you; rest your own defence on it for further security: + you are no longer to consider yourself as obliged either to deny, + palliate, argue, or declaim, but simply to justify yourself by criminating + another; all merit, you know, is judged of by comparison. In the art of + recrimination, your memory will be of the highest service to you; for you + are to open and keep an account-current of all the faults, mistakes, + neglects, unkindnesses of those you live with; these you are to state + against your own: I need not tell you that the balance will always be in + your favour. In stating matters or opinion, produce the words of the very + same person which passed days, months, years before, in contradiction to + what he is then saying. By displacing, disjointing words and sentences, by + mis-understanding the whole, or quoting only a part of what has been said, + you may convict any man of inconsistency, particularly if he be a man of + genius and feeling; for he speaks generally from the impulse of the + moment, and of all others can the least bear to be charged with paradoxes. + So far for a husband. + </p> + <p> + Recriminating is also of sovereign use in the quarrels of friends; no + friend is so perfectly equable, so ardent in affection, so nice in + punctilio, as never to offend: then “Note his faults, and con them all by + rote.” Say you can forgive, but you can never forget; and surely it is + much more generous to forgive and remember, than to forgive and forget. On + every new alarm, call the unburied ghosts from former fields of battle; + range them in tremendous array, call them one by one to witness against + the conscience of your enemy, and ere the battle is begun take from him + all courage to engage. + </p> + <p> + There is one case I must observe to you in which recrimination has + peculiar poignancy. If you have had it in your power to confer obligations + on any one, never cease reminding them of it: and let them feel that you + have acquired an indefeasible right to reproach them without a possibility + of their retorting. It is a maxim with some sentimental people, “To treat + their servants as if they were their friends in distress.”—I have + observed that people of this cast make themselves amends, by treating + their friends in distress as if they were their servants. + </p> + <p> + Apply this maxim—you may do it a thousand ways, especially in + company. In general conversation, where every one is supposed to be on a + footing, if any of your humble companions should presume to hazard an + opinion contrary to yours, and should modestly begin with, “I think;” look + as the man did when he said to his servant, “You think, sir—what + business have you to think?” + </p> + <p> + Never fear to lose a friend by the habits which I recommend: + reconciliations, as you have often heard it said—reconciliations are + the cement of friendship; therefore friends should quarrel to strengthen + their attachment, and offend each other for the pleasure of being + reconciled. + </p> + <p> + I beg pardon for digressing: I was, I believe, talking of your husband, + not of your friend—I have gone far out of the way. + </p> + <p> + If in your debates with your husband you should want “eloquence to vex + him,” the dull prolixity of narration, joined to the complaining monotony + of voice which I formerly recommended, will supply its place, and have the + desired effect: Somnus will prove propitious; then, ever and anon as the + soporific charm begins to work, rouse him with interrogatories, such as, + “Did not you say so? Don’t you remember? Only answer me that!” + </p> + <p> + By-the-by, interrogatories artfully put may lead an unsuspicious reasoner, + you know, always to your own conclusion. + </p> + <p> + In addition to the patience, philosophy, and other good things which + Socrates learned from his wife, perhaps she taught him this mode of + reasoning. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, the precepts of art, and even the natural susceptibility + of your tempers, will avail you little in the sublime of our science, if + you cannot command that ready enthusiasm which will make you enter into + the part you are acting; that happy imagination which shall make you + believe all you fear and all you invent. + </p> + <p> + Who is there amongst you who cannot or who will not justify when they are + accused? Vulgar talent! the sublime of our science is to justify before we + are accused. There is no reptile so vile but what will turn when it is + trodden on; but of a nicer sense and nobler species are those whom nature + has endowed with antennas, which perceive and withdraw at the distant + approach of danger. Allow me another allusion: similes cannot be crowded + too close for a female taste; and analogy, I have heard, my fair pupils, + is your favourite mode of reasoning. + </p> + <p> + The sensitive plant is too vulgar an allusion; but if the truth of modern + naturalists may be depended upon, there is a plant which, instead of + receding timidly from the intrusive touch, angrily protrudes its venomous + juices upon all who presume to meddle with it:—do not you think this + plant would be your fittest emblem? + </p> + <p> + Let me, however, recommend it to you, nice souls, who, of the mimosa kind, + “fear the dark cloud, and feel the coming storm,” to take the utmost + precaution lest the same susceptibility which you cherish as the dear + means to torment others should insensibly become a torment to yourselves. + </p> + <p> + Distinguish then between sensibility and susceptibility; between the + anxious solicitude not to give offence, and the captious eagerness of + vanity to prove that it ought not to have been taken; distinguish between + the desire of praise and the horror of blame: can any two things be more + different than the wish to improve, and the wish to demonstrate that you + have never been to blame? + </p> + <p> + Observe, I only wish you to distinguish these things in your own minds; I + would by no means advise you to discontinue the laudable practice of + confounding them perpetually in speaking to others. + </p> + <p> + When you have nearly exhausted human patience in explaining, justifying, + vindicating; when, in spite of all the pains you have taken, you have more + than half betrayed your own vanity; you have a never-failing resource, in + paying tribute to that of your opponent, as thus:— + </p> + <p> + “I am sure you must be sensible that I should never take so much pains to + justify myself if I were indifferent to your opinion.—I know that I + ought not to disturb myself with such trifles; but nothing is a trifle to + me which concerns you. I confess I am too anxious to please; I know it’s a + fault, but I cannot cure myself of it now.—Too quick sensibility, I + am conscious, is the defect of my disposition; it would be happier for me + if I could be more indifferent, I know.” + </p> + <p> + Who could be so brutal as to blame so amiable, so candid a creature? Who + would not submit to be tormented with kindness? + </p> + <p> + When once your captive condescends to be flattered by such arguments as + these, your power is fixed; your future triumphs can be bounded only by + your own moderation; they are at once secured and justified. + </p> + <p> + Forbear not, then, happy pupils; but, arrived at the summit of power, give + a full scope to your genius, nor trust to genius alone: to exercise in all + its extent your privileged dominion, you must acquire, or rather you must + pretend to have acquired, infallible skill in the noble art of + physiognomy; immediately the thoughts as well as the words of your + subjects are exposed to your inquisition. + </p> + <p> + Words may flatter you, but the countenance never can deceive you; the eyes + are the windows of the soul, and through them you are to watch what passes + in the inmost recesses of the heart. There, if you discern the slightest + ideas of doubt, blame, or displeasure; if you discover the slightest + symptoms of revolt, take the alarm instantly. Conquerors must maintain + their conquests; and how easily can they do this, who hold a secret + correspondence with the minds of the vanquished! Be your own spies then; + from the looks, gestures, slightest motions of your enemies, you are to + form an alphabet, a language intelligible only to yourselves, yet by which + you shall condemn them; always remembering that in sound policy suspicion + justifies punishment. In vain, when you accuse your friends of the high + treason of blaming you, in vain let them plead their innocence, even of + the intention. “They did not say a word which could be tortured into such + a meaning.” No, “but they looked daggers, though they used none.” + </p> + <p> + And of this you are to be the sole judge, though there were fifty + witnesses to the contrary. + </p> + <p> + How should indifferent spectators pretend to know the countenance of your + friend as well as you do—you, that have a nearer, a dearer interest + in attending to it? So accurate have been your observations, that no + thought of their souls escapes you; nay, you often can tell even what they + are going to think of. + </p> + <p> + The science of divination certainly claims your attention; beyond the past + and the present, it shall extend your dominion over the future; from + slight words, half-finished sentences, from silence itself, you shall draw + your omens and auguries. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you were going to say;” or, “I know such a thing was a sign + you were inclined to be displeased with me.” + </p> + <p> + In the ardour of innocence, the culprit, to clear himself from such + imputations, incurs the imputation of a greater offence. Suppose, to prove + that you were mistaken, to prove that he could not have meant to blame + you, he should declare that at the moment you mention, “You were quite + foreign to his thoughts; he was not thinking at all about you.” + </p> + <p> + Then in truth you have a right to be angry. To one of your class of + justificators, this is the highest offence. Possessed as you are of the + firm opinion that all persons, at all times, on all occasions, are intent + upon you alone, is it not less mortifying to discover that you were + thought ill of, than that you were not thought of at all? “Indifference, + you know, sentimental pupils, is more fatal to love than even hatred.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, my dear pupils, I have endeavoured to provide precepts adapted to + the display of your several talents; but if there should be any amongst + you who have no talents, who can neither argue nor persuade, who have + neither sentiment nor enthusiasm, I must indeed—congratulate them;—they + are peculiarly qualified for the science of Self-justification: indulgent + nature, often even in the weakness, provides for the protection of her + creatures; just Providence, as the guard of stupidity, has enveloped it + with the impenetrable armour of obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + Fair idiots! let women of sense, wit, feeling, triumph in their various + arts: yours are superior. Their empire, absolute as it sometimes may be, + is perpetually subject to sudden revolutions. With them, a man has some + chance of equal sway: with a fool he has none. Have they hearts and + understandings? Then the one may be touched, or the other in some unlucky + moment convinced; even in their very power lies their greatest danger:—not + so with you. In vain let the most candid of his sex attempt to reason with + you; let him begin with, “Now, my dear, only listen to reason:”—you + stop him at once with, “No, my dear, you know I do not pretend to reason; + I only say, that’s my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Let him go on to prove that yours is a mistaken opinion:—you are + ready to acknowledge it long before he desires it. “You acknowledge it may + be a wrong opinion; but still it is your opinion.” You do not maintain it + in the least, either because you believe it to be wrong or right, but + merely because it is yours. Exposed as you might have been to the + perpetual humiliation of being convinced, nature seems kindly to have + denied you all perception of truth, or at least all sentiment of pleasure + from the perception. + </p> + <p> + With an admirable humility, you are as well contented to be in the wrong + as in the right; you answer all that can be said to you with a provoking + humility of aspect. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I do not doubt but what you say may be very true, but I cannot tell; + I do not think myself capable of judging on these subjects; I am sure you + must know much better than I do. I do not pretend to say but that your + opinion is very just; but I own I am of a contrary way of thinking; I + always thought so, and I always shall.” + </p> + <p> + Should a man with persevering temper tell you that he is ready to adopt + your sentiments if you will only explain them; should he beg only to have + a reason for your opinion—no, you can give no reason. Let him urge + you to say something in its defence:—no; like Queen Anne,<a + href="#linknote-72" name="linknoteref-72" id="linknoteref-72"><small>72</small></a> + you will only repeat the same thing over again, or be silent. Silence is + the ornament of your sex; and in silence, if there be not wisdom, there is + safety. You will, then, if you please, according to your custom, sit + listening to all entreaties to explain, and speak—with a fixed + immutability of posture, and a pre-determined deafness of eye, which shall + put your opponent utterly out of patience; yet still by persevering with + the same complacent importance of countenance, you shall half persuade + people you could speak if you would; you shall keep them in doubt by that + true want of meaning, “which puzzles more than wit;” even because they + cannot conceive the excess of your stupidity, they shall actually begin to + believe that they themselves are stupid. Ignorance and doubt are the great + parents of the sublime. + </p> + <p> + Your adversary, finding you impenetrable to argument, perhaps would try + wit:—but, “On the impassive ice the lightnings play.” His eloquence + or his kindness will avail less; when in yielding to you after a long + harangue, he expects to please you, you will answer undoubtedly with the + utmost propriety, “That you should be very sorry he yielded his judgment + to you; that he is very good; that you are much obliged to him; but that, + as to the point in dispute, it is a matter of perfect indifference to you; + for your part, you have no choice at all about it; you beg that he will do + just what he pleases; you know that it is the duty of a wife to submit; + but you hope, however, you may have an <i>opinion</i> of your own.” + </p> + <p> + Remember, all such speeches as these will lose above half their effect, if + you cannot accompany them with the vacant stare, the insipid smile, the + passive aspect of the humbly perverse. + </p> + <p> + Whilst I write, new precepts rush upon my recollection; but the subject is + inexhaustible. I quit it with regret, though fully sensible of my + presumption in having attempted to instruct those who, whilst they read, + will smile in the consciousness of superior powers. Adieu! then, my fair + readers: long may you prosper in the practice of an art peculiar to your + sex! Long may you maintain unrivalled dominion at home and abroad; and + long may your husbands rue the hour when first they made you promise <i>“to + obey!”</i> + </p> + <p> + [<i>Written in 1787—published in 1795.</i>] + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TALES OF FASHIONABLE LIFE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tutta la gente in lieta fronte udiva + Le graziose e finte istorielle, + Ed Ì difetti altrui tosto scopriva + Ciascuno, e non i proprj espressi in quelle; + O se de’ proprj sospettava, ignoti + Credeali a ciascun altro, e a se sol noti. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF2" id="link2H_PREF2"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + My daughter asks me for a Preface to the following volumes; from a + pardonable weakness she calls upon me for parental protection: but, in + fact, the public judges of every work, not from the sex, but from the + merit of the author. + </p> + <p> + What we feel, and see, and hear, and read, affects our conduct from the + moment when we begin, till the moment when we cease to think. It has + therefore been my daughter’s aim to promote, by all her writings, the + progress of education from the cradle to the grave. + </p> + <p> + Miss Edgeworth’s former works consist of tales for children—of + stories for young men and women—and of tales suited to that great + mass which does not move in the circles of fashion. The present volumes + are intended to point out some of those errors to which the higher classes + of society are disposed. + </p> + <p> + All the parts of this series of moral fictions bear upon the faults and + excellencies of different ages and classes; and they have all arisen from + that view of society which we have laid before the public in more didactic + works on education. In the PARENT’S ASSISTANT, in MORAL and in POPULAR + TALES, it was my daughter’s aim to exemplify the principles contained in + PRACTICAL EDUCATION. In these volumes, and in others which are to follow, + she endeavours to disseminate, in a familiar form, some of the ideas that + are unfolded in ESSAYS ON PROFESSIONAL EDUCATION. + </p> + <p> + The first of these stories is called + </p> + <p> + ENNUI.—The causes, curses, and cure of this disease are exemplified, + I hope, in such a manner, as not to make the remedy worse than the + disease. Thiebauld tells us, that a prize-essay on Ennui was read to the + Academy of Berlin, which put all the judges to sleep. + </p> + <p> + THE DUN—is intended as a lesson against the common folly of + believing that a debtor is able, by a few cant phrases, to alter the + nature of right and wrong. We had once thoughts of giving to these books + the title of FASHIONABLE TALES: alas! the Dun could never have found + favour with fashionable readers. + </p> + <p> + MANOEUVRING—is a vice to which the little great have recourse, to + show their second-rate abilities. Intrigues of gallantry upon the + continent frequently lead to political intrigue: amongst us the attempts + to introduce this <i>improvement</i> of our manners have not yet been + successful; but there are, however, some, who, in every thing they say or + do, show a predilection for “left-handed wisdom.” It is hoped that the + picture here represented of a <i>manoeuvrer</i> has not been made + alluring. + </p> + <p> + ALMERIA—gives a view of the consequences which usually follow the + substitution of the gifts of fortune in the place of merit; and shows the + meanness of those who imitate manners and haunt company above their + station in society. + </p> + <p> + Difference of rank is a continual excitement to laudable emulation; but + those who consider the being admitted into circles of fashion as the + summit of human bliss and elevation, will here find how grievously such + frivolous ambition may be disappointed and chastised. + </p> + <p> + I may be permitted to add a word on the respect with which Miss Edgeworth + treats the public—their former indulgence has not made her careless + or presuming. The dates subjoined to these stories show that they have not + been hastily intruded upon the reader. + </p> + <h3> + RICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH. + </h3> + <p> + Edgeworthstown, + </p> + <p> + March, 1809. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ENNUI; OR, MEMOIRS OF THE EARL OF GLENTHORN. + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “‘Que faites-vous à Potzdam?’ demandois-je un jour an prince Guillaume. + ‘Monsieur,’ me répondit-il, ‘nous passons notre vie à conjuguer tous le + même verbe; <i>Je m’ennuie, tu t’ennuies, il s’ennuie, nous nous ennuyons, + vous vous ennuyez, ils s’ennuient; je m’ennuyois, je m’ennuierai,</i>’” + &c. + </p> + <p> + THIEBAULD, Mém. de Frédéric le Grand. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + Bred up in luxurious indolence, I was surrounded by friends who seemed to + have no business in this world but to save me the trouble of thinking or + acting for myself; and I was confirmed in the pride of helplessness by + being continually reminded that I was the only son and heir of the Earl of + Glenthorn. My mother died a few weeks after I was born; and I lost my + father when I was very young. I was left to the care of a guardian, who, + in hopes of winning my affection, never controlled my wishes or even my + whims: I changed schools and masters as often as I pleased, and + consequently learned nothing. At last I found a private tutor who suited + me exactly, for he was completely of my own opinion, “that every thing + which the young Earl of Glenthorn did not know by the instinct of genius + was not worth his learning.” Money could purchase a reputation for + talents, and with money I was immoderately supplied; for my guardian + expected to bribe me with a part of my own fortune, to forbear inquiring + what had become of a certain deficiency in the remainder. This tacit + compact I perfectly understood: we were consequently on the most amicable + terms imaginable, and the most confidential; for I thought it better to + deal with my guardian than with Jews. Thus at an age when other young men + are subject to some restraint, either from the necessity of their + circumstances, or the discretion of their friends, I became completely + master of myself and of my fortune. My companions envied me; but even + their envy was not sufficient to make me happy. Whilst yet a boy, I began + to feel the dreadful symptoms of that mental malady which baffles the + skill of medicine, and for which wealth can purchase only temporary + alleviation. For this complaint there is no precise English name; but, + alas! the foreign term is now naturalized in England. Among the higher + classes, whether in the wealthy or the fashionable world, who is + unacquainted with <i>ennui</i>? At first I was unconscious of being + subject to this disease; I felt that something was the matter with me, but + I did not know what: yet the symptoms were sufficiently marked. I was + afflicted with frequent fits of fidgeting, yawning, and stretching, with a + constant restlessness of mind and body; an aversion to the place I was in, + or the thing I was doing, or rather to that which was passing before my + eyes, for I was never doing any thing; I had an utter abhorrence and an + incapacity of voluntary exertion. Unless roused by external stimulus, I + sank into that kind of apathy, and vacancy of ideas, vulgarly known by the + name of <i>a brown study</i>. If confined in a room for more than half an + hour by bad weather or other contrarieties, I would pace backwards and + forwards, like the restless <i>cavia</i> in his den, with a fretful, + unmeaning pertinacity. I felt an insatiable longing for something new, and + a childish love of locomotion. + </p> + <p> + My physician and my guardian, not knowing what else to do with me, sent me + abroad. I set out upon my travels in my eighteenth year, attended by my + favourite tutor as my <i>companion</i>. We perfectly agreed in our ideas + of travelling; we hurried from place to place as fast as horses and + wheels, and curses and guineas, could carry us. Milord Anglois rattled + over half the globe without getting one inch farther from his ennui. Three + years were to be consumed before I should be of age. What sums did I spend + during this interval in expedition-money to Time! but the more I tried to + hasten him, the slower the rogue went. I lost my money and my temper. + </p> + <p> + At last the day for which I had so long panted arrived—I was + twenty-one! and I took possession of my estate. The bells rang, the + bonfires blazed, the tables were spread, the wine flowed, huzzas + resounded, friends and tenants crowded about me, and nothing but the voice + of joy and congratulation was to be heard. The bustle of my situation kept + me awake for some weeks; the pleasure of property was new, and, as long as + the novelty lasted, delightful. I cannot say that I was satisfied; but my + mind was distended by the sense of the magnitude of my possessions. I had + large estates in England; and in one of the remote maritime counties of + Ireland, I was lord over an immense territory, annexed to the ancient + castle of Glenthorn;—a noble pile of antiquity! worth ten degenerate + castles of modern days. It was placed in a bold romantic situation: at + least as far as I could judge of it by a picture, said to be a striking + likeness, which hung in my hall at Sherwood Park in England. I was born in + Ireland, and nursed, as I was told, in an Irish cabin: for my father had + an idea that this would make me hardy; he left me with my Irish nurse till + I was two years old, and from that time forward neither he nor I ever + revisited Ireland. He had a dislike to that country, and I grew up in his + prejudices. I declared that I would always reside in England. Sherwood + Park, my English country-seat, had but one fault, it was completely + finished. The house was magnificent, and in the modern taste; the + furniture fashionably elegant, and in all the gloss of novelty. Not a + single luxury omitted; not a fault could be found by the most fastidious + critic. My park, my grounds, displayed all the beauties of nature and of + art, judiciously combined. Majestic woods, waving their dark foliage, + overhung——But I will spare my readers the description, for I + remember falling asleep myself whilst a poet was reading to me an ode on + the beauties of Sherwood Park. These beauties too soon became familiar to + my eye; and even the idea of being the proprietor of this enchanting place + soon palled upon my vanity. Every casual visitor, all the strangers, even + the common people, who were allowed once a week to walk in my + pleasure-grounds, enjoyed them a thousand times more than I could. I + remember, that, about six weeks after I came to Sherwood Park, I one + evening escaped from the crowds of <i>friends</i> who filled my house, to + indulge myself in a solitary, melancholy walk. I saw at some distance a + party of people, who were coming to admire the place; and to avoid meeting + them I took shelter under a fine tree, the branches of which, hanging to + the ground, concealed me from the view of passengers. Thus seated, I was + checked in the middle of a desperate yawn, by hearing one among the party + of strangers exclaiming— + </p> + <p> + “How happy the owner of this place must be!” + </p> + <p> + Yes, had I known how to enjoy the goods of life, I might have been happy; + but want of occupation, and antipathy to exertion, rendered me one of the + most miserable men upon earth. Still I imagined that the cause of my + discontent proceeded from some external circumstance. Soon after my coming + of age, business of various sorts required my attention; papers were to be + signed, and lands were to be let: these things appeared to me terrible + difficulties. Not even that minister of state, who so feelingly describes + his horror at the first appearance of the secretary with the great + portfolio, ever experienced sensations so oppressive as mine were, when my + steward began to talk to me of my own affairs. In the peevishness of my + indolence, I declared that I thought the pains overbalanced the pleasures + of property. Captain Crawley, a friend—a sort of a friend—a + humble companion of mine, a gross, unblushing, thorough-going flatterer, + happened to be present when I made this declaration: he kindly undertook + to stand between me and the shadow of trouble. I accepted this offer. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Crawley,” said I, “do see and settle with these people.” + </p> + <p> + I had not the slightest confidence in the person into whose hands, to save + myself from the labour of thinking, I thus threw all my affairs; but I + satisfied my understanding, by resolving that, when I should have leisure, + I would look out for an agent upon whom I could depend. + </p> + <p> + I had now been nearly two months at Sherwood Park; too long a time, I + thought, to remain in any place, and I was impatient to get away. My + steward, who disliked the idea of my spending my summers at home, found it + easy to persuade me that the water on my estate had a brackish unwholesome + taste. The man who told me this stood before me in perfect health, though + he had drunk this insalubrious water all his life: but it was too + laborious a task for my intellects to compare the evidence of my different + senses, and I found it most easy to believe what I heard, though it was in + direct opposition to what I saw. Away I hurried to a <i>watering-place</i>, + after the example of many of my noble contemporaries, who leave their + delightful country-seats, to pay, by the inch, for being squeezed up in + lodging-houses, with all imaginable inconvenience, during the hottest + months in summer. I whiled away my time at Brighton, cursing the heat of + the weather, till the winter came, and then cursing the cold, and longing + for the London winter. + </p> + <p> + The London winter commenced; and the young Earl of Glenthorn, and his + entertainments, and his equipages, and extravagance, were the conversation + of all the world, and the joy of the newspapers. The immense cost of the + fruit at my desserts was recorded; the annual expense of the vast nosegays + of hot-house flowers worn daily by the footmen who clung behind my coach + was calculated; the hundreds of wax lights, which burned nightly in my + house, were numbered by the idle admirers of folly; and it was known by + every body that Lord Glenthorn suffered nothing but wax to be burned in + his stables; that his servants drank nothing but claret and champagne; + that his liveries, surpassing the imagination of ambassadors, vied with + regal magnificence, whilst their golden trappings could have stood even + the test of Chinese curiosity. My coachmaker’s bill for this year, if laid + before the public, would amuse and astonish sober-minded people, as much + as some charges which have lately appeared in our courts of justice for <i>extraordinary + coaches</i>, and <i>very extraordinary landaus</i>. I will not enter into + the detail of my extravagance in minor articles of expense; these, I + thought, could never be felt by such a fortune as that of the Earl of + Glenthorn; but, for the information of those who have the same course to + run or to avoid, I should observe, that my diurnal visits to jewellers’ + shops amounted, in time, to sums worth mentioning. Of the multitude of + baubles that I bought, the rings, the seals, the chains, I will give no + account; it would pass the belief of man, and the imagination of woman. + Those who have the least value for their time have usually the greatest + number of watches, and are the most anxious about the exactness of their + going. I and my repeaters were my own plagues, and the profit of all the + fashionable watchmakers, whose shops I regularly visited for a <i>lounge</i>. + My history, at this period, would be a complete <i>lounger’s journal</i>; + but I will spare my readers this diary. I wish, however, as I have had + ample experience, to impress it on the minds of all whom it may concern, + that a lounger of fortune <i>must</i> be extravagant. I went into shops + merely to pass an idle hour, but I could not help buying something; and I + was ever at the mercy of tradesmen, who took advantage of my indolence, + and who thought my fortune inexhaustible. I really had not any taste for + expense; but I let all who dealt with me, especially my servants, do as + they pleased, rather than be at the trouble of making them do as they + ought. They assured me, that Lord Glenthorn must have such and such + things, and must do so and so; and I quietly submitted to this imaginary + necessity. + </p> + <p> + All this time I was the envy of my acquaintance; but I was more deserving + of their compassion. Without anxiety or exertion, I possessed every thing + they wanted; but then I had no motive—I had nothing to desire. I had + an immense fortune, and I was the Earl of Glenthorn: my title and wealth + were sufficient distinctions; how could I be anxious about my boots, or + the cape of my coat, or any of those trifles which so happily interest and + occupy the lives of fashionable young men, who have not the misfortune to + possess large estates? Most of my companions had some real or imaginary + grievance, some old uncle or father, some <i>cursed</i> profession to + complain of; but I had none. They had hopes and fears; but I had none. I + was on the pinnacle of glory, which they were endeavouring to reach; and I + had nothing to do but to sit still, and enjoy the barrenness of the + prospect. + </p> + <p> + In this recital I have communicated, I hope, to my readers some portion of + that ennui which I endured; otherwise they cannot form an adequate idea of + my temptation to become a gambler. I really had no vice, nor any of those + propensities which lead to vice; but ennui produced most of the effects + that are usually attributed to strong passions or a vicious disposition. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “O! ressource assurée, + Viens ranimer leur langueur desoeuvrée: + Leur âme vide est du moins amusée + Par l’avarice en plaisir deguisée.” + </pre> + <p> + Gaming relieved me from that insuperable listlessness by which I was + oppressed. I became interested—I became agitated; in short, I found + a new kind of stimulus, and I indulged in it most intemperately. I grew + immoderately fond of that which supplied me with sensations. My days and + nights were passed at the gaming-table. I remember once spending three + days and three nights in the hazard-room of a well-known house in St. + James’s-street: the shutters were closed, the curtains down, and we had + candles the whole time; even in the adjoining rooms we had candles, that + when our doors were opened to bring in refreshments, no obtrusive gleam of + daylight might remind us how the hours had passed. How human nature + supported the fatigue, I know not. We scarcely allowed ourselves a + moment’s pause to take the sustenance our bodies required. At last, one of + the markers, who had been in the room with us the whole time, declared + that he could hold out no longer, and that sleep he must. With difficulty + he obtained an hour’s truce: the moment he got out of the room he fell + asleep, absolutely at the very threshold of our door. By the rules of the + house he was entitled to a bonus on every transfer of property at the + hazard-table; and he had made, in the course of these three days, upwards + of three hundred pounds. Sleep and avarice had struggled to the utmost, + but, with his vulgar habits, sleep prevailed. We were wide awake. I shall + never forget the figure of one of my noble associates, who sat holding his + watch, his eager eyes fixed upon the minute-hand, whilst he exclaimed + continually, “This hour will never be over!” Then he listened to discover + whether his watch had stopped; then cursed the lazy fellow for falling + asleep, protesting that, for his part, he never would again consent to + such waste of time. The very instant the hour was ended, he ordered “<i>that + dog</i>” to be awakened, and to work we went. At this sitting 35,000<i>l.</i> + were lost and won. I was very fortunate, for I lost a mere trifle—ten + thousand pounds; but I could not expect to be always so lucky.—Now + we come to the old story of being ruined by play. My English John + o’-the-Scales warned me that he could <i>advance</i> no more money; my + Irish agent, upon whom my drafts had indeed been unmerciful, could not <i>oblige</i> + me any longer, and he threw up his agency, after having made his fortune + at my expense. I railed, but railing would not pay my debts of honour. I + inveighed against my grandfather for having tied me up so tight; I could + neither mortgage nor sell: my Irish estate would have been sold instantly, + had it not been settled upon a Mr. Delamere. The pleasure of abusing him, + whom I had never seen, and of whom I knew nothing but that he was to be my + heir, relieved me wonderfully. He died, and left only a daughter, a mere + child. My chance of possessing the estate in fee-simple increased: I sold + this increased value to the Jews, and gamed on. Miss Delamere, some time + afterwards, had the smallpox. Upon the event of her illness I laid bets to + an amazing amount. + </p> + <p> + She recovered. No more money could be raised, and my debts were to be + paid. In this dilemma I recollected that I once had a guardian, and that I + had never settled accounts with him. Crawley, who continued to be my + factotum and flatterer in ordinary and extraordinary, informed me, upon + looking over these accounts, that there was a mine of money due to me, if + I could but obtain it by law or equity. To law I went: and the anxiety of + a lawsuit might have, in some degree, supplied the place of gambling, but + that all my business was managed for me by Crawley, and I charged him + never to mention the subject to me till a verdict should be obtained. + </p> + <p> + A verdict was obtained against me. It was proved in open court, by my own + witnesses, that I was a fool; but as no judge, jury, or chancellor, could + believe that I was so great a fool as my carelessness indicated, my + guardian stood acquitted in equity of being so great a rogue as he really + was. What was now to be done? I saw my doom. As a highwayman knows that he + must come to the gallows at last, and acts accordingly, so a fashionably + extravagant youth knows that, sooner or later, he must come to matrimony. + No one could have more horror of this catastrophe than I felt; but it was + in vain to oppose my destiny. My opinion of women had been formed from the + commonplace jests of my companions, and from my own acquaintance with the + worst part of the sex. I had never felt the passion of love, and, of + course, believed it to be something that might have existed in former + ages, but that it was in our days quite obsolete, at least, among the <i>knowing</i> + part of the world. In my imagination young women were divided into two + classes; those who were to be purchased, and those who were to purchase. + Between these two classes, though the division was to be marked externally + by a certain degree of ceremony, yet I was internally persuaded that there + was no essential difference. In my feelings towards them there was some + distinction; of the first class I was tired, and of the second I was + afraid. Afraid! Yes—afraid of being taken in. With these fears, and + these sentiments, I was now to choose a wife. I chose her by the + numeration table: Units, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, + hundreds of thousands. I was content, in the language of the newspapers, + <i>to lead to the Hymeneal altar</i> any fashionable fair one whose + fortune came under the sixth place of figures. No sooner were my <i>dispositions</i> + known than the friends of a young heiress, who wanted to purchase a + coronet, settled a match between us. My bride had one hundred + wedding-dresses, elegant as a select committee of dress-makers and + milliners, French and English, could devise. The least expensive of these + robes, as well as I remember, cost fifty guineas: the most admired came to + about five hundred pounds, and was thought, by the best judges in these + matters, to be wonderfully cheap, as it was of lace such as had never + before been trailed in English dust, even by the lady of a nabob. These + things were shown in London as a <i>spectacle</i> for some days, by the + dress-maker, who declared that she had lost many a night’s rest in + contriving how to make such a variety of dresses sufficiently magnificent + and <i>distinguished</i>. The jewellers also requested and obtained + permission to exhibit the different sets of jewels: these were so numerous + that Lady Glenthorn scarcely knew them all. One day, soon after her + marriage, somebody at court, observing that her diamonds were prodigiously + fine, asked where she bought them. “Really,” said she, “I cannot tell. I + have so many sets, I declare I don’t know whether <i>it’s</i> my Paris, or + my Hamburgh, or my London set.” + </p> + <p> + Poor young creature! I believe her chief idea of happiness in marriage was + the possession of the jewels and paraphernalia of a countess—I am + sure it was the only hope she could have, that was likely to be realized, + in marrying me. I thought it manly and fashionable to be indifferent, if + not contemptuous to my wife: I considered her only as an incumbrance, that + I was obliged to take along with my fortune. Besides the disagreeable + ideas generally connected with the word <i>wife</i>, I had some peculiar + reasons for my aversion to my Lady Glenthorn. Before her friends would + suffer me to take possession of her fortune, they required from me a + solemn oath against gambling: so I was compelled to abjure the + hazard-table and the turf, the only two objects in life that could keep me + awake. This extorted vow I set down entirely to my bride’s account; and I + therefore became even more averse to her than men usually are who marry + for money. Yet this dislike subsided. Lady Glenthorn was only childish—I, + of an easy temper. I thought her ridiculous, but it was too much trouble + to tell her so continually. I let the occasions pass, and even forgot her + ladyship, when she was not absolutely in my way. She was too frivolous to + be hated, and the passion of hatred was not to be easily sustained in my + mind. The habit of ennui was stronger than all my passions put together. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Or realize what we think fabulous, + I’ th’ bill of fare of Eliogabalus.” + </pre> + <p> + After my marriage, my old malady rose to an insupportable height. The + pleasures of the table were all that seemed left to me in life. Most of + the young men of any <i>ton</i>, either were, or pretended to be, <i>connoisseurs</i> + in the science of good eating. Their <i>talk</i> was of sauces and of + cooks, what dishes each cook was famous for; whether his <i>forte</i> lay + in white sauces or brown, in soups, <i>lentilles, fricandeaus, bechemele, + matelotes, daubes</i>, &c. Then the history and genealogy of the cooks + came after the discussion of the merit of the works; whom my Lord C——‘s + cook lived with formerly—what my Lord D—— gave his cook—where + they met with these great geniuses, &c. I cannot boast that our + conversation at these select dinners, from which the ladies were excluded, + was very entertaining; but true good eaters detest wit at dinner-time, and + sentiment at all times. I think I observed that amongst these cognoscenti + there was scarcely one to whom the delicacy of taste did not daily prove a + source of more pain than pleasure. There was always a cruel something that + spoiled the rest; or if the dinner were excellent, beyond the power of the + most fastidious palate to condemn, yet there was the hazard of being + placed far from the favourite dish, or the still greater danger of being + deputed to carve at the head or foot of the table. How I have seen a heavy + nobleman of this set dexterously manoeuvre to avoid the dangerous honour + of carving a haunch of venison! “But, good Heavens!” said I, when a + confidential whisper first pointed out this to my notice, “why does he not + like to carve?—he would have it in his power to help himself to his + mind, which nobody else can do so well.”—“No! if he carve, he must + give the <i>nice bits</i> to others; every body here understands them as + well as he—each knows what is upon his neighbour’s plate, and what + ought to be there, and what must be in the dish.” I found that it was an + affair of calculation—a game at which nobody can cheat without being + discovered and disgraced. I emulated, and soon equalled my experienced + friends. I became a perfect epicure, and gloried in the character, for it + could be supported without any intellectual exertion, and it was + fashionable. I cannot say that I could ever eat as much as some of my + companions. One of them I once heard exclaim, after a monstrous dinner, “I + wish my digestion were equal to my appetite.” I would not be thought to + exaggerate, therefore I shall not recount the wonders I have seen + performed by these capacious heroes of the table. After what I have + beheld, to say nothing of what I have achieved, I can believe any thing + that is related of the capacity of the human stomach. I can credit even + the account of the dinner which Madame de Bavière affirms she saw eaten by + Lewis the Fourteenth; <i>viz</i>. “quatre assiettes de différentes soupes; + un faisan tout entier; un perdrix; une grande assiette pleine de salade; + du mouton coupé dans son jus avec de l’ail; deux bons morceaux de jambon; + une assiette pleine de patisserie! du fruit et des confitures!” Nor can I + doubt the accuracy of the historian, who assures us that a Roman emperor,<a + href="#linknote-73" name="linknoteref-73" id="linknoteref-73"><small>73</small></a> + one of the most moderate of those imperial gluttons, <i>took</i> for his + breakfast, 500 figs, 100 peaches, 10 melons, 100 beccaficoes, and 400 + oysters. + </p> + <p> + Epicurism was scarcely more prevalent during the decline of the Roman + empire than it is at this day amongst some of the wealthy and noble youths + of Britain. Not one of my select dinner-party but would have been worthy + of a place at the <i>turbot consultation</i> immortalized by the Roman + satirist. A friend of mine, a bishop, one day went into his kitchen, to + look at a large turbot, which the cook was dressing. The cook had found it + so large that he had cut off the fins: “What a shame!” cried the bishop; + and immediately calling for the cook’s apron, he spread it before his + cassock, and actually sewed the fins again to the turbot with his own + episcopal hands. + </p> + <p> + If I might judge from my own experience, I should attribute fashionable + epicurism in a great measure to ennui. Many affect it, because they have + nothing else to do; and sensual indulgences are all that exist for those + who have not sufficient energy to enjoy intellectual pleasures. I dare + say, that if Heliogabalus could be brought in evidence in his own case, + and could be made to understand the meaning of the word ennui, he would + agree with me in opinion, that it was the cause of half his vices. His + offered reward for the discovery of a new pleasure is stronger evidence + than any confession he could make. I thank God that I was not born an + emperor, or I might have become a monster. Though not in the least + inclined to cruelty, I might have acquired the taste for it, merely for + desire of the emotion which real tragedies excite. Fortunately, I was only + an earl and an epicure. + </p> + <p> + My indulgence in the excesses of the table injured my health; violent + bodily exercise was necessary to counteract the effects of intemperance. + It was my maxim, that a man could never eat or drink too much, if he would + but take exercise enough. I killed fourteen horses,<a href="#linknote-74" + name="linknoteref-74" id="linknoteref-74"><small>74</small></a> and + survived; but I grew tired of killing horses, and I continued to eat + immoderately. I was seized with a nervous complaint, attended with extreme + melancholy. Frequently the thoughts of putting an end to my existence + occurred; and I had many times determined upon the means; but very small + and apparently inadequate and ridiculous motives, prevented the execution + of my design. Once I was kept alive by a <i>piggery</i>, which I wanted to + see finished. Another time, I delayed destroying myself, till a statue, + which I had just purchased at a vast expense, should be put up in my + Egyptian <i>salon</i>. By the awkwardness of the unpacker, the statue’s + thumb was broken. This broken thumb saved my life; it converted ennui into + anger. Like Montaigne and his sausage, I had now something to complain of, + and I was happy. But at last my anger subsided, the thumb would serve me + no longer as a subject of conversation, and I relapsed into silence and + black melancholy. I was “a’weary of the sun;” my old thoughts recurred. At + this time I was just entering my twenty-fifth year. Rejoicings were + preparing for my birthday. My Lady Glenthorn had prevailed upon me to + spend the summer at Sherwood Park, because it was new to her. She filled + the house with company and noise; but this only increased my discontent. + My birthday arrived—I wished myself dead—and I resolved to + shoot myself at the close of the day. I put a pistol into my pocket, and + stole out towards the evening, unobserved by my jovial companions. Lady + Glenthorn and her set were dancing, and I was tired of these sounds of + gaiety. I took the private way to the forest, which was near the house; + but one of my grooms met me with a fine horse, which an old tenant had + just sent as a present on my birthday. The horse was saddled and bridled; + the groom held the stirrup, and up I got. The fellow told me the private + gate was locked, and I turned as he pointed to go through the grand + entrance. At the outside of the gate sat upon the ground, huddled in a + great red cloak, an old woman, who started up and sprang forwards the + moment she saw me, stretching out her arms and her cloak with one and the + same motion. + </p> + <p> + “Ogh! is it you I see?” cried she, in a strong Irish tone. + </p> + <p> + At this sound and this sight, my horse, that was shy, backed a little. I + called to the woman to stand out of my way. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven bless your sweet face! I’m the nurse that suckled <i>yees</i> when + ye was a baby in Ireland. Many’s the day I’ve been longing to see you,” + continued she, clasping her hands, and standing her ground in the middle + of the gateway, regardless of my horse, which I was pressing forward. + </p> + <p> + “Stand out of the way, for God’s sake, my good woman, or I shall certainly + ride over you. So! so! so!” said I, patting my restless horse. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he’s only shy, God bless him! he’s as <i>quite</i> now as a lamb; and + kiss one or other of <i>yees</i>, I must,” cried she, throwing her arms + about the horse’s neck. + </p> + <p> + The horse, unaccustomed to this mode of salutation, suddenly plunged, and + threw me. My head fell against the pier of the gate. The last sound I + heard was the report of a pistol; but I can give no account of what + happened afterwards. I was stunned by my fall, and senseless. When I + opened my eyes, I found myself stretched on one of the cushions of my + landau, and surrounded by a crowd of people, who seemed to be all talking + at once: in the buzz of voices I could not distinguish any thing that was + said, till I heard Captain Crawley’s voice above the rest, saying, + </p> + <p> + “Send for a surgeon instantly: but it’s all over! it’s all over! Take the + body the back way to the banqueting-house; I must run to Lady Glenthorn.” + </p> + <p> + I perceived that they thought me dead. I did not at this moment feel that + I was hurt. I was curious to know what they would all do; so I closed my + eyes again before any one perceived that I had opened them. I lay + motionless, and they proceeded with me, according to Captain Crawley’s + orders, to the banqueting-house. When we arrived there, my servants laid + me on one of the Turkish sofas; and the crowd, after having satisfied + their’ curiosity, dropped off one by one, till I was left with a single + footman and my steward. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe he’s quite dead,” said the footman, “for his heart + beats.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he’s the same as dead, for he does not stir hand or foot, and his + skull, they say, is fractured for certain; but it will all be seen when + the surgeon comes. I am sure he will never do. Crawley will have every + thing his own way now, and I may as well decamp.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; and among them,” said the footman, “I only hope I may get my wages.” + </p> + <p> + “What a fool that Crawley made of my lord!” said the steward. + </p> + <p> + “What a fool my lord made of himself,” said the footman, “to be ruled, and + let all his people be ruled, by such an upstart! With your leave, Mr. + Turner, I’ll just run to the house to say one word to James, and be back + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you must stay, Robert, whilst I step home to lock my places, + before Crawley begins to rummage.” + </p> + <p> + The footman was now left alone with me. Scarcely had the steward been gone + two minutes, when I heard a low voice near me saying, in a tone of great + anxiety, “Is he dead?” + </p> + <p> + I half opened my eyes to see who it was that spoke. The voice came from + the door which was opposite to me; and whilst the footman turned his back, + I raised my head, and beheld the figure of the old woman, who had been the + cause of my accident. She was upon her knees on the threshold—her + arms crossed over her breast. I never shall forget her face, it was so + expressive of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Is he dead?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you yes,” replied the footman. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of God, let me come in, if he is here,” cried she. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, then, and stay here whilst I run to the house.” <a + href="#linknote-75" name="linknoteref-75" id="linknoteref-75"><small>75</small></a> + </p> + <p> + The footman ran off; and my old nurse, on seeing me, burst into an agony + of grief. I did not understand one word she uttered, as she spoke in her + native language; but her lamentations went to my heart, for they came from + hers. She hung over me, and I felt her tears dropping upon my forehead. I + could not refrain from whispering, “Don’t cry—I am alive.” + </p> + <p> + “Blessings on him!” exclaimed she, starting back: she then dropped down on + her knees to thank God. Then calling me by every fondling name that nurses + use to their children, she begged my forgiveness, and alternately cursed + herself and prayed for me. + </p> + <p> + The strong affections of this poor woman touched me more than any thing I + had ever yet felt in my life; she seemed to be the only person upon earth + who really cared for me; and in spite of her vulgarity, and my prejudice + against the tone in which she spoke, she excited in my mind emotions of + tenderness and gratitude. “My good woman, if I live, I will do something + for you: tell me what I can do,” said I. “Live! live! God bless you, live; + that’s all in the wide world I want of you, my jewel; and, till you are + well, let me watch over you at nights, as I used to do when you were a + child, and I had you in my arms all to myself, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Three or four people now ran into the room, to get before Captain Crawley, + whose voice was heard at this instant at a distance. I had only time to + make the poor woman understand that I wished to appear to be dead; she + took the hint with surprising quickness. Captain Crawley came up the + steps, talking in the tone of a master to the steward and people who + followed. + </p> + <p> + “What is this old hag doing here? Where is Robert? Where is Thomas? I + ordered them to stay till I came. Mr. Turner, why did not you stay? What! + has not the coroner been here yet? The coroner must see the body, I tell + you. Good God! What a parcel of blockheads you all are! How many times + must I tell you the same thing? Nothing can be done till the coroner has + seen him; then we’ll talk about the funeral, Mr. Turner—one thing at + a time. Every thing shall be done properly, Mr. Turner. Lady Glenthorn + trusts every thing to me—Lady Glenthorn wishes that I should order + every thing.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure—no doubt—very proper—I don’t say against + that.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued Crawley, turning towards the sofa upon which I lay, and + seeing Ellinor kneeling beside me, “what keeps this old Irish witch here + still? What business have you here, pray; and who are you, or what are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Plase your honour, I was his nurse formerly, and so had a nat’ral longing + to see him once again before I would die.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you come all the way from Ireland on this wise errand?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth I did—every inch of the way from his own sweet place.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you are little better than a fool, I think,” said Crawley. + </p> + <p> + “Little better, plase your honour; but I was always so about them <i>childer</i> + that I nursed.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Childer</i>! Well, get along about your business now; you see your + nursing is not wanted here.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll not stir out of this, while he is here,” said my nurse, catching + hold of the leg of the sofa, and clinging to it. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll not stir, you say,” cried Captain Crawley: “Turn her out!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sure you would not have the cru’lty to turn his old nurse out before + he’s even <i>cowld</i>. And won’t you let me see him buried?” + </p> + <p> + “Out with her! out with her! the old Irish hag! We’ll have no howling + here. Out with her, John!” said Crawley to my groom. + </p> + <p> + The groom hesitated, I fancy; for Crawley repeated the order more + imperiously: “Out with her! or go yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “May be it’s you that will go first yourself,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Go first myself!” cried Captain Crawley, furiously: “Are you insolent to + <i>me</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “And are not you cru’l to me, and to my child I nursed, that lies all as + one as dead before you, and was a good friend to you in his day, no + doubt?” + </p> + <p> + Crawley seized hold of her: but she resisted with so much energy, that she + dragged along with her the sofa to which she clung, and on which I lay. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried I, starting up. There was sudden silence. I looked round, + but could not utter another syllable. Now, for the first time, I was + sensible that I had been really hurt by the fall. My head grew giddy, and + my stomach sick. I just saw Crawley’s fallen countenance, and him and the + steward looking at one another; they were like hideous faces in a dream. I + sunk back. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, lie down, my darling; don’t be disturbing yourself for such as them,” + said my nurse. “Let them do what they will with me; it’s little I’d care + for them, if you were but once in safe hands.” + </p> + <p> + I beckoned to the groom, who had hesitated to turn out Ellinor, and bid + him go to the housekeeper, and have me put to bed. “She,” added I, + pointing to my old nurse, “is to sit up with me at night.” It was all I + could say. What they did with me afterwards, I do not know; but I was in + my bed, and a bandage was round my temples, and my poor nurse was kneeling + on one side of the bed, with a string of beads in her hand; and a surgeon + and physician, and Crawley and my Lady Glenthorn were on the other side, + whispering together. The curtain was drawn between me and them; but the + motion I made on wakening was instantly observed by Crawley, who + immediately left the room. Lady Glenthorn drew back my curtain, and began + to ask me how I did: but when I fixed my eyes upon her, she sunk upon the + bed, trembling violently, and could not finish her sentence. I begged her + to go to rest, and she retired. The physician ordered that I should be + kept quiet, and seemed to think I was in danger. I asked what was the + matter with me? and the surgeon, with a very grave face, informed me that + I had an ugly contusion on my head. I had heard of a concussion of the + brain; but I did not know distinctly what it was, and my fears were + increased by my ignorance. The life which, but a few hours before, I had + been on the point of voluntarily destroying, because it was insupportably + burdensome, I was now, the moment it was in danger, most anxious to + preserve; and the interest which I perceived others had in getting rid of + me, increased my desire to recover. My recovery was, however, for some + time doubtful. I was seized with a fever, which left me in a state of + alarming debility. My old nurse, whom I shall henceforward call by her + name of Ellinor, attended me with the most affectionate solicitude during + my illness;<a href="#linknote-76" name="linknoteref-76" id="linknoteref-76"><small>76</small></a> + she scarcely stirred from my bedside, night or day; and, indeed, when I + came to the use of my senses, she was the only person whom I really liked + to have near me. I knew that she was sincere; and, however unpolished her + manners, and however awkward her assistance, the good-will with which it + was given, made me prefer it to the most delicate and dexterous attentions + which I believed to be interested. The very want of a sense of propriety, + and the freedom with which she talked to me, regardless of what was suited + to her station, or due to my rank, instead of offending or disgusting me, + became agreeable; besides, the novelty of her dialect, and of her turn of + thought, entertained me as much as a sick man could be entertained. I + remember once her telling me, that, “if it <i>plased</i> God, she would + like to die on a Christmas-day, of all days; <i>because</i> the gates of + Heaven, they say, will be open all that day; and who knows but a body + might slip in <i>unknownst?</i>” When she sat up with me at nights she + talked on eternally; for she assured me there was nothing like talking, as + she had found, to put one <i>asy asleep</i>. I listened or not, just as I + liked; <i>any way</i> she was <i>contint</i>. She was inexhaustible in her + anecdotes of my ancestors, all tending to the honour and glory of the + family; she had also an excellent memory for all the insults, or + traditions of insults, which the Glenthorns had received for many ages + back, even to the times of the old kings of Ireland; long and long before + they stooped to be <i>lorded</i>; when their “names, which it was a pity + and a murder, and moreover a burning shame, to change, was, + O’Shaughnessy.” She was well-stored with histories of Irish and Scotish + chiefs. The story of O’Neill, the Irish blackbeard, I am sure I ought to + remember, for Ellinor told it to me at least six times. Then she had a + large assortment of fairies and <i>shadowless</i> witches, and <i>banshees</i>; + and besides, she had legions of spirits and ghosts, and haunted castles + without end, my own castle of Glenthorn not excepted, in the description + of which she was extremely eloquent; she absolutely excited in my mind + some desire to see it. For many a long year, she said, it had been her + nightly prayer, that she might live to see me in my own castle; and often + and often she was coming over to England to tell me so, only her husband, + as long as he lived, would not let her set out on what he called a fool’s + errand: but it pleased God to take him to himself last fair day, and then + she resolved that nothing should hinder her to be with her own child + against his birthday: and now, could she see me in my own Castle + Glenthorn, she would die <i>contint</i>—and what a pity but I should + be in it! I was only a lord, as she said, in England; but I could be all + as one as a king in Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Ellinor impressed me with the idea of the sort of feudal power I should + possess in my vast territory, over tenants who were almost vassals, and + amongst a numerous train of dependents. We resist the efforts made by + those who, we think, exert authority or employ artifice to change our + determinations; whilst the perverse mind insensibly yields to those who + appear not to have power, or reason, or address, sufficient to obtain a + victory. I should not have heard any human being with patience try to + persuade me to go to Ireland, except this ignorant poor nurse, who spoke, + as I thought, merely from the instinct of affection to me and to her + native country. I promised her that I would, <i>some time or other</i>, + visit Glenthorn Castle: but this was only a vague promise, and it was but + little likely that it should be accomplished. As I regained my strength, + my mind turned, or rather was turned, to other thoughts. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + One morning—it was the day after my physicians had pronounced me out + of all danger—Crawley sent me a note by Ellinor, congratulating me + upon my recovery, and begging to speak to me for half an hour. I refused + to see him; and said, that I was not yet well enough to do business. The + same morning Ellinor came with a message from Turner, my steward, who, + with his humble duty, requested to see me for five minutes, to communicate + to me something of importance. I consented to see Turner. He entered with + a face of suppressed joy and affected melancholy. + </p> + <p> + “Sad news I am bound in duty to be the bearer of, my lord. I was + determined, whatever came to pass, however, not to speak till your honour + was out of danger, which, I thank Heaven, is now the case, and I am happy + to be able to congratulate your lordship upon looking as well as—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind my looks. I will excuse your congratulations, Mr. Turner,” + said I, impatiently; for the recollection of the banqueting-house, and the + undertaker whom Turner was so eager to introduce, came full into my mind. + “Go on, if you please; five minutes is all I am at present able to give to + any business, and you sent me word you had something of importance to + communicate.” + </p> + <p> + “True, my lord; but in case your lordship is not at present well enough, + or not so disposed, I will wait your lordship’s leisure.” + </p> + <p> + “Now or never, Mr. Turner. Speak, but speak at once.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I would have done so long ago, but was loth to make mischief; + and besides, could not believe what I heard whispered, and would scarce + believe what I verily saw; though now, as I cannot reasonably have a + doubt, I think it would be a sin, and a burden upon my conscience, not to + speak; only that I am unwilling to shock your lordship too much, when but + just recovering, for that is not the time one would wish to tell or to + hear disagreeable things.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Turner, either come to the point at once, or leave me; for I am not + strong enough to bear this suspense.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon, my lord: why then, my lord, the point is Captain Crawley.” + </p> + <p> + “What of him? I never desire to hear his name again.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I, I am sure, my lord; but there are some in the house might not be + of our opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? you sneaking fellow; speak out, can’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “My lady—my lord—Now it is out. She’ll go off with him this + night, if not prevented.” + </p> + <p> + My surprise and indignation were as great as if I had always been the + fondest and the most attentive of husbands. I was at length roused from + that indifference and apathy into which I had sunk; and though I had never + loved my wife, the moment I knew she was lost to me for ever was + exquisitely painful. Astonishment, the sense of disgrace, the feeling of + rage against that treacherous parasite by whom she had been seduced, all + combined to overwhelm me. I could command my voice only enough to bid + Turner leave the room, and tell no one that he had spoken to me on this + subject. “Not a soul,” he said, “should be told, or could guess it.” + </p> + <p> + Left to my own reflections, as soon as the first emotions of anger + subsided, I blamed myself for my conduct to Lady Glenthorn. I considered + that she had been married to me by her friends, when she was too young and + too childish to judge for herself; that from the first day of our marriage + I had never made the slightest effort to win her affections, or to guide + her conduct; that, on the contrary, I had shown her marked indifference, + if not aversion. With fashionable airs, I had professed, that provided she + left me at liberty to spend the large fortune which she brought me, and in + consideration of which she enjoyed the title of Countess of Glenthorn, I + cared for nothing farther. With the consequences of my neglect I now + reproached myself in vain. Lady Glenthorn’s immense fortune had paid my + debts, and had for two years supplied my extravagance, or rather my + indolence: little remained, and she was now, in her twenty-third year, to + be consigned to public disgrace, and to a man whom I knew to be destitute + of honour and feeling. I pitied her, and resolved to go instantly and make + an effort to save her from destruction. + </p> + <p> + Ellinor, who watched all Crawley’s motions, informed me, that he was gone + to a neighbouring town, and had left word that he should not be home till + after dinner. Lady Glenthorn was in her dressing-room, which was at a part + of the house farthest from that which I now inhabited. I had never left my + room since my illness, and had scarcely walked farther than from my bed to + my arm-chair; but I was so much roused by my feelings at this instant, + that, to Ellinor’s great astonishment, I started from my chair, and, + forbidding her to follow me, walked without any assistance along the + corridor, which led to the back-stairs, and to Lady Glenthorn’s apartment. + I opened the private door of her dressing-room suddenly—the room was + in great disorder—her woman was upon her knees packing a trunk: Lady + Glenthorn was standing at a table, with a parcel of open letters before + her, and a diamond necklace in her hand. She started at the sight of me as + if she had beheld a ghost: the maid screamed, and ran to a door at the + farther end of the room, to make her escape, but that was bolted. Lady + Glenthorn was pale and motionless, till I approached; and then, + recollecting herself, she reddened all over, and thrust the letters into + her table-drawer. Her woman, at the same instant, snatched a casket of + jewels, swept up in her arms a heap of clothes, and huddled them all + together into the half-packed trunk. + </p> + <p> + “Leave the room,” said I to her sternly. She locked the trunk, pocketed + the key, and obeyed. + </p> + <p> + I placed a chair for Lady Glenthorn, and sat down myself. We were almost + equally unable to stand. We were silent for some moments. Her eyes were + fixed upon the ground, and she leaned her head upon her hand in an + attitude of despair. I could scarcely articulate; but making an effort to + command my voice, I at last said— + </p> + <p> + “Lady Glenthorn, I blame myself more than you for all that has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” said she, making a feeble attempt at evasion, yet at the same + time casting a guilty look towards the drawer of letters. + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing to conceal from me,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” said she, in a feeble voice. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said I; “for I know every thing”—she started—“and + am willing to pardon every thing.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up in my face astonished. “I am conscious,” continued I, “that + you have not been well treated by me. You have had much reason to complain + of my neglect. To this I attribute your error. Forget the past—I + will set you the example. Promise me never to see the man more, and what + has happened shall never be known to the world.” + </p> + <p> + She made me no answer, but burst into a flood of tears. She seemed + incapable of decision, or even of thought. I felt suddenly inspired with + energy. + </p> + <p> + “Write this moment,” continued I, placing a pen and ink before her, “write + to forbid him ever to return to this house, or ever more to appear in your + presence. If he should appear in mine, I know how to chastise him, and to + vindicate my own honour. To preserve your reputation, I refrain, upon + these conditions, from making my contempt of him public.” + </p> + <p> + I put a pen into Lady Glenthorn’s hand; but she trembled so that she could + not write. She made several ineffectual attempts, then tore the paper; and + again giving way to tears, exclaimed, “I cannot write—I cannot think—I + do not know what to say. Write what you will, and I will sign it.” + </p> + <p> + “I write to Captain Crawley! Write what <i>I</i> will! Lady Glenthorn, it + must be your will to write, not mine. If it be not your will, say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I do not say so—I do not say <i>that</i>. Give me a moment’s + time. I do not know what I say. I have been very foolish—very + wicked. You are very good—but it is too late: it will all be known. + Crawley will betray me; he will tell it to Mrs. Mattocks: so whichever way + I turn, I am undone. Oh! what <i>will</i> become of me?” + </p> + <p> + She wrung her hands and wept, and was for an hour in this state, in all + the indecision and imbecility of a child. At last, she wrote a few + scarcely legible lines to Crawley, forbidding him to see or think of her + more. I despatched the note, and she was full of penitence, and gratitude, + and tears. The next morning, when I wakened, I in my turn received a note + from her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + “Since I saw you, Captain Crawley has convinced me that I am his wife, <i>in + the eye of Heaven</i>, and I therefore desire a divorce, as much as your + <i>whole conduct</i>, since my marriage, convinces me <i>you</i> must in + your <i>heart</i>, whatever may be your motives to <i>pretend</i> + otherwise. Before you receive this I shall be <i>out of your way</i> and + <i>beyond your reach</i>; so do not think of pursuing one who is no + longer, + </p> + <p> + “Yours, + </p> + <h3> + “A. CRAWLEY.” + </h3> + <p> + After reading this note, I thought not of pursuing or saving Lady + Glenthorn. I was as anxious for a divorce as she could be. Some months + afterwards the affair was brought to a public trial. When the cause came + on, so many circumstances were brought in mitigation of damages, to prove + my utter carelessness respecting my wife’s conduct, that a suspicion of + collusion arose. From this imputation I was clear in the opinion of all + who really knew me; and I repelled the charge publicly, with a degree of + indignation that surprised all who knew the usual apathy of my temper. I + must observe, that during the whole time my divorce-bill was pending, and + whilst I was in the greatest possible anxiety, my health was perfectly + good. But no sooner was the affair settled, and a decision made in my + favour, than I relapsed into my old nervous complaints. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Twas doing nothing was his curse;— + Is there a vice can plague us worse? + The wretch who digs the mine for bread, + Or ploughs, that others may be fed, + Feels less fatigue than that decreed + To him who cannot think or read.” + </pre> + <p> + Illness was a sort of occupation to me, and I was always sorry to get + well. When the interest of being in danger ceased, I had no other to + supply its place. I fancied that I should enjoy my liberty after my + divorce; but “even freedom grew tasteless.” I do not recollect any thing + that wakened me from my torpor, during two months after my divorce, except + a violent quarrel between all my English servants and my Irish nurse. + Whether she assumed too much, upon the idea that she was a favourite, or + whether national prejudice was alone the cause of the hatred, that + prevailed against her, I know not; but they one and all declared that they + could not, and would not, live with her. She expressed the same dislike to + <i>consorting</i> with them; “but would <i>put up</i> with worse, ay, with + the devils themselves, to oblige my honour, and to lie under the same roof + <i>wid</i> my honour.” + </p> + <p> + The rest of the servants laughed at her blunders. This she could bear with + good-humour; but when they seriously affected to reproach her with having, + by her uncouth appearance, at her first presenting herself at Sherwood + Park, endangered my life, she retorted, “And who cared for him in the wide + world but I, amongst you all, when he lay for dead? I ask you that,” said + she. + </p> + <p> + To this there was no reply; and they hated her the more for their having + been silenced by her shrewdness. I protected her as long as I could; but, + for the sake of peace, I at last yielded to the combined forces of the + steward’s room and the servants’ hall, and despatched Ellinor to Ireland, + with a renewal of the promise that I would visit Glenthorn Castle this + year or the next. To comfort her at parting, I would have made her a + considerable present; but she would take only a few guineas, to bear her + expenses back to her native place. The sacrifice I made did not procure me + a peace of any continuance in my own house:—ruined by indulgence, + and by my indolent, reckless temper, my servants were now my masters. In a + large, ill-regulated establishment, domestics become, like spoiled + children, discontented, capricious, and the tyrants over those who have + not the sense or steadiness to command. I remember one delicate puppy <i>parted + with me</i>, because, as he informed me, the curtains of his bed did not + close at the foot; he had never been used to such a thing, and had told + the housekeeper so three times, but could obtain no redress, which + necessitated him to beg my permission to retire from the service. + </p> + <p> + In his stead another coxcomb came to offer himself, who, with an + incomparably easy air, begged to know whether I wanted <i>a man of figure</i> + or <i>a man of parts?</i> For the benefit of those to whom this + fashionable classification of domestics may not be familiar, I should + observe, that the department of <i>a man of figure</i> is specially and + solely to announce company on gala days; the business of <i>the man of + parts</i> is multifarious: to write cards of invitation, to speak to + impertinent tradesmen, to carry confidential messages, et cetera. Now, + where there is an et cetera in an agreement, there is always an opening + for dispute. The functions of <i>the man of parts</i> not being accurately + defined, I unluckily required from him some service which was not in his + bond; I believe it was to go for my pocket handkerchief: “He could not + possibly do it, because it was not his business;” and I, the laziest of + mortals, after waiting a full quarter of an hour, whilst they were + settling whose business it was to obey me, was forced to get up and go for + what I wanted. I comforted myself by the recollection of the poor king of + Spain and <i>le brasier</i>. With a regal precedent I could not but be + satisfied. All great people, said I to myself, are obliged to submit to + these inconveniences. I submitted with so good a grace, that my submission + was scarcely felt to be a condescension. My <i>bachelor’s</i> house soon + exhibited in perfection “High Life below Stairs.” + </p> + <p> + It is said that a foreign nobleman permitted his servants to take their + own way so completely, that one night he and his guests being kept waiting + an unconscionable time for supper, he at last went down stairs to inquire + into the cause of the delay: he found the servant, whose business it was + to take up supper, quietly at cards with a large party of his friends. The + man coolly remonstrated, that it was impossible to leave his game + unfinished. The master candidly acknowledged the force of his plea; but + insisted upon the man’s going up stairs to lay the cloth for supper, + whilst he took his cards, sat down, and finished the game for him. + </p> + <p> + The suavity of my temper never absolutely reached this degree of + complaisance. My home was disagreeable to me: I had not the resolution to + remove the causes of the discontents. Every day I swore I would part with + all these rascals the next morning; but still they stayed. Abroad I was + not happier than at home. I was disgusted with my former companions: they + had convinced me, the night of my accident at Sherwood Park, that they + cared not whether I was alive or dead; and ever since that time I had been + more and more struck with their selfishness as well as folly. It was + inexpressibly fatiguing and irksome to me to keep up a show of good + fellowship and joviality with these people, though I had not sufficient + energy to make the attempt to quit them. When these <i>dashers</i> and <i>loungers</i> + found that I was not always at their disposal, they discovered that + Glenthorn had always something <i>odd</i> about him; that Glenthorn had + always a melancholy turn; that it ran in the family, &c. Satisfied + with these phrases, they let me take my own way, and forgot my existence. + Public amusements had lost their charm; I had sufficient steadiness to + resist the temptation to game: but, for want of stimulus, I could hardly + endure the <i>tedium</i> of my days. At this period of my life, ennui was + very near turning into misanthropy. I balanced between becoming a + misanthrope and a democrat. + </p> + <p> + Whilst I was in this critical state of ineptitude, my attention was + accidentally roused by the sight of a boxing-match. My feelings were so + much excited, and the excitation was so delightful, that I was now in + danger of becoming an amateur of the pugilistic art. It did not occur to + me, that it was beneath the dignity of a British nobleman to learn the + vulgar terms of the boxing trade. I soon began to talk very <i>knowingly</i> + of <i>first-rate bruisers, game</i> men, and <i>pleasing</i> fighters; <i>making + play—beating a man under the ropes—sparring—rallying—sawing</i>—and + <i>chopping</i>. What farther proficiency I might have made in this + language, or how long my interest in these feats of prize-fighters might + have continued, had I been left to myself, I cannot determine; but I was + unexpectedly seized with a fit of national shame, on hearing a foreigner + of rank and reputation express astonishment at our taste for these savage + spectacles. It was in vain that I repeated the arguments of some of the + parliamentary panegyrists of boxing and bull-baiting; and asserted, that + these diversions render a people hardy and courageous. My opponent + replied, that he did not perceive the necessary connexion between cruelty + and courage; that he did not comprehend how the standing by in safety to + see two men bruise each other almost to death could evince or inspire + heroic sentiments or warlike dispositions. He observed, that the Romans + were most eager for the fights of gladiators during the reigns of the most + effeminate and cruel emperors, and in the decline of all public spirit and + virtue. These arguments would have probably made but a feeble impression + on an understanding like mine, unaccustomed to general reasoning, and on a + temper habituated to pursue, without thought of consequences, my immediate + individual gratification; but it happened that my feelings were touched at + this time by the dreadful sufferings of one of the pugilistic combatants. + He died a few hours after the battle. He was an Irishman: most of the + spectators being English, and triumphing in the victory of their + countryman, the poor fellow’s fate was scarcely noticed. I spoke to him a + little while before he died, and found that he came from my own county. + His name was Michael Noonan. He made it his dying request, that I would + carry half-a-guinea, the only money he possessed, to his aged father, and + a silk handkerchief he had worn round his neck, to his sister. Pity for + this unfortunate Irishman recalled Ireland to my thoughts. Many small + reasons concurred to make me now desirous of going to that country. I + should get rid at once of a tormenting establishment, and of servants, + without the odium of turning them away; for most of them declined going + into banishment, as they called it. Besides this, I should leave my + companions, with whom I was disgusted. I was tired of England, and wanted + to see something new, even if it were to be worse than what I had seen + before. These were not my ostensible reasons: I professed to have more + exalted motives for my journey. It was my duty, I said, to visit my Irish + estate, and to encourage my tenantry, by residing some time among them. + Duties often spring up to our view at a convenient opportunity. Then my + promise to poor Ellinor; it was impossible for a man of honour to break a + promise, even to an old woman: in short, when people are determined upon + any action, they seldom fail to find arguments capable of convincing them + that their resolution is reasonable. Mixed motives govern the conduct of + half mankind; so I set out upon my journey to Ireland. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Es tu contente à la fleur de tes ans? + As tu des goûts et des amusemens? + Tu dois mener une assez douce vie. + L’autre en deux mots répondait ‘Je m’ennuie.’ + C’est un grand mal, dit la fée, et je crois + Qu’un beau secret est de rester chez soi.”— +</pre> + <p> + I was detained six days by contrary winds at Holyhead. Sick of that + miserable place, in my ill-humour I cursed Ireland, and twice resolved to + return to London: but the wind changed, my carriage was on board the + packet; so I sailed and landly safely in Dublin. I was surprised by the + excellence of the hotel at which I was lodged. I had not conceived that + such accommodation could have been found in Dublin. The house had, as I + was told, belonged to a nobleman: it was fitted up and appointed with a + degree of elegance, and even magnificence, beyond what I had been used to + in the most fashionable hotels in London. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! sir,” said an Irish gentleman, who found me in admiration upon the + staircase, “this is all very good, very fine, but it is too good and too + fine to last; come here again in two years, and I am afraid you will see + all this going to rack and ruin. This is too often the case with us in + Ireland: we can project, but we can’t calculate; we must have every thing + upon too large a scale. We mistake a grand beginning for a good beginning. + We begin like princes, and we end like beggars.” + </p> + <p> + I rested only a few days in a capital in which, I took it for granted, + there could be nothing worth seeing by a person who was just come from + London. In driving through the streets, I was, however, surprised to see + buildings, which my prejudices could scarcely believe to be Irish. I also + saw some things, which recalled to my mind the observations I had heard at + my hotel. I was struck with instances of grand beginnings and lamentable + want of finish, with mixture of the magnificent and the paltry; of + admirable and execrable taste. Though my understanding was wholly + uncultivated, these things struck my eye. Of all the faculties of my mind, + my taste had been most exercised, because its exercise had given me least + trouble. + </p> + <p> + Impatient to see my own castle, I left Dublin. I was again astonished by + the beauty of the prospects, and the excellence of the roads. I had in my + ignorance believed that I was never to see a tree in Ireland, and that the + roads were almost impassable. With the promptitude of credulity, I now + went from one extreme to the other: I concluded that we should travel with + the same celerity as upon the Bath road; and I expected, that a journey + for which four days had been allotted might be performed in two. Like all + those who have nothing to do any where, I was always in a prodigious hurry + to get from place to place; and I ever had a noble ambition to go over as + much ground as possible in a given space of time. I travelled in a light + barouche, and with my own horses. My own man (an Englishman), and my cook + (a Frenchman), followed in a hackney chaise; I cared not how, so that they + kept up with me; the rest was their affair. At night, my gentleman + complained bitterly of the Irish post carriages, and besought me to let + him follow at an easier rate the next day; but to this I could by no means + consent: for how could I exist without my own man and my French cook? In + the morning, just as I was ready to set off, and had thrown myself back in + my carriage, my Englishman and Frenchman came to the door, both in so + great a rage, that the one was inarticulate and the other unintelligible. + At length the object of their indignation spoke for itself. From the inn + yard came a hackney chaise, in a most deplorable crazy state; the body + mounted up to a prodigious height, on unbending springs, nodding forwards, + one door swinging open, three blinds up, because they could not be let + down, the perch tied in two places, the iron of the wheels half off, half + loose, wooden pegs for linch-pins, and ropes for harness. The horses were + worthy of the harness; wretched little dog-tired creatures, that looked as + if they had been driven to the last gasp, and as if they had never been + rubbed down in their lives; their bones starting through their skin; one + lame, the other blind; one with a raw back, the other with a galled + breast; one with his neck poking down over his collar, and the other with + his head dragged forward by a bit of a broken bridle, held at arm’s length + by a man dressed like a mad beggar, in half a hat and half a wig, both + awry in opposite directions; a long tattered great-coat, tied round his + waist by a hay-rope; the jagged rents in the skirts of his coat showing + his bare legs marbled of many colours; while something like stockings hung + loose about his ankles. The noises he made by way of threatening or + encouraging his steeds, I pretend not to describe. + </p> + <p> + In an indignant voice I called to the landlord, “I hope these are not the + horses—I hope this is not the chaise, intended for my servants.” + </p> + <p> + The innkeeper, and the pauper who was preparing to officiate as postilion, + both in the same instant exclaimed, “<i>Sorrow</i> better chaise in the + county!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Sorrow</i>” said I; “what do you mean by sorrow?” + </p> + <p> + “That there’s no better, plase your honour, can be seen. We have two more, + to be sure; but one has no top, and the other no bottom. Any way there’s + no better can be seen than this same.” <a href="#linknote-77" + name="linknoteref-77" id="linknoteref-77"><small>77</small></a> + </p> + <p> + “And these horses!” cried I; “why, this horse is so lame he can hardly + stand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, plase your honour, tho’ he can’t stand, he’ll <i>go</i> fast enough. + He has a great deal of the rogue in him, plase your honour. He’s always + that way at first setting out.” + </p> + <p> + “And that wretched animal with the galled breast!” + </p> + <p> + “He’s all the better for it, when once he warms; it’s he that will go with + the speed of light, plase your honour. Sure, is not he Knockecroghery? and + didn’t I give fifteen guineas for him, barring the luck penny, at the fair + of Knockecroghery, and he rising four year old at the same time?” + </p> + <p> + I could not avoid smiling at this speech: but my <i>gentleman</i>, + maintaining his angry gravity, declared, in a sullen tone, that he would + be cursed if he went with such horses; and the Frenchman, with abundance + of gesticulation, made a prodigious chattering, which no mortal + understood. + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll tell you what you’ll do,” said Paddy; “you’ll take four, as + becomes gentlemen of your quality, and you’ll see how we’ll powder along.” + </p> + <p> + And straight he put the knuckle of his fore-finger in his mouth, and + whistled shrill and strong; and, in a moment, a whistle somewhere out in + the fields answered him. + </p> + <p> + I protested against these proceedings, but in vain; before the first pair + of horses were fastened to the chaise, up came a little boy with the + others <i>fresh</i> from the plough. They were quick enough in putting + these to; yet how they managed it with their tackle, I know not. “Now + we’re fixed handsomely,” said Paddy. + </p> + <p> + “But this chaise will break down the first mile.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it this chaise, plase your honour? I’ll engage it will go the world’s + end. The universe wouldn’t break it down now; sure it was mended but last + night.” + </p> + <p> + Then seizing his whip and reins in one hand, he clawed up his stockings + with the other: so with one easy step he got into his place, and seated + himself, coachman-like, upon a well-worn bar of wood, that served as a + coach-box. “Throw me the loan of a trusty Bartly, for a cushion,” said he. + A frieze coat was thrown up over the horses’ heads—Paddy caught it. + “Where are you, Hosey?” cried he. “Sure I’m only rowling a wisp of straw + on my leg,” replied Hosey. “Throw me up,” added this paragon of + postilions, turning to one of the crowd of idle bystanders. “Arrah, push + me up, can’t ye?” + </p> + <p> + A man took hold of his knee, and threw him upon the horse: he was in his + seat in a trice; then clinging by the mane of his horse, he scrambled for + the bridle, which was under the other horse’s feet—reached it, and, + well satisfied with himself, looked round at Paddy, who looked back to the + chaise-door at my angry servants, “secure in the last event of things.” In + vain the Englishman in monotonous anger, and the Frenchman in every note + of the gamut, abused Paddy: necessity and wit were on Paddy’s side; he + parried all that was said against his chaise, his horses, himself, and his + country, with invincible comic dexterity, till at last, both his + adversaries, dumb-foundered, clambered into the vehicle, where they were + instantly shut up in straw and darkness. Paddy, in a triumphant tone, + called to <i>my</i> postilions, bidding them “get on, and not be stopping + the way any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Without uttering a syllable, they drove on; but they could not, nor could + I, refrain from looking back to see how those fellows would manage. We saw + the fore-horses make towards the right, then to the left, and every way + but straight forwards; whilst Paddy bawled to Hosey—“Keep the middle + of the road, can’t ye? I don’t want ye to draw a pound at-all-at-all.” + </p> + <p> + At last, by dint of whipping, the four horses were compelled to set off in + a lame gallop; but they stopped short at a hill near the end of the town, + whilst a shouting troop of ragged boys followed, and pushed them fairly to + the top. Half an hour afterwards, as we were putting on our drag-chain to + go down another steep hill,—to my utter astonishment, Paddy, with + his horses in full gallop, came rattling and <i>chehupping</i> past us. My + people called to warn him that he had no <i>drag</i>: but still he cried + “Never fear!” and shaking the long reins, and stamping with his foot, on + he went thundering down the hill. My Englishmen were aghast. + </p> + <p> + “The turn yonder below, at the bottom of the hill, is as sharp and ugly as + ever I see,” said my postilion, after a moment’s stupified silence. “He + will break their necks, as sure as my name is John.” + </p> + <p> + Quite the contrary: when we had dragged and undragged, and came up to + Paddy, we found him safe on his legs, mending some of his tackle very + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “If that had broken as you were going down the steep hill,” said I, “it + would have been all over with you, Paddy.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true, plase your honour: but it never happened me going down hill—nor + never will, by the blessing of God, if I’ve any luck.” + </p> + <p> + With this mixed confidence in a special providence, and in his own good + luck, Paddy went on, much to my amusement. It was his glory to keep before + us; and he rattled on till he came to a narrow part of the road, where + they were rebuilding a bridge. Here there was a dead stop. Paddy lashed + his horses, and called them all manner of names; but the wheel horse, + Knockecroghery, was restive, and at last began to kick most furiously. It + seemed inevitable that the first kick which should reach the splinter-bar, + at which it was aimed, must demolish it instantly. My English gentleman + and my Frenchman both put their heads out of the only window which was + pervious, and called most manfully to be let out. “Never fear,” said + Paddy. To open the door for themselves was beyond their force or skill. + One of the hind wheels, which had belonged to another carriage, was too + high to suffer the door to be opened, and the blind at the other side + prevented their attempts, so they were close prisoners. The men who had + been at work on the broken bridge came forward, and rested on their spades + to see the battle. As my carriage could not pass, I was also compelled to + be a spectator of this contest between man and horse. + </p> + <p> + “Never fear,” reiterated Paddy; “I’ll engage I’ll be up wid him. Now for + it, Knockecroghery! Oh, the rogue, he thinks he has me at a <i>nonplush</i>, + but I’ll show him the <i>differ</i>.” + </p> + <p> + After this brag of war, Paddy whipped, Knockecroghery kicked; and Paddy, + seemingly unconscious of danger, sat within reach of the kicking horse, + twitching up first one of his legs, then the other, and shifting as the + animal aimed his hoofs, escaping every time as it were by miracle. With a + mixture of temerity and presence of mind, which made us alternately look + upon him as a madman and a hero, he gloried in the danger, secure of + success, and of the sympathy of the spectators. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! didn’t I <i>compass</i> him cleverly then? Oh, the villain, to be + browbating me! I’m too cute for him yet. See there, now, he’s come to; and + I’ll be his bail he’ll go <i>asy</i> enough wid me. Ogh! he has a fine + spirit of his own, but it’s I that can match him: ‘twould be a poor case + if a man like me cou’dn’t match a horse any way, let alone a mare, which + this is, or it never would be so vicious.” + </p> + <p> + After this hard-fought battle, and suitable rejoicing for the victory, + Paddy walked his subdued adversary on a few yards to allow us to pass him; + but, to the dismay of my postilions, a hay-rope was at this instant thrown + across the road, before our horses, by the road-makers, who, to explain + this proceeding, cried out, “Plase your honour, the road is so dry, we’d + expect a trifle to wet it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do these fellows mean?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “It’s only a tester or a hog they want, your honour, to give ‘em to drink + your honour’s health,” said Paddy. + </p> + <p> + “A hog to drink my health?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that is a thirteen, plase your honour; all as one as an English + shilling.” + </p> + <p> + I threw them a shilling: the hay-rope was withdrawn, and at last we went + on. We heard no more of Paddy till evening. He came in two hours after us, + and expected to be doubly paid <i>for driving my honour’s gentlemen so + well</i>. + </p> + <p> + I must say that on this journey, though I met with many delays and + disasters; though one of my horses was lamed in shoeing by a smith, who + came home drunk from a funeral; and though the back pannel of my carriage + was broken by the pole of a chaise; and though one day I went without my + dinner at a large desolate inn, where nothing was to be had but whiskey; + and though one night I lay in a little smoky den, in which the meanest of + my servants in England would have thought it impossible to sleep; and + though I complained bitterly, and swore it was impracticable for a + gentleman to travel in Ireland; yet I never remember to have experienced, + on any journey, less ennui.<a href="#linknote-78" name="linknoteref-78" + id="linknoteref-78"><small>78</small></a> I was out of patience twenty + times a day, but I certainly felt no ennui; and I am convinced that the + benefit some patients receive from a journey is in an inverse proportion + to the ease and luxury of their mode of travelling. When they are + compelled to exert their faculties, and to use their limbs, they forget + their nerves, as I did. Upon this principle I should recommend to wealthy + hypochondriacs a journey in Ireland, preferably to any country in the + civilized world. I can promise them, that they will not only be moved to + anger often enough to make their blood circulate briskly, but they will + even, in the acme of their impatience, be thrown into salutary convulsions + of laughter, by the comic concomitants of their disasters: besides, if + they have hearts, their best feelings cannot fail to be awakened by the + warm, generous hospitality they will receive in this country, from the + cabin to the castle. + </p> + <p> + Late in the evening of the fourth day, we came to an inn on the verge of + the county where my estate was situate. It was one of the wildest parts of + Ireland. We could find no horses, nor accommodations of any sort, and we + had several miles farther to go. For our only comfort, the dirty landlady, + who had married the hostler, and wore gold drop ear-rings, reminded us, + that, “Sure, if we could but wait an hour, and take a fresh egg, we should + have a fine moon.” + </p> + <p> + After many fruitless imprecations, my French cook was obliged to mount one + of my saddle-horses; my groom was left to follow us the next day; I let my + gentleman sit on the barouche box, and proceeded with my own tired horses. + The moon, which my landlady had promised me, rose, and I had a full view + of the face of the country. As we approached my maritime territories, the + cottages were thinly scattered, and the trees had a stunted appearance; + they all slanted one way, from the prevalent winds that blew from the + ocean. Our road presently stretched along the beach, and I saw nothing to + vary the prospect but rocks, and their huge shadows upon the water. The + road being sandy, the feet of the horses made no noise, and nothing + interrupted the silence of the night but the hissing sound of the + carriage-wheels passing through the sand. + </p> + <p> + “What o’clock is it now, think you, John?” said one of my postilions to + the other. + </p> + <p> + “Past twelve, for <i>sartain</i>,” said John; “and this <i>bees</i> a + strange Irish place,” continued he, in a drawling voice; “with no possible + way o’ getting at it, as I see.” John, after a pause, resumed, “I say, + Timothy, to the best of my opinion, this here road is leading <i>on</i> us + into the sea.” John replied, “that he did suppose there might be such a + thing as a boat farther on, but where, he could not say for <i>sartain</i>.” + Dismayed and helpless, they at last stopped to consult whether they had + come the right road to the house. In the midst of their consultation there + came up an Irish carman, whistling as he walked beside his horse and car. + </p> + <p> + “Honest friend, is this the road to Glenthorn Castle?” + </p> + <p> + “To Glenthorn, sure enough, your honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Whereabouts is the castle?” + </p> + <p> + “Forenent you, if you go on to the turn.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Forenent</i> you!” As the postilions pondered upon this word, the + carman, leaving his horse, and car, turned back to explain by action what + he could not make intelligible by words. + </p> + <p> + “See, isn’t here the castle?” cried he, darting before us to the turn of + the road, where he stood pointing at what we could not possibly see, as it + was hid by a promontory of rock. When we f reached the spot where he was + stationed, we came full upon the view of Glenthorn Castle: it seemed to + rise from the sea, abrupt and insulated, in all the gloomy grandeur of + ancient times, with turrets and battlements, and a huge gateway, the + pointed arch of which receded in perspective between the projecting + towers. + </p> + <p> + “It’s my lord himself, I’m fond to believe!” said our guide, taking off + his hat; “I had best step on and tell ‘em at the castle.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my good friend, there is no occasion to trouble you farther; you had + better go back to your horse and car, which you have left on the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! they are used to that, plase your honour; they’ll go on very <i>quite</i>, + and I’ll run like a redshank with the news to the castle.” + </p> + <p> + He ran on before us with surprising velocity, whilst our tired horses + dragged us slowly through the sand. As we approached, the gateway of the + castle opened, and a number of men, who appeared to be dwarfs when + compared with the height of the building, came out with torches in their + hands. By their bustle, and the vehemence with which they bawled to one + another, one might have thought that the whole castle was in flames; but + they were only letting down a drawbridge. As I was going over this bridge, + a casement window opened in the castle; and a voice, which I knew to be + old Ellinor’s, exclaimed, “Mind the big hole in the middle of the bridge, + God bless <i>yees!”</i> + </p> + <p> + I passed over the broken bridge, and through the massive gate, under an + arched way, at the farthest end of which a lamp had just been lighted: + then I came into a large open area, the court of the castle. The hollow + sound of the horses’ feet, and of the carriage rumbling over the + drawbridge, was immediately succeeded by the strange and eager voices of + the people, who filled the court with a variety of noises, contrasting, in + the most striking manner, with the silence in which we had travelled over + the sands. The great effect that my arrival instantaneously produced upon + the multitude of servants and dependants, who issued from the castle, gave + me an idea of my own consequence beyond any thing which I had ever felt in + England. These people seemed “born for my use:” the officious + precipitation with which they ran to and fro; the style in which they + addressed me; some crying, “Long life to the Earl of Glenthorn!” some + blessing me for coming to reign over them; all together gave more the idea + of vassals than of tenants, and carried my imagination centuries back to + feudal times. + </p> + <p> + The first person I saw on entering the hall of my castle was poor Ellinor: + she pushed her way up to me— + </p> + <p> + “‘Tis himself!” cried she. Then turning about suddenly, “I’ve seen him in + his own castle—I’ve seen him; and if it pleases God this minute to + take me to himself, I would die with pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “My good Ellinor,” said I, touched to the heart by her affection, “my good + Ellinor, I hope you will live many a happy year; and if I can contribute—” + </p> + <p> + “And himself to speak to me so kind before them all!” interrupted she. + “Oh! this is too much—quite too much!” She burst into tears; and, + hiding her face with her arm, made her way out of the hall. + </p> + <p> + The flights of stairs which I had to ascend, and the length of galleries + through which I was conducted, before I reached the apartment where supper + was served, gave me a vast idea of the extent of my castle; but I was too + much fatigued to enjoy fully the gratifications of pride. To the simple + pleasures of appetite I was more sensible: I ate heartily of one of the + most profusely hospitable suppers that ever was prepared for a noble + baron, even in the days when oxen were roasted whole. Then I grew so + sleepy, that I was impatient to be shown to my bed. I was ushered through + another suite of chambers and galleries; and, as I was traversing one of + these, a door of some strange dormitory opened, and a group of female + heads were thrust out, in the midst of which I could distinguish old + Ellinor’s face; but, as I turned my head, the door closed so quickly, that + I had no time to speak: I only heard the words, “Blessings on him! that’s + he!” + </p> + <p> + I was so sleepy, that I rejoiced having escaped an occasion where I might + have been called upon to speak, yet I was really grateful to my poor nurse + for her blessing. The state tower, in which, after reiterated entreaties, + I was at last left alone to repose, was hung with magnificent, but ancient + tapestry. It was so like a room in a haunted castle, that if I had not + been too much fatigued to think of any thing, I should certainly have + thought of Mrs. Radcliffe. I am sorry to say that I have no mysteries, or + even portentous omens, to record of this night; for the moment that I lay + down in my antiquated bed, I fell into a profound sleep. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + When I awoke, I thought that I was on shipboard; for the first sound I + heard was that of the sea booming against the castle walls. I arose, + looked out of the window of my bedchamber, and saw that the whole prospect + bore an air of savage wildness. As I contemplated the scene, my + imagination was seized with the idea of remoteness from civilized society: + the melancholy feeling of solitary grandeur took possession of my soul. + </p> + <p> + From this feeling I was relieved by the affectionate countenance of my old + nurse, who at this instant put her head half in at the door. + </p> + <p> + “I only just made bold to look in at the fire, to see did it burn, because + I lighted it myself, and would not be blowing of it for fear of wakening + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Ellinor, come in,” said I. “Come quite in.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, since you’ve nobody with you that I need be afraid of,” said she, + looking round satisfied, when she saw my own man was not in the room. + </p> + <p> + “You need never be afraid of any body, Ellinor, whilst I am alive,” said + I; “for I will always protect you. I do not forget your conduct, when you + thought I was dead in the banqueting-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don’t be talking of that; thanks be to God there was nothing in it! I + see you well now. Long life to you! Sure you must have been tired to death + last night, for this morning early you lay so <i>quite</i>, sleeping like + an angel; and I could see a great likeness in <i>yees</i> to what you were + when you were a child in my arms.” + </p> + <p> + “But sit down, sit down, my good Ellinor,” said I, “and let us talk a + little of your own affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “And are not these my own affairs?” said she, rather angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; but I mean, that you must tell me how you are going on in the + world, and what I can do to make you comfortable and happy.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s one thing would make me happy,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Name it,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “To be let light your fire myself every morning, and open your shutters, + dear.” + </p> + <p> + I could not help smiling at the simplicity of the request. I was going to + press her to ask something of more consequence, but she heard a servant + coming along the gallery, and, starting from her chair, she ran and threw + herself upon her knees before the fire, blowing it with her mouth with + great vehemence. + </p> + <p> + The servant came to let me know that Mr. M’Leod, my agent, was waiting for + me in the breakfast-room. + </p> + <p> + “And will I be let light your fire then every morning?” said Ellinor + eagerly, turning as she knelt. + </p> + <p> + “And welcome,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Then you won’t forget to speak about it for me,” said she, “else may be I + won’t be let up by them English. God bless you, and don’t forget to speak + for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will remember to speak about it,” said I; but I went down stairs and + forgot it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. M’Leod, whom I found reading the newspaper in the breakfast-room, + seemed less affected by my presence than any body I had seen since my + arrival. He was a hard-featured, strong-built, perpendicular man, with a + remarkable quietness of deportment: he spoke with deliberate distinctness, + in an accent slightly Scotch; and, in speaking, he made use of no + gesticulation, but held himself surprisingly still. No part of him but his + eyes moved, and they had an expression of slow, but determined good sense. + He was sparing of his words; but the few that he used said much, and went + directly to the point. He pressed for the immediate examination and + settlement of his accounts: he enumerated several things of importance, + which he had done for my service: but he did this without pretending the + slightest attachment to me; he mentioned them only as proofs of his having + done his duty to his employer, for which he neither expected nor would + accept of thanks. He seemed to be cold and upright in his mind as in his + body. I was not influenced in his favour even by his striking appearance + of plain-dealing, so strong was the general abhorrence of agents which + Crawley’s treachery had left in my mind. The excess of credulity, when + convinced of its error, becomes the extreme of suspicion. Persons not + accustomed to reason often argue absurdly, because, from particular + instances, they deduce general conclusions, and extend the result of their + limited experience of individuals indiscriminately to whole classes. The + labour of thinking was so great to me, that, having once come to a + conclusion upon any subject, I would rather persist in it, right or wrong, + than be at the trouble of going over the process again to revise and + rectify my judgment. + </p> + <p> + Upon this occasion national prejudice heightened the prepossession which + circumstances had raised. Mr. M’Leod was not only an agent, but a + Scotchman; and I had a notion that all Scotchmen were crafty: therefore I + concluded that his blunt manner was assumed, and his plain-dealing but a + more refined species of policy. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he laid before me a general statement of my affairs; + obliged me to name a day for the examination of his accounts; and then, + without expressing either mortification or displeasure at the coldness of + my behaviour, or at my evident impatience of his presence, he, unmoved of + spirit, rang for his horse, wished me a good morning, and departed. + </p> + <p> + By this time my castle-yard was filled with a crowd of “great-coated + suitors,” who were all <i>come to see—could they see my lordship? + </i>or <i>waiting just to say two words to my honour.</i> In various + lounging attitudes, leaning against the walls, or pacing backwards and + forwards before the window, to catch my eye, they, with a patience passing + the patience of courtiers, waited, hour after hour, the live-long day, for + their turn, or their chance, of an audience. I had promised myself the + pleasure of viewing my castle this day, and of taking a ride through my + grounds; but that was totally out of the question. I was no longer a man + with a will of my own, or with time at my own disposal. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Long may you live to reign over us!”</i> was the signal that I was now + to live, like a prince, only for the service of my subjects. How these + subjects of mine had contrived to go on for so many years in my absence, I + was at a loss to conceive; for, the moment I was present, it seemed + evident that they could not exist without me. + </p> + <p> + One had a wife and six <i>childer,</i> and not a spot in the wide world to + live in, if my honour did not let him live under me, in any bit of a skirt + of the estate that would feed a cow. + </p> + <p> + Another had a brother in jail, who could not be <i>got out without me.</i> + </p> + <p> + Another had three lives dropped in a <i>lase</i> for ever; another wanted + a renewal; another a farm; another a house; and one <i>expected</i> my + lard would make his son an exciseman; and another that I would make him a + policeman; and another was <i>racked,</i> if I did not settle the <i>mearing</i> + between him and Corny Corkran; and half a hundred had given in <i>proposials</i> + to the agent for lands that would be out next May; and half a hundred more + came with legends of traditionary <i>promises from the old lord, my + lordship’s father that was</i>: and for hours I was forced to listen to + long stories <i>out of the face</i>, in which there was such a perplexing + and provoking mixture of truth and fiction, involved in language so + figurative, and tones so new to my English ears, that, with my utmost + patience and strained attention, I could comprehend but a very small + portion of what was said to me. + </p> + <p> + Never were my ears so weary any day of my life as they were this day. I + could not have endured the fatigue, if I had not been supported by the + agreeable idea of my own power and consequence; a power seemingly next to + despotic. This new stimulus sustained me for three days that I was kept a + state-prisoner in my own castle, by the crowds who came to do me homage, + and to claim my favour and protection. In vain every morning was my horse + led about saddled and bridled: I never was permitted to mount. On the + fourth morning, when I felt sure of having despatched all my tormentors, I + was in astonishment and despair on seeing my levee crowded with a fresh + succession of petitioners. I gave orders to my people to say that I was + going out, and absolutely could see nobody. I supposed that they did not + understand what my English servants said, for they never stirred from + their posts. On receiving a second message, they acknowledged that they + understood the first; but replied, that they could wait there till my + honour came back from my ride. With difficulty I mounted my horse, and + escaped from the closing ranks of my persecutors. At night I gave + directions to have the gates kept shut, and ordered the porter not to + admit any body at his peril. When I got up, I was delighted to see the + coast clear; but the moment I went out, lo! at the outside of the gate, + the host of besiegers were posted, and in my lawn, and along the road, and + through the fields: they pursued me; and when I forbade them to speak to + me when I was on horseback, the next day I found parties in ambuscade, who + laid wait for me in silence, with their hats off, bowing and bowing, till + I could not refrain from saying, “Well, my good friend, what do you stand + bowing there for?” Then I was fairly prisoner, and held by the bridle for + an hour. + </p> + <p> + In short, I found that I was now placed in a situation where I could hope + neither for privacy nor leisure; but I had the joys of power, my rising + passion for which would certainly have been extinguished in a short time + by my habitual indolence, if it had not been kept alive by jealousy of Mr. + M’Leod. + </p> + <p> + One day, when I refused to hear an importunate tenant, and declared that I + had been persecuted with petitioners ever since my arrival, and that I was + absolutely tired to death, the man answered, “True <i>for ye</i>, my lard; + and it’s a shame to be troubling you this way. Then, may be, it’s to Mr. + M’Leod I’ll go? Sure the agent will do as well, and no more about it. Mr. + M’Leod will do every thing the same way as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. M’Leod will do every thing!” said I, hastily: “no, by no means.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will we speak to, then?” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “To myself,” said I, with as haughty a tone as Louis XIV. could have + assumed, when he announced to his court his resolution to be his own + minister. After this intrepid declaration to act for myself, I could not + yield to my habitual laziness. So much had my pride been hurt, as well as + my other feelings, by Captain Crawley’s conduct, that I determined to show + the world I was not to be duped a second time by an agent. + </p> + <p> + When, on the day appointed, Mr. M’Leod came to settle accounts with me, I, + with an air of self-important capability, as if I had been all my life + used to look into my own affairs, sat down to inspect the papers; and, + incredible as it may appear, I went through the whole at a sitting, + without a single yawn; and, for a man who never before had looked into an + account, I understood the nature of debtor and creditor wonderfully well: + but, with my utmost desire to evince my arithmetical sagacity, I could not + detect the slightest error in the accounts; and it was evident that Mr. + M’Leod was not Captain Crawley; yet, rather than believe that he could be + both an agent and an honest man, I concluded, that if he did not cheat me + out of my money, his aim was to cheat me out of power; and, fancying that + he wished to be a man of influence and consequence in the county, I + transferred to him instantly the feelings that were passing in my own + mind, and took it for granted that he must be actuated by a love of power + in every thing that he did apparently for my service. + </p> + <p> + About this time I remember being much disturbed in my mind, by a letter + which Mr. M’Leod received in my presence, and of which he read to me only + a part: I never rested till I saw the whole. The epistle proved well worth + the trouble of deciphering: it related merely to the paving of my + chicken-yard. Like the King of Prussia,<a href="#linknote-79" + name="linknoteref-79" id="linknoteref-79"><small>79</small></a> who was + said to be so jealous of power, that he wanted to regulate all the + mousetraps in his dominions, I soon engrossed the management of a + perplexing multiplicity of minute insignificant details. Alas! I + discovered to my cost, that trouble is the inseparable attendant upon + power: and many times, in the course of the first ten days of my reign, I + was ready to give up my dignity from excessive fatigue. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Early one morning, after having passed a feverish night, tortured in my + dreams by the voices and faces of the people who had surrounded me the + preceding day, I was awakened by the noise of somebody lighting my fire. I + thought it was Ellinor; and the idea of the disinterested affection of + this poor woman came full into my mind, contrasted in the strongest manner + with the recollection of the selfish encroaching people by whom, of late, + I had been worried. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, my good Ellinor?” said I; “I have not seen any thing of + you this week past.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not Ellinor at all, my lard,” said a new voice. + </p> + <p> + “And why so? Why does not Ellinor light my fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Myself does not know, my lard.” + </p> + <p> + “Go for her directly.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s gone home these three days, my lard.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone! is she sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Not as I know <i>on</i>, my lard. Myself does not know what ailed her, + except she would be jealous of my lighting the fire. But I can’t say what + ailed her; for she went away without a word good or bad, when she seen me + lighting this fire, which I did by the housekeeper’s orders.” + </p> + <p> + I now recollected poor Ellinor’s request, and reproached myself for having + neglected to fulfil my promise, upon an affair which, however trifling in + itself, appeared of consequence to her. In the course of my morning’s ride + I determined to call upon her at her own house, and make my apologies: but + first I satisfied my curiosity about a prodigious number of <i>parks</i> + and <i>towns</i> which I had heard of upon my estate. Many a ragged man + had come to me, with the modest request that I would let him <i>one of the + parks near the town</i>. The horse-park, the deer-park, the cow-park, were + not quite sufficient to answer the ideas I had attached to the word <i>park</i>: + but I was quite astonished and mortified when I beheld the bits and + corners of land near the town of Glenthorn, on which these high-sounding + titles had been bestowed:—just what would feed a cow is sufficient + in Ireland to constitute a park. + </p> + <p> + When I heard the names of above a hundred towns on the Glenthorn estate, I + had an exalted idea of my own territories; and I was impatient to make a + progress through my dominions: but, upon visiting a few of these places, + my curiosity was satisfied. Two or three cabins gathered together were + sufficient to constitute a town, and the land adjoining thereto is called + a town-land. The denominations of these town-lands having continued from + generation to generation, according to ancient surveys of Ireland, it is + sufficient to show the boundaries of a town-land, to prove that there must + be a town; and a tradition of a town continues to be satisfactory, even + when only a single cabin remains. I turned my horse’s head away in disgust + from one of these traditionary towns, and desired a boy to show me the way + to Ellinor O’Donoghoe’s house. + </p> + <p> + “So I will, plase your honour, my lard; sure I’ve a right to know, for + she’s my own granny.” + </p> + <p> + The boy, or, as he was called, the <i>gossoon</i>, ran across some fields + where there was abundance of fern and of rabbits. The rabbits, sitting + quietly at the entrance of their holes, seemed to consider themselves as + proprietors of the soil, and me and my horse as intruders. The boy + apologized for the number of rabbit-holes on this part of the estate: “It + would not be so, my lard, if I had a gun allowed me by the gamekeeper, + which he would give me if he knew it would be plasing to your honour.” The + ingenuity with which even the young boys can introduce their requests in a + favourable moment sometimes provoked me, and sometimes excited my + admiration. This boy made his just at the time he was rolling out of my + way a car that stopped a gap in the hedge; and he was so hot and out of + breath with running in my service, that I could not refuse him <i>a token + to the gamekeeper that he might get a gun</i> as soon as I understood what + it meant. + </p> + <p> + We came to Ellinor’s house, a wretched-looking, low, and mud-walled cabin; + at one end it was propped by a buttress of loose stones, upon which stood + a goat reared on his hind legs, to browse on the grass that grew on the + house-top. A dung-hill was before the only window, at the other end of the + house, and close to the door was a puddle of the dirtiest of dirty water, + in which ducks were dabbling. At my approach there came out of the cabin a + pig, a calf, a lamb, a kid, and two geese, all with their legs tied; + followed by turkeys, cocks, hens, chickens, a dog, a cat, a kitten, a + beggar-man, a beggar-woman with a pipe in her mouth, children innumerable, + and a stout girl with a pitchfork in her hand; all together more than I, + looking down upon the roof as I sat on horseback, and measuring the + superficies with my eye, could have possibly supposed the mansion capable + of containing. I asked if Ellinor O’Donoghoe was at home; but the dog + barked, the geese cackled, the turkeys gobbled, and the beggars begged, + with one accord, so loudly, that there was no chance of my being heard. + When the <i>girl</i> had at last succeeded in appeasing them all with her + pitchfork, she answered, that Ellinor O’Donoghoe was at home, but that she + was out with the potatoes; and she ran to fetch her, after calling to <i>the + lays, who was within in the room smoking</i>, to come out to his honour. + As soon as they had crouched under the door, and were able to stand + upright, they welcomed me with a very good grace, and were proud to see me + in <i>the kingdom</i>. I asked if they were all Ellinor’s sons? + </p> + <p> + “All entirely,” was the first answer. + </p> + <p> + “Not one but one,” was the second answer. The third made the other two + intelligible. + </p> + <p> + “Plase your honour, we are all her sons-in-law, except myself, who am her + lawful son.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are my foster-brother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, plase your honour, it’s not me, but my brother, and he’s not in it.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Not in it?’’</i> + </p> + <p> + “No, plase your honour; becaase he’s in the forge, up <i>abow</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Abow!” said I; “what does he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure he’s the blacksmith, my lard.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m Ody, plase your honour; the short for Owen.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is your trade?” + </p> + <p> + “Trade, plase your honour! I was bred to none, more than another; but + expects, only that my mother’s not willing to part with me, to go into the + militia next month; and I’m sure she’d let me, if your honour’s lordship + would spake a word to the colonel, to see to get me made a serjeant <i>immadiately</i>.” + </p> + <p> + As Ody made his request, all his companions came forward in sign of + sympathy, and closed round my horse’s head to make me <i>sinsible</i> of + their expectations; but at this instant Ellinor came up, her old face + colouring all over with joy when she saw me. + </p> + <p> + “So, Ellinor,” said I, “you were affronted, I hear, and left the castle in + anger?” + </p> + <p> + “In anger! And if I did, more shame for me—but anger does not last + long with me any way; and against you, my lord, dear, how could it? Oh, + think how good he is, coming to see me in such a poor place!” + </p> + <p> + “I will make it a better place for you, Ellinor,” said I. Far from being + eager to obtain promises, she still replied, that “all was good enough for + her.” I desired that she would come and live with me at the castle, till a + better house than her present habitation could be built for her; but she + seemed to prefer this hovel. I assured her that she should be permitted to + light my fire. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s better for me not,” said she; “better keep out of the way. I + could not be asy if I got any one ill-will.” + </p> + <p> + I assured her that she should be at liberty to do just as she liked: and + whilst I rode home I was planning a pretty cottage for her near the + porter’s lodge. I was pleased with myself for my gratitude to this poor + woman. Before I slept, I actually wrote a letter, which obtained for Ody + the honour of being made a serjeant in the —— militia; and + Ellinor, dazzled by this military glory, was satisfied that he should + leave home, though he was her favourite. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let him leave me then,” said she; “I won’t stand in his light. I + never thought of my living to see Ody a serjeant. Now, Ody, have done + being wild, honey-dear, and be a credit to your family, and to his + honour’s commendation—God bless him for ever for it! From the very + first I knew it was he that had the kind heart.” + </p> + <p> + I am not sure that it was a very good action to get a man made a serjeant, + of whom I knew nothing but that he was son to my nurse. Self-complacency, + however, cherished my first indistinct feelings of benevolence. Though not + much accustomed to reflect upon my own sensations, I think I remember, at + this period, suspecting that the feeling of benevolence is a greater + pleasure than the possession of <i>barouches</i>, and horses, and castles, + and parks—greater even than the possession of power. Of this last + truth, however, I had not as yet a perfectly clear conception. Even in my + benevolence I was as impatient and unreasonable as a child. Money, I + thought, had the power of Aladdin’s lamp, to procure with magical celerity + the gratification of my wishes. I expected that a cottage for Ellinor + should rise out of the earth at my command. But the slaves of Aladdin’s + lamp were not Irishmen. The delays, and difficulties, and blunders, in the + execution of my orders, provoked me beyond measure; and it would have been + difficult for a cool spectator to decide whether I or my workmen were most + in fault; they for their dilatory habits, or I for my impatient temper. + </p> + <p> + “Well, <i>plase</i> your honour, when the <i>pratees</i> are set, and the + turf cut, we’ll <i>fall-to</i> at Ellinor’s house.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound the potatoes and the turf! you must <i>fall-to</i>, as you call + it, directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it without the lime, and plase your honour? Sure that same is not + drawn yet, nor the stones quarried, since it is of stone it will be—nor + the foundations itself dug, and the horses were all putting out dung.” + </p> + <p> + Then after the bog and the potatoes, came funerals and holidays + innumerable. The masons were idle one week waiting for the mortar, and the + mortar another week waiting for the stones, and then they were at a stand + for the carpenter when they came to the door-case, and the carpenter was + looking for the sawyer, and the sawyer was gone to have the saw mended. + Then there was a <i>stop</i> again at the window-sills for the + stone-cutter, and he was at the quarter-sessions, processing his brother + for <i>tin and tinpence, hay-money</i>. And when, in spite of all delays + and obstacles, the walls reached their destined height, the roof was a new + plague; the carpenter, the slater, and the nailer, were all at variance, + and I cannot tell which was the most provoking rogue of the three. At + last, however, the house was roofed and slated: then I would not wait till + the walls were dry before I plastered, and papered, and furnished it. I + fitted it up in the most elegant style of English cottages; for I was + determined that Ellinor’s habitation should be such as had never been seen + in this part of the world. The day when it was finished, and when I gave + possession of it to Ellinor, paid me for all my trouble; I tasted a + species of pleasure that was new to me, and which was the sweeter from + having been earned with some difficulty. And now, when I saw a vast number + of my tenants assembled at a rural feast which I gave on Ellinor’s <i>installation</i>, + my benevolence enlarged, even beyond the possibility of its gratification, + and I wished to make all my dependants happy, provided I could accomplish + it without much trouble. The method of doing good, which seemed to require + the least exertion, and which I, therefore, most willingly practised, was + giving away money. I did not wait to inquire, much less to examine into + the merits of the claimants; but, without selecting proper objects, I + relieved myself from the uneasy feeling of pity, by indiscriminate + donations to objects apparently the most miserable. + </p> + <p> + I was quite angry with Mr. M’Leod, my agent, and considered him as a + selfish, hard-hearted miser, because he did not seem to sympathize with + me, or to applaud my generosity. I was so much irritated by his cold + silence, that I could not forbear pressing him to say something. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I doubt</i>, then,” said he, “since you desire me to speak my mind, my + lord, <i>I doubt</i> whether the best way of encouraging the industrious + is to give premiums to the idle.” + </p> + <p> + “But, idle or not, these poor wretches are so miserable, that I cannot + refuse to give them something; and, surely, when one can do it so easily, + it is right to relieve misery. Is it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly, my lord; but the difficulty is, to relieve present misery, + without creating more in future. Pity for one class of beings sometimes + makes us cruel to others. I am told that there are some Indian Brahmins so + very compassionate, that they hire beggars to let fleas feed upon them: I + doubt whether it might not be better to let the fleas starve.” + </p> + <p> + I did not in the least understand what Mr. M’Leod meant: but I was soon + made to comprehend it, by crowds of eloquent beggars, who soon surrounded + me: many who had been resolutely struggling with their difficulties, + slackened their exertions, and left their labour for the easier trade of + imposing upon my credulity. The money I had bestowed was wasted at the + dram-shop, or it became the subject of family-quarrels; and those whom I + had <i>relieved</i> returned to <i>my honour</i>, with fresh and + insatiable expectations. All this time my industrious tenants grumbled, + because no encouragement was given to them; and, looking upon me as a weak + good-natured fool, they combined in a resolution to ask me for long + leases, or reduction of rent. + </p> + <p> + The rhetoric of my tenants succeeded in some instances; and again I was + mortified by Mr. M’Leod’s silence. I was too proud to ask his opinion. I + ordered, and was obeyed. A few leases for long terms were signed and + sealed; and when I had thus my own way completely, I could not refrain + from recurring to Mr. M’Leod’s opinion. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt, my lord,” said he, “whether this measure may be as advantageous + as you hope. These fellows, these middle-men, will underset the land, and + live in idleness, whilst they <i>rack</i> a parcel of wretched + under-tenants.” + </p> + <p> + “But they said they would keep the land in their own hands, and improve + it; and that the reason why they could not afford to improve before was, + that they had not long leases.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be doubted whether long leases alone will make improving tenants; + for in the next county to us, there are many farms of the dowager Lady + Ormsby’s land let at ten shillings an acre, and her tenantry are beggars: + and the land now, at the end of the leases, is worn out, and worse than at + their commencement.” + </p> + <p> + I was weary listening to this cold reasoning, and resolved to apply no + more for explanations to Mr. M’Leod; yet in my indolence I wanted the + support of his approbation, at the very time I was jealous of his + interference. + </p> + <p> + At one time I had a mind to raise the wages of labour; but Mr. M’Leod + said, “<i>It might be doubted</i> whether the people would not work less, + when they could with less work have money enough to support them.” + </p> + <p> + I was puzzled: and then I had a mind to lower the wages of labour, to + force them to work or starve. Still provoking Mr. M’Leod said, “It might + be doubted whether it would not be better to leave them alone.” + </p> + <p> + I gave marriage-portions to the daughters of my tenants, and rewards to + those who had children; for I had always heard that legislators should + encourage population. Still Mr. M’Leod hesitated to approve; he observed, + “that my estate was so populous, that the complaint in each family was, + that they had not land for the sons. <i>It might be doubted</i> whether, + if a farm could support but ten people, it were wise to encourage the + birth of twenty. <i>It might be doubted</i> whether it were not better for + ten to live, and be well fed, than for twenty to be born, and to be + half-starved.” + </p> + <p> + To encourage manufactures in my town of Glenthorn, I proposed putting a + clause in my leases, compelling my tenants to buy stuffs and linens + manufactured at Glenthorn, and no where else. Stubborn M’Leod, as usual, + began with, “<i>I doubt</i> whether that will not encourage the + manufacturers at Glenthorn to make bad stuffs and bad linen, since they + are sure of a sale, and without danger of competition.” + </p> + <p> + At all events, I thought my tenants would grow rich and <i>independent</i>, + if they made every thing <i>at home</i> that they wanted: yet Mr. M’Leod + perplexed me by his “doubt whether it would not be better for a man to buy + shoes, if he could buy them cheaper than he could make them.” He added + something about the division of labour, and Smith’s Wealth of Nations; to + which I could only answer—“Smith’s a Scotchman.” + </p> + <p> + I cannot express how much I dreaded Mr. M’Leod’s <i>I doubt</i>—and—<i>It + may be doubted.</i> + </p> + <p> + From the pain of doubt, and the labour of thought, I was soon most + agreeably reprieved by the company of a Mr. Hardcastle, whose visits I + constantly encouraged by a most gracious reception. Mr. Hardcastle was the + agent of the dowager Lady Ormsby, who had a large estate in my + neighbourhood: he was the very reverse of my Mr. M’Leod in his deportment + and conversation. Talkative, self-sufficient, peremptory, he seemed not to + know what it was <i>to doubt</i>; he considered doubt as a proof of + ignorance, imbecility, or cowardice. <i>“Can any man doubt?”</i> was his + usual beginning. On every subject of human knowledge, taste, morals, + politics, economy, legislation; on all affairs, civil, military, or + ecclesiastical, he decided at once in the most confident tone. Yet he + “never read, not he!” he had nothing to do with books; he consulted only + his own eyes and ears, and appealed only to common sense. As to theory, he + had no opinion of theory; for his part, he only pretended to understand + practice and experience—and his practice was confined steadily to + his own practice, and his experience uniformly to what he had tried at + New-town-Hardcastle. + </p> + <p> + At first I thought him a mighty clever man, and I really rejoiced to see + my <i>doubter</i> silenced. After dinner, when he had finished speaking in + this decisive manner, I used frequently to back him with a—<i>Very + true—very fair—very clear</i>—though I understood what + he said as little as he did himself; but it was an ease to my mind to have + a disputed point settled—and I filled my glass with an air of + triumph, whilst M’Leod never contradicted my assertions, nor controverted + Mr. Hardcastle’s arguments. There was still an air of content and quiet + self-satisfaction in M’Leod’s very silence, which surprised and vexed me. + </p> + <p> + One day, when Hardcastle was laying down the law upon several subjects in + his usual dictatorial manner, telling us how he managed his people, and + what order he kept them in, I was determined that M’Leod should not enjoy + the security of his silence, and I urged him to give us his general + opinion, as to the means of improving the poor people in Ireland. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt,” said M’Leod, “whether any thing effectual can be done till they + have a better education.” + </p> + <p> + “Education!—Pshaw!—There it is now—these book-men,” + cried Hardcastle: “Why, my dear sir, can any man alive, who knows this + country, doubt that the common people have already too much education, as + it is called—a vast deal too much? Too many of them know how to + read, and write, and cipher, which I presume is all you mean by + education.” + </p> + <p> + “Not entirely,” said M’Leod; “a good education comprehends something + more.” + </p> + <p> + “The more the worse,” interrupted Hardcastle. “The more they know, the + worse they are, sir, depend on that; I know the people of this country, + sir; I have <i>a good right</i> to know them, sir, being born amongst + them, and bred amongst them; so I think I may speak with some confidence + on these matters. And I give it as my decided humble opinion, founded on + irrefragable experience, which is what I always build upon, that the way + to ruin the poor of Ireland would be to educate them, sir. Look at the + poor scholars, as they call themselves; and what are they? a parcel of + young vagabonds in rags, with a book under their arm instead of a spade or + a shovel, sir. And what comes of this? that they grow up the + worst-disposed, and the most troublesome seditiousrascals in the + community. I allow none of them about New-town-Hardcastle—none—banished + them all. Useless vagrants—hornets, vipers, sir: and show me a + quieter, better-managed set of people than I have made of mine. I go upon + experience, sir; and that’s the only thing to go upon; and I’ll go no + farther than New-town-Hardcastle: if that won’t bring conviction home to + you, nothing will.” + </p> + <p> + “I never was at New-town-Hardcastle,” said M’Leod, drily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I hope it will not be the case long. But in the mean time, my + good sir, do give me leave to put it to your own common sense, what can + reading or writing do for a poor man, unless he is to be a bailiff or an + exciseman? and you know all men can’t expect to be bailiffs or excisemen. + Can all the book-learning in the world, sir, dig a poor man’s potatoes for + him, or plough his land, or cut his turf? Then, sir, in this country, + where’s the advantage of education, I humbly ask? No, sir, no, trust me—keep + the Irish common people ignorant, and you keep ‘em quiet; and that’s the + only way with them; for they are too quiet and smart, as it is, naturally. + Teach them to read and write, and it’s just adding fuel to fire—fire + to gunpowder, sir. Teach them any thing, and directly you <i>set them up</i>: + now it’s our business to <i>keep them down</i>, unless, sir, you’d wish to + have your throat cut. Education, sir! Lord bless your soul, sir! they have + a great deal too much; they know too much already, which makes them so + refractory to the laws, and so idle. I will go no farther than + New-town-Hardcastle, to prove all this. So, my good sir,” concluded he, + triumphantly, “education, I grant you, is necessary for the rich; but tell + me, if you can, what’s the use of education to the poor?” + </p> + <p> + “Much the same, I apprehend, as to the rich,” answered M’Leod. “The use of + education, as I understand it, is to teach men to see clearly, and to + follow steadily, their real interests. All morality, you know, is + comprised in this definition; and—” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, sir; but all this can never apply to the poor in Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir; are they not men?” + </p> + <p> + “Men, to be sure; but not like men in Scotland. The Irish know nothing of + their interests; and as to morality, that’s out of the question: they know + nothing about it, my dear sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the very thing of which I complain,” said M’Leod. “They know + nothing, because they have been taught nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “They cannot be taught, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever try?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>did</i>, sir, no later than last week. A fellow that I caught + stealing my turf, instead of sending him to jail, I said to him, with a + great deal of lenity, My honest fellow, did you never hear of the eighth + commandment, ‘Thou shalt not steal?’ He confessed he had; but did not know + it was the eighth. I showed it to him, and counted it to him myself; and + set him, for a punishment, to get his whole catechism. Well, sir, the next + week I found him stealing my turf again! and when I caught him by the + wrist in the fact, he said, it was because the priest would not let him + learn the catechism I gave him, because it was a Protestant one. Now you + see, sir, there’s a bar for ever to all education.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. M’Leod smiled, said something about time and patience, and observed, + “that one experiment was not conclusive against a whole nation.” Any thing + like a general argument Mr. Hardcastle could not comprehend. He knew every + blade of grass within the reach of his tether, but could not reach an inch + beyond. Any thing like an appeal to benevolent feelings was lost upon him; + for he was so frank in his selfishness, that he did not even pretend to be + generous. By sundry self-complacent motions he showed whilst his adversary + spoke, that he disdained to listen almost as much as to read: but, as soon + as M’Leod paused, he said, “What you observe, sir, may possibly be very + true; but I have made up my mind.” Then he went over and over again his + assertions, in a louder and a louder voice, ending with a tone of + interrogation that seemed to set all answer at defiance, “What have you to + answer to me now, sir?—Can any man alive doubt this, sir?” + </p> + <p> + M’Leod was perfectly silent. The company broke up; and, as we were going + out of the room, I maliciously asked M’Leod, why he, who could say so much + in his own defence, had suffered himself to be so completely silenced? He + answered me, in his low, deliberate voice, in the words of Moiré—“‘Qu’est-ce + que la raison avec un filet de voix contre une gueule comme celle-là?’ At + some other time,” added Mr. M’Leod, “my sentiments shall be at your + lordship’s disposal.” + </p> + <p> + Indolent persons love positive people, when they are of their own opinion; + because they are saved the trouble of developing their thoughts, or + supporting their assertions: but the moment the positive differs in + sentiment from the indolent man, there is an end of the friendship. The + indolent man then hates his pertinacious adversary as much as he loved his + sturdy friend. So it happened between Mr. Hardcastle and me. This + gentleman was a prodigious favourite with me, so long as his opinions were + not in opposition to my own; but an accident happened, which brought his + love of power and mine into direct competition, and then I found his + peremptory mode of reasoning and his ignorance absurd and insufferable. + </p> + <p> + Before I can do justice to my part of this quarrel, I must explain the + cause of the interest which I took in behalf of the persons aggrieved. + During the time that my first hot fit of benevolence was on me, I was + riding home one evening after dining with Mr. Hardcastle, and I was struck + with the sight of a cabin, more wretched than any I had ever before + beheld: the feeble light of a single rush-candle through the window + revealed its internal misery. + </p> + <p> + “Does any body live in that hovel?” said I + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sure, does there: the Noonans, plase your honour,” replied a man on + the road. Noonans! I recollected the name to be that of the pugilist, who + had died in consequence of the combat at which I had been present in + London; who had, with his dying breath, besought me to convey his only + half-guinea and his silk handkerchief to his poor father and sister. I + alighted from my horse, asking the man, at the same time, if the son of + this Noonan had not died in England. + </p> + <p> + “He had, sir, a son in England, Mick Noonan, who used to send him odd + guineas, <i>I mind</i>, and was a <i>good lad to his father</i>, though + wild; and there’s been no account of him at-all-at-all this long while: + but the old man has another boy, a sober lad, who’s abroad with the army + in the East Indies; and it’s he that is the hope of the family. And + there’s the father—and old as he is, and poor, and a cripple, I’d + engage there is not a happier man in the three counties at this very time + speaking: for it is just now I seen young Jemmy Riley, the daughter’s <i>bachelor</i>, + go by with a letter. What news? says I. ‘Great news!’ says he: ‘a letter + from Tom Noonan to his father; and I’m going in to read it for him.’” + </p> + <p> + By the time my voluble informant had come to this period, I had reached + the cabin door. Who could have expected to see smiles and hear + exclamations of joy under such a roof? + </p> + <p> + I saw the father, with his hands clasped in ecstasy, and looking up to + heaven, with the strong expression of delight in his aged countenance. I + saw every line of his face; for the light of the candle was full upon it. + The daughter, a beautiful girl, kneeling beside him, held the light for + the young man, who was reading her brother’s letter. I was sorry to + interrupt them. + </p> + <p> + “Your honour’s kindly welcome,” said the old man, making an attempt to + rise. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, don’t let me disturb you.” + </p> + <p> + “It was only a letter from a boy of mine that’s over the seas, we was + reading,” said the old man. “A better boy to an ould father, that’s good + for nothing now in this world, never was, plase your honour. See what he + has sent me: a draft here for ten guineas out of the little pay he has. + God for ever bless him!—as he surely will.” + </p> + <p> + After a few minutes’ conversation, the old man’s heart was so much opened + towards me, that he talked as freely as if he had known me for years. I + led to the subject of his other son Michael, who was mentioned in the + letter as a wild chap. “Ah! your honour, that’s what lies heaviest on my + heart, and will, to my dying day, that Mick, before he died, which they + say he did surely a twelvemonth ago, over there in England, never so much + as sent me one line, good or bad, or his sister a token to remember him by + even!” + </p> + <p> + “Had he but sent us the least bit of a word, or the least token in life, I + had been content,” said the sister, wiping her eyes: “we don’t so much as + know how he died.” + </p> + <p> + I took this moment to relate the circumstances of Michael Noonan’s death; + and when I told them of his dying request about the half-guinea and the + silk handkerchief, they were all so much touched, that they utterly forgot + the ten-guinea draft, which I saw on the ground, in the dirt, under the + old man’s feet, whilst he contemplated the half-guinea which his <i>poor + Michael</i> had sent him: repeating, “Poor fellow! poor fellow! ‘twas all + he had in the world. God bless him!—Poor Michael! he was a wild + chap! but none better to his parents than he while the life was in him. + Poor Michael!” + </p> + <p> + In no country have I found such strong instances of filial affection as in + Ireland. Let the sons go where they may, let what will befall them, they + never forget their parents at home: they write to them constantly the most + affectionate letters, and send them a share of whatever they earn. + </p> + <p> + When I asked the daughter of this Noonan, why she had not married? the old + man answered, “That’s her own fault—if it be a fault to abide by an + old father. She wastes her youth here, in the way your honour sees, + tending him who has none other to mind him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! let alone <i>that</i>,” said the girl, with a cheerful smile; “we be + too poor to think of marrying yet, by a great deal! so, father dear, + you’re no hinderance any way. For don’t I know, and doesn’t Jemmy there + know, that it’s a sin and a shame, as my mother used to say, for them that + have nothing, to marry and set up house-keeping, like the rogue that + ruined my father?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true,” said the young man, with a heavy sigh; “but times will + mend, or we’ll strive and mend them, with the blessing of God.” + </p> + <p> + I left this miserable but in admiration of the generosity of its + inhabitants. I desired the girl to come to Glenthorn Castle the next day, + that I might give her the silk handkerchief which her poor brother had + sent her. The more I inquired into the circumstances of this family, the + more cause I found for pity and approbation. The old man had been a good + farmer in his day, as the traditions of the aged, and the memories of the + young, were ready to witness; but he was unfortunately joined in <i>co-partnership</i> + with a drunken rogue, who ran away, and left an arrear of rent, which + ruined Noonan. Mr. Hardcastle, the agent, called upon him to pay it, and + sold all that the old man possessed; and this being insufficient to + discharge the debt, he was forced to give up his farm, and retire, with + his daughter, to this hovel; and soon afterwards he lost the use of his + side by a paralytic stroke. + </p> + <p> + I was so much pleased with the goodness of these poor people, that, in + despite of my indolent disposition, I bestirred myself the very next day + to find a better habitation for them on my own estate. I settled them, + infinitely to their satisfaction, in a small farm; and the girl married + her lover, who undertook to manage the farm for the old man. To my utter + surprise, I found that Mr. Hardcastle was affronted by the part I took in + this affair. He complained that I had behaved in a very ungentlemanlike + manner, and had spirited the tenants away from Lady Ormsby’s estate, + against the regulation which he had laid down for all <i>the</i> tenants + not to <i>emigrate</i> from <i>the estate</i>. Jemmy Riley, it seems, was + one of the <i>cotters</i> on the Ormsby estate, a circumstance with which + I was unacquainted; indeed I scarcely at that time understood what was + meant by a <i>cotter</i>. Mr. Hardcastle’s complaint, in matter and + manner, was unintelligible to me; but I was quite content to leave off + visiting him, as he left off visiting me—but here the matter did not + stop. This over-wise and over-busy gentleman took upon him, amongst other + offices, the regulation of the markets in the town of Ormsby; and as he + apprehended, for reasons best and only known to himself, a year of + scarcity, he thought fit to keep down the price of oats and potatoes. He + would allow none to be sold in the market of Ormsby but at the price which + he stipulated. The poor people grumbled, and, to remedy the injustice, + made private bargains with each other. He had information of this, and + seized the corn that was selling above the price he had fixed. Young + Riley, Noonan’s son-in-law, came to me to complain, that <i>his little + oats were seized and detained.</i> I remonstrated. Hardcastle resented the + appeal to me, and bid him wait and be damned. The young man, who was + rather of a hasty temper, and who did not much like either to wait or be + damned, seized his own oats, and was marching off, when they were + recaptured by Hardcastle’s bailiff, whom young Riley knocked down; and + who, as soon as he got up again, went <i>straight</i> and swore + examinations against Riley. Then I was offended, as I had a right to be, + by the custom of the country, with the magistrate who took an examination + against my tenant, without writing first to me. Then there was a race + between the examinations of <i>my</i> justice of peace and <i>his</i> + justice of peace. My indolence was conquered by my love of power: I + supported the contest; the affair came before our grand jury: I conquered, + and Mr. Hardcastle was ever after, of course, my enemy. To English ears + the possessive pronouns <i>my</i> and <i>his</i> may sound extraordinary, + prefixed to a justice of peace; but, in many parts of Ireland, this + language is perfectly correct. A great man talks of <i>making</i> a + justice of the peace with perfect confidence; a very great man talks with + as much certainty of <i>making</i> a sheriff; and a sheriff makes the + jury; and the jury makes the law. We must not forget, however, that in + England, during the reign of Elizabeth, a member of parliament defined a + justice of peace to be “an animal, who for half a dozen chickens will + dispense with half a dozen penal statutes.” Time is necessary to enforce + the sanctions of legislation and civilization—But I am anticipating + reflections which I made at a much later period of my life. To return to + my history. + </p> + <p> + My benevolence was soon checked by slight disappointments. Ellinor’s + cottage, which I had taken so much pains to build, became a source of + mortification to me. One day I found my old nurse sitting at her wheel, in + the midst of the wreck and litter of all sorts of household furniture, + singing her favourite song of + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “There was a lady loved a swine: + Honey! says she, + I’ll give ye a silver trough. + <i>Hunk!</i> says he!” + </pre> + <p> + Ellinor seemed, alas! to have as little taste for the luxuries with which + I had provided her as the pig had for the silver trough. What I called + conveniences were to her incumbrances: she had not been used to them; she + was put out of her way; and it was a daily torment to one of her habits, + to keep her house clean and neat. + </p> + <p> + There may be, as some philosophers assure us that there is, an innate love + of order in the human mind; but of this instinctive principle my poor + Ellinor was totally destitute. Her ornamented farm-house became, in a + wonderfully short time, a scene of dirt, rubbish, and confusion. There was + a partition between two rooms, which had been built with turf or peat, + instead of bricks, by the wise economy I had employed. Of course, this was + pulled down to get at the turf. The stairs also were pulled down and + burned, though there was no scarcity of firing. As the walls were + plastered and papered before they were quite dry, the paper grew mouldy, + and the plaster fell off. In the hurry of finishing, some of the woodwork + had but one coat of paint. In Ireland they have not faith in the excellent + Dutch proverb, <i>“Paint costs nothing.”</i> I could not get my workmen to + give a second coat of paint to any of the sashes, and the wood decayed: + divers panes of glass in the windows were broken, and their places filled + up with shoes, an old hat, or a bundle of rags. Some of the slates were + blown off one windy night: the slater lived at ten miles distance, and + before the slates were replaced, the rain came in, and Ellinor was forced + to make a bedchamber of the parlour, and then of the kitchen, retreating + from corner to corner as the rain pursued, till, at last, when “it <i>would</i> + come <i>every way</i> upon her bed,” she petitioned me to let her take the + slates off and thatch the house; for a slated-house, she said, was never + so warm as a <i>tatched cabin</i>; and as there was no smoke, she was <i>kilt</i> + with the <i>cowld</i>. + </p> + <p> + In my life I never felt so angry. I was ten times more angry than when + Crawley ran away with my wife. In a paroxysm of passion, I reproached + Ellinor with being a savage, an Irish-woman, and an ungrateful fool. + </p> + <p> + “Savage I am, for any thing I know; and <i>fool</i> I am, that’s certain; + but ungrateful I am not,” said she, bursting into tears. She went home and + took to her bed; and the next thing I heard from her son was, “that she + was <i>lying in the rheumatism</i>, which had kept her awake many a long + night, before she would come to complain to my honour of the house, in + dread that I should blame myself for <i>sending of</i> her into it <i>afore</i> + it was dry.” + </p> + <p> + The rheumatism reconciled me immediately to Ellinor; I let her take her + own way, and thatch the house, and have as much smoke as she pleased, and + she recovered. But I did not entirely recover my desire to do good to my + poor tenants. After forming, in the first enthusiasm of my benevolence, + princely schemes for their advantage, my ardour was damped, and my zeal + discouraged, by a few slight disappointments. + </p> + <p> + I did not consider, that there is often, amongst uncultivated people, a + mixture of obstinate and lazy content, which makes them despise the + luxuries of their richer neighbours; like those mountaineers, who, proud + of their own hard fare,<a href="#linknote-80" name="linknoteref-80" + id="linknoteref-80"><small>80</small></a> out of a singular species of + contempt, call the inhabitants of the plains <i>mange-rotis</i>, “eaters + of roast meat.” I did not consider that it must take time to change local + and national habits and prejudices; and that it is necessary to raise a + taste for comforts, before they can be properly enjoyed. + </p> + <p> + In the pettishness of my disappointment, I decided that it was in vain to + attempt to improve and civilize such people as the Irish. I did not + recollect, perhaps at that time I did not know, that even in the days of + the great Queen Elizabeth, “the greatest part of the buildings in the + cities and good towns of England consisted only of timber, cast over with + thick clay to keep out the wind. The new houses of the nobility were + indeed either of brick or stone; and glass windows were then beginning to + be used in England:"<a href="#linknote-81" name="linknoteref-81" + id="linknoteref-81"><small>81</small></a> and clean rushes were strewed + over the dirty floors of the royal palace. In the impatience of my zeal + for improvement, I expected to do the work of two hundred years in a few + months: and because I could not accelerate the progress of refinement in + this miraculous manner, I was out of humour with myself and with a whole + nation. So easily is the humanity of the rich and great disgusted and + discouraged! as if any people could be civilized in a moment, and at the + word of command of ignorant pride or despotic benevolence! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “He saw—and but that admiration + Had been too active, too like passion, + Or had he been to <i>ton</i> less true, + Cupid had shot him through and through.” + </pre> + <p> + I have not thought it necessary to record every visit that I received from + all my country neighbours; but I must now mention one, which led to + important consequences; a visit from Sir Harry Ormsby, a very young + dashing man of fortune, who, in expectation of the happy moment when he + should be of age, resided with his mother, the dowager Lady Ormsby. Her + ladyship had heard that there had been some disagreement between her + agent, Mr. Hardcastle, and <i>my people</i>; but she took the earliest + opportunity of expressing her wishes, that our families should be on an + amicable footing. + </p> + <p> + Lady Ormsby was just come to the country, with a large party of her + fashionable friends—some Irish, some English: Lord and Lady Kilrush; + my Lady Kildangan, and her daughter the Lady Geraldine ———; + the knowing widow O’Connor; the English <i>dasher</i>, Lady Hauton; the + interesting Mrs. Norton, <i>separated</i> but not <i>parted</i> from her + husband; the pleasant Miss Bland; the three Miss Ormsbys, better known by + the name of the Swanlinbar Graces; two English aides-de-camp from the + Castle, and a brace of brigadiers; besides other men of inferior note. + </p> + <p> + I perceived that Sir Harry Ormsby took it for granted that I must be + acquainted with the pretensions of all these persons to celebrity; his + talkativeness and my taciturnity favoured me so fortunately, that he never + discovered the extent of my ignorance. He was obligingly impatient to make + me personally acquainted “with those of whom I must have heard so much in + England.” Observing that Ormsby Villa was too far from Glenthorn Castle + for a morning visit, he pressed me to waive ceremony, and to do Lady + Ormsby and him the honour of spending a week with them, as soon as I could + make it convenient. I accepted this invitation, partly from a slight + emotion of curiosity, and partly from my habitual inability to resist any + reiterated importunity. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at Ormsby Villa, and introduced to this crowd of people, I was at + first disappointed by seeing nothing extraordinary. I expected that their + manners would have been as strange to me as some of their names appeared: + but whether it was from my want of the powers of discrimination, or from + the real sameness of the objects, I could scarcely, in this fashionable + flock, discern any individual marks of distinction. At first view, the + married ladies appeared much the same as those of a similar class in + England, whom I had been accustomed to see. The young ladies I thought, as + usual, “best distinguished by black, brown, and fair:” but I had not yet + seen Lady Geraldine ———; and a great part Of the + conversation, the first day I was at Ormsby Villa, was filled with + lamentations on the unfortunate tooth-ache, which prevented her ladyship + from appearing. She was talked of so much, and as a person of such + importance, and so essential to the amusement of society, that I could not + help feeling a slight wish to see her. The next day at breakfast she did + not appear; but, five minutes before dinner, her ladyship’s humble + companion whispered, “Now Lady Geraldine is coming, my lord.” I was always + rather displeased to be called upon to attend to any thing or any body, + yet as Lady Geraldine entered, I gave one involuntary glance of curiosity. + I saw a tall, finely-shaped woman, with the commanding air of a woman of + rank; she moved well; not with feminine timidity, but with ease, + promptitude, and decision. She had fine eyes and a fine complexion, yet no + regularity of feature. The only thing that struck me as really + extraordinary was her indifference when I was introduced to her. Every + body had seemed extremely desirous that I should see her ladyship, and + that her ladyship should see me; and I was rather surprised by her + unconcerned air. This piqued me, and fixed my attention. She turned from + me, and began to converse with others. Her voice was agreeable: she did + not speak with the Irish accent; but, when I listened maliciously, I + detected certain Hibernian inflections; nothing of the vulgar Irish idiom, + but something that was more interrogative, more exclamatory, and perhaps + more rhetorical, than the common language of English ladies, accompanied + with much animation of countenance and demonstrative gesture. This + appeared to me peculiar and unusual, but not affected. She was uncommonly + eloquent, and yet, without action, her words were not sufficiently rapid + to express her ideas. Her manner appeared foreign, yet it was not quite + French. If I had been obliged to decide, I should, however, have + pronounced it rather more French than English. To determine what it was, + or whether I had ever seen any thing similar, I stood considering her + ladyship with more attention than I had ever bestowed on any other woman. + The words <i>striking—fascinating—bewitching</i>, occurred to + me as I looked at her and heard her speak. I resolved to turn my eyes + away, and shut my ears; for I was positively determined not to like her, I + dreaded so much the idea of a second Hymen. I retreated to the farthest + window, and looked out very soberly upon a dirty fish-pond. Dinner was + announced. I observed Lady Kildangan manoeuvring to place me beside her + daughter Geraldine, but Lady Geraldine counteracted this movement. I was + again surprised and piqued. After yielding the envied position to one of + the Swanlinbar Graces, I heard Lady Geraldine whisper to her next + neighbour, “Baffled, mamma!” + </p> + <p> + It was strange to me to feel piqued by a young lady’s not choosing to sit + beside me. After dinner, I left the gentlemen as soon as possible, because + the conversation wearied me. Lord Kilrush, the chief orator, was a + courtier, and could talk of nothing but Dublin Castle, and my lord + lieutenant’s levees. The moment that I went to the ladies, I was seized + upon by the officious Miss Bland: she could not speak of any thing but + Lady Geraldine, who sat at so great a distance, and who was conversing + with such animation herself, that she could not hear her <i>prôneuse</i>, + Miss Bland, inform me, that “her friend, Lady Geraldine, was extremely + clever; so clever, that many people were at first a little afraid of her; + but that there was not the least occasion; for that, where she liked, + nobody could be more affable and engaging.” This judicious friend, a + minute afterwards, told me, as a very great secret, that Lady Geraldine + was an admirable mimic; that she could draw or speak caricatures; that she + was also wonderfully happy in the invention of agnomens and cognomens, so + applicable to the persons, that they could scarcely be forgotten or + forgiven. I was a little anxious to know whether her ladyship would honour + me with an agnomen. I could not learn this from Miss Bland, and I was too + prudent to betray my curiosity: I afterwards heard it, however. Pairing me + and Mr. M’Leod, whom she had seen together, her ladyship observed, that <i>Sawney</i> + and <i>Yawney</i> were made for each other; and she sketched, in strong + caricature, my relaxed elongation of limb, and his rigid rectangularity. A + slight degree of fear of Lady Geraldine’s powers kept my attention alert. + In the course of the evening, Lady Kildangan summoned her daughter to the + music-room, and asked me to come and hear an Irish song. I exerted myself + so far as to follow immediately; but though summoned, Lady Geraldine did + not obey. Miss Bland tuned the harp, and opened the music-books on the + piano; but no Lady Geraldine appeared. Miss Bland was sent backwards and + forwards with messages; but Lady Geraldine’s ultimatum was, that she could + not possibly sing, because she was afraid of the tooth-ache. God knows, + her mouth had never been shut all the evening. “Well, but,” said Lady + Kildangan, “she can play for us, cannot she?” No; her ladyship was afraid + of the cold in the music-room. “Do, my Lord Glenthorn, go and tell the + dear capricious creature, that we are very warm here.” + </p> + <p> + Very reluctantly I obeyed. The Lady Geraldine, with her circle round her, + heard and answered me with the air of a princess. + </p> + <p> + “Do you the honour to play for you, my lord! Excuse me: I am no professor—I + play so ill, that I make it a rule never to play but for my own amusement. + If you wish for music, there is Miss Bland; she plays incomparably, and I + dare say will think herself happy to oblige your lordship.” I never felt + so silly, or so much abashed, as at this instant. “This comes,” thought I, + “of acting out of character. What possessed me to exert myself to ask a + lady to play? I, that have been tired to death of music! Why did I let + myself be sent ambassador, when I had no interest in the embassy?” + </p> + <p> + To convince myself and others of my apathy, I threw myself on a sofa, and + never stirred or spoke the remainder of the night. I presume I appeared + fast asleep, else Lady Geraldine would not have said, within my hearing, + “Mamma wants me to catch somebody, and to be caught by somebody; but that + will not be; for, do you know, I think somebody is nobody.” + </p> + <p> + I was offended as much as it was in my nature to be offended, and I began + to meditate apologies for shortening my visit at Ormsby Villa: but, though + I was shocked by the haughtiness of Lady Geraldine, and accused her, in my + own mind, of want of delicacy and politeness, yet I could not now suspect + her of being an accomplice with her mother in any matrimonial designs upon + me. From the moment I was convinced of this, my conviction was, I suppose, + visible to her ladyship’s penetrating eyes, and from that instant she + showed me that she could be polite and agreeable. Now, soothed to a state + of ease and complacency, I might have sunk to indifference and ennui, but + fresh singularities in this lady struck me, and kept my attention awake + and fixed upon her character. If she had treated me with tolerable + civility at first, I never should have thought about her. High-born and + high-bred, she seemed to consider more what she thought of others than + what others thought of her. Frank, candid, and affable, yet opinionated, + insolent, and an egotist, her candour and affability appeared the effect + of a naturally good temper, her insolence and egotism only those of a + spoiled child. She seemed to talk of herself purely to oblige others, as + the most interesting possible topic of conversation; for such it had + always been to her fond mother, who idolized her ladyship as an only + daughter, and the representative of an ancient house. Confident of her + talents, conscious of her charms, and secure of her station, Lady + Geraldine gave free scope to her high spirits, her fancy, and her turn for + ridicule. She looked, spoke, and acted, like a person privileged to think, + say, and do, what she pleased. Her raillery, like the raillery of princes, + was without fear of retort. She was not ill-natured, yet careless to whom + she gave offence, provided she produced amusement; and in this she seldom + failed; for, in her conversation, there was much of the raciness of Irish + wit, and the oddity of Irish humour. The singularity that struck me most + about her ladyship was her indifference to flattery. She certainly + preferred frolic. Miss Bland was her humble companion; Miss Tracey her <i>butt</i>. + Her ladyship appeared to consider Miss Bland as a necessary appendage to + her rank and person, like her dress or her shadow; and she seemed to think + no more of the one than of the other. She suffered Miss Bland to follow + her; but she would go in quest of n Miss Tracey. Miss Bland was allowed to + speak; but her ladyship listened to Miss Tracey. Miss Bland seldom + obtained an answer; but Miss Tracey never opened her lips without a + repartee. + </p> + <p> + In describing Miss Tracey, Lady Geraldine said, “Poor simpleton! she + cannot help imitating all she sees us do; yet, would you believe it, she + really has starts of common sense, and some tolerable ideas of her own. + Spoiled by bad company! In the language of the bird-fanciers, she has a + few notes nightingale, and all the rest rubbish.” + </p> + <p> + It was one of Lady Geraldine’s delights to humour Miss Tracey’s rage for + imitating the fashions of fine people. + </p> + <p> + “Now you shall see Miss Tracey appear at the ball to-morrow, in every + thing that I have sworn to her is fashionable. Nor have I cheated her in a + single article: but the <i>tout ensemble</i> I leave to her better + judgment; and you shall see her, I trust, a perfect monster, formed of + every creature’s best: Lady Kilrush’s feathers, Mrs. Moore’s wig, Mrs. + O’Connor’s gown, Mrs. Lighton’s sleeves, and all the necklaces of all the + Miss Ormsbys. She has no taste, no judgment; none at all, poor thing! but + she can imitate as well as those Chinese painters, who, in their drawings, + give you the flower of one plant stuck on the stalk of another, and + garnished with the leaves of a third.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Tracey’s appearance the ensuing night justified all Lady Geraldine’s + predictions, and surpassed her ladyship’s most sanguine hopes. Even I, + albeit unused to the laughing mood, could not forbear smiling at the + humour and ease with which her ladyship played off this girl’s credulous + vanity. + </p> + <p> + At breakfast the next morning, Lord Kilrush, in his grave manner (always + too solemn by half for the occasion), declared, “that no man was more + willing than himself to enter into a jest in proper time, and season, and + measure, and so forth; but that it was really, positively, morally + unjustifiable, in <i>his</i> apprehension, <i>the making</i> this poor + girl so publicly ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “My good lord,” replied Lady Geraldine, “all the world are ridiculous some + way or other: some in public, some in private. Now,” continued she, with + an appealing look to the whole company, “now, after all, what is there + more extravagant in my Miss Tracey’s delighting, at sixteen, in six yards + of pink riband, than in your courtier sighing, at sixty, for three yards + of blue riband? or what is there more ridiculous in her coming simpering + into a ball-room, fancying herself the mirror of fashion, when she is a + figure for a print-shop, than in the courtier rising solemnly in the House + of Lords, believing himself an orator, and expecting to make a vast + reputation, by picking up, in every debate, the very worst arguments that + every body else let fall? There would be no living in this world, if we + were all to see and expose one another’s <i>ridicules</i>. My plan is much + the best—to help my friends to expose themselves, and then they are + infinitely obliged to me.” + </p> + <p> + Satisfied with silencing all opposition, and seeing that the majority was + with her, Lady Geraldine persisted in her course; and I was glad she was + incorrigible, because her faults entertained me. As to love, I thought I + was perfectly safe; because, though I admired her quickness and + cleverness, yet I still, at times, perceived, or fancied I perceived, some + want of polish, and elegance, and <i>tact</i>. She was not exactly cut out + according to my English pattern of a woman of fashion; so I thought I + might amuse myself without danger, as it was partly at her ladyship’s + expense. But about this time I was alarmed for myself by a slight twinge + of jealousy. As I was standing lounging upon the steps at the hall-door, + almost as ennuyé as usual, I saw a carriage at a distance, between the + trees, driving up the <i>approach</i>; and, at the same instant, I heard + Lady Geraldine’s eager voice in the hall, “Oh! they are coming; he is + coming; they are come. Run, Miss Bland, run, and give Lord Craiglethorpe + my message before he gets out of the carriage—before any body sees + him.” + </p> + <p> + Afraid of hearing what I should not hear, I walked down the steps + deliberately, and turned into a shrubbery-walk, to leave the coast clear. + Out ran Miss Bland: and then it was that I felt the twinge—very + slight, however. “Who is this Lord Craiglethorpe, with whom Lady Geraldine + is on such favourable terms? I wonder what kind of looking man he is; and + what could <i>the message</i> mean?—but, at all events, it cannot + concern me; yet I am curious to see this Lord Craiglethorpe. I wonder any + woman can like a man with so strange a name: but does she like him, after + all?—Why do I plague myself about it?” + </p> + <p> + As I returned from my saunter, I was met by Miss Bland. + </p> + <p> + “A charming day, ma’am,” said I, endeavouring to pass on. + </p> + <p> + “A charming day, my lord! But I must stop your lordship a moment. Oh, I am + so out of breath—I went the wrong way——” + </p> + <p> + “The wrong way! Indeed! I am sorry. I am concerned you should have had so + much trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “No trouble in the world. Only I want to beg you’ll keep our secret—my + Lady Geraldine’s secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly, madam—a man of honour—Lady Geraldine cannot + doubt—her ladyship’s secret is perfectly safe.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you know it? You don’t know it yet, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me; I was on the steps just now. I thought you saw me.” + </p> + <p> + “I did, my lord—but I don’t understand——” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I, neither,” interrupted I, half laughing; for I began to think I was + mistaken in my suspicions; “pray explain yourself, my dear Miss Bland: I + was very rude to be so quick in interrupting you.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bland then made me the confidant of a charming scheme of Lady + Geraldine’s for quizzing Miss Tracey. + </p> + <p> + “She has never in her life seen Lord Craiglethorpe, who is an English lord + travelling through Ireland,” continued Miss Bland. “Now, you must know, + that Miss Tracey is passionately fond of lords, let them be what they may. + Now, Lord Craiglethorpe, this very morning, sent his groom with a note and + excuse to Lady Ormsby, for not coming to us to-day; because, he said, he + was bringing down in the chaise with him a surveyor, to survey his estate + <i>near here</i>; and he could not possibly think of bringing the + surveyor, who is a low man, to Ormsby Villa. But Lady Ormsby would take no + apology, and wrote by the groom to beg that Lord Craiglethorpe would make + no scruple of bringing the surveyor; for you know she is so polite and + accommodating, and all that. Well, the note was scarcely gone, before Lady + Geraldine thought of her charming scheme, and regretted, <i>of all things</i>, + she had not put <i>it</i> into it.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>It into it!</i>” repeated I to myself. “Ma’am,” said I, looking a + little bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued my clear narrator, “I promised to remedy <i>all that</i>, + by running to meet the carriage, which was what I ran for when you saw me, + my lord, in such a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed—and was as wise as ever. + </p> + <p> + “So, my lord, you comprehend, that the surveyor, whose name, whose odious + name, is Gabbitt, is to be my Lord Craiglethorpe, and my Lord + Craiglethorpe is to be passed for Mr. Gabbitt upon Miss Tracey; and, you + will see, Miss Tracey will admire Mr. Gabbitt prodigiously, and call him + vastly genteel, when she thinks him a lord. Your lordship will keep our + secret; and she is sure Lord Craiglethorpe will do any thing to oblige + her, because he is a near connexion of hers. But, I assure you, it is not + every body could get Lord Craiglethorpe to join in a joke; for he is very + stiff, and cold, and high. Of course your lordship will know which is the + real lord at first sight. He is a full head taller than Gabbitt.” + </p> + <p> + Never was explanation finally more satisfactory: and whether the jest was + really well contrived and executed, or whether I was put into a humour to + think so, I cannot exactly determine; but, I confess, I was amused with + the scenes that followed, though I felt that they were not quite + justifiable even in jest. + </p> + <p> + The admiration of Miss Tracey for <i>the false Craiglethorpe</i>, as Lady + Geraldine called Mr. Gabbitt; the awkwardness of Mr. Gabbitt with his + title, and the awkwardness of Lord Craiglethorpe without it, were fine + subjects of her ladyship’s satirical humour. + </p> + <p> + In another point of view, Lord Craiglethorpe afforded her ladyship + amusement; as an English traveller, full of English prejudices against + Ireland and every thing Irish. Whenever Miss Tracey was out of the room, + Lady Geraldine allowed Lord Craiglethorpe to be himself again; but he did + not fare the better for this restoration to his honours. Lady Geraldine + contrived to make him as ridiculous in his real as in his assumed + character. Lord Craiglethorpe was, as Miss Bland had described him, very + stiff, cold, and <i>high</i>. His manners were in the extreme of English + reserve, and his ill-bred show of contempt for the Irish was sufficient + provocation and justification of Lady Geraldine’s ridicule. He was much in + awe of his fair and witty cousin: she could easily put him out of + countenance, for he was extremely bashful. + </p> + <p> + His lordship had that sort of bashfulness which makes a man surly and + obstinate in his taciturnity; which makes him turn upon all who approach + him, as if they were going to assault him; which makes him answer a + question as if it were an injury, and repel a compliment as if it were an + insult. Once, when he was out of the room, Lady Geraldine exclaimed, “That + cousin Craiglethorpe of mine is scarcely an agreeable man: the awkwardness + of <i>mauvaise honte</i> might be pitied and pardoned, even in a + nobleman,” continued her ladyship, “if it really proceeded from humility; + but here, when I know it is connected with secret and inordinate + arrogance, ‘tis past all endurance. Even his ways of sitting and standing + provoke me, they are so self-sufficient. Have you observed how he stands + at the fire? Oh, the caricature of ‘<i>the English fire-side</i>’ outdone! + Then, if he sits, we hope that change of posture may afford our eyes + transient relief: but worse again; bolstered up, with his back against his + chair, his hands in his pockets, and his legs thrown out, in defiance of + all passengers and all decorum, there he sits, in magisterial silence, + throwing a gloom upon all conversation. As the Frenchman said of the + Englishman, for whom even his politeness could not find another + compliment, ‘Il faut avouer que ce monsieur a un grand talent pour le + silence;’ he holds his tongue, till the people actually believe that he + has something to say; a mistake they could never fall into if he would but + speak.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the company attempted to interpose a word or two in favour of Lord + Craiglethorpe’s timidity, but the vivacious and merciless lady went on. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, my good friends, it is not timidity—it is all pride. I + would pardon his dulness, and even his ignorance; for one, as you say, + might be the fault of his nature, and the other of his education: but his + self-sufficiency is his own fault, and that I will not, and cannot pardon. + Somebody says, that nature may make a fool, but a coxcomb is always of his + own making. Now, my cousin—(as he is my cousin, I may say what I + please of him)—my cousin Craiglethorpe is a solemn coxcomb, who + thinks, because his vanity is not talkative and sociable, that it’s not + vanity. What a mistake! his silent superciliousness is to me more + intolerable than the most garrulous egotism that ever laid itself open to + my ridicule.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bland and Miss Ormsby both confessed that Lord Craiglethorpe was + vastly too silent. + </p> + <p> + “For the honour of my country,” continued Lady Geraldine, “I am determined + to make this man talk, and he shall say all that I know he thinks of us + poor Irish savages. If he would but speak, one could answer him: if he + would find fault, one might defend: if he would laugh, one might perhaps + laugh again: but here he comes to hospitable, open-hearted Ireland; eats + as well as he can in his own country; drinks better than he can in his own + country; sleeps as well as he can in his own country; accepts all our + kindness without a word or a look of thanks, and seems the whole time to + think, that, ‘Born for his use, we live but to oblige him.’ There he is at + this instant: look at him, walking in the park, with his note-book in his + hand, setting down our faults, and conning them by rote. We are even with + him. I understand, Lady Kilrush, that my bright cousin Craiglethorpe means + to write a book, a great book, upon Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kilrush replied, that she understood Lord Craiglethorpe had it in + contemplation to publish a Tour through Ireland, or a View of Ireland, or + something of that nature. + </p> + <p> + “He! with his means of acquiring information!” exclaimed Lady Geraldine. + “Posting from one great man’s house to another, what can he see or know of + the manners of any rank of people but of the class of gentry, which in + England and Ireland is much the same? As to the lower classes, I don’t + think he ever speaks to them; or, if he does, what good can it do him? for + he can’t understand their modes of expression, nor they his: if he inquire + about a matter of fact, I defy him to get the truth out of them, if they + don’t wish to tell it; and, for some reason or other, they will, nine + times in ten, not wish to tell it to an Englishman. There is not a man, + woman, or child, in any cabin in Ireland, who would not have wit and <i>‘cuteness</i> + enough to make <i>my lard</i> believe just what they please. So, after + posting from Dublin to Cork, and from the Giants’ Causeway to Killarney; + after travelling east, west, north, and south, my wise cousin + Craiglethorpe will know just as much of the lower Irish as the cockney who + has never been out of London, and who has never, <i>in all his born days</i>, + seen an Irishman but on the English stage; where the representations are + usually as like the originals, as the Chinese pictures of lions, drawn + from description, are to the real animal.” + </p> + <p> + “Now! now! look at his lordship!” cried Miss Bland; “he has his note-book + out again.” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us!” said Miss Callwell, “how he is writing!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, write on, my good cousin Craiglethorpe,” pursued Lady + Geraldine, “and nil the little note-book, which will soon turn to a + ponderous quarto. I shall have a copy, bound in morocco, no doubt, <i>from + the author</i>, if I behave myself prettily; and I will earn it, by + supplying valuable information. You shall see, my friends, how I’ll + deserve well of my country, if you’ll only keep my counsel and your own + countenances.” + </p> + <p> + Presently Lord Craiglethorpe entered the room, walking very pompously, and + putting his note-book up as he advanced. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear lord, open the book again; I have a bull for you.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Geraldine, after putting his lordship in good humour by this + propitiatory offering of a bull, continued to supply him, either directly + or indirectly, by some of her confederates, with the most absurd + anecdotes, incredible <i>facts</i>, stale jests, and blunders, such as + were never made by true-born Irishmen; all which my Lord Craiglethorpe + took down with an industrious sobriety, at which the spectators could + scarcely refrain from laughing. Sometimes he would pause, and exclaim, “A + capital anecdote! a curious fact! May I give my authority? may I quote + your ladyship?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you’ll pay me a compliment in the preface,” whispered Lady + Geraldine: “and now, dear cousin, do go up stairs <i>and put it all in + ink.</i>” + </p> + <p> + When she had despatched the noble author, her ladyship indulged her + laughter. “But now,” cried she, “only imagine a set of sober English + readers studying my cousin Craiglethorpe’s New View of Ireland, and + swallowing all the nonsense it will contain!” + </p> + <p> + When Lord Kilrush remonstrated against the cruelty of letting the man + publish such stuff, and represented it as a fraud upon the public, Lady + Geraldine laughed still more, and exclaimed, “Surely you don’t think I + would use the public and my poor cousin so ill. No, I am doing him and the + public the greatest possible service. Just when he is going to leave us, + when the writing-box is packed, I will step up to him, and tell him the + truth. I will show him what a farrago of nonsense he has collected as + materials for his quarto; and convince him at once how utterly unfit he is + to write a book, at least a book on Irish affairs. Won’t this be deserving + well of my country and of my cousin?” + </p> + <p> + Neither on this occasion, nor on any other, were the remonstrances of my + Lord Kilrush of power to stop the course of this lady’s flow of spirits + and raillery. + </p> + <p> + Whilst she was going on in this manner with the real Lord Craiglethorpe, + Miss Tracey was taking charming walks in the park with Mr. Gabbitt, and + the young lady began to be seriously charmed with her false lord. This was + carrying the jest farther, than Lady Geraldine had intended or foreseen; + and her good-nature would probably have disposed her immediately to + dissolve the enchantment, had she not been provoked by the interference of + Lord Kilrush, and the affected sensibility of Miss Clementina Ormsby, who, + to give me an exalted opinion of her delicacy, expostulated incessantly in + favour of the deluded fair one. “But, my dear Lady Geraldine, I do assure + you, it really hurts my feelings. This is going too far—when it + comes to the heart. I can’t laugh, I own—the poor girl’s affections + will be engaged—she is really falling in love with this odious + surveyor.” + </p> + <p> + “But now, my dear Clementina, I do assure you, it really hurts my feelings + to hear you talk so childishly. ‘When it comes to the heart!’ ‘affections + engaged!’ You talk of falling in love as if it were a terrible fall: for + my part, I should pity a person much more for falling down stairs. Why, my + dear, where is the mighty height from which Miss Tracey could fall? She + does not live in the clouds, Clementina, as you do. No ladies live there + now; for the best of all possible reasons, because there are no men there. + So, my love, make haste and come down, before you are out of your teens, + or you may chance to be left there till you are an angel or an old maid. + Trust me, my dear, I, who have tried, tell you, there is no such thing as + falling in love, now-a-days: you may slip, slide, or stumble; but to fall + in love, I defy you.” + </p> + <p> + I saw Lady Kildangan’s eyes fix upon me as her daughter pronounced the + last sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Geraldine, my dear, you do not know what you are talking about,” said her + ladyship. “Your time may come, Geraldine. Nobody should be too courageous. + Cupid does not like to be defied.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kildangan walked away as she spoke, with a very well-satisfied air, + leaving a party of us young people together. Lady Geraldine looked + haughtily vexed. When in this mood, her wit gave no quarter; spared + neither sex nor age. + </p> + <p> + “Every body says,” whispered she, “that mamma is the most artful woman in + the world; and I should believe it, only that every body says it: now, if + it were true, nobody would know it.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Geraldine’s air of disdain towards me was resumed. I did not quite + understand. Was it pride? was it coquetry? She certainly blushed deeply, + and for the first time that I ever saw her blush, when her mother said, + “Your time may come, Geraldine.” + </p> + <p> + My week being now at an end, I resolved to take my leave. When I announced + this resolution, I was assailed with the most pressing entreaties to stay + a few days longer—one day longer. Lady Ormsby and Sir Harry said + every thing that could be said upon the occasion: indeed, it seemed a + matter of general interest to all, except to Lady Geraldine. She appeared + wholly indifferent, and I was not even gratified by any apparent + affectation of desiring my departure. Curiosity to see whether this would + be sustained by her ladyship to the last, gave me resolution sufficient to + resist the importunities of Sir Harry; and I departed, rejoicing that my + indifference was equal to her ladyship’s. As Tasso said of some fair one, + whom he met at the carnival of Mantua, <i>I ran some risk of falling in + love.</i> I had been so far roused from my habitual apathy that I actually + made some reflections. As I returned home, I began to perceive that there + was some difference between woman and woman, besides the distinctions of + rank, fortune, and figure. I think I owe to Lady Geraldine my first relish + for wit, and my first idea that a woman might be, if not a reasonable, at + least a companionable animal. I compared her ladyship with the mere + puppets and parrots of fashion, of whom I had been wearied; and I began to + suspect that one might find, in a lady’s “lively nonsense,” a relief from + ennui. These reflections, however, did not prevent me from sleeping the + greatest part of the morning on my way home; nor did I dream of any thing + that I can remember. + </p> + <p> + At the porter’s lodge I saw Ellinor sitting at her spinning-wheel; and my + thoughts took up my domestic affairs just where I had left them the + preceding week. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + In vain I attempted to interest myself in my domestic affairs; the silence + and solitude of my own castle appeared to me intolerably melancholy, after + my return from Ormsby Villa. There was a blank in my existence during a + week, in which I can remember nothing that I did, said, or thought, except + what passed during one ride, which Mr. McLeod compelled my politeness to + take with him. He came with the same face to see me, and the same set of + ideas, as those he had before I went to Ormsby Villa. He began to talk of + my schemes for improving my tenantry, and of my wish that he should + explain his notions relative to the education of the poor of Ireland, + which, he said, as I now seemed to be at leisure, he was ready to do as + concisely as possible. <i>As concisely as possible</i> were the only words + of his address that I heard with satisfaction; but of course I bowed, said + I was much obliged, and I should be happy to have the advantage of Mr. + M’Leod’s opinions and sentiments. What these were I cannot recollect, for + I settled myself in a reverie soon after his voice began to sound upon my + ear; but I remember at last he wakened me, by proposing that I should ride + with him to see a school-house and some cottages, which he had built on a + little estate of his own in my neighbourhood: “for,” said he, “‘tis + better, my lord, to show you what can be done with these people, than to + talk of what might be effected.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true,” said I, agreeing readily; because I wanted to finish a + conversation that wearied me, and to have a refreshing ride. It was a + delightful evening; and when we came on M’Leod’s estate, I really could + not help being pleased and interested. In an unfavourable situation, with + all nature, vegetable and animal, against him, he had actually created a + paradise amid the wilds. There was nothing wonderful in any thing I saw + around me; but there was such an air of neatness and comfort, order and + activity, in the people and in their cottages, that I almost thought + myself in England; and I could not forbear exclaiming,—“How could + all this be brought about in Ireland!” + </p> + <p> + “Chiefly by not doing and not expecting too much at first,” said M’Leod. + “We took time, and had patience. We began by setting them the example of + some very slight improvements, and then, lured on by the sight of success, + they could make similar trials themselves. My wife and I went among them, + and talked to them in their cottages, and took an interest in their + concerns, and did not want to have every thing our own way; and when they + saw that, they began to consider which way was best; so by degrees we led + where we could not have driven; and raised in them, by little and little, + a taste for conveniences and comforts. Then the business was done; for the + moment the taste and ambition were excited; to work the people went to + gratify them; and according as they exerted themselves, we helped them. + Perhaps it was best for them and for us, that we were not rich; for we + could not do too much at a time, and were never tempted to begin grand + schemes that we could not finish. There,” said McLeod, pointing to a + cottage with a pretty porch covered with woodbine, and a neat garden, in + which many children were busily at work, “that house and that garden were + the means of doing all the rest; that is our school-house. We could not + expect to do much with the old, whose habits were fixed; but we tried to + give the young children better notions, and it was a long time before we + could bring that to bear. Twenty-six years we have been at this work; and + in that time if we have done any thing, it was by beginning with the + children: a race of our own training has now grown up, and they go on in + the way they were taught, and prosper to our hearts’ content, and, what is + better still, to their hearts’ content.” + </p> + <p> + McLeod, habitually grave and taciturn, seemed quite enlivened and + talkative this day; but I verily believe that not the slightest + ostentation or vanity inspired him, for I never before or since heard him + talk or allude to his own good deeds: I am convinced his motive was to + excite me to persevere in my benevolent projects, by showing what had been + done by small means. He was so truly in earnest that he never perceived + how tired I was; indeed he was so little in the habit of expecting + sympathy or applause, that he never missed even the ordinary expressions + of concurrent complaisance. + </p> + <p> + “Religion,” continued he, “is the great difficulty in Ireland. We make no + difference between Protestants and Catholics; we always have admitted both + into our school. The priest comes on Saturday morning, and the parish + minister on Saturday evening, to hear the children belonging to each + church their catechisms, and to instruct them in the tenets of their + faith. And as we keep to our word, and never attempt making proselytes, + nor directly or indirectly interfere with their religious opinions, the + priests are glad to let us instruct the catholic children in all other + points, which they plainly see must advance their temporal interests.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. McLeod invited me to go in and look at the school. “In a hedge or + ditch school,” said he, “which I once passed on this road, and in which I + saw a crowd of idle children, I heard the schoolmaster cry out, ‘Rehearse! + rehearse! there’s company going by; and instantly all the boys snatched up + their books, and began gabbling as fast as ever they could, to give an + idea to the passenger of their diligence in repeating their lessons. But + here, my lord,” continued M’Leod, “you will not see any exhibitions <i>got + up</i> for company. I hate such tricks. Walk in, my lord, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + I walked in; but am ashamed to say, that I observed only that every thing + looked as if it had been used for many years, and yet not worn out; and + the whole school appeared as if all were in their places, and occupied and + intent upon their business: but this general recollection is all I have + retained. The enthusiasm for improvement had subsided in my mind; and + though I felt a transient pleasure in the present picture of the happiness + of these poor people and their healthy children, yet, as I rode home, the + images faded away like a dream. I resolved, indeed, at some future period, + to surpass all that Mr. M’Leod had done, or all that with his narrow + income he could ever accomplish; and to this resolution I was prompted by + jealousy of this man, rather than by benevolence. Before I had arranged, + even in imagination, my plans, young Ormsby came one morning, and pressed + me to return with him to Ormsby Villa. I yielded to his solicitations and + to my own wishes. When I arrived, the ladies were all at their toilettes, + except Miss Bland, who was in the book-room with the gentlemen, ready to + receive me with her perpetual smile. Wherever Miss Bland went, she was + always <i>l’amie de la maison</i>, accustomed to share with the lady of + the house the labour of entertaining her guests. This <i>double</i> of + Lady Ormsby talked to me most courteously of all the nothings of the day, + and informed me of the changes which had taken place in the ever-varying + succession of company at Ormsby Villa. The two brigadiers and one of the + aides-de-camp were gone; but Captain Andrews, another castle aide-de-camp, + was come, and my Lord O’Toole had arrived. Then followed a by-conversation + between Miss Bland and some of the gentlemen, about the joy and sorrow + which his lordship’s arrival would create in the hearts of two <i>certain + ladies</i>; one of whom, as I gathered from the innuendoes, was Lady + Hauton, and the other Lady O’Toole. As I knew nothing of Dublin intrigues + and scandal, I was little attentive to all this. Miss Bland, persisting in + entertaining me, proceeded to inform me, that my Lord O’Toole had brought + down with him Mr. Cecil Devereux, who was a wit and a poet, very handsome + and gallant, and one of the most fashionable young men in Dublin. I + determined not to like him—I always hated a flourish of trumpets; + whoever enters, announced in this parading manner, appears to + disadvantage. Mr. Cecil Devereux entered just as the flourish ceased. He + was not at all the sort of person I was prepared to see: though handsome, + and with the air of a man used to good company, there was nothing of a + coxcomb in his manner; on the contrary, there was such an appearance of + carelessness about himself, and deference towards others, that, + notwithstanding the injudicious praise that had been bestowed on him, and + my consequent resolution to dislike him, I was pleased and familiar with + him before I had been ten minutes in his company. Lord Kilrush introduced + him to me, with great pomposity, as a gentleman of talents, for whom he + and his brother O’Toole interested themselves much. This air of patronage, + I saw, disgusted Mr. Devereux; and instead of suffering himself to be <i>shown + off</i>, he turned the conversation from his own poems to general + subjects. He asked me some questions about a curious cavern, or + subterraneous way, near Glenthorn Castle, which stretched from the + sea-shore to a considerable distance under the rock, and communicated with + an old abbey near the castle. Mr. Devereux said that such subterraneous + places had been formerly used in Ireland as granaries by the ancient + inhabitants; but a gentleman of the neighbourhood who was present + observed, that the caverns on this coast had, within his memory, been used + as hiding-places by smugglers: on this hint Lord Kilrush began a prosing + dissertation upon smugglers and contraband traders, and talked to me a + prodigious deal about exports and imports, and bounties, and the balance + of trade. Not one word he said did I comprehend, and I question whether + his lordship understood the subjects upon which he spoke so dictatorially; + but he thought he succeeded in giving me an opinion of his wisdom and + information. His brother O’Toole appeared next: he did not look like a man + of gallantry, as I had been taught to expect from the hints thrown out + respecting Lady Hauton; his lordship’s whole soul seemed devoted to + ambition, and he talked so much of great men, and state affairs, and court + intrigues, and honours and preferments, that I began to fancy I had been + buried alive, because I knew little of these things. I was tired of + hearing him, yet mortified that I could not speak exactly in the same + manner, and with the same air of being the best possible authority. I + began to wish that I also had some interest at court. The cares and + troubles of the ambitious man, so utterly repugnant to the indolence of my + disposition, vanished in this moment of infatuation from my view, and I + thought only of the pleasures of power. Such is the infectious nature of + ambition! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Devereux helped me to throw off this dangerous contagion, before it + did me any injury. He happened to stay in the room with me a quarter of an + hour after the other gentlemen went to dress. Though not often disposed to + conversation with a stranger, yet I was won by this gentleman’s easy + address: he politely talked of the English fashionable world, with which + he knew that I was well acquainted; I, with equal politeness, recurred to + the Irish great world: we fastened together upon Lord O’Toole, who took us + to Dublin Castle; and I began to express my regret that I had not yet been + at the Irish court, and that I had not earlier in life made myself of + political consequence. + </p> + <p> + “Ambition,” said I, “might help to keep a man awake and alive; all common + pleasures have long since ceased to interest me—they really cannot + make me stir.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Mr. Devereux, “you would do better to sit or lie still all + your life than to toil for such vain objects. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, + What hell it is in sueing long to bide;’ +</pre> + <p> + Your lordship may remember Spenser’s description of that hell?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly,” said I, unwilling to lower the good opinion this gentleman + seemed to have taken for granted of my literature. He took Spenser’s poems + out of the book-case, and I actually rose from my seat to read the + passage; for what trouble will not even the laziest of mortals take to + preserve the esteem of one by whom he sees that he is over-valued. I read + the following ten lines without yawning! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, + What hell it is in sueing long to bide; + To lose good days, that might be better spent, + To waste long nights in pensive discontent, + To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow, + To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow, + To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares, + To eat thy heart through comfortless despairs, + To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, + To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.” + </pre> + <p> + “Very strong, indeed,” said I, with a competent air, as if used to judge + of poetry. + </p> + <p> + “And it comes with still greater force, when we consider by whom it was + written. A man, you know, my lord, who had been secretary to a lord + lieutenant.” + </p> + <p> + I felt my nascent ambition die away within me. I acknowledged it was + better to spend an easy life. My determination was confirmed at this + instant by the appearance of Lady Geraldine. Ambition and love, it is + said, are incompatible passions. Neither of them had yet possession of my + heart; but love and Lady Geraldine had perhaps a better chance than + ambition and Lord O’Toole. Lady Geraldine appeared in high spirits; and, + though I was not a vain man, I could not help fancying that my return to + Ormsby Villa contributed to her charming vivacity. This gratified me + secretly and soberly, as much as it visibly delighted her mother. Miss + Bland, to pay her court to Lady Kildangan, observed that Lady Geraldine + was in uncommonly fine spirits this evening. Lady Geraldine threw back a + haughty frown over her left shoulder: this was the only time I ever saw + her notice, in any manner, any thing that fell from her obsequious friend. + To avert the fair one’s displeasure, I asked for Miss Tracey and Mr. + Gabbitt. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gabbitt,” said her ladyship, resuming her good-humour instantly; “Mr. + Gabbitt is gone off the happiest man in Ireland, with the hopes of + surveying my Lord O’Toole’s estate; a good job, which I was bound in + honour to obtain for him, as a reward for taking a good joke. After + mocking him with the bare imagination of a feast, you know the Barmecide + in the Arabian Tales gave poor Shakabac a substantial dinner, a full + equivalent for the jest.” + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Tracey.” said I, “what did your ladyship do for her?” + </p> + <p> + “I persuaded her mamma that the sweet creature was falling into an + atrophy. So she carried the forlorn damsel post haste to the Black Rock + for the recovery of her health, or her heart. Clementina, my dear, no + reproachful looks; in your secret soul do not you know, that I could not + do a young lady a greater favour than to give her a plausible excuse for + getting away from home?” + </p> + <p> + I was afraid that Lady Geraldine would feel the want of her butt; however, + I found that Miss Tracey’s place was supplied by Captain Andrews, one of + the Castle’s aides-de-camp; and when Captain Andrews was out of the way, + Lord Kilrush and his brother O’Toole were <i>good marks</i>. High and + mighty as these personages thought themselves, and respectfully, nay + obsequiously, as they were treated by most others, to this lady their + characters appeared only a good <i>study</i>; and to laugh at them seemed + only a <i>good practice</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, my lord,” said she to me, “you do not yet know my Lord O’Toole?” + </p> + <p> + “I have had the honour to be introduced to him.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s well; for he thinks that, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Not to know him, argues yourself unknown.’ +</pre> + <p> + But as your lordship is a stranger in this country, you may be pardoned; + and I will make you better acquainted with him. I suppose you know there + are many Tooles in Ireland; some very ancient, respectable, and useful: + this, however, is but a mere political tool, and the worst of all tools, a + cat’s paw. There’s one thing to the credit of these brothers, they agree + vastly well; for one delights in being always on the stage, and the other + always behind the scenes. These brothers, with Captain Andrews—I + hope they are none of them within hearing—form a charming trio, all + admirable in their way. My Lord O’Toole is—artifice without art. My + Lord Kilrush—importance without power. And Captain Andrews—pliability + without ease. Poor Andrews! he’s a defenceless animal—safe in + impenetrable armour. Give him but time—as a man said, who once + showed me a land-tortoise—give him but time to draw his head into + his shell, and a broad-wheeled waggon may go over him without hurting him. + Lord Glenthorn, did you ever observe Captain Andrews’s mode of + conversation?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I never heard him converse.” + </p> + <p> + “Converse! nor I indeed; but you have heard him talk.” “I have heard him + say—<i>Very true</i>—and <i>Of course</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Glenthorn is quite severe this evening,” said Mrs. O’Connor. + </p> + <p> + “But though your lordship,” continued Lady Geraldine, “may have observed + Captain Andrews’s wonderful economy of words, do you know whence it + arises? Perhaps you think from his perception of his own want of + understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “Not from his perception of the want,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Again! again!” said Mrs. O’Connor, with an insulting tone of surprise; + “Lord Glenthorn’s quite witty this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Geraldine looked as if she were fully sensible of the want of + politeness in Mrs. O’Connor’s mode of praising. “But, my lord,” pursued + she, “you wrong Captain Andrews, if you attribute his monosyllabic replies + either to stupidity or timidity. You have not guessed the reason why he + never gives on any subject more than half an opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “It was in the diplomatic school he was taught that art,” said Mr. + Devereux. + </p> + <p> + “You must know,” pursued Lady Geraldine, “that Captain Andrews is only an + aide-de-camp till a diplomatic situation can be found for him; and to do + him justice, he has been so well trained in the diplomatic school, that he + will not hazard an assertion on any subject; he is not certain of any + thing, not even of his own identity.” + </p> + <p> + “He assuredly wants,” said Devereux, “the only proof of existence which + Descartes would admit—<i>I think</i>, therefore I am.” + </p> + <p> + “He has such a holy horror of committing himself,” continued Lady + Geraldine, “that if you were to ask him if the sun rose this morning, he + would answer, with his sweet smile—<i>So I am told</i>—or—<i>So + I am informed</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Begging your ladyship’s pardon,” cried Mr. Devereux, “that is much too + affirmative. In the pure diplomatic style, impersonal verbs must ever be + used in preference to active or passive. So I am told, lays him open to + the dangerous questions, Who told you? or, By whom were you informed? Then + he is forced into the imprudence of giving up his authorities; whereas he + is safe in the impersonality of <i>So it is said</i>, or <i>So it is + reported</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “How I should like to see a meeting between two perfectly finished + diplomatists!” cried Lady Geraldine. + </p> + <p> + “That is demonstrably impossible,” said Mr. Devereux; “for in certain + political, as well as in certain geometrical lines, there is a continual + effort to approach, without a possibility of meeting.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Geraldine’s raillery, like all other things, would, perhaps, soon + have become tiresome to me; but that there was infinite variety in her + humour. At first I had thought her merely superficial, and intent solely + upon her own amusement; but I soon found that she had a taste for + literature, beyond what could have been expected in one who lived so + dissipated a life; a depth of reflection that seemed inconsistent with the + rapidity with which she thought; and, above all, a degree of generous + indignation against meanness and vice, which seemed incompatible with the + selfish character of a fine lady, and which appeared quite + incomprehensible to the imitating tribe of her fashionable companions. + </p> + <p> + I mentioned a Mrs. Norton and Lady Hauton amongst the company of Ormsby + Villa. These two English ladies, whom I had never met in any of the higher + circles in London, who were persons of no consequence, and of no marked + character in their own country, made, it seems, a prodigious <i>sensation</i> + when they came over to Ireland, and turned the heads of half Dublin by the + extravagance of their dress, the impertinence of their airs, and the + audacity of their conduct. Fame flew before them to the remote parts of + the country; and when they arrived at Ormsby Villa, all the country + gentlemen and ladies were prepared to admire these celebrated fashionable + belles. All worshipped them present, and abused them absent, except Lady + Geraldine, who neither joined in the admiration nor inquired into the + scandal. One morning Mrs. Norton and Lady Hauton had each collected her + votaries round her: one group begging patterns of dress from Lady Hauton, + who stood up in the midst of them, to have everything she wore examined + and envied; the other group sat on a sofa apart, listening to Mrs. Norton, + who, <i>sotto voce</i>, was telling interesting anecdotes of an English + crim. con., which then occupied the attention of the fashionable world. + Mrs. Norton had letters <i>from the best authorities</i> in London, which + she was entreated by her auditors to read to them. Mrs. Norton went to + look for the letters, Lady Hauton to direct her woman to furnish some + patterns of I know not what articles of dress; and, in the mean time, all + the company joined in canvassing the merits and demerits of the dress and + characters of the two ladies who had just left the room. Lady Geraldine, + who had kept aloof, and who was examining some prints at the farther end + of the room, at this instant laid down her book, and looked upon the whole + party with an air of magnanimous disdain; then smiling, as in scorn, she + advanced towards them, and, in a tone of irony, addressing one of the + Swanlinbar graces, “My dear Theresa,” said her ladyship, “you are + absolutely ashamed, I see, of not being quite naked; and you, my good + Bess, will, no doubt, very soon be equally scandalized, at the imputation + of being a perfectly modest woman. Go on, my friends; go on, and prosper; + beg and borrow all the patterns and precedents you can collect of the + newest fashions of folly and vice. Make haste, make haste; they don’t + reach our remote island fast enough. We Irish might live in innocence half + a century longer, if you didn’t expedite the progress of profligacy; we + might escape the plague that rages in neighbouring countries, if we + didn’t, without any quarantine, and with open arms, welcome every <i>suspected</i> + stranger; if we didn’t encourage the importation of whole bales of tainted + fineries, that will spread the contagion from Dublin to Cork, and from + Cork to Galway!” + </p> + <p> + “La!” said Miss Ormsby, “how severe your ladyship is; and all only for + one’s asking for a pattern!” + </p> + <p> + “But you know,” pursued Mrs. O’Connor, “that Lady Geraldine is too proud + to take pattern from any body.” + </p> + <p> + “Too proud am I? Well, then, I’ll be humble; I’ll abase myself—shall + I? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘<i>Proud</i> as I am, I’ll put myself to school;’ +</pre> + <p> + and I’ll do what the ladies Hauton and Norton shall advise, to heighten my + charms and preserve my reputation. I must begin, must not I, Mrs. + O’Connor, by learning not to blush? for I observed you were ashamed for me + yesterday at dinner, when I blushed at something said by one of our fair + missionaries. Then, to whatever lengths flirtations and gallantry may go + between unmarried or married people, I must look on. I may shut my eyes, + if I please, and look down; but not from shame—from affectation I + may as often as I please, or to show my eyelashes. Memorandum—to + practise this before Clementina Ormsby, my mirror of fashion. So far, so + good, for my looks; but now for my language. I must reform my barbarous + language, and learn from Mrs. Norton, with her pretty accommodating voice, + to call an intrigue <i>an arrangement</i>, and a crim. con. <i>an affair + in Doctors’ Commons</i>, or <i>that business before the Lords</i>. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘We never mention Hell to ears polite.’ +</pre> + <p> + How virtuous we shall be when we have no name for vice! But stay, I must + mind my lessons—I have more, much more to learn. From the dashing + Lady Hauton I may learn, if my head be but strong, and my courage intrepid + enough, ‘to touch the brink of all we hate,’ without tumbling headlong + into the gulf; and from the interesting Mrs. Norton, as I hear it + whispered amongst you ladies, I may learn how, with the assistance of a + Humane-society, to save a half-drowned reputation. It is, I understand, + the glory of one class of fashionable females, to seem worse than they + are; and of another class the privilege, to be worse than they seem.” + </p> + <p> + Here clamorous voices interrupted Lady Geraldine—some justifying, + some attacking, Lady Hauton and Mrs. Norton. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Lady Geraldine, I assure you, notwithstanding all that was said about + General —— and Mrs. Norton, I am convinced there was nothing + in it.” + </p> + <p> + “And, my dear Lady Geraldine, though Lady Hauton does go great lengths in + coquetting with a certain lord, you must see that there’s <i>nothing wrong</i>; + and that she means nothing, but to provoke his lady’s jealousy. You know + his lordship is not a man to fall in love with.” + </p> + <p> + “So, because Lady Hauton’s passion is hatred instead of love, and because + her sole object is to give pain to a poor wife, and to make mischief in + families, all her sins are to be forgiven! Now, if I were forced to + forgive any ill-conducted female, I would rather excuse the woman who is + hurried on by love than she who is instigated by hatred.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Bland now began to support her ladyship’s opinion, that “Lady Hauton + was much the worst of the two;” and all the scandal that was in + circulation was produced by the partisans of each of these ladies. + </p> + <p> + “No matter, no matter, which is the worst,” cried Lady Geraldine; “don’t + let us waste our time in repeating or verifying scandalous stories of + either of them. I have no enmity to these ladies; I only despise them, or + rather, their follies and their faults. It is not the sinner, but the sin + we should reprobate. Oh! my dear countrywomen,” cried Lady Geraldine, with + increasing animation of countenance and manner—“Oh! my dear + countrywomen, let us never stoop to admire and imitate these second-hand + airs and graces, follies and vices. Let us dare to be ourselves!” + </p> + <p> + My eyes were fixed upon her animated countenance, and, I believe, I + continued gazing even after her voice ceased. Mrs. O’Connor pointed this + out, and I was immediately embarrassed. Miss Bland accounted for my + embarrassment by supposing, that what Lady Geraldine had said of English + crim. cons, had affected me. From a look and a whisper among the ladies, I + guessed this; but Lady Geraldine was too well-bred to suppose I could + suspect her of ill-breeding and ill-nature, or that I could apply to + myself what evidently was not intended to allude to my family misfortunes. + By an openness of manner and sweetness of expression, which I cannot + forget, she, in one single look, conveyed all this to me: and then + resuming her conversation, “Pray, my lord,” said she, “you who have lived + so much in the great world in England, say, for you can, whether I am + right or wrong in my suspicion, that these ladies, who have made such a + noise in Ireland, have been little heard of in England?” + </p> + <p> + I confirmed her ladyship’s opinion by my evidence. The faces of the + company changed. Thus, in a few seconds, the empire of Lady Hauton and of + Mrs. Norton seemed shaken to the foundation, and never recovered from this + shock. + </p> + <p> + The warmth of Lady Geraldine’s expressions, on this and many other + occasions, wakened dormant feelings in my heart, and made me sensible that + I had a soul, and that I was superior to the puppets with whom I had been + classed. + </p> + <p> + One day Lady Kilrush, in her mixed mode, with partly the graces of a fine + lady and partly the airs of a <i>bel esprit</i>, was talking of Mr. + Devereux, whom she affected to patronise and <i>produce</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Devereux!” cried she; “Cecil Devereux! What can you be thinking of? + I am talking to you. Here’s this epitaph of Francis the First upon + Petrarch’s Laura, that you showed me the other day: do you know, I dote + upon it. I must have it translated: nobody can do it so well as you. I + have not time; but I shall not sleep to-night if it is not done: and you + are so quick: so sit down here, there’s a dear man, and do it in your + elegant way for me, whilst I go to my toilette. Perhaps you did not know + that my name was Laura,” said she, leaving the room with a very + sentimental air. + </p> + <p> + “What will become of me!” cried Devereux. “Never was a harder task set by + cruel patroness. I would rather ‘turn a Persian tale for half-a-crown.’ + Read this, my lord, and tell me whether it will be easy to turn my Lady + Kilrush into Petrarch’s Laura.” + </p> + <p> + “This sonnet, to be sure, is rather difficult to translate, or at least to + modernize, as bespoke,” said Lady Geraldine, after she had perused the + sonnet;<a href="#linknote-82" name="linknoteref-82" id="linknoteref-82"><small>82</small></a> + “but I think, Mr. Devereux, you brought this difficulty upon yourself. How + came you to show these lines to such an amateur, such a fetcher and + carrier of bays as Lady Kilrush? You might have been certain that, had + they been trash, with the name of Francis the First, and with your + fashionable approbation, and something to say about Petrarch and Laura, my + Lady Kilrush would talk for ever, <i>et se pâmerait d’affectation</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Devereux,” said I, “has only to abide by the last lines, as a good + and sufficient apology to Lady Kilrush for his silence: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Qui te pourra louer qu’en se taisant? + Car la parole est toujours réprimée + Quand le sujet surmonte le disant.’” + </pre> + <p> + “There is no way to get out of my difficulties,” said Mr. Devereux, with a + very melancholy look; and with a deep sigh he sat down to attempt the + translation of the poem. In a few minutes, however, he rose and left the + room, declaring that he had the bad habit of not being able to do any + thing in company. + </p> + <p> + Lady Geraldine now, with much energy of indignation, exclaimed against the + pretensions of rich amateurs, and the mean and presumptuous manner in + which some would-be great people affect to patronise genius. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the baseness, the emptiness of such patronising ostentation!” cried + she. “I am accused of being proud myself; but I hope—I believe—I + am sure, that my pride is of another sort. Persons of any elevation or + generosity of mind never have this species of pride; but it is your mean, + second-rate folk, who imagine that people of talent are a sort of + raree-show for their entertainment. At best, they consider men of genius + only as artists formed for their use, who, if not in a situation to be + paid with money, are yet to be easily recompensed by praise—by their + praise—<i>their</i> praise! Heavens! what conceit! And these + amateur-patrons really think themselves judges, and presume to advise and + direct genius, and employ it to their petty purposes! Like that Pietro de + Medici, who, at some of his entertainments, set Michael Angelo to make a + statue of snow. My lord, did you ever happen to meet with Les Mémoires de + Madame de Staël?” + </p> + <p> + “No: I did not know that they were published.” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake me: I mean Madame de Staël of Louis the Fourteenth and the + Regent’s time, Mademoiselle de Launay.” + </p> + <p> + I had never heard of such a person, and I blushed for my ignorance. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I met with them myself only yesterday,” said Lady Geraldine: “I was + struck with the character of the Duchess de la Ferté, in which this kind + of proud patronising ignorance is admirably painted from the life. It is + really worth your while, my lord, to look at it. There’s the book on that + little table; here is the passage. You see, this Duchess de la Ferté is + showing off to a sister-duchess a poor girl of genius, like a puppet or an + ape. + </p> + <p> + “‘Allons, mademoiselle, parlez—Madame, vous allez voir comme elle + parle—Elle vit que j’hésitois à répondre, et pensa qu’il falloit + m’aider comme une chanteuse à qui l’on indique ce qu’on désire d’entendre—Parlez + un peu de religion, mademoiselle, vous direz ensuite autre chose.’ + </p> + <p> + “This speech, Mr. Devereux tells me, has become quite proverbial in + Paris,” continued Lady Geraldine; “and it is often quoted, when any one + presumes in the Duchess de la Ferte’s style.” + </p> + <p> + “Ignorance, either in high or low life, is equally self-sufficient, I + believe,” said I, exerting myself to illustrate her ladyship’s remarks. “A + gentleman of my acquaintance lately went to buy some razors at Packwood’s. + Mrs. Packwood alone was <i>visible</i>. Upon the gentleman’s complimenting + her on the infinite variety of her husband’s ingenious and poetical + advertisements, she replied, ‘La! sir, and do you think husband has time + to write them there things his-self? Why, sir, we keeps a poet to do all + that there work.’” + </p> + <p> + Though Lady Geraldine spoke only in general of amateur-patrons and of men + of genius, yet I could not help fancying, from the warmth with which she + expressed herself, and from her dwelling on the subject so long, that her + feelings were peculiarly interested for some individual of this + description. Thus I discovered that Lady Geraldine had a heart; and I + suspected that her ladyship and Mr. Devereux had also made the same + discovery. This suspicion was strengthened by a slight incident, which + occurred the following evening. + </p> + <p> + Lady Geraldine and Cecil Devereux, as we were drinking coffee, were in a + recessed window, while some of the company stood round them, amused by + their animated conversation. They went on, repartee after repartee, as if + inspired by each other’s spirits. + </p> + <p> + “You two,” said a little girl of six years old, who was playing in the + window, “go on singing to one another like two nightingales; and this + shall be your cage,” added she, drawing the drapery of the window-curtains + across the recessed window. “You shall live always together in this cage: + will you, pretty birds?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; some birds cannot live in a cage, my dear,” cried Lady Geraldine, + playfully struggling to get free, whilst the child held her prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Devereux seems tolerably quiet and contented in his cage,” said the + shrewd Mrs. O’Connor. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t get out! I can’t get out!” cried Devereux, in the melancholy tone + of the starling in the Sentimental Journey. + </p> + <p> + “What is all this?” said my Lady Kildangan, sailing up to us. + </p> + <p> + “Only two birds,” the child began. + </p> + <p> + “Singing-birds,” interrupted Lady Geraldine, catching the little girl up + in her arms, and stopping her from saying more, by beginning to sing most + charmingly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Kildangan returned to the sofa without comprehending one word of what + had passed. For my part, I now felt almost certain of the justice of my + suspicions: I was a little vexed, but not by any means in that despair + into which a man heartily in love would have been thrown by such a + discovery. + </p> + <p> + Well, thought I, it is well it is no worse: it was very lucky that I did + not fall quite in love with this fair lady, since it seems that she has + given her heart away. But am I certain of this? I was mistaken once. Let + me examine more carefully. + </p> + <p> + Now I had a new motive to keep my attention awake. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + To preserve the continuity of my story, and not to fatigue the reader with + the journals of my comings and goings from Ormsby Villa to Glenthorn + Castle, and from Glenthorn Castle to Ormsby Villa, I must here relate the + observations I made, and the incidents that occurred, during various + visits at Sir Harry Ormsby’s in the course of the summer. + </p> + <p> + After the incident of the birds and cage, my sagacity was for some time at + fault. I could not perceive any further signs of intelligence between the + parties: on the contrary, all communication seemed abruptly to cease. As I + was not well versed in such affairs, this quieted my suspicions, and I + began to think that I had been entirely mistaken. Cecil Devereux spent his + days shut up in his own apartment, immersed, as far as I could understand, + in the study of the Persian language. He talked to me of nothing but his + hopes of an appointment which Lord O’Toole had promised to procure for him + in India. When he was not studying, he was botanizing or <i>mineralogizing</i> + with O’Toole’s chaplain. I did not envy him his new mode of life. Lady + Geraldine took no notice of it. When they did meet, which happened as + seldom as possible, there was an air of haughty displeasure on her part; + on his, steady and apparently calm respect and self-satisfaction. Her + spirits were exuberant, but variable; and, at times, evidently forced: his + were not high, but even and certain. Towards me, her ladyship’s manners + were free from coquetry, yet politely gratifying, as she marked, by the + sort of conversation she addressed to me, her opinion that I was superior + in ability and capability to what she had at first thought me, and to what + I had always thought myself. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Devereux, though with more effort, treated me with distinction, and + showed a constant desire to cultivate my friendship. On every occasion he + endeavoured to raise my opinion of myself: to give me ambition and courage + to cultivate my mind. Once, when I was arguing in favour of natural + genius, and saying that I thought no cultivation could make the abilities + of one man equal to those of another, he, without seeming to perceive that + I was apologizing at once for my own indolence and my intellectual + inferiority, answered in general terms, “It is difficult to judge what are + the natural powers of the mind, they appear so different in different + circumstances. You can no more judge of a mind in ignorance than of a + plant in darkness. A philosophical friend told me, that he once thought he + had discovered a new and strange plant growing in a mine. It was common + sage; but so degenerated and altered, that he could not know it: he + planted it in the open air and in the light, and gradually it resumed its + natural appearance and character.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Devereux excited, without fatiguing, my mind by his conversation; and + I was not yet sufficiently in love to be seriously jealous. I was + resolved, however, to sound him upon the subject of Lady Geraldine, I + waited for a good opportunity: at length, as we were looking together over + the prints of Bürger’s Lenore, he led to the sort of conversation that I + desired, by telling me an anecdote relative to the poet, which he had + lately heard from a German baron. + </p> + <p> + Burger was charmed with a sonnet, which an unknown fair one addressed to + him, in praise of his poetry; he replied in equal strains; and they went + on flattering one another, till both believed themselves in love: without + ever having met, they determined to marry: they at length met, and + married: they quarrelled and parted: in other words, the gentleman was + terribly disappointed in his unknown mistress; and she consoled herself by + running away from him with another lover. + </p> + <p> + The imprudence of this poetic couple led us to reflections on love and + marriage in general. Keeping far away from all allusion to Lady Geraldine, + I rallied Mr. Devereux about the fair Clementina, who was evidently a + romantic admirer of his. + </p> + <p> + “Who, except Cupid, would barter his liberty for a butterfly?” said he; + “and Cupid was a child. Men now-a-days are grown too wise to enslave + themselves for women. Love occupies a vast space in a woman’s thoughts, + but fills a small portion in a man’s life. Women are told, that ‘The + great, th’ important business of their life, is love;’ but men know that + they are born for something better than to sing mournful ditties to a + mistress’s eyebrow. As to marriage, what a serious, terrible thing! Some + quaint old author says, that man is of too smooth and oily a nature to + climb up to heaven, if, to make him less slippery, there be not added to + his composition the vinegar of marriage. This may be; but I will keep as + long as possible from the vinegar.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Devereux,” said I, smiling, “you talk so like a cynic and an old + bachelor, and you look so little like either, that it is quite + ridiculous.” + </p> + <p> + “A man must be ridiculous sometimes,” said he, “and bear to be thought so. + No man ever distinguished himself, who could not bear to be laughed at.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Devereux left the room singing, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “No more for Amynta fresh garlands I wove; + Ambition, I said, will soon cure me of love.” + </pre> + <p> + I was uncertain what to think of all this. I inclined to believe that + ambition was his ruling passion, notwithstanding the description of that + Hell which he showed me in Spenser. His conduct to his patron-lords, by + which a surer judgment of his character could be formed than by his + professions, was not, however, that of a man merely intent upon rising in + the world. + </p> + <p> + I remember once hearing Lord O’Toole attack a friend of this gentleman’s, + calling him, in a certain tone, <i>a philosopher.</i> Mr. Devereux + replied, “that he could not consider that as a term of reproach; that + where a false or pretended philosopher was meant, some other name should + be used, equivalent to the Italian term of reproach, <i>filosofastro.</i>” + </p> + <p> + Lord O’Toole would by no means admit of this Italianism: he would make no + distinctions: he deemed philosophers altogether a race of beings dangerous + and inimical to states. + </p> + <p> + “For states read statesmen,” said Devereux, who persisted in the + vindication of his friend till Lord O’Toole grew pale with anger, while + Captain Andrews smiled with ineffable contempt at the political <i>bévue</i>: + Lady Geraldine glowed with generous indignation. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards, in speaking to me of Lord O’Toole, Devereux said, “His + lordship’s classification of men is as contracted as the savage’s + classification of animals: he divides mankind into two classes, knaves and + fools; and when he meets with an honest man, he does not know what to make + of him.” + </p> + <p> + My esteem for Mr. Devereux was much increased by my daily observations + upon his conduct: towards Lady Geraldine, I thought it particularly + honourable: when her displeasure evidently merged in esteem, when her + manners again became most winning and attractive, his continued uniformly + the same; never passing the bounds of friendly respect, or swerving, in + the slightest degree, from the line of conduct which he had laid down for + himself. I thought I now understood him perfectly. That he liked Lady + Geraldine I could scarcely doubt; but I saw that he refrained from aiming + at the prize which he knew he ought not to obtain; that he perceived her + ladyship’s favourable disposition towards him, yet denied himself not only + the gratification of his vanity, but the exquisite pleasure of conversing + with her, lest he should stand in the way of her happier prospects. He + frequently spoke to me of her ladyship in terms of the warmest + approbation. He said, that all the world saw and admired her talents and + beauty, but that he had had opportunities, as a relation, of studying her + domestic life. “With all her vivacity, she has a heart formed for + tenderness,” said he; “a high sense of duty, the best security for a + woman’s conduct; and in generosity and magnanimity, I never found her + superior in either sex. In short, I never saw any woman whose temper and + disposition were more likely to make a man of sense and feeling supremely + happy.” + </p> + <p> + I could not forbear smiling, and asking Cecil Devereux how all this + accorded with his late professions of hatred to marriage. “My professions + were sincere,” said he. “It would be misery to me to marry any inferior + woman, and I am not in circumstances to marry as I could wish. I could not + think of Lady Geraldine without a breach of trust, of which your lordship, + I hope, cannot suspect me. Her mother places confidence in me. I am not + only a relation, but treated as a friend of the family. I am not in love + with Lady Geraldine. I admire, esteem, respect her ladyship; and I wish to + see her united to a man, if such a man there be, who may deserve her. We + understand one another now. Your lordship will have the goodness never + more to speak to me on this subject.” He spoke with much emotion, but with + steadiness, and left me penetrated with feelings that were entirely new to + me. + </p> + <p> + Much as I admired his conduct, I was yet undecided as to my own: my + aversion to a second marriage was not yet conquered:—I was amused, I + was captivated by Lady Geraldine; but I could not bring myself to think of + making a distinct proposal. Captain Andrews himself was not more afraid of + being committed than I was upon this tender subject. To gain time, I now + thought it necessary to verify all the praises Mr. Devereux had bestowed + on her ladyship. Magnanimity was a word that particularly struck my ear as + extraordinary when applied to a female. However, by attending carefully to + this lady, I thought I discovered what Mr. Devereux meant. Lady Geraldine + was superior to manoeuvring little arts and petty stratagems to attract + attention: she would not stoop, even to conquer. From gentlemen she seemed + to expect attention as her right, as the right of her sex; not to beg or + accept of it as a favour: if it were not paid, she deemed the gentleman + degraded, not herself. Far from being mortified by any preference shown to + other ladies, her countenance betrayed only a sarcastic sort of pity for + the bad taste of the men, or an absolute indifference and look of haughty + absence. I saw that she beheld with disdain the paltry competitions of the + young ladies her companions: as her companions, indeed, she hardly seemed + to consider them; she tolerated their foibles, forgave their envy, and + never exerted any superiority, except to show her contempt of vice and + meanness. To be in any degree excepted from the common herd; to be in any + degree distinguished by a lady so proud, and with so many good reasons to + be proud, was flattering to my self-love. She gave me no direct + encouragement; but I never advanced far enough to require encouragement, + much less to justify repulse. Sometimes I observed, or I fancied, that she + treated me with more favour when Mr. Devereux was present than at other + times; perhaps—for she was a woman, not an angel—to pique + Devereux, and try if she could move him from the settled purpose of his + soul. He bore it all with surprising constancy: his spirits, however, and + his health, began visibly to decline. + </p> + <p> + “If I do not intrude too much on your valuable time, Mr. Devereux,” said + her ladyship to him one evening, in her most attractive manner, “may I beg + you to read to us some of these beautiful poems of Sir William Jones?” + </p> + <p> + There was a seat beside her ladyship on the sofa: the book was held out by + the finest arm in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said Lady Geraldine, “do not look so respectfully miserable; if you + have any other engagements, you have only to say so: or if you cannot + speak you may bow: a bow, you know, is an answer to every thing. And here + is my Lord Glenthorn ready to supply your place: pray, do not let me + detain you prisoner. You shall not a second time say, <i>I can’t get out</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Devereux made no further effort to escape, but took the book and his + dangerous seat. He remained with us, contrary to his custom, the whole + evening. Afterwards, as if he felt that some apology was necessary to me + for the pleasure in which he had indulged himself, “Perhaps, my lord,” + said he, “another man in my situation, and with my feelings, would think + it necessary to retreat, and prudent to secure his safety by flight; but + flight is unworthy of him who can combat and conquer: the man who is sure + of himself does not skulk away to avoid danger, but advances to meet it, + armed secure in honesty.” + </p> + <p> + This proud and rash security in his own courage, strength of mind, and + integrity, was the only fault of Cecil Devereux. He never prayed not to be + led into temptation, he thought himself so sure of avoiding evil. + Unconscious of his danger, even though his disease was at its height, he + now braved it most imprudently: he was certain that he should never pass + the bounds of friendship; he had proved this to himself, and was + satisfied: he told me that he could with indifference, nay, with pleasure, + see Lady Geraldine mine. In the mean time, upon the same principle that he + deemed flight inglorious, he was proud to expose himself to the full force + of Love’s artillery. He was with us now every day, and almost all day, and + Lady Geraldine was more charming than ever. The week was fixed for her + departure. Still I could not decide. I understood that her ladyship would + pass the ensuing winter in Dublin, where she would probably meet with new + adorers; and even if Mr. Devereux should not succeed, some adventurous + knight might win and wear the prize. This was an alarming thought. It + almost decided me to hazard the fatal declaration; but then I recollected + that I might follow her ladyship to town the next winter, and that if the + impression did not, as might be hoped, wear off during the intervening + autumn, it would be time enough to <i>commit</i> myself when I should meet + my fair one in Dublin. This was at last my fixed resolution. Respited from + the agonies of doubt, I now waited very tranquilly for that moment to + which most lovers look forward with horror, the moment of separation. I + was sensible that I had accustomed myself to think about this lady so + much, that I had gradually identified my existence with hers, and I thus + found my <i>spirit of animation</i> much increased. I dreaded the + departure of Lady Geraldine less than the return of ennui. + </p> + <p> + In this frame of mind I was walking one morning in the pleasure grounds + with Lady Geraldine, when a slight accident made me act in direct + contradiction to all my resolutions, and, I think, inconsistently with my + character. But such is the nature of man! and I was doomed to make a fool + of myself, even in the very temple of Minerva. Among the various + ornamental buildings in the grounds at Ormsby Villa, there was a temple + dedicated to this goddess, from which issued a troop of hoyden young + ladies, headed by the widow O’Connor and Lady Kilrush, all calling to us + to come and look at some charming discovery which they had just made in + the temple of Minerva. Thither we proceeded, accompanied by the merry + troop. We found in the temple only a poetical inscription of Lady + Kilrush’s, pompously engraved on a fine marble tablet. We read the lines + with all the attention usually paid to a lady’s poetry in the presence of + the poetess. Lady Geraldine and I turned to pay some compliments on the + performance, when we found that Lady Kilrush and all her companions were + gone. + </p> + <p> + “Gone! all gone!” said Lady Geraldine; “and there they are, making their + way very fast down to the temple of Folly! Lady Kilrush, you know, is so + ba-a-ashful, she could not possibly stay to receive <i>nos hommages</i>. I + love to laugh at affectation. Call them back, do, my lord, and you shall + see the <i>fair author</i> go through all the evolutions of mock humility, + and end by yielding quietly to the notion that she is the tenth Muse. But + run, my lord, or they will be out of our reach.” + </p> + <p> + I never was seen to run on any occasion; but to obey Lady Geraldine I + walked as fast as I could to the door, and, to my surprise, found it + fastened. + </p> + <p> + “Locked, I declare! Some of the witty tricks of the widow O’Connor, or the + hoyden Miss Callwells!” + </p> + <p> + “How I hate hoydens!” cried Lady Geraldine: “but let us take patience; + they will be back presently. If young ladies must perform practical jokes, + because quizzing is the fashion, I wish they would devise something new. + This locking-up is so stale a jest. To be sure it has lately to boast the + authority of high rank in successful practice: but these bungling + imitators never distinguish between cases the most dissimilar imaginable. + Silly creatures! We have only to be wise and patient.” + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship sat down to re-peruse the tablet. I never saw her look so + beautiful.—The dignified composure of her manner charmed me; it was + so unlike the paltry affectation of some of the fashionable ladies by whom + I had been disgusted. I recollected the precedent to which she alluded. I + recollected that the locking-up ended in matrimony; and as Lady Geraldine + made some remarks upon the verses, I suppose my answers showed my absence + of mind. + </p> + <p> + “Why so grave, my lord? why so absent? I assure you I do not suspect your + lordship of having any hand in this vulgar manoeuvre. I acquit you + honourably; therefore you need not stand any longer like a criminal.” + </p> + <p> + What decided me at this instant I cannot positively tell: whether it was + the awkwardness of my own situation, or the grace of her ladyship’s + manner: but all my prudential arrangements were forgotten, all my doubts + vanished. Before I knew that the words passed my lips, I replied, “That + her ladyship did me justice by such an acquittal; but that though I had no + part in the contrivance, yet I felt irresistibly impelled to avail myself + of the opportunity it afforded of declaring my real sentiments.” I was at + her ladyship’s feet, and making very serious love, before I knew where I + was. In what words my long-delayed declaration was made, I cannot + recollect, but I well remember Lady Geraldine’s answer. + </p> + <p> + “My lord, I assure you that you do not know what you are saying: you do + not know what you are doing. This is all a mistake, as you will find half + an hour hence. I will not be so cruelly vain as to suppose you serious.” + </p> + <p> + “Not serious! no man ever was more serious.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—No, no, no.” + </p> + <p> + I swore, of course, most fervently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! rise, rise, I beseech you, my lord, and don’t look so like a hero; + though you have done an heroical action, I grant. How you ever brought + yourself to it, I cannot imagine. But now, for your comfort, you are safe—Vous + voilà quitte pour la peur! Do not, however, let this encourage you to + venture again in the same foolish manner. I know but few, very few young + ladies to whom Lord Glenthorn could offer himself with any chance or + reasonable hope of being refused. So take warning: never again expect to + meet with such another as my whimsical self.” + </p> + <p> + “Never, never can I expect to meet with any thing resembling your charming + self,” cried I. This was a new text for a lover’s rhapsody. It is not + necessary, and might not be <i>generally</i> interesting to repeat all the + ridiculous things I said, even if I could remember them. + </p> + <p> + Lady Geraldine listened to me, and then very calmly replied, “Granting you + believe all that you are saying at this minute, which I must grant from + common gratitude, and still more common vanity; nevertheless, permit me to + assure you, my lord, that this is not love; it is only a fancy—only + the nettle-rash, not the plague. You will not die this time. I will insure + your life. So now jump out of the window as fast as you can, and unlock + the door—you need not be afraid of breaking your neck—you know + your life is insured. Come, take the lover’s leap, and get rid of your + passion at once.” + </p> + <p> + I grew angry. + </p> + <p> + “Only a cloud,” said Lady Geraldine—“it will blow over.” + </p> + <p> + I became more passionate—I did not know the force of my own + feelings, till they met with an obstacle; they suddenly rose to a + surprising height. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my lord,” cried Lady Geraldine with a tone and look of comic + vexation, “this is really the most provoking thing imaginable; you have no + idea how you distress me, nor of what exquisite pleasures you deprive me—all + the pleasures of coquetry; legitimate pleasures, in certain circumstances, + as I am instructed to think them by one of the first moral authorities. + There is a case—I quote from memory, my lord; for my memory, like + that of most other people, on subjects where I am deeply interested, is + tolerably tenacious—there is a case, says the best of fathers, in + his Legacy to the best of daughters—there is a case, where a woman + may coquet justifiably to the utmost verge which her conscience will + allow. It is where a gentleman purposely declines making his addresses, + till such time as he thinks himself perfectly sure of her consent. Now, my + lord, if you had had the goodness to do so, I might have made this + delightful case my own; and what charming latitude I might have allowed my + conscience! But now, alas! it is all over, and I must be as frank as you + have been, under pain of forfeiting what I value more even than admiration—my + own good opinion.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and was silent for a few moments; then suddenly changing her + manner, she exclaimed, in a serious, energetic tone, “Yes, I must, I will + be sincere; let it cost me what it may. I will be sincere. My lord, I + never can be yours. My lord, you will believe me, even from the effort + with which I speak:” her voice softened, and her face suffused with + crimson, as she spoke. “I love another—my heart is no longer in my + own possession; whether it will ever be in my power, consistently with my + duty and his principles, to be united with the man of my choice, is + doubtful—more than doubtful—but this is certain, that with + such a prepossession, such a conviction in my mind, I never could nor + ought to think of marrying any other person.” + </p> + <p> + I pleaded, that however deserving of her preference the object of her + favour might be, yet that if there were, as her own prudence seemed to + suggest, obstacles, rendering the probability of her union with that + person more than doubtful, it might be possible that her superior sense + and strength of mind, joined to the persevering affection of another + lover, who would spare no exertions to render himself worthy of her, + might, perhaps, in time— + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said she, interrupting me; “do not deceive yourself. I will not + deceive you. I give you no hopes that my sentiments may change. I know my + own mind—it will not change. My attachment is founded on the firm + basis of esteem; my affection has grown from the intimate knowledge of the + principles and conduct of the man I love. No other man, let his merits be + what they may, could have these advantages in my opinion. And when I say + that the probability of our being united is more than doubtful, I do not + mean to deny that I have distant hope that change of circumstances might + render love and duty compatible. Without hope I know love cannot long + exist. You see I do not talk romantic nonsense to you. All that you say of + prudence, and time, and the effect of the attentions of another admirer, + would be perfectly just and applicable, if my attachment were a fancy of + yesterday—if it were a mere young lady’s commonplace first love; but + I am not a <i>very</i> young lady, nor is this, though a first love, + commonplace. I do not, you see, in the usual style, tell you that the man + I adore is an angel, and that no created form ever did, or ever can, + resemble this <i>angel in green and gold</i>; but, on the contrary, do + justice to your lordship’s merit: and believing, as I do, that you are + capable of a real love; still more, believing that such an attachment + would rouse you to exertion, and bring to life and light a surprising + number of good qualities; yet I should deceive you unpardonably, fatally + for my own peace of mind, if not for yours, were I not frankly and + decidedly to assure you, that I never could reward or return your + affection. My attachment to—I trust entirely where I trust at all—my + attachment to Mr. Devereux is for life.” + </p> + <p> + “He deserves it—deserves it all,” cried I, struggling for utterance; + “that is as much as a rival can say.” + </p> + <p> + “Not more than I expected from you, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “But your ladyship says there is a hope of duty and love being compatible. + <i>Would</i> Lady Kildangan <i>ever</i> consent?” + </p> + <p> + She looked much disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly; not unless—Lord O’Toole has promised—not that + I depend on courtiers’ promises—but Lord O’Toole is a relation of + ours, and he has promised to obtain an appointment abroad, in India, for + Mr. Devereux. If that were done, he might appear of more consequence in + the eyes of the world. My mother might then, perhaps, be propitious. My + lord, I give you the strongest proof of my esteem, by speaking with such + openness. I have had the honour of your lordship’s acquaintance only a few + months; but without complimenting my own penetration, I may securely trust + to the judgment of Mr. Devereux, and his example has taught me to feel + confidence in your lordship. Your conduct now will, I trust, justify my + good opinion, by your secrecy; and by desisting from useless pursuit you + will entitle yourself to my esteem and gratitude. These, I presume, you + will think worth securing.” + </p> + <p> + My soul was so completely touched, that I could not articulate. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Devereux is right—I see, my lord, that you have a soul that can + be touched.” + </p> + <p> + “Kissing hands, I protest!” exclaimed a shrill voice at the window. We + turned, and saw Mrs. O’Connor and a group of tittering faces peeping in. + “Kissing hands, after a good hour’s tête-à-tête! Oh, pray, Lady Kildangan, + make haste here,” continued Mrs. O’Connor; “make haste, before Lady + Geraldine’s blushes are over.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you ever detected in the crime of blushing, in your life, Mrs. + O’Connor?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “I never was found out locked up with so fine a gentleman,” replied Mrs. + O’Connor. + </p> + <p> + “Then it hurts your conscience only to be found out, like all the rest of + the vast family of the Surfaces,” said Lady Geraldine, resuming her + spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Found out!—Locked up!—bless me! bless me! What is all this?” + cried Lady Kildangan, puffing up the hill. “For shame! young ladies; for + shame!” continued her ladyship, with a decent suppression of her + satisfaction, when she saw, or thought she saw, how matters stood. “Unlock + the door, pray. Don’t be vexed, my Geraldine. Fie! fie! Mrs. O’Connor. But + quizzing is now so fashionable—nobody can be angry with any body. My + Geraldine, consider we are all friends.” + </p> + <p> + The door unlocked, and as we were going out, Lady Geraldine whispered to + me—“For mercy’s sake, my lord, don’t break my poor mother’s heart! + Never let her know that a coronet has been within my grasp, and that I + have not clutched it.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Kildangan, who thought that all was now approaching that happy + termination she so devoutly wished, was so full of her own happy + presentiments, that it was impossible for me to undeceive her ladyship. + Even when I announced before her, to Sir Harry Ormsby, that I was obliged + to return home immediately, on particular business, she was, I am sure, + persuaded that I was going to prepare matters for marriage-settlements. + When I mounted my horse, Mr. Devereux pressed through a crowd assembled on + the steps at the hall-door, and offered me his hand, with a look and + manner that seemed to say—Have you sufficient generosity to be still + my friend? “I know the value of your friendship, Mr. Devereux,” said I, + “and I hope to deserve it better every year that I live.” + </p> + <p> + For the effort which it cost me to say this I was rewarded. Lady + Geraldine, who had retired behind her companions, at this instant + approached with an air of mingled grace and dignity, bowed her head, and + gave me a smile of grateful approbation. This is the last image left on my + mind, the last look of the charming Geraldine—I never saw her again. + </p> + <p> + After I got home I did not shave for two days, and scarcely ever spoke. I + should have taken to my bed to avoid seeing any human creature; but I knew + that if I declared myself ill, no power would keep my old nurse Ellinor + from coming to moan over me; and I was not in a humour to listen to + stories of the Irish Black Beard, or the ghost of King O’Donoghoe; nor + could I, however troublesome, have repulsed the simplicity of her + affection. Instead of going to bed, therefore, I continued to lie + stretched upon a sofa, ruminating sweet and bitter thoughts, after giving + absolute orders that I should not be disturbed on any account whatever. + Whilst I was in this state of reverie, one of my servants—an odd + Irish fellow, who, under pretence of being half-witted, took more + liberties than his companions—bolted into my presence. + </p> + <p> + “Plase your lordship, I thought it my duty, in spite of ‘em all below, to + come up to advertise to your lordship of the news that’s going through the + country. That they are all upside down at Ormsby Villa, all mad entirely—fighting + and setting off through the kingdom, every one their own way; and, they + say, it’s all on account of something that Miss Clemmy Ormsby told, that + Lady Geraldine said about my Lord O’Toole’s being no better than a cat’s + paw, or something that way, which made his lordship quite mad; and he + said, in the presence of Captain Andrews, and my Lady Kildangan, and Lady + Geraldine, and all that were in it, something that vexed Lady Geraldine, + which made Mr. Cecil Devereux mad next; and he said something smart in + reply, that Lord O’Toole could not digest, he said, which made his + lordship madder than ever, and he discharged Mr. Devereux from his favour, + and he is not to get that place that was vacant, the lord-lieutenancy of + some place in the Indies that he was to have had; this made Lady Geraldine + mad, and it was found out she was in love with Mr. Devereux, which made + her mother mad, the maddest of all, they say, so that none can hold her, + and she is crying night and day how her daughter might have had the first + coronet in the kingdom, <i>maning</i> you, my lard, if it had not been + that she <i>prefarred</i> a beggar-man, <i>maning</i> Mr. Cecil Devereux, + who is as poor, they say, as a Connaughtman—and he’s forbid to think + of her, and she’s forbid, under pain of bread and water, ever to set her + eyes upon him the longest day ever she lives; so the horses and coaches + are ordered, and they are all to be off with the first light for Dublin: + and that’s all, my lard; and all truth, not a word of lies I’m telling.” + </p> + <p> + I was inclined not to credit a story so oddly told; but, upon inquiry, I + found it true in its material points. My own words to Mr. Devereux, and + the parting look of Lady Geraldine, were full in my recollection; I was + determined, by an unexpected, exertion, to surprise both the lovers, and + to secure for ever their esteem and gratitude. The appointment, which Mr. + Devereux desired, was not yet given away; the fleet was to sail in a few + days. I started up from my sofa—ordered my carriage instantly—shaved + myself—sent a courier on before to have horses ready at every stage + to carry me to Dublin—got there in the shortest time possible—found + Lord O’Toole but just arrived. Though unused to diplomatic language and + political negotiation, I knew pretty well on what they all <i>hinge</i>. I + went directly to the point, and showed that it would be the interest of + the party concerned to grant my request. By expressing a becoming desire + that my boroughs, upon a question where a majority was required, should <i>strengthen + the hands of government</i>, I obtained for my friend the favour he <i>deserved</i>. + Before I quitted Lord O’Toole, his secretary, Captain Andrews, was + instructed to write a letter, announcing to Mr. Devereux his appointment. + A copy of the former letter of refusal now lay before me; it was in his + lordship’s purest diplomatic style—as follows: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Private</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Lord O’Toole is concerned to inform Mr. Devereux that he cannot feel + himself justified in encouraging Mr. D., under the existing circumstances, + to make any direct application relative to the last conversation his + lordship had the honour to hold with Mr. Devereux.” + </p> + <p> + “To Cecil Devereux, Esq. &c. Thursday ———” + </p> + <p> + The letter which I obtained, and of which I took possession, ran as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Private</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Lord O’Toole is happy to have it in command to inform Mr. Devereux, that + his lordship’s representations on the subject of their last conversation + have been thought sufficient, and that an official notification of the + appointment to India, which Mr. D. desired, will meet the wishes of Mr. + Devereux. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Andrews has the honour to add his congratulations.” + </p> + <p> + “To Cecil Devereux, Esq. &c. Thursday ———” + </p> + <p> + Having despatched this business with a celerity that surprised all the + parties concerned, and most myself, I called at the lodgings of Mr. + Devereux, delivered the letter to his servant, and left town. I could not + bear to see either Mr. Devereux or Lady Geraldine. I had the pleasure to + hear, that the obtaining this appointment was followed by Lady Kildangan’s + consent to their marriage. Soon after my return to Glenthorn Castle, I + received a letter of warm thanks from Devereux, and a polite postscript + from Lady Geraldine, declaring that, though she felt much pleasure, she + could feel no surprise in seeing her opinion of Lord Glenthorn justified; + persuaded, as she and Mr. Devereux had always been, that only motive and + opportunity were wanting to make his lordship’s superior qualities known + to the world, and, what was still more difficult, to himself. They left + Ireland immediately afterwards in consequence of their appointment in + India. + </p> + <p> + I was raised in my own estimation—I revelled a short time in my + self-complacent reflections; but when nothing more remained to be done, or + to be said—when the hurry of action, the novelty of generosity, the + glow of enthusiasm, and the freshness of gratitude, were over, I felt + that, though large motives could now invigorate my mind, I was still a + prey to habitual indolence, and that I should relapse into my former state + of apathy and disease. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + I remember to have heard, in some epilogue to a tragedy, that the tide of + pity and of love, whilst it overwhelms, fertilizes the soul. That it may + deposit the seeds of future fertilization, I believe; but some time must + elapse before they germinate: on the first retiring of the tide, the + prospect is barren and desolate. I was absolutely inert, and almost + imbecile for a considerable time, after the extraordinary stimulus, by + which I had been actuated, was withdrawn. I was in this state of apathy + when the rebellion broke out in Ireland; nor was I roused in the least by + the first news of the disturbances. The intelligence, however, so much + alarmed my English servants, that, with one accord, they left me; nothing + could persuade them to remain longer in Ireland. The parting with my + English gentleman affected my lethargic selfishness a little. His loss + would have been grievous to such a helpless being as I was, had not his + place been immediately supplied by that half-witted Irishman, Joe Kelly, + who had ingratiated himself with me by a mixture of drollery and + simplicity, and by suffering himself to be continually my laughing-stock; + for, in imitation of Lady Geraldine, I thought it necessary to have a + butt. I remember he first caught my notice by a strange answer to a very + simple question. I asked, “What noise is that I hear?” “My lard,” said he, + “it is only the singing in my ears; I have had it these six months.” + Another time, when I reproached him for having told me a lie, he answered, + “Why, now indeed, and plase your honour, my lard, I tell as few lies as + possibly I can.” This fellow, the son of a bricklayer, had originally been + intended for a priest, and he went, as he told me, to the College of + Maynooth to study his <i>humanities</i>; but, unluckily, the charms of + some Irish Heloise came between him and the altar. He lived in a cabin of + love, till he was weary of his smoke-dried Heloise, and then thought it <i>convanient</i> + to turn <i>sarving</i> man, as he could play on the flute, and brush a + coat remarkably well, which he <i>larned</i> at Maynooth, by brushing the + coats of the superiors. Though he was willing to be laughed at, Joe Kelly + could in his turn laugh; and he now ridiculed, without mercy, the + pusillanimity of the English <i>renegadoes</i>, as he called the servants + who had just left my service; He assured me that, to his knowledge, there + was no manner of danger, <i>excepted a man prefarred being afraid of his + own shadow, which some did, rather than have nothing to talk of, or enter + into resolutions about, with some of the spirited men in the chair</i>. + </p> + <p> + Unwilling to be disturbed, I readily believed all that lulled me in my + security. I would not be at the trouble of reading the public papers; and + when they were read to me, I did not credit any paragraph that militated + against my own opinion. Nothing could awaken me. I remember, one day, + lying yawning on my sofa, repeating to Mr. M’Leod, who endeavoured to open + my eyes to the situation of the country, “Pshaw, my dear sir; there is no + danger, be assured—none at all—none at all. For mercy’s sake! + talk to me of something more diverting, if you would keep me awake; time + enough to think of these things when they come nearer to us.” + </p> + <p> + Evils that were not immediately near me had no power to affect my + imagination. My tenantry had not yet been contaminated by the epidemic + infection, which broke out soon after with such violence as to threaten + the total destruction of all civil order. I had lived in England—I + was unacquainted with the causes and the progress of the disease, and I + had no notion of my danger; all I knew was, that some houses had been + robbed of arms, and that there was a set of desperate wretches called <i>defenders</i>; + but I was <i>annoyed</i> only by the rout that was now made about them. + Having been used to the regular course of justice which prevailed in + England, I was more shocked at the summary proceedings of my neighbours + than alarmed at the symptoms of insurrection. Whilst my mind was in this + mood, I was provoked by the conduct of some of the violent party, which + wounded my personal pride, and infringed upon my imagined consequence. My + foster-brother’s forge was searched for pikes, his house ransacked, his + bed and <i>bellows</i>, as possible hiding places, were cut open; by + accident, or from private malice, he received a shot in his arm; and, + though not the slightest cause of suspicion could be found against him, + the party left him with a broken arm, and the consolation of not being + sent to jail as a defender. Without making any allowance for the peculiar + circumstances of the country, my indignation was excited in the extreme, + by the injury done to my foster-brother; his sufferings, the tears of his + mother, the taunts of Mr. (now <i>Captain</i>) Hardcastle, and the + opposition made by his party, called forth all the faculties of my mind + and body. The poor fellow, who was the subject of this contest, showed the + best disposition imaginable: he was excessively grateful to me for + interesting myself to <i>get</i> him justice; but as soon as he found that + parties ran high against me, he earnestly dissuaded me from persisting. + </p> + <p> + “Let it drop, and <i>plase</i> your honour; my lord, let it drop, and + don’t be making of yourself <i>inimies</i> for the likes of me. Sure, what + signifies my arm? and, before the next assizes, sha’n’t I be as well as + ever, arm and all?” continued he, trying to appear to move the arm without + pain. “And there’s the new bellows your honour has <i>give</i> me; it does + my heart good to look at ‘em, and it won’t be long before I will be + blowing them again as stout as ever; and so God bless your honour, my + lord, and think no more about it—let it drop entirely, and don’t be + bringing yourself into trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, don’t be bringing yourself into trouble, dear,” added Ellinor, who + seemed half distracted between her feelings for her son and her fears for + me; “it’s a shame to think of the way they’ve treated Christy—but + there’s no help now, and it’s best not to be making bad worse; and so, as + Christy says, let the thing drop, jewel, and don’t be bringing yourself + into trouble; you don’t know the <i>natur</i> of them people, dear—you + are too <i>innocent</i> for them entirely, and myself does not know the + mischief they might do <i>yees</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “True for ye,” pursued Christy; “I wouldn’t for the best cow ever I see + that your honour ever larnt a sentence about me or my arm; and it is not + for such as we to be minding every little accident—so God lend you + long life, and don’t be plaguing yourself to death! Let it drop, and I’ll + sleep well the night, which I did not do the week, for thinking of all the + trouble you got, and would get, God presarve ye!” + </p> + <p> + This generous fellow’s eloquence produced an effect directly contrary to + what was intended; both my feelings and my pride were now more warmly + interested in his cause. I insisted upon his swearing examinations before + Mr. M’Leod, who was a justice of the peace. Mr. M’Leod behaved with the + utmost steadiness and impartiality; and in this trying moment, when “it + was infamy to seem my friend,” he defended my conduct calmly, but + resolutely, in private and in public, and gave his unequivocal testimony, + in few but decided words, in favour of my injured tenant. I should have + respected Mr. M’Leod more, if I had not attributed this conduct to his + desire of being returned for one of my boroughs at the approaching + election. He endeavoured, with persevering goodness, to convince me of the + reality of the danger in the country. My eyes were with much difficulty + forced open so far as to perceive that it was necessary to take an active + part in public affairs to vindicate my loyalty, and to do away the + prejudices that were entertained against me; nor did my incredulity, as to + the magnitude of the peril, prevent me from making exertions essential to + the defence of my own character, if not to that of the nation. How few act + from purely patriotic and rational motives! At all events I acted, and + acted with energy; and certainly at this period of my life I felt no + ennui. Party spirit is an effectual cure for ennui; and perhaps it is for + this reason that so many are addicted to its intemperance. All my passions + were roused, and my mind and body kept in continual activity. I was either + galloping, or haranguing, or fearing, or hoping, or fighting; and so long + as it was said that I could not sleep in my bed, I slept remarkably well, + and never had so good an appetite as when I was in hourly danger of having + nothing to eat. <i>The rebels were up</i>, and <i>the rebels were down</i>—and + Lord Glenthorn’s spirited conduct in the chair, and indefatigable + exertions in the field, were the theme of daily eulogium amongst my + convivial companions and immediate dependants. But, unfortunately, my + sudden activity gained me no credit amongst the violent party of my + neighbours, who persisted in their suspicions; and my reputation was now + still more injured, by the alternate charge of being a trimmer or a + traitor. Nay, I was further exposed to another danger, of which, from my + ignorance of the country, I could not possibly be aware. The disaffected + themselves, as I afterwards found, really believed, that, as I had not + begun by persecuting the poor, I must be a favourer of the rebels; and all + that I did to bring the guilty to justice, they thought was only to give a + <i>colour to the thing</i>, till the proper moment should come for my + declaring myself. Of this absurd and perverse mode of judging I had not + the slightest conception; and I only laughed when it was hinted to me. My + treating the matter so lightly confirmed suspicion on both sides. At this + time all objects were so magnified and distorted by the mist of prejudice, + that no inexperienced eye could judge of their real proportions. Neither + party could believe the simple truth, that my tardiness to act arose from + the habitual <i>inertia</i> of my mind and body. + </p> + <p> + Whilst prepossessions were thus strong, the time, the important time, in + Ireland the most important season of the year, the assizes, arrived. My + foster-brother’s cause, or, as it was now generally called, <i>Lord + Glenthorn’s</i> cause, came on to be tried. I spared no expense, I spared + no exertions; I fee’d the ablest counsel; and not content with leaving + them to be instructed by my attorney, I explained the affair to them + myself with indefatigable zeal. One of the lawyers, whom I had seen, or by + whom I had been seen, in my former inert state of existence, at some + watering-place in England, could not refrain from expressing his + astonishment at my change of character; he could scarcely believe that I + was the same Lord Glenthorn, of whose indolence and ennui he had formerly + heard and seen so much. + </p> + <p> + Alas! all my activity, all my energy, on the present occasion, proved + ineffectual. After a dreadful quantity of false swearing, the jury + professed themselves satisfied; and, without retiring from the box, + acquitted the persons who had assaulted my foster-brother. The + mortification of this legal defeat was not all that I had to endure; the + victorious party mobbed me, as I passed some time afterwards through a + neighbouring town, where Captain Hardcastle and his friends had been + carousing. I was hooted, and pelted, and narrowly escaped with my life—<i>I</i> + who, but a few months ago, had imagined myself possessed of nearly + despotic power: but opinions had changed; and on opinion almost all power + is founded. No individual, unless he possess uncommon eloquence, joined to + personal intrepidity, can withstand the combination of numbers, and the + force of prejudice. + </p> + <p> + Such was the result of my first public exertions! Yet I was now happier + and better satisfied with myself than I had ever been before. I was not + only conscious of having acted in a manly and generous manner, but the + alarms of the rebels, and of the French, and of the loyalists, and the + parading, and the galloping, and the quarrelling, and the continual + agitation in which I was kept, whilst my character and life were at stake, + relieved me effectually from the intolerable burden of ennui. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And, for the book of knowledge fair, + Presented with an universal blank + Of Nature’s works, to me expunged and rased.” + </pre> + <p> + Unfortunately <i>for me</i>, the rebellion in Ireland was soon quelled; + the nightly scouring of our county ceased; the poor people returned to + their duty and their homes; the occupation of upstart and ignorant <i>associators</i> + ceased, and their consequence sunk at once. Things and persons settled to + their natural level. The influence of men of property, and birth, and + education, and character, once more prevailed. The spirit of party ceased + to operate: my neighbours wakened, as if from a dream, and wondered at the + strange injustice with which I had been treated. Those who had lately been + my combined enemies were disunited, and each was eager to assure me that + he had <i>always been privately my friend</i>, but that he was compelled + to conceal his sentiments: each exculpated himself, and threw the blame on + others: all apologized to me, and professed to be my most devoted humble + servants. My popularity, my power, and my prosperity were now at their + zenith, <i>unfortunately for me;</i> because my adversity had not lasted + long enough to form and season my character. I had been driven to exertion + by a mixture of pride and generosity; my understanding being uncultivated, + I had acted from the virtuous impulse of the moment, but never from + rational motive, which alone can be permanent in its operation. When the + spur of the occasion pressed upon me no longer, I relapsed into my former + inactivity. When the great interests and strong passions, by which I had + been impelled to exertion, subsided, all other feelings, and all less + objects, seemed stale, flat, and unprofitable. For the tranquillity which + I was now left to enjoy I had no taste; it appeared to me a dead calm, + most spiritless and melancholy. + </p> + <p> + I remember hearing, some years afterwards, a Frenchman, who had been in + imminent danger of been guillotined by Robespierre, and who at last was + one of those who arrested the tyrant, declare, that when the bustle and + horror of the revolution were over, he could hardly keep himself awake; + and that he thought it very insipid to live in quiet with his wife and + family. He further summed up the catalogue of Robespierre’s crimes, by + exclaiming, “D’ailleurs c’étoit un grand philanthrope!” I am not conscious + of any disposition to cruelty, and I heard this man’s speech with disgust; + yet upon a candid self-examination, I must confess, that I have felt, + though from different causes, some degree of what he described. Perhaps <i>ennui</i> + may have had a share in creating revolutions. A French author pronounces + ennui to be “a moral indigestion, caused by a monotony of situations!” + </p> + <p> + I had no wife or family to make domestic life agreeable: nor was I + inclined to a second marriage, my first had proved so unfortunate, and the + recollection of my disappointment with Lady Geraldine was so recent. Even + the love of power no longer acted upon me: my power was now undisputed. My + jealousy and suspicions of my agent, Mr. M’Leod, were about this time + completely conquered, by his behaviour at a general election. I perceived + that he had no underhand design upon my boroughs; and that he never + attempted or wished to interfere in my affairs, except at my particular + desire. My confidence in him became absolute and unbounded; but this was + really a misfortune to me, for it became the cause of my having still less + to do. I gave up all business, and from all manner of trouble I was now + free: yet I became more and more unhappy, and my nervous complaints + returned. I was not aware that I was taking the very means to increase my + own disease. The philosophical Dr. Cullen observes, that “whatever + aversion to application of any kind may appear in hypochondriacs, there is + nothing more pernicious to them than absolute idleness, or a vacancy from + all earnest pursuit. It is owing to wealth admitting of indolence, and + leading to the pursuit of transitory and unsatisfying amusements, or + exhausting pleasures only, that the present times exhibit to us so many + instances of hypochondriacism.” + </p> + <p> + I fancied that change of air and change of place would do me good; and, as + it was fine summer weather, I projected various parties of pleasure. The + Giants’ Causeway, and the Lake of Killarney, were the only things I had + ever heard mentioned as worth seeing in Ireland. I suffered myself to be + carried into the county of Antrim, and I saw the Giants’ Causeway. From + the description given by Dr. Hamilton of some of these wonders of nature, + the reader may judge how much I <i>ought</i> to have been astonished and + delighted. + </p> + <p> + In the bold promontory of Bengore, you behold, as you look up from the + sea, a gigantic colonnade of basaltes, supporting a black mass of + irregular rock, over which rises another range of pillars, “forming + altogether a perpendicular height of one hundred and seventy feet, from + the base of which the promontory, covered over with rock and grass, slopes + down to the sea, for the space of two hundred feet more: making, in all, a + mass of near four hundred feet in height, which, in the beauty and variety + of its colouring, in elegance and novelty of arrangement, and in the + extraordinary magnificence of its objects, cannot be rivalled.” + </p> + <p> + Yet I was seized with a fit of yawning, as I sat in my pleasure-boat, to + admire this sublime spectacle. I looked at my watch, observed that we + should be late for dinner, and grew impatient to be rowed back to the + place where we were to dine; not that I was hungry, but I wanted to be + again set in motion. Neither science nor taste expanded my view; and I saw + nothing worthy of my admiration, or capable of giving me pleasure. The + watching a straw floating down the tide was the only amusement I recollect + to have enjoyed upon this excursion. + </p> + <p> + I was assured, however, by Lady Ormsby, that I could not help being + enchanted with the Lake of Killarney. The party was arranged by this lady, + who, having the preceding summer seen me captivated by Lady Geraldine, and + pitying my disappointment, had formed the obliging design of restoring my + spirits, and marrying me to one of her near relatives. She calculated, + that as I had been charmed by Lady Geraldine’s vivacity, I must be + enchanted with the fine spirits of Lady Jocunda Lawler. So far were the + thoughts of marriage from my imagination, that I only was sorry to find a + young lady smuggled into our party, because I was afraid she would be + troublesome: but I resolved to be quite passive upon all occasions, where + attentions to the fair sex are sometimes expected. My arm, or my hand, or + my assistance, in any manner, I was determined not to offer: the lounging + indifference which some fashionable young men affect towards ladies, I + really felt; and, besides, nobody minds unmarried women! This fashion was + <i>most convenient to my indolence. In my state of torpor I was</i> not, + however, long left in peace. Lady Jocunda was a high-bred romp, who made + it a rule to say and do whatever she pleased. In a hundred indirect ways I + was called upon to admire her charming spirits: but the rattling voice, + loud laughter, flippant wit, and hoyden gaiety, of Lady Jocunda, disgusted + me beyond expression. A thousand times on my journey I wished myself + quietly asleep in my own castle. Arrived at Killarney, such blowing of + horns, such boating, such seeing of prospects, such prosing of guides, all + telling us what to admire! Then such exclamations, and such clambering! I + was walked and talked till I was half-dead. I wished the rocks, and the + hanging-woods, and the glens, and the water-falls, and the arbutus, and + the myrtles, and the upper and lower lakes, and the islands, and Mucruss, + and Mucruss Abbey, and the purple mountain, and the eagle’s nest, and the + Grand Turk, and the lights and the shades, and the echoes, and, above all, + the Lady Jocunda, fairly at the devil. + </p> + <p> + A nobleman in the neighbourhood had the politeness to invite us to see a + stag-hunt upon the water. The account of this diversion, which I had met + with in my Guide to the Lakes,<a href="#linknote-83" name="linknoteref-83" + id="linknoteref-83"><small>83</small></a> promised well. I consented to + stay another day: that day I really was revived by this spectacle, for it + was new. The sublime and the beautiful had no charms for me: novelty was + the only power that could waken me from my lethargy; perhaps there was in + this spectacle something more than novelty. The Romans had recourse to + shows of wild beasts and gladiators to relieve their ennui. At all events, + I was kept awake this whole morning, though I cannot say that I felt in <i>such + ecstasies as to be in any imminent danger of jumping out of the boat</i>. + </p> + <p> + <i>Of our journey back from Killarney I remember nothing, but</i> my being + discomfited by Lady Jocunda’s practical jests and overpowering gaiety. + When she addressed herself to me, my answers were as constrained and as + concise as possible; and, as I was afterwards told, I seemed, at the close + of my reply to each interrogative of her ladyship’s, to answer with Odin’s + prophetess, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Now my weary lips I close; + Leave me, leave me to repose.” + </pre> + <p> + This she never did till we parted; and, at that moment, I believe, my + satisfaction appeared so visible, that Lady Ormsby gave up all hopes of + me. Arrived at my own castle, I threw myself on my bed quite exhausted. I + took three hours’ additional sleep every day for a week, to recruit my + strength, and rest my nerves, after all that I had been made to suffer by + this young lady’s prodigious animal spirits. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <p> + I could now boast that I had travelled all over Ireland, from north to + south; but, in fact, I had seen nothing of the country or of its + inhabitants. In these commodious parties of pleasure, every thing had been + provided to prevent the obstacles that roused my faculties. Accustomed by + this time to the Hibernian tone, I fancied that I knew all that could be + known of the Irish character; familiarized with the comic expressions of + the lower class of people, they amused me no longer. On this journey, + however, I recollect making one observation, and once laughing at what I + thought a practical bull. We saw a number of labourers at work in a bog, + on a very hot day, with a fire lighted close to them. When I afterwards + mentioned, before Mr. M’Leod, this circumstance, which I had thought + absurd, he informed me that the Irish labourers often light fires, that + the smoke may drive away or destroy those myriads of tiny flies, called <i>midges</i>, + by which they are often tormented so much, that without this remedy, they + would, in hot and damp weather, be obliged to abandon their work. Had I + been sufficiently active during my journey to pen a journal, I should + certainly, without further inquiry, have noted down, that the Irish + labourers <i>always</i> light fires in the hottest weather to cool + themselves; and thus I should have added one more to the number of cursory + travellers, who expose their own ignorance, whilst they attempt to + ridicule local customs, of which they have not inquired the cause, or + discovered the utility. + </p> + <p> + A foreigner, who has lately written Letters on England, has given a + laughable instance of this promptitude of misapprehension. He says, he had + heard much of the venality of the British parliament, but he had no idea + of the degree to which it extended, till he actually was an eye-witness of + the scene. The moment the minister entered the House, all the members ran + about exclaiming, “Places! places!” which means, Give us places—give + us places. + </p> + <p> + My heavy indolence fortunately preserved me from exposing myself, like + these volatile tourists. I was at least secure from the danger of making + mistakes in telling what I never saw. + </p> + <p> + As to the mode of living of the Irish, their domestic comforts or + grievances, their habits and opinions, their increasing or decreasing + ambition to better their condition, the proportion between the population + and the quantity of land cultivated or capable of cultivation, the + difference between the profits of the husbandman and the artificer, the + relation between the nominal wages of labour and the actual command over + the necessaries of life;—these were questions wholly foreign to my + thoughts, and, at this period of my life, absolutely beyond the range of + my understanding. I had travelled through my own country without making + even a single remark upon the various degrees of industry and civilization + visible in different parts of the kingdom. In fact, it never occurred to + me that it became a British nobleman to have some notion of the general + state of that empire, in the legislation of which he has a share; nor had + I the slightest suspicion that political economy was a study requisite or + suitable to my rank in life or situation in society. Satisfied with having + seen all that is worth seeing in Ireland, the Giants’ Causeway and the + Lake of Killarney, I was now impatient to return to England. During the + rebellion, I could not, with honour, desert my post; but now that + tranquillity was apparently restored, I determined to quit a country of + which my partial knowledge had in every respect been unfortunate. This + resolution of mine to leave Ireland threw Ellinor into despair, and she + used all her eloquence to dissuade me from the journey. I was quite + surprised by the agony of grief into which she was thrown by the dread of + my departure. I felt astonished that one human being could be so attached + to another, and I really envied her sensibility. My new man, Joe Kelly, + also displayed much reluctance at the thoughts of leaving his native + country; and this sentiment inclined Ellinor to think more favourably of + him, though she could not quite forgive him for being a Kelly of + Ballymuddy. + </p> + <p> + “Troth,” said she to him one day, in my presence, “none of them Kellys of + Ballymuddy but what are a bad clan! Joey, is not there your own <i>broder’s</i> + uncle lying in the jail of ——— at this present time for + the murder of a woman?”—“Well,” replied Joe, “and if he was so + unfortunate to be <i>put up</i>, which was not <i>asy</i> done neither, is + it not better and more <i>creditabler</i> to lie in a jail for a murder + than a robbery, I ask you?” This new scale of crimes surprised me; but Joe + spoke what was the sense of many of his countrymen at that period. + </p> + <p> + By various petty attentions, this man contrived to persuade me of the + sincerity of his attachment: chiefly by the art of appearing to be managed + by me in all things, he insensibly obtained power over my pride; and, by + saving me daily trouble, secured considerable influence over my indolence. + More than any one whom I had ever seen, he had the knack of seeming + half-witted—too simple to overreach, and yet sufficiently acute and + droll to divert his master. I liked to have him about me, as uncultivated + kings like to have their fools. One of our ancient monarchs is said to + have given three parishes to his <i>joculator</i>; I gave only three farms + to mine. I had a sort of mean pride in making my favourite an object of + envy: besides, I fell into the common mistake of the inexperienced great, + who fancy that attachment can be purchased, and that gratitude can be + secured, by favours disproportioned to deserts. Joe Kelly, by sundry + manoeuvres too minute for description, contrived to make me delay, from + day to day, the preparations for my journey to England. From week to week + it was put off till the autumn was far advanced. At length Kelly had + nothing left to <i>suggest</i>, but that it would be best to wait for + answers from my English steward to the letters that had been written to + inquire whether every thing was ready for my reception. During this + interval, I avoided every human creature (except Joe Kelly), and was in + great danger of becoming a misanthrope from mere indolence. I did not hate + my fellow-creatures, but I dreaded the trouble of talking to them. My only + recreation, at this period, was sauntering out in the evening beside the + sea-shore. It was my regular practice to sit down upon a certain large + stone, at the foot of a rock, to watch the ebbing of the tide. There was + something in the contemplation of the sea and of the tides which was + fascinating to my mind. I could sit and look at the ocean whole hours + together; for, without any exertion of my own, I beheld a grand operation + of nature, accompanied with a sort of vast monotony of motion and sound, + which lulled me into reverie. + </p> + <p> + Late one evening, as I was seated on my accustomed stone, my attention was + slightly diverted from the sea by the sight of a man descending the crag + above me, in rather a perilous manner. With one end of a rope coiled round + his body, and the other fastened to a stake driven into the summit of the + rock, he let himself half-way down the terrible height. One foot now + rested on a projecting point, one hand held the rope, and hanging thus + midway in the air, he seemed busy searching in the crevices of the rock, + for the eggs of water-fowl. This dangerous trade I had seen frequently + plied on this coast, so that I should scarcely have regarded the man if he + had not turned, from time to time, as if to watch me. When he saw that he + had fixed my eye, he threw down, as I thought, a white stone, which fell + nearly at my feet. I stooped to examine it; the man waited till he saw it + in my hands, then coiled himself swiftly up his rope to the summit of the + rock, and disappeared. I found a paper tied round the stone, and on this + paper, in a hand-writing that seemed to be feigned, were written these + words:— + </p> + <p> + “Your life and caracter, one or t’other—say both, is in danger. + Don’t be walking here any more late in the evening, near them caves, nor + don’t go near the old abbey, any time—And don’t be trusting to Joe + Kelly any way—Lave the kingdom entirely; the wind sarves. + </p> + <p> + “So prays your true well-wisher. + </p> + <p> + “P.S. Lave the castle the morrow, and say nothing of this to Joe Kelly, or + you’ll repent when it’s all over wid you.” + </p> + <p> + I was startled a little by this letter at first, but in half an hour I + relapsed into my apathy. Many gentlemen in the country had received + anonymous letters: I had been tired of hearing of them during the + rebellion. This, I thought, might be only a <i>quiz</i>, or a trick to + hurry me out of the kingdom, contrived by some of those who desired my + absence. In short, the labour of <i>thinking</i> about the matter fatigued + me. I burned the letter as soon as I got home, and resolved not to puzzle + or plague myself about it any more. My steward’s answer came the next + morning from England; Kelly made no difficulty, when I ordered him to be + ready to set out in three days. This confirmed me in my opinion that the + letter was malicious, or a jest. Mr. M’Leod came to take leave of me. I + mentioned the circumstance to him slightly, and in general terms: he + looked very serious, and said, “All these things are little in themselves, + but are to be heeded, as marking the unsettled minds of the people—straws + that show which way the wind blows. I apprehend we shall have a rough + winter again, though we have had so still a summer. The people about us + are too <i>hush</i> and too prudent—it is not their natures—there’s + something contriving among them: they don’t break one another’s heads at + fairs as they used to do; they keep from whiskey; there must be some + strong motive working this change upon them—good or bad, ‘tis hard + to say which. My lord, if we consider the condition of these poor people, + and if we consider the causes—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! for Heaven’s sake, do not let us consider any more about it now; I am + more than half asleep already,” said I, yawning; “and our considering + about it can do no good, to <i>me</i> at least; for you know I am going + out of the kingdom; and when I am gone, M’Leod, you, in whom I have + implicit confidence, must manage as you always used to do, you know, and + as well as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said M’Leod, calmly, “that is what I shall do, indubitably; for + that is my duty, and since your lordship has implicit confidence in me, my + pleasure. I wish your lordship a good night and a good journey.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not set out in the morning; not till the day after to-morrow, I + believe,” said I; “for I feel consumedly tired to-night: they have plagued + me about so many things to-day; so much business always before one can get + away from a place; and then Joe Kelly has no head.” + </p> + <p> + “Have a care he has not too much head, my lord, as your anonymous + correspondent hints—he may be right there: I told you from the first + I would not go security for Joe Kelly’s honesty; and where there is not + strict honesty, I conceive there ought not to be implicit confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hang it! as to honesty, they are none of them honest; I know that: + but would you have me plague myself till I find a strictly honest servant? + Joe’s as honest as his neighbours, I dare say: the fellow diverts me, and + is attached to me, and that’s all I can expect. I must submit to be + cheated, as all men of large fortunes are, more or less.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. M’Leod listened with stubborn patience, and replied, that if I thought + it necessary to submit to be cheated he could make no objection, except + where it might come under his cognizance, and then he must take the + liberty to remonstrate, or to give up his agency to some of the many, who + could play better than he could the part of the dog in the fable, <i>pretending</i> + to guard his master’s meat. + </p> + <p> + The cold ungracious integrity of this man, even in my own cause, at once + excited my spleen and commanded my respect. After shaking my leg, as I sat + for two minutes in silence, I called after M’Leod, who moved towards the + door, “Why, what can I do, Mr. M’Leod? What would you have me do? Now, + don’t give me one of your dry answers, but let me have your notions as a + friend: you know, M’Leod, I cannot help having the most perfect confidence + in you.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed, but rather stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “I am proud to hear you cannot help that, my lord,” said he. “As to a + friend, I never considered myself upon that footing till now: but, as you + at present honour me so far as to ask my counsel, I am free to give it. + Part with Joe Kelly to-night; and whether you go or stay, you are safer + without him. Joe’s a rogue: he can do no good, and may do harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said I, “you are really frightened by this anonymous letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot a man take prudent precautions without being frightened?” said + M’Leod. + </p> + <p> + “But have you any particular reason to believe—in short to—to + think, there can be any real danger for my life?” + </p> + <p> + “No particular reason, my lord; but the general reasons I have mentioned, + the symptoms among the common people lead me to apprehend there may be + fresh <i>risings</i> of the people soon; and you, as a man of fortune and + rank, must be in danger. Captain Hardcastle says that he has had + informations of seditious meetings; but, he being a prejudiced man, I + don’t trust altogether to what he says.” + </p> + <p> + “Trust altogether to what he says!” exclaimed I; “no, surely; for my part, + I do not trust a word he says; and his giving it as his opinion that the + people are ill-inclined would decide me to believe the exact contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “It would hardly be safe to judge that way either,” said M’Leod; “for that + method of judging by contraries might make another’s folly the master of + one’s own sense.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t comprehend you now. Safe way of judging or not, Captain + Hardcastle’s opinion shall never lead mine. When I asked for your advice, + Mr. M’Leod, it was because I have a respect for your understanding; but I + cannot defer to Captain Hardcastle’s. I am now decided in my own opinion, + that the people in this neighbourhood are perfectly well-disposed; and as + to this anonymous letter, it is a mere trick, depend upon it, my good sir. + I am surprised that a man of your capacity should be the dupe of such a + thing; I should not be surprised if Hardcastle himself, or some of his + people, wrote it.” + </p> + <p> + “I should,” said M’Leod, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “You should!” cried I, warmly. “Why so? And why do you pronounce so + decidedly, my good friend? Have not I the same means of judging as you + have? unless, indeed, you have some private reason with which I am + unacquainted. Perhaps,” cried I, starting half up from the sofa on which I + lay, charmed with a bright idea, which had just struck me, “perhaps, + M’Leod, you wrote the letter yourself for a jest. Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a question, my lord,” said M’Leod, growing suddenly red, and + snatching up his hat with a quicker motion than I ever saw from him + before, “that’s a question, my lord, which I must take leave not to + answer; a question, give me leave to add, my Lord Glenthorn,” continued + he, speaking in a broader Scotch accent than I had ever heard from him + before, “which I should knock my equal <i>doon</i> for putting to me. A + M’Leod, my lord, in jest or in earnest, would scorn to write to any man + breathing that letter to which he would not put his name; and more, a + M’Leod would scorn to write or to say that thing, to which he ought not to + put his name. Your humble servant, my Lord Glenthorn,” said he, and, + making a hasty bow, departed. + </p> + <p> + I called after him, and even followed him to the head of the stairs, to + explain and apologize; but in vain: I never saw him angry before. + </p> + <p> + “It’s very weel, my lord, it’s very weel; if you say you meant nothing + offensive, it’s very weel; but if you think fit, my lord, we will sleep + upon it before we talk any more. I am a wee bit warmer than I could wish, + and your lordship has the advantage of me, in being cool. A M’Leod is apt + to grow warm, when he’s touched on the point of honour; and there’s no + wisdom in talking when a man’s not his own master.” + </p> + <p> + “My good friend,” said I, seizing his hand as he was buttoning up his + coat, “I like you the better for this warmth; but I won’t let you sleep + upon your wrath: you must shake hands with me before that hall-door is + opened to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then so I do, for there’s no standing against this frankness; and, to be + as frank with you, my lord, I was wrong myself to be so testy—I ask + pardon, too. A M’Leod never thought it a disgrace to crave a pardon when + he was wrong.” + </p> + <p> + We shook hands, and parted better friends than ever. I spoke the exact + truth when I said that I liked him the better for his warmth: his anger + wakened me, and gave me something to think of, and some emotion for a few + minutes. Joe Kelly presently afterwards came, with the simplest face + imaginable, to inquire what I had determined about the journey. + </p> + <p> + “To put it off till the day after to-morrow,” said I. “Light me to bed.” + </p> + <p> + He obeyed; but observed, that “it was not his fault now if there was + puttings-off; for his share, every thing was ready, and he was willing and + ready to follow me, at a moment’s warning, to the world’s end, as he had a + good right to do, let alone inclination; for, parting me, he could never + be right in himself: and though loth to part his country, he had rather + part that <i>nor</i><a href="#linknote-84" name="linknoteref-84" + id="linknoteref-84"><small>84</small></a> me.” + </p> + <p> + Then, without dwelling upon these expressions of attachment, he changed to + a merry mood, and by his drolleries diverted me all the time I was going + to bed, and at last fairly talked me asleep. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> + <p> + When the first grey light of morning began to make objects indistinctly + visible, I thought I saw the door of my apartment open very softly. I was + broad awake, and kept my eyes fixed upon it—it opened by very slow + degrees; my head was so full of visions, that I expected a ghost to enter—but + it was only Ellinor. + </p> + <p> + “Ellinor!” cried I; “is it you at this time in the morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush!” said she, shutting the door with great precaution, and then + coming on tiptoe close to my bedside; “for the love of God, speak softly, + and make no stir to awake them that’s asleep near and too near you. It’s + unknown to all that I come up; for may be, when them people are awake and + about, I might not get the opportunity to speak, or they might guess I + knew something by my looks.” + </p> + <p> + Her looks were full of terror—I was all amazement and expectation. + Before she would say a word more, she searched the closets carefully, and + looked behind the tapestry, as if she apprehended that she might be + overheard: satisfied that we were alone, she went on speaking, but still + in a voice that, with my utmost strained attention, I could but just hear. + </p> + <p> + “As you hope to live and breathe,” said she, “never go again after + night-fall any time walking in that lone place by the sea-shore. It’s a + mercy you escaped as you did; but if you go again you’ll never come back + alive—for never would they get you to do what they want, and to be + as wicked as themselves the wicked villains!” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said I. “What wicked villains? I do not understand you; are you in + your right senses?” + </p> + <p> + “That I am, and wish you was as much in yours; but it’s time yet, by the + blessing of God! What wicked villains am I talking of? Of three hundred + that have sworn to make you their captain, or, in case you refuse, to have + your life this night. What villains am I talking of? Of him, the wickedest + of all, who is now living in the very house with you, that is now lying in + the very next room to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Joe Kelly?” + </p> + <p> + “That same. From the first minute I saw him in the castle, I should have + hated him, but for his causing you for to put off the journey to England. + I never could abide him; but that blinded me, or I am sure I would have + found him out long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And what have you found out concerning him?” + </p> + <p> + “That he is (speaking very low) a <i>united-man</i>, and stirring up the + <i>rubbles</i> again here; and they have their meetings at night in the + great cave, where the smugglers used to hide formerly, under the big rock, + opposite the old abbey—and there’s a way up into the abbey, that you + used to be so fond of walking to, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! can this be true?” + </p> + <p> + “True it is, and too true, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you find all this out, Ellinor?” + </p> + <p> + “It was none of I found it, nor ever could any such things have come into + my head—but it pleased God to make the discovery of all by one of + the <i>childer</i>—my own grandson—the boy you gave the gun + to, long and long ago, to shoot them rabbits. He was after a hare + yesterday, and it took him a chase over that mountain, and down it went + and took shelter in the cave, and in went the boy after it, and as he was + groping about, he lights on an old great coat; and he brought it home with + him, and was showing it, as I was boiling the potatoes for their dinner + yesterday, to his father forenent me; and turning the pockets inside out, + what should come up but the broken head of a pipe; then he <i>sarches</i> + in the other pocket, and finds a paper written all over—I could not + read it—thank God, I never could read none of them wicked things, + nor could the boy—by very great luck he could not, being no scholar, + or it would be all over the country before this.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well! but what was in the paper after all? Did any body read it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, did they—that is, Christy read it—none but Christy—but + he would not tell us what was in it—but said it was no matter, and + he’d not be wasting his time reading an old song—so we thought no + more, and he sent the boy up to the castle with a bill for smith’s work, + as soon as we had eat the potatoes, and I thought no more about any + thing’s being going wrong, no more than a child; and in the evening + Christy said he must go to the funeral of a neighbour, and should not be + home till early in the morning, may be; and it’s not two hours since he + came home and wakened me, and told me where he had been, which was not to + the funeral at all, but to the cave where the coat was found; and he put + the coat and the broken head of the pike, and the papers all in the + pockets, just as we found it, in the cave—and the paper was a list + of the names of them <i>rubbles</i> that met there, and a letter telling + how they would make Lord Glenthorn their captain, or have his life; this + was what made Christy to try and find out more—so he hid hisself in + a hole in the side of the cave, and built hisself up with rubbish, only + just leaving a place for hisself to breathe—and there he stayed till + nightfall; and then on till midnight, God help us! so sure enough, them + villains all come filling fast into the cave. He had good courage, God + bless him for it—but he always had—and there he heard and saw + all—and this was how they were talking:—First, one began by + saying, how they must not be delaying longer to show themselves; they must + make a rising in the country—then named the numbers in other parts + that would join, and that they would not be put down so <i>asy</i> as + afore, for they would have good leaders—then some praised you + greatly, and said they was sure you favoured them in your heart, by all + the ill-will you got in the county the time of the last ‘ruction. But, + again, others said you was milk and water, and did not go far enough, and + never would, and that it was not in you, and that you was a sleepy man, + and not the true thing at all, and neither beef nor <i>vael</i>. Again, + thim that were for you spoke and said you would show yourself soon—and + the others made reply, and observed you must now spake out, or never spake + more; you must either head ‘em, or be tramped under foot along with the + rest, so it did not signify talking, and Joey Kelly should not be + fribbling any more about it; and it was a wonder, said they, he was not + the night at the meeting. And what was this about your being going off for + England—what would they do when you was gone with M’Leod the + Scotchman, to come in over them again agent, who was another guess sort of + man from you, and never slept at all, and would scent ‘em out, and have + his corps after ‘em, and that once M’Leod was master, there would be no + making any head again his head; so, not to be tiring you too much with all + they said, backward and forward, one that was a captain, or something that + way, took the word, and bid ‘em all hold their peace, for they did not + know what they was talking on, and said that Joey Kelly and he had settled + it all, and that the going to England was put off by Joe, and all a sham, + and that when you would be walking out to-morrow at nightfall, in those + lone places by the sea-side or the abbey, he and Joe was to seize upon + you, and when you would be coming back near the abbey, to have you down + through the trap-door into the cave, and any way they would swear you to + join and head them, and if you would not, out with you, and shove you into + the sea, and no more about it, for it would be give out you drown’ + yourself in a fit of the melancholy lunacy, which none would question, and + it would be proved too you made away wid yourself, by your hat and gloves + lying on the bank—Lord save us! What are you laughing at in that, + when it is truth every word, and Joe Kelly was to find the body, after a + great search. Well, again, say you would swear and join them, and head + them, and do whatever they pleased, still that would not save you in the + end; for they would quarrel with you at the first turn, because you would + not be ruled by them as captain, and then they would shoot or pike you + (God save the mark, dear), and give the castle to Joe Kelly, and the + plunder all among ‘em entirely. So it was all laid out, and they are all + to meet in the cave to-morrow evening—they will go along bearing a + funeral, seemingly to the abbey-ground. And now you know the whole truth, + and the Lord preserve you! And what will be done? My poor head has no more + power to think for you no more than an infant’s, and I’m all in a tremble + ever since I heard it, and afraid to meet any one lest they should see all + in my face. Oh, what will become of <i>yees</i> now—they will be the + death of you, whatever you do!” + </p> + <p> + By the time she came to these last words, Ellinor’s fears had so much + overpowered her, that she cried and sobbed continually, repeating—“What + will be done now! What will be done! They’ll surely be the death of you, + whatever you do.” As to me, the urgency of the danger wakened my + faculties: I rose instantly, wrote a note to Mr. M’Leod, desiring to see + him immediately on particular business. Lest my note should by any + accident be intercepted or opened, I couched it in the most general and + guarded terms; and added a request, that he would bring his last + settlement of accounts with him; so that it was natural to suppose my + business with him was of a pecuniary nature. I gradually quieted poor + Ellinor by my own appearance of composure: I assured her, that we should + take our measures so as to prevent all mischief—thanked her for the + timely warning she had given me—advised her to go home before she + was observed, and charged her not to speak to any one this day of what had + happened. I desired that as soon as she should see Mr. M’Leod coming + through the gate, she would send Christy after him to the castle, to get + his bill paid; so that I might then, without exciting suspicion, talk to + him in private, and we might learn from his own lips the particulars of + what he saw and heard in the cavern. + </p> + <p> + Ellinor returned home, promising to obey me exactly, especially as to my + injunction of secrecy—to make sure of herself she said “she would go + to bed straight, and have the rheumatism very bad all day; so as not to be + in a way to talk to none who would call in.” The note to M’Leod was + despatched by one of my grooms, and I, returning to bed, was now left at + full leisure to finish my morning’s nap. + </p> + <p> + Joe Kelly presented himself at the usual hour in my room; I turned my head + away from him, and, in a sleepy tone, muttered that I had passed a bad + night, and should breakfast in my own apartment. + </p> + <p> + Some time afterwards Mr. M’Leod arrived, with an air of sturdy pride, and + produced his accounts, of which I suffered him to talk, till the servant + who waited upon us had left the room; I then explained the real cause of + my sending for him so suddenly. I was rather vexed, that I could not + produce in him, by my wonderful narrative, any visible signs of agitation + or astonishment. He calmly observed—“We are lucky to have so many + hours of daylight before us. The first thing we have to do is to keep the + old woman from talking.” + </p> + <p> + I answered for Ellinor. + </p> + <p> + “Then the next thing is for me, who am a magistrate, to take the + examinations of her son, and see if he will swear to the same that he + says.” + </p> + <p> + Christy was summoned into our presence, and he came with his <i>bill for + smith’s work done</i>; so that the servants could have no suspicion of + what was going forward. His examinations were taken and sworn to in a few + minutes: his evidence was so clear and direct, that there was no + possibility of doubting the truth. The only variation between his story + and his mother’s report to me was as to the numbers he had seen in the + cavern—her fears had turned thirteen into three hundred. + </p> + <p> + Christy assured us that there were but thirteen at this meeting, but that + they said there were three hundred ready to join them. + </p> + <p> + “You were a very bold fellow, Christy,” said I, “to hazard yourself in the + cave with these villains; if you had been found out in your hiding-place, + they would have certainly murdered you.” + </p> + <p> + “True for me.” said Christy; “but a man must die some way, please your + honour; and where’s the way I could die better? Sure, I could not but + remember how good you was to me that time I was shot, and all you suffered + for it! It would have been bad indeed if I would stay quiet, and let ‘em + murder you after all. No, no, Christy O’Donoghoe would not do that—any + way. I hope, if there’s to be any fighting, your honour would not wrong me + so much as not to give me a blunderbush, and let me fight a bit along wid + de rest for yees.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not come to that yet, my good fellow,” said Mr. M’Leod, who went + on methodically; “if you are precipitate, you will spoil all. Go home to + your forge, and work as usual, and leave the rest to us; and I promise + that you shall have your share, if there is any fighting.” + </p> + <p> + Very reluctantly Christy obeyed. Mr. M’Leod then deliberately settled our + plan of operations. I had a fishing-lodge at a little distance, and a + pleasure-boat there: to this place M’Leod was to go, as if on a + fishing-party with his nephew, a young man, who often went there to fish. + They were to carry with them some yeomen in coloured clothes, as their + attendants, and more were to come as their guests to dinner. At the lodge + there was a small four-pounder, which had been frequently used in times of + public rejoicing; a naval victory, announced in the papers of the day, + afforded a plausible pretence for bringing it out. We were aware that the + rebels would be upon the watch, and therefore took every precaution to + prevent their suspecting that we had made any discovery. Our fishing-party + was to let the mock-funeral pass them quietly, to ask some trifling + questions, and to give money for pipes and tobacco. Towards evening the + boat, with the four-pounder on board, was to come under shore, and at a + signal given by me was to station itself opposite to the mouth of the + cave. + </p> + <p> + At the same signal a trusty man on the watch was to give notice to a party + hid in the abbey, to secure the trap-door above. The signal was to be my + presenting a pistol to the captain of the rebels, who intended to meet and + seize me on my return from my evening’s walk. Mr. M’Leod at first objected + to my hazarding a meeting with this man; but I insisted upon it, and I was + not sorry to give a public proof of my loyalty, and my personal courage. + As to Joe Kelly, I also undertook to secure him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. M’Leod left me, and went to conduct his fishing-party. As soon as he + was gone, I sent for Joe Kelly to play on the flute to me. I guarded my + looks and voice as well as I could, and he did not see or suspect any + thing—he was too full of his own schemes. To disguise his own plots + he affected great gaiety; and to divert me, alternately played on the + flute, and told me good stories all the morning. I would not let him leave + me the whole day. Towards evening I began to talk of my journey to + England, proposed setting out the next morning, and sent Kelly to look for + some things in what was called <i>the strong closet</i>—a closet + with a stout door and iron-barred windows, out of which no mortal could + make his escape. Whilst he was busy searching in a drawer, I shut the door + upon him, locked it, and put the key into my pocket. As I left the castle, + I said in a jesting tone to some of the servants who met me—“I have + locked Joe Kelly up in the strong room; if he calls to you to let him out + never mind him; he will not get out till I come home from my walk—I + owe him this trick.” The servants thought it was some jest, and I passed + on with my loaded pistols in my pocket. I walked for some time by the + sea-shore, without seeing any one. At last I espied our fishing-boat, just + peering out, and then keeping close to the shore. I was afraid that the + party would be impatient at not seeing my signal, and would come out to + the mouth of the cave, and show themselves too soon. If Mr. M’Leod had not + been their commander, this, as I afterwards learned, would have infallibly + happened; but he was so punctual, cool, and peremptory, that he restrained + the rest of the party, declaring that, if it were till midnight, he would + wait till the signal agreed upon was given. At last I saw a man creeping + out of the cave—I sat down upon my wonted stone, and yawned as + naturally as I could; then began to describe figures in the sand with my + stick, as I was wont to do, still watching the image of the man in the + water as he approached. He was muffled up in a frieze great coat; he + sauntered past, and went on to a turn in the road, as if looking for some + one. I knew well for whom he was looking. As no Joe Kelly came to meet + him, he returned in a few minutes towards me. I had my hand upon the + pistol in my pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You are my Lard Glenthorn, I presume,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will come with me, if you plase, my lard,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Make no resistance, or I will shoot you instantly,” cried I, presenting + my pistol with one hand, and seizing him by the collar with the other. I + dragged him (for I had force enough, now my energy was roused) to the spot + appointed for my signal. The boat appeared opposite the mouth of the cave. + Every thing answered my expectation. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said I, pointing to the boat, “there are my armed friends; they + have a four-pounder—the match is ready lighted—your plot is + discovered. Go in to your confederates in that cave; tell them so. The + trap-door is secured above; there is no escape for them: bid them + surrender: if they attempt to rush out, the grape shot will pour upon + them, and they are dead men.” + </p> + <p> + I cannot say that my rebel captain showed himself as stout as I could have + wished, for the honour of my victory. The surprise disconcerted him + totally: I felt him tremble under my grasp. He obeyed my orders—went + into the cave to bring his associates to submission. His parley with them, + however, was not immediately successful: I suppose there were some braver + fellows than he amongst them, whose counsel might be for open war. In the + mean time our yeomen landed, and surrounded the cave on all sides, so that + there was no possibility of escape for those within. At last they yielded + themselves our prisoners. I am sorry I have no bloody battle for the + entertainment of such of my readers as like horrors; but so it was, that + they yielded without a drop of blood being spilled, or a shot fired. We + let them out of their hiding-place one by one, searching each as he issued + forth, to be secure that they had no concealed weapons. After they had + given up the arms which were concealed in the cave, the next question was, + what to do with our prisoners. As it was now late, and they could not all + be examined and committed with due legal form to the county gaol, Mr. + M’Leod advised that we should detain them in the place they had chosen for + themselves till morning. Accordingly, in the cave we again stowed them, + and left a guard at each entrance to secure them for the night. We + returned to the castle. I stopped at the gate to tell Ellinor and Christy + that I was safe. They were sitting up watching for the news. The moment + Ellinor saw me, she clasped her hands in an ecstasy of joy, but could not + speak. Christy was voluble in his congratulations; but, in the midst of + his rejoicing, he could not help reproaching me with forgetting to give + him the <i>blunderbush</i>, and to let him have a bit of the fighting. + “Upon my honour,” said I, “there was none, or you should have been there.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t be plaguing and gathering round him now,” said Ellinor: “sure + he is tired, and look how hot—no wonder—let him get home and + to bed: I’ll run and warm it with the pan myself, and not be trusting + them.” + </p> + <p> + She would not be persuaded that I did not desire to have my bed warmed, + but, by some short cut, got in before us. On entering the castle-hall, I + found her, with the warming-pan in her hand, held back by the inquisitive + servants, who were all questioning her about the news, of which she was + the first, and not very intelligible enunciator. + </p> + <p> + I called for bread and water for my prisoner in the strong-room, and then + I heard various exclamations of wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, it is all true! it is no jest! Joe is at the bottom of all. <i>I</i> + never liked Joe Kelly—<i>I</i> always knew Joe was not the right + thing—and <i>I</i> always said so; and I, and I, and I. And it was + but last week I was saying so: and it was but yesterday <i>I</i> said so + and so.” + </p> + <p> + I passed through the gossiping crowd with bread and water for my culprit. + McLeod instantly saw and followed me. + </p> + <p> + “I will make bold to come with you,” said he; “a pent rat’s a dangerous + animal.”—I thanked him, and acquiesced; but there was no need for + the precaution. When we opened the door, we found the conscience or + terror-struck wretch upon his knees, and in the most abject terms he + implored for mercy. From the windows of the room, which looked into the + castle-yard, he had heard enough to guess all that had happened. I could + not bear to look at him. After I had set down his food, he clung to my + knees, crying and whining in a most unmanly manner. McLeod, with + indignation, loosened him from me, threw him back, and locked the door. + </p> + <p> + “Cowardice and treachery,” said he, “usually go together.” + </p> + <p> + “And courage and sincerity,” said I. “And now we’ll go to supper, my good + friends. I hope you are all as hungry as I am.” + </p> + <p> + I never did eat any meal with so much appetite. + </p> + <p> + “Tis a pity, my lord,” said McLeod, “but that there was a conspiracy + against you every day of your life, it seems to do you so much good.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> + <p> + “What new wonders? What new misfortunes, Ellinor?” said I, as Ellinor, + with a face of consternation, appeared again in the morning in my room, + just as I was going down to breakfast: “what new misfortunes, Ellinor?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the worst that could befall me!” cried she, wringing her hands; “the + worst, the very worst!—to be the death of my own child!” said she, + with inexpressible horror. “Oh! save him! save him! for the love of + heaven, dear, save him! If you don’t save him, ‘tis I shall be his death.” + </p> + <p> + She was in such agony, that she could not explain herself farther for some + minutes. + </p> + <p> + “It was I gave the information against them all to you. But how could I + ever have thought Owen was one of them? My son, my own son, the + unfortunate cratur; I never thought but what he was with the militia far + away. And how could it ever come into my head that Owen could have any + hand in a thing of the kind?” + </p> + <p> + “But I did not see him last night,” interrupted I. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he was there! One of his own friends, one of the military that went + with you, saw him among the prisoners, and came just now to tell me of it. + That Owen should be guilty of the like!—Oh! what could have come + over him! He must have been out of his <i>rason</i>. And against you to be + plotting! That’s what I never will believe, if even I’d hear it from + himself. But he’s among them that were taken last night. And will I live + to see him go to gaol?—and will I live to see—No, I’d rather + die first, a thousand and a thousand times over. Oh! for mercy’s sake!” + said she, dropping on her knees at my feet, “have pity on me, and don’t + let the blood of my own child be upon me in my old days.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have me do, Ellinor?” said I, much moved by her distress. + </p> + <p> + “There is but one thing to do,” said she. “Let him off: sure a word from + you would be enough for the soldiers that are over them on guard. And Mr. + McLeod has not yet seen him; and if he was just let escape, there would be + no more about it; and I’d I engage he shall fly the country, the + unfortunate cratur! and never trouble you more. This is all I ask: and + sure, dear, you can’t refuse it to your own Ellinor; your old nurse, that + carried ye in her arms, and fed ye with her milk, and watched over ye + many’s the long night, and loved ye; ay, none ever loved, or could love ye + so well.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sensible of it; I am grateful,” interrupted I; “but what you ask of + me, Ellinor, is impossible—I cannot let him escape; but I will do my + utmost.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, nothing will save him, if you would not say the word for him now. + Ah! why cannot you let him off, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I should lose my honour; I should lose my character. You know that I have + been accused of favouring the rebels already—you saw the + consequences of my protecting your other son, though he was innocent and + injured, and bore an excellent character.” + </p> + <p> + “Christy; ay, true: but poor Owen, unlucky as he is, and misguided, has a + better claim upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “How can that be? Is not the other my foster-brother, in the first place?” + </p> + <p> + “True for him.” + </p> + <p> + “And had not I proofs of his generous conduct and attachment to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Owen is naturally fonder of you by a great deal,” interrupted she; “I’ll + answer for that.” + </p> + <p> + “What! when he has just been detected in conspiring against my life?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what I’ll never believe,” cried Ellinor, vehemently: “that he + might be drawn in, may be, when out of his <i>rason</i>—he was + always a wild boy—to be a united-man, and to hope to get you for his + captain, might be the case, and bad enough that; but, jewel, you’ll find + he did never conspire against you: I’d lay down my life upon that.” + </p> + <p> + She threw herself again at my feet, and clung to my knees. + </p> + <p> + “As you hope for mercy yourself in this world, or the world to come, show + some now, and do not be so hard-hearted as to be the death of both mother + and son.” + </p> + <p> + Her supplicating looks and gestures, her words, her tears, moved me so + much, that I was on the point of yielding; but recollecting what was due + to justice and to my own character, with an effort of what I thought + virtuous resolution, I repeated, “It is impossible: my good Ellinor, urge + me no farther: ask any thing else, and it shall be granted, but this is + impossible.” + </p> + <p> + As I spoke, I endeavoured to raise her from the ground; but with the + sudden force of angry despair, she resisted. + </p> + <p> + “No, you shall not raise me,” cried she. “Here let me lie, and break my + heart with your cruelty! ‘Tis a judgment upon me—it’s a judgment, + and it’s fit I should feel it as I do. But you shall feel too, in spite of + your hard heart. Yes, your heart is harder than the marble: you want the + natural touch, you do; for your mother has knelt at your feet, and you + have denied her prayer.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother!” + </p> + <p> + “And what was her prayer?—to save the life of your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “My brother! Good heavens! what do I hear?” + </p> + <p> + “You hear the truth: you hear that I am your lawful mother. Yes, you are + my son. You have forced that secret from me, which I thought to have + carried with me to my grave. And now you know all: and now you know how + wicked I have been, and it was all for you; for you that refused me the + only thing ever I asked, and that, too, in my greatest distress, when my + heart was just breaking: and all this time too, there’s Christy—poor + good Christy; he that I’ve wronged, and robbed of his rightful + inheritance, has been as a son, a dutiful good son to me, and never did he + deny me any thing I could ask; but in you I have found no touch of + tenderness. Then it’s fit I should tell you again, and again, and again, + that he who is now slaving at the forge, to give me the earnings of his + labour; he that lives, and has lived all his days, upon potatoes and salt, + and is content; he who has the face and the hands so disguised with the + smoke and the black, that yourself asked him t’other day did he ever wash + his face since he was born—I tell ye, he it is who should live in + this castle, and sleep on that soft bed, and be lord of all here—he + is the true and real Lord Glenthorn, and to the wide world I’ll make it + known. Ay, be pale and tremble, do; it’s your turn now: I’ve touched you + now: but it’s too late. In the face of day I shall confess the wrong I’ve + done; and I shall call upon you to give back to him all that by right is + his own.” + </p> + <p> + Ellinor stopped short, for one of my servants at this instant came into + the room. + </p> + <p> + “My lord, Mr. McLeod desires me to let you know the guard has brought up + the prisoners, and he is going to commit them to gaol, and would be glad + to know if you choose to see them first, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + Stupified by all I had just heard, I could only reply, that I would come + presently. Ellinor rushed past the servant,—“Are they come?” cried + she. “Where will I get a sight of them?” I stayed for a few minutes alone, + to decide upon what I ought to say and do. A multitude of ideas, more than + had ever come in my mind in a twelvemonth, passed through it in these few + minutes. + </p> + <p> + As I was slowly descending the great staircase, Ellinor came running, as + fast as she could run, to the foot of the stairs, exclaiming, “It’s a + mistake! it’s all a mistake, and I was a fool to believe them that brought + me the word. Sure Ody’s not there at all! nor ever was in it. I’ve seen + them all, face to face; and my son’s not one of them, nor ever was: and I + was a fool from beginning to end—and I beg your pardon entirely,” + whispered she, coming close to my ear: “I was out of my reason at the + thought of that boy’s being to suffer, and I, his mother, the cause of it. + Forgive all I said in my passion, my own best jewel: you was always good + and tender to me, and be the same still, dear. I’ll never say a word more + about it to any one living: the secret shall die with me. Sure, when my + conscience has borne it so long, it may strive and bear it a little longer + for your sake: and it can’t be long I have to live, so that will make all + easy. Hark! they are asking for you. Do you go your ways into the great + parlour, to Mr. McLeod, and think no more of any thing at all but joy. My + son’s not one of them! I must go to the forge, and tell Christy the good + news.” + </p> + <p> + Ellinor departed, quite satisfied with herself, with me, and with all the + world. She took it for granted that she left me in the same state of mind, + and that I should obey her injunctions, and <i>think of nothing but joy</i>. + Of what happened in the great parlour, and of the examinations of the + prisoners, I have but a confused recollection. I remember that Mr. McLeod + seemed rather surprised by my indifference to what concerned me so nearly; + and that he was obliged to do all the business himself. The men were, I + believe, all committed to gaol, and Joe Kelly turned king’s evidence; but + as to any further particulars, I know no more than if I had been in a + dream. The discovery which Ellinor had just made to me engrossed all my + powers of attention. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> + <p> + “Le vrai n’est pas toujours vraisemblable,” says an acute observer of + human affairs. The romance of real life certainly goes beyond all other + romances; and there are facts which few writers would dare to put into a + book, as there are skies which few painters would venture to put into a + picture. + </p> + <p> + When I had leisure to reflect, I considered, that as yet I had no proof of + the truth of Ellinor’s strange story, except her own assertions. I sent + for her again, to examine her more particularly. I was aware that, if I + alarmed her, I should so confuse her imagination, that I should never + obtain the truth; therefore I composed myself, and assumed my usual + external appearance of nonchalance. I received her lolling upon my sofa, + as usual, and I questioned her merely as if to gratify an idle curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Troth, dear,” said she, “I’ll tell you the whole story how it was, to + make your mind asy, which, God knows, mine never was, from that minute it + first came into my head, till this very time being. You mind the time you + got the cut in your head—no, not you, jewel; but the little lord + that was then, Christy there below that is.—Well, the cut was a + terrible cut as ever you seen, got by a fall on the fender from the + nurse’s arms, that was drunk, three days after he was born.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember to have heard my father talk of some accident of this sort, + which happened to me when I was an infant.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, sure enough it did, and that was what first put him in the notion of + taking the little lord out of the hands of the Dublin nurse-tenders, and + them that were about my Lady Glenthom, and did not know how to manage her, + which was the cause of her death: and he said he’d have his own way about + his son and heir any way, and have him nursed by a wholesome woman in a + cabin, and brought up hardy, as he, and the old lord, and all the family, + were before him. So with that he sends for me, and he puts the young lord, + God bless him, into my arms himself, and a <i>donny</i> thing he was that + same time to look at, for he was but just out of the surgeon’s hands, the + head just healed and scarred over like; and my lord said there should be + no more doctors never about him. So I took him, that is, Christy, and you, + to a house at the sea, for the salt water, and showed him every justice; + and my lord often came to see him whilst he was in the country; but then + he was off, after a time, to Dublin, and I was in a lone place, where + nobody came, and the child was very sick with me, and you was all the time + as fine and thriving a child as ever you see; and I thought, to be sure, + one night, that he would die wid me. He was very bad, very bad indeed; and + I was sitting up in bed, rocking him backwards and forwards this ways: I + thought with myself, what a pity it was, the young lord should die, and he + an only son and heir, and the estate to go out of the family the Lord + knows where; and then the grief the father would be in: and then I thought + how happy he would be if he had such a fine <i>babby</i> as you, dear; and + you was a fine <i>babby</i> to be sure: and then I thought how happy it + would be for you, if you was in the place of the little lord: and then it + came into my head, just like a shot, where would be the harm to change + you? for I thought the real lord would surely die; and then, what a gain + it would be to all, if it was never known, and if the dead child was + carried to the grave, since it must go, as only poor Ellinor O’Donoghoe’s, + and no more about it. Well, if it was a wicked thought, it was the devil + himself put it in my head, to be sure; for, only for him, I should never + have had the sense to think of such a thing, for I was always innocent + like, and not worldly given. But so it was, the devil put it in my head, + and made me do it, and showed me how, and all in a minute. So, I mind, + your eyes and hair were both of the very same colour, dear; and as to the + rest, there’s no telling how those young things alter in a few months, and + my lord would not be down from Dublin in a hurry, so I settled it all + right; and as there was no likelihood at all the real lord would live, + that quieted my conscience; for I argued, it was better the father should + have any sort of child at all than none. So, when my lord came down, I + carried him the child to see, that is you, jewel. He praised me greatly + for all the care I had taken of his boy; and said, how finely you was come + on! and I never see a father in greater joy; and it would have been a sin, + I thought, to tell him the truth, after he took the change that was put + upon him so well, and it made him so happy like. Well, I was afeard of my + life he’d pull off the cap to search for the scar, so I would not let your + head be touched any way, dear, saying it was tinder and soft still with + the fall, and you’d cry if the cap was stirred; and so I made it out + indeed, very well; for, God forgive me, I twitched the string under your + chin, dear, and made you cry like mad, when they would come to touch you. + So there was no more about it, and I had you home to myself, and, all in + good time, the hair grew, and fine thick hair it was, God bless you; and + so there was no more about it, and I got into no trouble at all, for it + all fell out just as I had laid it out, except that the real little young + lord did not die as I thought; and it was a wonder but he did, for you + never saw none so near death, and backwards and forwards, what turns of + sickness he took with me for months upon months, and year after year, so + that none could think, no more than me, there was any likelihood at all of + rearing him to man’s estate. So that kept me easier in my mind concerning + what I’d done; for as I kept saying to myself, better the family should + have an heir to the estate, suppose not the right, than none at all; and + if the father, nor nobody, never found it out, there was he and all the + family made happy for life, and my child made a lord of, and none the + wiser or the worse. Well, so I down-argued my conscience; and any way I + took to little Christy, as he was now to be called—and I loved him, + all as one as if he was my own—not that he was ever as well-looking + as Ody, or any of the childer I had, but I never made any differ betwixt + him and any of my own—he can’t say as I did, any how, and he has no + reason to complain of my being an unnat’ral mother to him, and being my + foster-child I had a right to love him as I did, and I never wronged him + in any way, except in the one article of changing him at nurse, which he + being an infant, and never knowing, wa” never a bit the worse for, nor + never will, now. So all’s right^ dear, and make your mind asy, jewel; + there’s the whole truth of the story, for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is a very strange story, Ellinor, after all, and—and I have + only your word for it, and may be you are only taking advantage of my + regard for you to make me believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, plase your honour?” said she, stepping forward, as if she did + not hear or understand me. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Ellinor, that after all I have no proof of the truth of this + story, except your word.” + </p> + <p> + “And is not that enough? and where’s the use of having more? but if it + will make you asy, sure I can give you proof—sure need you go + farther than the scar on his head? If he was shaved to-morrow, I’d engage + you’d see it fast enough. But sure, can’t you put your hand up to your + head this minute, and feel there never was no scar there, nor if all the + hair you have, God save the mark, was shaved this minute, never a bit of a + scar would be to be seen: but proof is it you want?—why, there’s the + surgeon that dressed the cut in the child’s head, before he ever came to + me; sure he’s the man that can’t forget it, and that will tell all: so to + make your mind asy, see him, dear; but for your life don’t let him see + your head to feel it, for he’d miss the scar, and might suspect something + by your going to question him.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does he live?” interrupted I. + </p> + <p> + “Not above twelve miles off.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, if he been’t dead since Candlemas.” + </p> + <p> + At first I thought of writing to this man; but afterwards, being afraid of + committing myself by writing, I went to him: he had long before this time + left off business, and had retired to enjoy his fortune in the decline of + life. He was a whimsical sort of character; he had some remains of his + former taste for anatomy, and was a collector of curiosities. I found him + just returned from a lake which he had been dragging for a moose-deer’s + horns, to complete the skeleton of a moose-deer, which he had mounted in + his hall. I introduced myself, desiring to see his museum, and mentioned + to him the thigh-bone of a giant found in ray neighbourhood; then by + favour of this bone I introduced the able cure that he had made of a cut + in my head, when I was a child. + </p> + <p> + “A cut in your head, sir? Yes, my lord, I recollect perfectly well, it was + a very ugly cut, especially in an infant’s head; but I am glad to find you + feel no bad effects from it. Have you any cicatrice on the place?—Eleven + feet high, did you say? and is the giant’s skeleton in your + neighbourhood?” + </p> + <p> + I humoured his fancy, and by degrees he gave me all the information I + wanted without in the least suspecting my secret motives. He described the + length, breadth, and depth, of the wound to me; showed me just where it + was on the head, and observed that it must have left an indelible mark, + but that my fine hair covered it. When he seemed disposed to search for + it, I defended myself with the giant’s thigh-bone, and warded off his + attacks most successfully. To satisfy myself upon this point, I affected + to think that he had not been paid: he said he had been amply paid, and he + showed me his books to prove it. I examined the dates, and found that they + agreed with Ellinor’s precisely. On my return home, the first thing I did + was to make Christy a present of a new wig, which I was certain would + induce him to shave his head; for the lower Irish agree with the beaux and + belles of London and Paris, in preferring wigs to their own hair. Ellinor + told me, that I might safely let his head be shaved, because to her + certain knowledge, he had scars of so many cuts which he had received at + fairs upon his skull, that there would appear nothing particular <i>in one + more or less</i>. As soon as the head was shaved, and the wig was worn, I + took an opportunity one day of stopping at the forge to have one of my + horse’s shoes changed; and whilst this was doing, I took notice of his new + wig, and how well it fitted him. As I expected, he took it off to show it + me better, and to pay his own compliments to it. + </p> + <p> + “Sure enough, you are a very fine wig,” said he, apostrophising it as he + held it up on the end of his hammer; “and God bless him that give it me, + and it fits me as if it was nailed to my head.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have had a good many nails in your head already, Christy,” + said I, “if one may judge by all these scars.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, please your honour, my lord,” said he, “there’s no harm in them + neither; they are scratches got when I was no wiser than I should be, at + fairs, fighting with the boys of Shrawd-na-scoob.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst he fought his battles o’er again, I had leisure to study his head; + and I traced precisely all the boundary lines. The situation, size, and + figure of the cicatrice, which the surgeon and Ellinor had described to + me, were so visible and exact, that no doubt could remain in my mind of + Christy’s being the real son of the late Lord and Lady Glenthorn. This + conviction was still more impressed upon my mind a few days afterwards. I + recollected having seen a file of family pictures in a lumber-room in the + castle; and I rummaged them out to see if I could discover amongst them + any likeness to Christy: I found one; the picture of my grandfather,—I + should say, of <i>his</i> grandfather, to which Christy bore a striking + resemblance, when I saw him with his face washed, and in his Sunday + clothes. + </p> + <p> + My mind being now perfectly satisfied of the truth of Ellinor’s story, I + was next to consider how I ought to act. To be or not to be Lord + Glenthorn, or, in other words, to be or not to be a villain, was now the + question. I could not dissemble to my conscience this plain state of the + case, that I had no right to keep possession of that which I knew to be + another’s lawful property; yet, educated as I had been, and accustomed to + the long enjoyment of those luxuries, which become necessaries to the + wealthy; habituated to attendance as I had been; and, even amongst the + dissipated and idle, notorious for extravagance the most unbounded and + indolence the most inveterate; how was I at once to change my habits, to + abdicate my rank and power, to encounter the evils of poverty? I was not + compelled to make such sacrifices; for though Ellinor’s transient passion + had prompted her to threaten me with a public discovery, yet I knew that + she would as soon cut off her own right hand as execute her threats. Her + affection for me, and her pride in my consequence, were so strong, that I + knew I might securely rely upon her secrecy. The horrid idea of being the + cause of the death of one of her own children had for a moment sufficient + power to balance her love for me; yet there was but little probability + that any similar trial should occur, nor had I reason to apprehend that + the reproaches of her conscience should induce her to make a voluntary + discovery; for all her ideas of virtue depended on the principle of + fidelity to the objects of her affection, and no scrupulous notions of + justice disturbed her understanding or alarmed her self-complacency. + Conscious that she would willingly sacrifice all she had in the world for + any body she loved, and scarcely comprehending that any one could be + selfish, she, in a confused way, applied the maxim of “Do as you would be + done by,” and was as generous of the property of others as of her own. At + the worst, if a law-suit commenced against me, I knew that possession was + nine points of the law. I also knew that Ellinor’s health was declining, + and that the secret would die with her. Unlawful possession of the wealth + I enjoyed could not, however, satisfy my own mind; and, after a severe + conflict between my love of ease and my sense of right—between my + tastes and my principles—I determined to act honestly and + honourably, and to relinquish what I could no longer maintain without + committing injustice, and feeling remorse. I was, perhaps, the more ready + to do rightly because I felt that I was not compelled to it. The moment + when I made this virtuous decision was the happiest I had at that time + ever felt: my mind seemed suddenly relieved from an oppressive weight; my + whole frame glowed with new life; and the consciousness of courageous + integrity elevated me so much in my own opinion, that titles, and rank, + and fortune, appeared as nothing in my estimation. I rang my bell eagerly, + and ordered that Christy O’Donoghoe should be immediately sent for. The + servant went instantly; but it seemed to me an immoderately long time + before Christy arrived. I walked up and down the room impatiently, and at + last threw myself at full length upon the sofa: the servant returned. + </p> + <p> + “The smith is below in the hall, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Show him up.”—He was shown up into the ante-chamber. + </p> + <p> + “The smith is at the door, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Show him in, cannot you? What detains him?” + </p> + <p> + “My brogues, my lord! I’d be afraid to come in with ‘em on the carpet.” + Saying this, Christy came in, stepping fearfully, astonished to find + himself in a splendid drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Were you never in this room before, Christy?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Never, my lord, plase your honour, barring the day I mended the bolt.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a fine room, is not it, Christy?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, it is the finest ever I see, sure enough.” + </p> + <p> + “How should you like to have such a room of your own, Christy?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it I, plase your honour?” replied he, laughing; “what should I do with + the like?” + </p> + <p> + “How should you feel if you were master of this great castle?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a poor figure I should make, to be sure,” said he, turning his head + over his shoulder towards the door, and resting upon the lock: “I’d rather + be at the forge by a great <i>dale</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of that, Christy? Should not you like to be able to live + without working any more, and to have horses and servants of your own?” + </p> + <p> + “What would I do with them, plase your honour, I that have never been used + to them? sure they’d all laugh at me, and I’d not be the better o’ that, + no more than of having nothing to do; I that have been always used to the + work, what should I do all the day without it? But sure, my lord,” + continued he, changing his voice to a more serious tone, “the horse that I + shod yesterday for your honour did not go lame, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “The horse is very well shod, I believe; I have not ridden him since: I + know nothing of the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I was thinking, may be, it was that made your honour send for me + up in the hurry—I was afeard I’d find your honour mad with me; and + I’d be very sorry to disoblige you, my lord; and I’m glad to see your + honour looking so well after all the trouble you’ve been put to by them <i>rubbles</i>, + the villains, to be <i>consarting</i> against you under-ground. But, + thanks be to God, you have ‘em all in gaol now. I thought my mother would + have died of the fright she took, when the report came that Ody was one of + them. I told her there could not be no truth in it at all, but she would + not mind me: it would be a strange unnatural thing, indeed, of any + belonging to her to be plotting against your honour. I knew Ody could not + be in it, and be a brother of mine; and that’s what I kept saying all the + time but she never heeded me: for, your honour knows, when the women are + frighted, and have taken a thing into their heads, you can’t asy get it + out again.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true: but to return to what I was saying, should not you like to + change places with me, if you could?” + </p> + <p> + “Your honour, my lord, is a very happy jantleman, and a very good + jantleman, there’s no doubt, and there’s few but would be proud to be like + you in any thing at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for that compliment. But now, in plain English, as to yourself, + would you like to be in my place—to change places with me?” + </p> + <p> + “In your honour’s place—I! I would <i>not</i>, my lord; and that’s + the truth, now,” said he, decidedly. “I would not: no offence—your + honour bid me to speak the truth; for I’ve all I want in the world, a good + mother, and a good wife, and good <i>childer</i>, and a reasonable good + little cabin, and my little <i>pratees</i>, and the grazing of the cow, + and work enough always, and not called on to slave, and I get my health, + thank God for all; and what more could I have if I should be made a lord + to-morrow? Sure, my good woman would never make a lady; and what should I + do with her? I’d be grieved to see her the laughing-stock of high and low, + besides being the same myself, and my boy after me. That would never + answer for me; so I am not like them that would overturn all to get + uppermost; I never had any hand, art, or part, in a thing of the kind; I + always thought and knew I was best as I am; not but what, if I was to + change with any, it is with you, my lord, I would be proud to change; + because if I was to be a jantleman at all, I’d wish to be of a <i>ra-al</i> + good <i>ould</i> family born.” + </p> + <p> + “You are then what you wish to be?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Och!” said he, laughing and scratching his head, “your honour’s jesting + me about them kings of Ireland, that they say the O’Donoghoes was once: + but that’s what I never think <i>on</i>, that’s all idle talk for the like + of me, for sure that’s a long time ago, and what use going back to it? One + might as well be going back to Adam, that was the father of all, but which + makes no differ now.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not understand me,” interrupted I; “I am not going back to the + kings of Ireland: I mean to tell you, that you were born a gentleman—nay, + I am perfectly serious; listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, plase your honour, though it is mocking me, I know you are; I would + be sorry not to take a joke as well as another.” + </p> + <p> + “This is no joke; I repeat that I am serious. You are not only a + gentleman, but a nobleman: to you this castle and this great estate + belongs, and to you they shall be surrendered.” + </p> + <p> + He stood astonished; and, his eyes opening wide, showed a great circle of + white in his black face. + </p> + <p> + “Eh!” cried he, drawing that long breath, which astonishment had + suppressed. “But how can this be?” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother can explain better than I can: your mother, did I say? she is + not your mother; Lady Glenthorn was your mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t understand it at all—I can’t understand it at all. I’ll + lave it all to your honour,” said he, making a motion with his hands, as + if to throw from him the trouble of comprehending it. + </p> + <p> + “Did you never hear of such a thing as a child’s being changed at nurse?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, plase your honour; but <i>my</i> mother would never do the like, + I’ll answer for <i>her</i>, any way; and them that said any thing of the + kind, belied her; and don’t be believing them, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “But Ellinor was the person who told me this secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Was she so? Oh, she must have been <i>draaming</i>; she was always too + good a mother to me to have sarved me so. But,” added he, struggling to + clear his intellects, “you say it’s not my mother she is; but whose mother + is she then? Can it be that she is yours? ‘tis not possible to think such + a great lord was the son of such as her, to look at you both: and was you + the son of my father Johnny O’Donoghoe? How is that again?” + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his forehead; and I could scarcely forbear laughing at his odd + perplexity, though the subject was of such serious importance. When he + clearly understood the case, and thoroughly believed the truth, he did not + seem elated by this sudden change of fortune; he really thought more of me + than of himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll tell you what you will do then,” continued he, after a pause + of deep reflection; “say nothing to nobody, but just keep asy on, even as + we are. Don’t let there be any surrendering at all, and I’ll speak to my + mother, that is, Ellinor O’Donoghoe, and settle it so; and let it be so + settled, in the name of God, and no more about it: and none need never be + the wiser; ‘tis so best for all. A good day to your honour, and I’ll go + shoe the mare.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” said I; “you may hereafter repent of this sudden determination. I + insist upon your taking four-and-twenty hours—no, that would be too + little—take a month to consider of it coolly, and then let me know + your final determination.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! plase your honour, I will say the same then as now. It would be a + poor thing indeed of me, after all you done for me and mine, to be putting + you to more trouble. It would be a poor thing of me to forget how you + liked to have lost your life all along with me at the time of the + ‘ruction. No, I’ll not take the fortin from you, any how.” + </p> + <p> + “Put gratitude to me out of the question,” said I. “Far be it from me to + take advantage of your affectionate temper. I do not consider you as under + any obligations to me; nor will I be paid for doing justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure enough, your honour desarved to be born a gentleman,” said Christy. + </p> + <p> + “At least I have been bred a gentleman,” said I. “Let me see you again + this day month, and not till then.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall not—that is, you <i>shall</i>, plase your honour: but for + fear any one would suspect any thing, I’d best go shoe the mare, any way.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “What riches give us, let us then inquire— + Meat, fire, and clothes—What more?—Meat, clothes, and fire.” + </pre> + <p> + The philosophy we learn from books makes but a faint impression upon the + mind, in comparison with that which we are taught by our own experience; + and we sometimes feel surprised to find that what we have been taught as + maxims of morality prove true in real life. After having had, for many + years, the fullest opportunities of judging of the value of riches, when I + reflected upon my past life, I perceived that their power of conferring + happiness is limited, nearly as the philosophic poet describes; that all + the changes and modifications of luxury must, in the sum of actual + physical enjoyment, be reduced to a few elementary pleasures, of which the + industrious poor can obtain their share: a small share, perhaps; but then + it is enjoyed with a zest that makes it equal in value perhaps to the + largest portion offered to the sated palate of ennui. These truths are as + old as the world; but they appeared quite new to me, when I discovered + them by my own experience. + </p> + <p> + During the month which I had allowed to my foster-brother for reflection, + I had leisure to philosophize, and my understanding made a rapid progress. + I foresaw the probability of Christy’s deciding to become Earl of + Glenthorn; notwithstanding that his good sense had so clearly demonstrated + to him in theory, that, with his education and habits, he must be happier + working in his forge than he could be as lord of Glenthorn Castle. I was + not dismayed by the idea of losing my wealth and rank; I was pleased with + myself for my honest conduct, and conscious of a degree of pleasure from + my own approbation, superior to what my riches had ever procured. + </p> + <p> + The day appointed for Christy’s final determination arrived. I knew by the + first motion of his shoulder as he came into the room, what his decision + would be. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Christy,” said I, “you will be Earl of Glenthorn, I perceive. You + are glad now that I did not take you at your word, and that I gave you a + month’s time for consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “Your honour was always considerate; but if I’d wish now to be changing my + mind,” said he, hesitating, and shifting from leg to leg, “it is not upon + my own account, any way, but upon my son Johnny’s.” + </p> + <p> + “My good friend,” said I, “no apology is necessary. I should be very + unjust if I were offended by your decision, and very mean if, after the + declarations I have made, I could, for an instant, hesitate to restore to + you that property which it is your right and your choice to reclaim.” + </p> + <p> + Christy made a low bow, and seemed much at a loss what he was to say next. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” continued I, “that you will be as happy when you are Earl of + Glenthorn, as you have been as Christy O’Donoghoe.” + </p> + <p> + “May be not, plase your honour; but I trust my childer will be happy after + me; and it’s them and my wife I’m thinking of, as in duty bound. But it is + hard your honour should be astray for want of the fortin you’ve been bred + to; and this weighs with me greatly on the other side. If your honour + could live on here, and share with us—But I see your honour’s + displeased at my naming <i>that</i>. It was my wife thought o’ that; I + knew it could not do. But then, what I think is, that your honour should + name what you would be pleased to keep to live upon: for, to be sure, you + have a right to live as a gentleman, that have always lived as one, as + every body knows, and none better than I. Would your honour be so kind, + then, as just to put down on a bit of paper what you’d wish to keep; and + that same, whatever it is, none shall touch but yourself; and I would not + own a child for mine that would begrudge it you. I’ll step down and wait + below while your honour writes what you plase.” + </p> + <p> + The generosity of this man touched me to the heart. I accepted from him + three hundred a year; and requested that the annuity I allowed to the + unfortunate Lady Glenthorn might be continued; that the house which I had + built for Ellinor, and the land belonging to it, might be secured to her + rent-free for life; and that all my debts should be paid. I recommended + Mr. M’Leod in the strongest manner, as an agent whose abilities and + integrity would be to him an invaluable treasure. + </p> + <p> + Christy, when I gave him the paper on which I had stated these requests, + took a pen instantly, and would have signed his name without reading it; + but to this I absolutely objected. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said he, “I’ll take it home, and read it over, and take + time, as you desire, to consider. There’s no danger of my changing my mind + about this: I hope your honour can’t think there is.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, on returning it to me, he observed, that it was making very + little of him to put down only such a trifle; and he pressed me to make + the hundreds thousands:—this I refused. + </p> + <p> + “But I hope your honour won’t object to what I am going to propose. Is not + there a house in London? and is not there another in England, in the + country? and, sure, I and mine can’t live there and here and every where + at once: if you’d just condescend to occupy one of them, you’d do me a + great pleasure, and a great sarvice too; for every thing would be right, + instead of going wrong, as it might under an agent, and me at a distance, + that does not know well how to manage such great estates. I hope you’ll + not refuse me that, if it’s only to show me I don’t lose your honour’s + good-will.” + </p> + <p> + The offer was made with so much earnestness, and even delicacy, that I + could not abruptly refuse it at the moment, though one of these + magnificent houses could be of no use tome with an income of 300<i>l</i>. + <i>per annum</i>. + </p> + <p> + “As to the annuity,” continued Christy, “that shall be paid as punctual as + the day: Mr. M’Leod will pay it; and he shall have it all settled right, + and put upon a stamp, by the lawyers, in case any thing should happen me. + Then, as to Ellinor, sure, she is my mother, for I never can think of her + any other way; and, except in that single article of changing me at nurse, + was always the best of mothers to me. And even that same trick she played + me, though very wicked, to be sure, was very nat’ral—ay, very + nat’ral—to <i>prefar</i> her own flesh and blood if she could: and + no one could be more sorry for the wrong she did me than she is now: there + she is crying at home, ready to break her heart: but as I tell her, + there’s no use in repenting a thing when once it is done; and as I forgive + her, none can ever bring it up against her: and as to the house and farm, + she shall surely have that, and shall never want for any thing. So I hope + your honour’s mind will be asy on that matter; and whatever else you + recollect to wish, <i>that</i> shall be done, if in my power.” + </p> + <p> + It is with pleasure that I recollect and record all these instances of + goodness of heart in poor Christy, which, notwithstanding the odd mixture + of absurdity and sense in his language and ideas, will, I make no doubt, + please my readers, though they cannot affect them as much as they affected + me. I now prepared for my departure from Glenthorn Castle, never more to + return. To spare me from unnecessary mortification, Christy had the + wonderful self-command to keep the secret faithfully, so that none of the + people in the neighbourhood, nor even my servants, had the slightest idea + of the truth. Having long talked of returning to England, the preparations + for my journey excited no surprise. Every thing went on as usual, except + that Christy, instead of being at the forge, was almost every day at the + whiskey-shop. + </p> + <p> + I thought it proper to speak openly of my affairs to Mr. M’Leod: he was + the only person who could make out a correct list of my debts. Besides, I + wished to recommend him as agent to the future earl, to whom an honest and + able agent would be peculiarly necessary, ignorant, as he was, both of the + world and of business; and surrounded, as he must probably be, on his + accession to his estate, by a herd of vulgar and designing flatterers. + </p> + <p> + Albeit not easily moved to surprise, Mr. M’Leod really did, for an + instant, look astonished, when I informed him that Christy O’Donoghoe was + Earl of Glenthorn. But I must resolve not to stop to describe the + astonishment that each individual showed upon this occasion, else I shall + never have finished my story. + </p> + <p> + It was settled that Mr. M’Leod should continue agent; and, for his credit, + I must observe that, after he was made acquainted with my loss of rank and + fortune, he treated me with infinitely more respect and regard than he had + ever shown me whilst he considered me only as his employer. Our accounts + were soon settled; and when this was done, and they were all regularly + signed, Mr. M’Leod came up to me, and, in a low voice of great emotion, + said, “I am not a man of professions; but when I say I am a man’s friend, + I hope I shall ever be found to be so, as far as can be in my power: and I + cannot but esteem and admire the man who has acted so nobly as you have + done.” + </p> + <p> + M’Leod wrung my hand as he spoke, and the tears stood in his eyes. I knew + that the feeling must indeed be strong, which could extort from him even + these few words of praise, and this simple profession of regard; but I did + not know, till long afterwards, the full warmth of his affections and + energy of his friendship. The very next day, unfortunately for me, he was + obliged to go to Scotland, to his mother, who was dying: and at this time + I saw no more of him. + </p> + <p> + In due legal form I now made a surrender of all claim upon the hereditary + property of the Earl of Glenthorn, and every thing was in readiness for my + journey. During this time poor Ellinor never appeared at the castle. I + went to see her, to comfort her about my going away; but she was silent, + and seemingly sullen, and would not be comforted. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve enough to grieve me,” said she: “I know what will be the end of all; + I see it as plain as if you’d told me. There’s no hiding nothing from a + mother: no, there’s no use in striving to comfort me.” Every method which + I tried to console her seemed to grieve her more. + </p> + <p> + The day before that which was fixed for my departure, I sent to desire to + see her. This request I had repeatedly made; but she had, from day to day, + excused herself, saying that she was unwell, and that she would be up on + the morrow. At last she came; and though but a few days had elapsed since + I had seen her, she was so changed in her appearance, that I was shocked + the moment I beheld her countenance. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t look well, Ellinor,” said I: “sit down.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter whether I sit or stand,” said she, calmly; “I’m not long for + this world: I won’t live long after you are gone, that’s one comfort.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were fixed and tearless; and there was a dead unnatural + tranquillity in her manner. + </p> + <p> + “They are making a wonderful great noise nailing up the boxes, and I seen + them cording the trunks as I came through the hall. I asked them, could I + be of any use: but they said I could be of none, and that’s true; for, + when I put my hand to the cord, to pull it, I had no more strength than an + infant. It was seven-and-twenty years last Midsummer-day since I first had + you an infant in my arms. I was strong enough then, and you—was a + sweet babby. Had I seen that time all that would come to pass this day! + But that’s over now. I have done a wicked thing; but I’ll send for Father + Murphy, and get absolution before I die.” + </p> + <p> + She sighed deeply, then went on speaking more quickly. + </p> + <p> + “But I can do nothing until you go. What time will you go in the morning, + dear? It’s better go early. Is it in the coach you’ll go? I see it in the + yard. But I thought you must leave the coach, with all the rest, to the + rightful heir. But my head’s not clear about it all, I believe—and + no matter.” + </p> + <p> + Her ideas rambled from one subject to another in an unconnected manner. I + endeavoured in vain to recall her understanding by speaking of her own + immediate interests; of the house that was secured to her for life; and of + the promise that had been made me, that she should never <i>want for any + thing</i>, and that she should be treated with all possible kindness. She + seemed to listen to me; but showed that she did not comprehend what I + said, by her answers; and, at every pause I made, she repeated the same + question— + </p> + <p> + “What time will you go in the morning, dear?” + </p> + <p> + At last I touched her feelings, and she recovered her intellect, when I + suddenly asked, if she would accompany me to England the next morning. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that I will,” cried she, “go with you through the wide world.” + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears, and wept bitterly for some time. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now I feel right again,” said she; “this is what I wanted; but could + not cry this many a day—never since the word came to me that you was + going, and all was lost.” + </p> + <p> + I assured her that I now expected to be happier than I had ever been. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried she: “and have you never been happy all this time? What a + folly it was for me, then, to do so wicked a thing! and all my comfort + was, the thinking you was happy, dear. And what will become of you now? + And is it on foot you’ll go?” + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts rambled again. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever way I go, you shall go with me,” said I. “You are my mother; and + now that your son has done what he knows to be honest and just, he will + prosper in the world, and will be truly happy; and so may you be happy, + now that you have nothing more to conceal.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It’s too late,” said she, “quite too late. I often told Christy I would + die before you left this place, dear; and so I will, you will see. God + bless you! God bless you! and pray to him to forgive me! None that could + know what I’ve gone through would ever do the like; no, not for their own + child, was he even such as you, and that would be hard to find. God bless + you, dear; I shall never see you more! The hand of death is upon me—God + for ever bless you, dear!” + </p> + <p> + She died that night; and I lost in her the only human being who had ever + shown me warm, disinterested affection. Her death delayed for a few days + my departure from Glenthorn Castle. I stayed to see her laid in the grave. + Her funeral was followed by crowds of people: by many, from the general + habit of attending funerals; by many, who wished to pay their court to me, + in showing respect to the memory of my nurse. + </p> + <p> + When the prayers over the dead were ended, and the grave closed, just as + the crowd were about to disperse, I stood up on a monument belonging to + the Glenthorn family; and the moment it was observed that I wished to + address the multitude, the moving waves were stilled, and there was a dead + silence. Every eye was fixed upon me with eager expectation. It was the + first time in my life that I had ever spoken before numbers; but as I was + certain that I had something to say, and quite indifferent about the + manner, words came without difficulty. Amazement appeared in every face + when I declared myself to be the son of the poor woman whom we had just + interred. And when I pointed to the real Earl of Glenthorn, and when I + declared that I relinquished to him his hereditary title and lawful + property, my auditors looked alternately at me and at my foster-brother, + seeming to think it impossible that a man, with face and hands so black as + Christy’s usually were known to be, could become an earl. + </p> + <p> + When I concluded my narrative, and paused, the silence still continued; + all seemed held in mute astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my good friends,” continued I, “let me bid you farewell; + probably you will never see or hear of me more; but, whether he be rich or + poor, or high or low-born, every honest man must wish to leave behind him + a fair character. Therefore, when I am gone, and, as it were, dead to you, + speak of me, not as of an impostor, who long assumed a name and enjoyed a + fortune that was not his own; but remember that I was bred to believe + myself heir to a great estate, and that, after having lived till the age + of seven-and-twenty, in every kind of luxury, I voluntarily gave up the + fortune I enjoyed, the moment I discovered that it was not justly mine.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>That</i> you did, indeed,” interrupted Christy; “and of that I am + ready to bear witness for you in this world and in the next. God bless and + prosper you wherever you go! and sure enough he will, for he cannot do + other than prosper one that deserves it so well. I never should have known + a sentence of the secret,” continued he, addressing his neighbours, “if it + had not been for <i>his</i> generosity to tell it me; and even had I found + it out by any <i>maracle</i>, where would have been the gain of that to + me? for you know he could, had he been so inclined, have kept me out of + all by the law—ay, baffled me on till my heart was sick, and till my + little substance was wasted, and my bones rotten in the ground; but, God’s + blessing be upon him! he’s an honest man, and <i>done</i> that which many + a lord in his place would not have done; but a good conscience is a + kingdom in itself, and <i>that</i> he cannot but have, wherever he goes—and + all which grieves me is that he is going away from us. If he’d be + prevailed with by me, he’d stay where he is, and we’d share and share + alike; but he’s too proud for that—and no wonder—he has a + right to be proud; for no matter who was his mother, he’ll live and die a + gentleman, every inch of him. Any man, you see, may be made a lord; but a + gentleman, a man must make himself. And yourselves can witness, has not he + reigned over us like a gentleman, and a <i>raal</i> gentleman; and shown + mercy to the poor, and done justice to all, as well as to me? and did not + he take me by the hand when I was persecuted, and none else in the wide + world to <i>befrind</i> me; and did not he stand up for me against the + tyrants that had the sway then; ay, and did not he put himself to trouble, + day and night, go riding here and there, and <i>spaking</i> and writing + for me? Well, as they say, he loves his ease, and that’s the worse can be + said of him; he took all this pains for a poor man, and had like to have + lost his life by it. And now, wherever he is and whatever, can I help + loving and praying for him? or could you? And since you will go,” added + he, turning to me with tears in his eyes, “take with you the blessings of + the poor, which, they say, carry a man straight to heaven, if any thing + can.” + </p> + <p> + The surrounding crowd joined with one voice in applauding this speech: “It + is he that has said what we all think,” cried they, following me with + acclamations to the castle. When they saw the chaise at the door which was + to carry me away, their acclamations suddenly ceased—“But is he + going?—But can’t he stay?—And is he going this minute? troth + it’s a pity, and a great pity!” + </p> + <p> + Again and again these honest people insisted upon taking leave of me, and + I could not force myself away without difficulty. They walked on beside my + carriage, Christy at their head; and in this species of triumph, + melancholy indeed, but grateful to my heart, I quitted Glenthorn Castle, + passed through that park which was no longer mine, and at the verge of the + county shook hands for the last time with these affectionate and generous + people. I then bid my postilion drive on fast; and I never looked back, + never once cast a lingering look at all I left behind. I felt proud of + having executed my purpose, and conscious I had not the insignificant, + inefficient character that had formerly disgraced me. As to the future, I + had not distinctly arranged my plans, nor was my mind during the remainder + of the day sufficiently tranquil for reflection. I felt like one in a + dream, and could scarcely persuade myself of the reality of the events, + that had succeeded each other with such astonishing rapidity. At night I + stopped at an inn where I was not known; and having no attendants or + equipage to command respect from hostlers, waiters, and inn-keepers, I was + made immediately sensible of the reality, at least of the change in my + fortune; but I was not mortified—I felt only as if I were travelling + incognito. And I contrived to go to bed without a valet-de-chambre, and + slept soundly, for I had earned a sound sleep by exertion both of body and + mind. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> + <p> + In the morning I awoke with a confused notion that something extraordinary + had happened; but it was a good while before I recollected myself + sufficiently to be perfectly sensible of the absolute and irrevocable + change in my circumstances. An inn may not appear the best possible place + for meditation, especially if the moralizer’s bedchamber be next the yard + where carriages roll, and hostlers swear perpetually; yet so situated, I, + this morning as I lay awake in my bed, thought so abstractedly and + attentively, that I heard neither wheels nor hostlers. I reviewed the + whole of my past life; I regretted bitterly my extravagance, my + dissipation, my waste of time; I considered how small a share of enjoyment + my wealth had procured, either for myself or others; how little advantage + I had derived from my education, and from all my opportunities of + acquiring knowledge. It had been in my power to associate with persons of + the highest talents, and of the best information, in the British + dominions; yet I had devoted my youth to loungers, and gamesters, and + epicures, and knew that scarcely a trace of my existence remained in the + minds of those selfish beings, who once called themselves my friends. I + wished that I could live my life over again; and I felt that, were it in + my power, I should live in a manner very different from that in which I + had fooled away existence. In the midst of my self-reproaches, however, I + had some consolation in the idea that I had never been guilty of any base + or dishonourable action. I recollected, with satisfaction, my behaviour to + Lady Glenthorn, when I discovered her misconduct; I recollected that I had + always shown gratitude to poor Ellinor for her kindness; I recollected + with pleasure, that when trusted with power I had not used it + tyrannically. My exertions in favour of my foster-brother, when he was + oppressed, I remembered with much satisfaction; and the steadiness with + which I behaved, when a conspiracy was formed against my life, gave me + confidence in my own courage; and, after having sacrificed my vast + possessions to a sense of justice, no mortal could doubt my integrity: so + that upon the whole, notwithstanding my past follies, I had a tolerably + good opinion of myself, or rather good hopes for the future. I was + certain, that there was more in me than the world had seen; and I was + ambitious of proving that I had some personal merit, independently of the + adventitious circumstances of rank and fortune. But how was I to + distinguish myself? + </p> + <p> + Just as I came to this difficult question, the chambermaid interrupted my + reverie, by warning me in a shrill voice, that it was very late, and that + she had called me above two hours before. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s my man! send up my man. Oh! I beg your pardon—nothing at + all: only, my good girl, I should be obliged to you if you could let me + have a little warm water, that I may shave myself.” + </p> + <p> + It was new and rather strange to me to be without attendants; but I found + that, when I was forced to it, I could do things admirably well for + myself, that I had never suspected I could perform without assistance. + After I had travelled two days without servants, how I had travelled with + them was the wonder. I once caught myself saying of myself, “that careless + blockhead has forgotten my nightcap.” For some time I was liable to make + odd blunders about my own identity; I was apt to mistake between my old + and my new habits, so that when I spoke in the tone and imperative mood in + which Lord Glenthorn had been accustomed to speak, people stared at me as + if I were mad, and I in my turn was frequently astonished by their + astonishment, and perplexed by their ease of behaviour in my presence. + </p> + <p> + Upon my arrival in Dublin, I went to a small lodging which Mr. M’Leod had + recommended to me; it was such as suited my reduced finances; but, at + first view, it was not much to my taste; however, I ate with a good + appetite my very frugal supper, upon a little table, covered with a little + table-cloth, on which I could not wipe my mouth without stooping low. The + mistress of the house, a North-country woman, was so condescending as to + blow my fire, remarking, at the same time, that coals were <i>a very + scarce article</i>; she begged to know whether I would choose a fire in my + bed-room, and what quantity of coals she should lay in; she added many + questions about boarding, and small-beer, and tea, and sugar, and butter, + and blankets, and sheets, and washerwomen, which almost overwhelmed my + spirits. + </p> + <p> + “And must I think of all these things for myself?” said I, in a lamentable + tone, and I suppose with a most deplorable length of face, for the woman + could not refrain from laughing: as she left the room, I heard her + exclaim, “Lord help him, he looks as much astray as if he was just new + from the Isle of Skye.” + </p> + <p> + The cares of life were coming fast upon me, and I was terrified by the + idea of a host of petty evils; I sat ruminating, with my feet upon the + bars of the grate, till past midnight, when my landlady, who seemed to + think it incumbent upon her to supply me with common sense, came to inform + me that there was a good fire burning to waste in the bed-room, and that I + should find myself a great deal better there than sitting over the + cinders. I suffered myself to be removed to the bedchamber, and again + established my feet upon the upper bar of the grate. + </p> + <p> + “Lack! sir, you’ll burn your boots,” said my careful landlady; who, after + bidding me good night, put her head back into the room, to beg I would be + sure to rake the fire, and throw up the ashes safe, before I went to bed. + Left to my own meditations, I confess I did feel rather forlorn. I + reflected upon my helplessness in all the common business of life; and the + more I considered that I was totally unfit for any employment or + profession, by which I could either earn money, or distinguish myself, the + deeper became my despondency. I passed a sleepless night, vainly + regretting the time that never could be recalled. + </p> + <p> + In the morning, my landlady gave me some letters, which had been forwarded + for me from Glenthorn Castle; the direction to the Earl of Glenthorn + scratched out, and in its place inserted my new address, “<i>C. + O’Donoghoe, Esq., No. 6, Duke-street, Dublin</i>.” I remember, I held the + letters in my hand, contemplating the direction for some minutes, and at + length reading it aloud repeatedly, to my landlady’s infinite amusement:—she + knew nothing of my history, and seemed in doubt whether to think me + extremely silly or mad. One of my letters was from Lord Y——, + an Irish nobleman, with whom I was not personally acquainted, but for + whose amiable character and literary reputation I had always, even during + my days of dissipation, peculiar respect. He wrote to me to make inquiries + respecting the character of a Mr. Lyddell, who had just proposed himself + as tutor to the son of one of his friends. Mr. Lyddell had formerly been + my favourite tutor, the man who had encouraged me in every species of + ignorance and idleness. In my present state of mind I was not disposed to + speak favourably of this gentleman, and I resolved that I would not be + instrumental in placing another young nobleman under his guidance. I wrote + an explicit, indignant, and I will say eloquent letter upon this occasion; + but, when I came to the signature, I felt a repugnance to signing myself, + C. O’Donoghoe; and I recollected, that as my history could not yet be + public, Lord Y—— would be puzzled by this strange name, and + would be unable to comprehend this answer to his letter. I therefore + determined to wait upon his lordship, and to make my explanations in + person: besides my other reasons for determining on this visit, I had a + strong desire to become personally acquainted with a nobleman of whom I + had heard so much. His lordship’s porter was not quite so insolent as some + of his brethren; and though I did not come in a showy equipage, and though + I had no laced footmen to enforce my rights, I gained admission. I passed + through a gallery of fine statues, to a magnificent library, which I + admired till the master of the house appeared, and from that moment he + commanded, or rather captivated, my attention. + </p> + <p> + Lord Y—— was at this time an elderly gentleman. In his + address, there was a becoming mixture of ease and dignity; he was not what + the French call <i>maniéré</i>; his politeness was not of any particular + school, but founded on those general principles of good taste, good sense, + and good-nature, which must succeed in all times, places, and seasons. His + desire to please evidently arose not from vanity but benevolence. In his + conversation, there was neither the pedantry of a recluse, nor the + coxcombry of a man of the world: his knowledge was select; his wit without + effort, the play of a cultivated imagination: the happiness of his + expressions did not seem the result of care; and his allusions were at + once so apposite and elegant, as to charm both the learned and the + unlearned: all he said was sufficiently clear and just to strike every + person of plain sense and natural feeling, while to the man of literature + it had often a further power to please, by its less obvious meaning. Lord + Y——‘s superiority never depressed those with whom he + conversed; on the contrary, they felt themselves raised by the magic of + politeness to his level; instead of being compelled to pay tribute, they + seemed invited to share his intellectual dominion, and to enjoy with him + the delightful pre-eminence of genius and virtue. + </p> + <p> + I shall be forgiven for pausing in my own insignificant story, to dwell on + the noble character of a departed friend. That he permitted me to call him + my friend, I think the greatest honour of my life. But let me, if I can, + go on regularly with my narrative. + </p> + <p> + Lord Y—— took it for granted, during our first half-hour’s + conversation, that he was speaking to the Earl of Glenthorn: he thanked me + with much warmth for putting him on his guard against the character of Mr. + Lyddell: and his lordship was also pleased to thank me for making him + acquainted, as he said, with my own character; for convincing him how ill + it had been appreciated by those who imagined that wealth and title were + the only distinctions which the Earl of Glenthorn might claim. This + compliment went nearer to my heart than Lord Y—— could guess. + </p> + <p> + “My character,” said I, “since your lordship encourages me to speak of + myself with freedom, my character has, I hope, been much changed and + improved by circumstances; and perhaps those which might at present be + deemed the most unfortunate, may ultimately prove of the greatest + advantage, by urging me to exertion.—Your lordship is not aware of + what I allude to; a late event in my singular history,” continued I, + taking up the newspapers which lay on his library table—“my singular + history has not yet, I fancy, got into the public newspapers. Perhaps you + will hear it most favourably from myself.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Y—— was politely, benevolently attentive, whilst I + related to him the sudden and singular change in my fortune: when I gave + an account of the manner in which I had conducted myself after the + discovery of my birth, tears of generous feeling filled his eyes; he laid + his hand upon mine when I paused— + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you have lost,” said he, “you have gained a friend. Do not be + surprised,” continued he, “by this sudden declaration. Before I saw you + this morning, your real character was better known to me than you imagine. + I learnt it from a particular friend of mine, of whose judgment and + abilities I have the highest opinion, Mr. Cecil Devereux; I saw him just + after his marriage; and the very evening before they sailed, I remember, + when Lady Geraldine and he were talking of the regret they felt in leaving + Ireland, among the friends whom they lamented that they should not see + again, perhaps for years, you were mentioned with peculiar esteem and + affection. They called you their generous benefactor, and fully explained + to me the claim you had to this title—a title which never can be + lost. But Mr. Devereux was anxious to convince me that he was not + influenced by the partiality of gratitude in his opinion of his + benefactor’s talents. He repeated an assertion, that was supported with + much energy by the charming Lady Geraldine, that Lord Glenthorn had <i>abilities + to be any thing Tie pleased</i>; and the high terms in which they spoke of + his talents, and the strong proofs they adduced of the generosity of his + character, excited in my mind a warm desire to cultivate his acquaintance; + a desire which has been considerably increased within this last hour. May + I hope that the Irish rapidity with which I have passed from acquaintance + to friendship may not shock English habits of reserve; and may not induce + you to doubt the sincerity of the man, who has ventured with so little + hesitation or ceremony to declare himself your friend?” + </p> + <p> + I was so much moved by this unexpected kindness, that, though I felt how + much more was requisite, I could answer only with a bow; and I was glad to + make my retreat as soon as possible. The very next day, his lordship + returned my visit, to my landlady’s irrecoverable astonishment; and I had + increasing reason to regard him with admiration and affection. He + convinced me, that I had interested him in my concerns, and told me, I + must forgive him if he spoke to me with the freedom of a friend: thus I + was encouraged to consult him respecting my future plans. Plans, indeed, I + had none regularly formed; but Lord Y——, by his judicious + suggestions, settled and directed my ideas without overpowering me by the + formality of advice. My ambition was excited to deserve his friendship, + and to accomplish his predictions. The profession of the law was that to + which he advised me to turn my thoughts: he predicted, that, if for five + years I would persevere in application to the necessary preparatory + studies, I should afterwards distinguish myself at the bar, more than I + had ever been distinguished by the title of Earl of Glenthorn. Five years + of hard labour! the idea alarmed, but did not utterly appal my + imagination; and to prevent my dwelling upon it too long at the first, + Lord Y—— suddenly changed the conversation; and, in a playful + tone, said, “Before you immerse yourself in your studies, I must, however, + claim some of your time. You must permit me to carry you home with me + to-day, to introduce you to two ladies of my acquaintance: the one prudent + and old—if a lady can ever be old; the other, young, and beautiful, + and graceful, and witty, and wise, and reasonable. One of these ladies is + much prepossessed in your favour, the other strongly prejudiced against + you—for the best of all possible reasons, because she does not know + you.” + </p> + <p> + I accepted Lord Y——‘s invitation; not a little curious to know + whether it was the old and prudent, or the young, beautiful, graceful, + witty, wise, and reasonable lady, who was much prepossessed in my favour. + Notwithstanding my usual indifference to the whole race of <i>very + agreeable young ladies</i>, I remember trying to form a picture in my + imagination of this all-accomplished female. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> + <p> + Upon my arrival at Y—— house, I found two ladies in the + drawing-room, in earnest conversation with Lady Y——. In their + external appearance they were nearly what my friend had described; except + that the beauty of the youngest infinitely surpassed my expectations. The + elegance of her form, and the charming expression of her countenance, + struck me with a sort of delightful surprise, that was quickly succeeded + by a most painful sensation. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Y——, give me leave to introduce to you Mr. O’Donoghoe.” + </p> + <p> + Shocked by the sound of my own name, I was ready to recoil abashed. The + elderly lady turned her eyes upon me for an instant, with that + indifference with which we look at an uninteresting stranger. The young + lady seemed to pity my confusion; for though so well and so long used to + varieties of the highest company, when placed in a situation that was new + to me, I was unaccountably disconcerted. Ah! thought I, how differently + should I be received were I still Earl of Glenthorn! + </p> + <p> + I was rather angry with Lord Y——, for not introducing me, as + he had promised, to this fair lady; and yet the repetition of my name + would have increased my vexation. In short, I was unjust, and felt an + impatience and irritability quite unusual to my temper. Lady Y——addressed + some conversation to me, in an obliging manner, and I did my best to + support my part till she left me: but my attention was soon distracted, by + a conversation that commenced at another part of the room, between her and + the elderly lady. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lady Y——, have you heard the extraordinary news? the + most incredible thing that ever was heard! For my part, I cannot believe + it yet, though we have the intelligence from the best authority. Lord + Glenthorn, that is to say, the person we always called Lord Glenthorn, + turns out to be the son of the Lord knows who—they don’t mention the + name.” + </p> + <p> + At this speech I was ready to sink into the earth. Lord Y—— + took my arm, and led me into another room. “I have some cameos,” said he, + “which are thought curious; would you like to look at them?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you conceive it?” continued the elderly lady, whose voice I still + heard, as the folding-doors of the room were open: “Changed at nurse! One + hears of such things in novels, but, in real life, I absolutely cannot + believe it. Yet here, in this letter from Lady Ormsby, are all the + particulars: and a blacksmith is found to be Earl of Glenthorn, and takes + possession of Glenthorn castle, and all the estates. And the man is + married, to some vulgarian of course: and he has a son, and may have half + a hundred, you know; so there is an end of our hopes; and there is an end + too of all my fine schemes for Cecilia.” + </p> + <p> + I felt myself change colour again. “I believe,” said I to Lord Y——, + “I ought not to hear this. If your lordship will give me leave, I will + shut the door.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said he, smiling, and stopping me; “you ought to hear it, for it + will do you a great deal of good. You know I have undertaken to be your + guide, philosopher, and friend; so you must let me have my own way: and if + it should so happen, hear yourself abused patiently.—Is not this a + fine bust of Socrates?” + </p> + <p> + Some part of the conversation in the next room I missed, whilst his + lordship spoke. The next words I heard were— + </p> + <p> + “But my dear Lady Y——, look at Cecilia.—Would not any + other girl be cast down and miserable in Cecilia’s place? yet see, see how + provokingly happy and well she looks.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Lady Y——, “I never saw her appear better: but + we are not to judge of her by what any other young lady would be in her + place, for I know of none at all comparable to Miss Delamere.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Delamere!” said I to Lord Y——. “Is this the Miss + Delamere who is heiress at law to——” + </p> + <p> + “The Glenthorn estate. Yes—do not let the head of Socrates fall from + your hands,” said his lordship, smiling. + </p> + <p> + I again lost something that was said in the next room; but I heard the old + lady going on with— + </p> + <p> + “I only say, my dear, that if the man had been really what he was said to + be, you could not have done better.” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest mother, you cannot be serious,” replied the sweetest voice I ever + heard. “I am sure that you never were in earnest upon this subject: you + could not wish me to be united to such a man as Lord Glenthorn was said to + be.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? what was he said to be, my dear?—a little dissipated, a little + extravagant only: and if he had a fortune to support it, child, what + matter?” pursued the mother: “all young men are extravagant now-a-days—you + must take the world as it goes.” + </p> + <p> + “The lady who married Lord Glenthorn, I suppose, acted upon that + principle; and you see what was the consequence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, as to her ladyship, it ran in the blood: let her have + married whom she would, she would have done the same: and I am told Lord + Glenthorn made an incomparably good husband. A cousin of Lady Glenthorn’s + assured me that she was present one day, when her ladyship expressed a + wish for a gold chain to wear round her neck, or braid her hair, I forget + for what; but that very hour Lord Glenthorn bespoke for her a hundred + yards of gold chain, at ten guineas a yard. Another time she longed for an + Indian shawl, and his lordship presented her next day with three dozen + real India shawls. There’s a husband for you, Cecilia!” + </p> + <p> + “Not for me, mamma,” said Cecilia, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are a strange romantic girl, and never will be married after all, + I fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Never to a fool, I hope,” said Cecilia. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Delamere will, however, allow,” said Lady Y——, “that a + man may have his follies, without being a fool, or wholly unworthy of her + esteem; otherwise, what a large portion of mankind she would deprive of + hope!” + </p> + <p> + “As to Lord Glenthorn, he was no fool, I promise you,” continued the + mother: “has not he been living prudently enough these three years? We + have not heard of late of any of his <i>extraordinary landaus</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have been told,” said Cecilia, “that he is quite uninformed, + without any taste for literature, and absolutely incapable of exertion—a + victim to ennui. How miserable a woman must be with such a husband!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Lady Y——, “what could be expected from a young + nobleman bred up as Lord Glenthorn was?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Cecilia; “and that is the very reason I never wished to + see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps Miss Delamere’s opinion might be changed if she had known him,” + said Lady Y——, + </p> + <p> + “Ay, for he is a very handsome man, I have heard,” said the mother. “Lady + Jocunda Lawler told me so, in one of her letters; and Lady Jocunda was + very near being married to him herself, I can tell you, for he admired her + prodigiously.” + </p> + <p> + “A certain proof that he never would have admired me,” said Cecilia; “for + two women, so opposite in every respect, no man could have loved.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless you, child! how little you know of the matter! After all, I + dare say, if you had been acquainted with him, you might have been in love + yourself with Lord Glenthorn.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” said Cecilia, “if I had found him the reverse of what he is + reported to be.” + </p> + <p> + Company came in at this instant. Lord Y—— was called to + receive them, and I followed; glad, at this instant, that I was not Lord + Glenthorn. At dinner the conversation turned upon general subjects; and + Lord Y——, with polite and friendly attention, <i>drew me out</i>, + without seeming to do so, in the kindest manner possible. + </p> + <p> + I had the pleasure to perceive that Cecilia Delamere did not find me a + fool. I never, even in the presence of Lady Geraldine, exerted myself so + much to avoid this disgrace. + </p> + <p> + After all the company, except Mrs. and Miss Delamere, were gone, Lord Y—— + called me aside. + </p> + <p> + “Will you pardon,” said he, “the means I have taken to convince you how + much superior you are to the opinion that has been commonly formed of Lord + Glenthorn? Will you forgive me for convincing you that when a man has + sufficient strength of mind to rely upon himself, and sufficient energy to + exert his abilities, he becomes independent of common report and vulgar + opinion? He secures the suffrages of the best judges; and they, in time, + lead all the rest of the world. Will you permit me now to introduce you to + your prudent friend and your fair enemy? Mrs. Delamere—Miss Delamere—give + me leave to introduce to you the late Earl of Glenthorn.” + </p> + <p> + Of the astonishment in the opening eyes of Mrs. Delamere I have some faint + recollection. I can never forget the crimson blush that instantaneously + spread over the celestial countenance of Cecilia. She was perfectly + silent; but her mother went on talking with increased rapidity. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens! the late Lord Glenthorn! Why, I was talking—but he + was not in the room.” The ladies exchanged looks, which seemed to say, “I + hope he did not hear all we said of him.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lord Y——, why did not you tell us this before? + Suppose we had spoken of his lordship, you would have been answerable for + all the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Lord Y——. + </p> + <p> + “But, seriously,” said the old lady, “have I the pleasure to speak to Lord + Glenthorn, or have I not? I believe I began, unluckily, to talk of a + strange story I had heard; but perhaps all this is a mistake, and my + country correspondent may have been amusing herself at the expense of my + credulity. I assure you I was not imposed upon; I never believed half the + story.” + </p> + <p> + “You may believe the whole of it, madam,” said I; “the story is perfectly + true.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my good sir, how sorry I am to hear you say it is all true! And the + blacksmith is really Earl of Glenthorn, and has taken possession of the + castle, and is married, and has a son! Lord bless me, how unfortunate! + Well, I can only say, sir, I wish, with all my heart, you were Earl of + Glenthorn still.” + </p> + <p> + After hearing from Lord Y—— the circumstances of what he was + pleased to call my generous conduct, Mrs. Delamere observed, that I had + acted very generously, to be sure, but that few in my place would have + thought themselves bound to give up possession of an estate, which I had + so long been taught to believe was my own. To have and to hold, she + observed, always went together in law; and she could not help thinking I + had done very injudiciously and imprudently not to let the law decide for + me. + </p> + <p> + I was consoled for Mrs. Delamere’s reprehensions by her daughter’s + approving countenance. After this visit, Lord Y—— gave me a + general invitation to his house, where I frequently saw Miss Delamere, and + frequently compared her with my recollection of Lady Geraldine ———. + Cecilia Delamere was not so entertaining, but she was more interesting + than Lady Geraldine: the flashes of her ladyship’s wit, though always + striking, were sometimes dangerous; Cecilia’s wit, though equally + brilliant, shone with a more pleasing and inoffensive light. With as much + generosity as Lady Geraldine could show in great affairs, she had more + forbearance and delicacy of attention on every-day occasions. Lady + Geraldine had much pride, and it often gave offence; Cecilia, perhaps, had + more pride, but it never appeared, except upon the defensive: without + having less candour, she had less occasion for it than Lady Geraldine + seemed to have; and Cecilia’s temper had more softness and equability. + Perhaps Cecilia was not so fascinating, but she was more attractive. One + had the envied art of appearing to advantage in public—the other, + the more desirable power of being happy in private. I admired Lady + Geraldine long before I loved her; I loved Cecilia long before I admired + her. + </p> + <p> + Whilst I possibly could, I called what I felt for Miss Delamere only + esteem; but when I found it impossible to conceal from myself that I + loved, I resolved to avoid this charming woman. How happy, thought I, + would the fortune I once possessed now make me! but in my present + circumstances what have I to hope? Surely my friend Lord Y—— + has not shown his usual prudence in exposing me to such a temptation; but + it is to be supposed, he thinks that the impossibility of my obtaining + Miss Delamere will prevent my thinking of her, or perhaps he depends on + the inertness and apathy of my temper. Unfortunately for me, my + sensibility has increased since I have become poor; for many years, when I + was rich, and could have married easily, I never wished to marry, and now + that I have not enough to support a wife, I immediately fall desperately + in love. + </p> + <p> + Again and again I pondered upon my circumstances: three hundred a-year was + the amount of all my worldly possessions; and Miss Delamere was not rich, + and she had been bred expensively; for it had never been absent from her + mother’s mind, that Cecilia would be heiress to the immense Glenthorn + estate. The present possessor was, however, an excellent life, and he had + a son stout and healthy, so all these hopes of Mrs. Delamere’s were at an + end; and as there was little chance, as she said (laughing), of persuading + her daughter to marry Johnny, the young lord and heir apparent, it was now + necessary to turn her views elsewhere, and to form for Cecilia some + suitable alliance. Rank and large fortune were, in Mrs. Delamere’s + opinion, indispensable to happiness. Cecilia’s ideas were far more + moderate; but, though perfectly disinterested and generous, she was not so + romantic, or so silly, as to think of marrying any man without the + probability of his being able to support her in the society of her equals: + nor, even if I could have thought it possible to prevail upon Miss + Delamere to make an unbecoming and imprudent choice, would I have taken + advantage of the confidence reposed in me by Lord Y——, to + destroy the happiness of a young friend, for whom he evidently had a great + regard. I resolved to see her no more—and for some weeks I kept my + resolution; I refrained from going to Y—— house. I deem this + the most virtuous action of my life; it certainly was the most painful + sacrifice I ever made to a sense of duty. At last, Lord Y—— + came to me one morning, and after reproaching me, in a friendly manner, + for having so long absented myself from his house, declared that he would + not be satisfied with any of those common excuses, which might content a + mere acquaintance; that his sincere anxiety for my welfare gave him a + right to expect from me the frankness of a friend. It was a relief to my + mind to be encouraged in this manner. I confessed with entire openness my + real motive: Lord Y—— heard me without surprise. + </p> + <p> + “It is gratifying to me,” said his lordship, “to be convinced that I was + not mistaken in my judgment, either of your taste, or your integrity; + permit me to assure you, that I foresaw exactly how you would feel, and + precisely how you would act. There are certain moral omens, which old + experience never fails to interpret rightly, and from which unerring + predictions of the future conduct, and consequently of the future fate of + individuals, may be formed. I hold that we are the artificers of our own + fortune. If there be any whom the gods wish to destroy, these are first + deprived of understanding; whom the gods wish to favour, they first endow + with integrity, inspire with understanding, and animate with activity. + Have I not seen integrity in you, and shall I not see activity? Yes; that + supineness of temper or habit with which you reproach yourself has arisen, + believe me, only from want of motive; but you have now the most powerful + of motives, and in proportion to your exertions will be your success. In + our country, you know, the highest offices of the state are open to + talents and perseverance; a man of abilities and application cannot fail + to secure independence, and obtain distinction. Time and industry are + necessary to prepare you for the profession, to which you will hereafter + be an honour, and you will courageously submit. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —‘Time and industry, the mighty two, + Which bring our wishes nearer to our view.’ +</pre> + <p> + As to the probability that your present wishes may be crowned with + success, I can judge only from my general knowledge of the views and + disposition of the lady whom you admire. I know that her views with + respect to fortune are moderate; and that her disposition and excellent + understanding will, in the choice of a husband, direct her preference to + the essential good qualities, and not to the accidental advantages, of the + candidates for her favour. As to the mother’s influence, that will + necessarily yield to the daughter’s superior judgment. Cecilia possesses + over her mother that witchcraft of gentle manners, which in the female sex + is always irresistible, even over violent tempers. Prudential + considerations have a just, though not exclusive, claim to Miss Delamere’s + attention. But her relations, I fancy, could find means of providing + against any pecuniary embarrassments, if she should think proper to unite + herself to a man who can be content, as she would be, with a competence, + and who should <i>have proved himself able, by his own exertions, to + maintain his wife in independence</i>. On this last condition I must dwell + with emphasis, because it is indispensable; and I am convinced that + without it Miss Delamere’s consent, even after she is of age, and at + liberty to judge for herself, could never be obtained. You perceive, then, + how much depends upon your own exertions; and this is the best hope, and + the best motive, that I can give to a strong and generous mind. Farewell—Persevere + and prosper.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the general purport of what Lord Y—— said to me; + indeed, I believe that I have repeated his very words, for they made a + great and ineffaceable impression upon my mind. From this day I date the + commencement of a new existence. Fired with ambition,—I hope + generous ambition,—to distinguish myself among men, and to win the + favour of the most amiable and the most lovely of women, all the faculties + of my soul were awakened: I became active, permanently active. The + enchantment of indolence was dissolved, and the demon of ennui was cast + out for ever. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> + <p> + If, among those who maybe tempted to peruse my history, there should be + any mere novel readers, let me advise them to throw the book aside at the + commencement of this chapter; for I have no more wonderful incidents to + relate, no more changes at nurse, no more sudden turns of fortune. I am + now become a plodding man of business, poring over law-books from morning + till night, and leading a most monotonous life: yet occupation, and hope, + and the constant sense of approaching nearer to my object, rendered this + mode of existence, dull as it may seem, infinitely more agreeable than + many of my apparently prosperous days, when I had more money, and more + time, than I knew how to enjoy. I resolutely persevered in my studies. + </p> + <p> + About a month after I came to town, the doors of my lodging were blockaded + by half a dozen cars, loaded with huge packing-cases, on which I saw, in + the hand-writing which I remembered often to have seen in my blacksmith’s + bills, a direction to <i>Christopher O’Donoghoe, Esquire—this side + upwards: to be kept dry.</i> + </p> + <p> + One of the carmen fumbled in what he called his pocket, and at last + produced a very dirty note. + </p> + <p> + “My dear and honourable foster-brother, larning from Mr. M’Leod that you + are thinking of <i>studdeing</i>, I send you inclosed by the bearer, who + is to get nothing for the <i>carrige</i>, all the bookes from the big + booke-room at the castle, which I hope, being of not as much use as I + could wish to me, your honour will not scorn to accept, with the true + veneration of + </p> + <p> + “Your ever-loving foster-brother, and grateful humble servant, <i>to + command</i>. + </p> + <p> + “P.S. No name needful, for you will not be astray about the hand.” + </p> + <p> + This good-natured fellow’s present was highly valuable and useful to me. + </p> + <p> + Among my pleasures at this studious period of my life, when I had few + events to break the uniform tenor of my days, I must mention letters which + I frequently received from Mr. Devereux and Lady Geraldine, who still + continued in India. Mr. Devereux was acquainted with almost all the men of + eminence at the Irish bar; men who are not mere lawyers, but persons of + literature, of agreeable manners, and gentlemanlike habits. Mr. Desvereux + wrote to his friends so warmly in my favour, that, instead of finding + myself a stranger in Dublin, my only difficulty was how to avoid the + numerous invitations which tempted me from my studies. + </p> + <p> + Those gentlemen of the bar who were intimate with Mr. Devereux honoured me + with particular attention, and their society was peculiarly useful, as + well as agreeable, to me: they directed my industry to the best and + shortest means of preparing myself for their profession; they put into my + hands the best books; told me all that experience had taught them of the + art of distinguishing, in the mass of law-precedents, the useful from the + useless: instructed me in the methods of indexing and common-placing; and + gave me all those advantages, which solitary students so often want, and + the want of which so often makes the study of the law appear an endless + maze without a plan. When I found myself surrounded with books, and + reading assiduously day and night, I could scarcely believe in my own + identity; I could scarcely imagine that I was the same person, who, but a + few months before this time, lolled upon a sofa half the day, and found it + an intolerable labour to read or think for half an hour together. Such is + the power of motive! During the whole time I pursued my studies, and kept + my terms, in Ireland, the only relaxation I allowed myself was in the + society at Lord Y——‘s house in Dublin, and, during my + vacations, in excursions which I made with his lordship to different parts + of the country. Lord Y—— had two country-seats in the most + beautiful parts of Ireland. How differently the face of nature appeared to + me now! with what different sensations I beheld the same objects! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “No brighter colours paint th’ enamell’d fields, + No sweeter fragrance now the garden yields; + Whence then this strange increase of joy? + Is it to love these new delights I owe?” + </pre> + <p> + It was not to love that I owed these new delights, for Cecilia was not + there; but my powers of observation were awakened, and the confinement and + labour to which I had lately submitted gave value to the pleasures of rest + and liberty, and to the freshness of country air, and the beautiful scenes + of nature. So true it is, that all our pleasures must be earned, before + they can be enjoyed. When I saw on Lord Y——‘s estates, and on + those of several other gentlemen, which he occasionally took me to visit, + the neat cottages, the well-cultivated farms, the air of comfort, + industry, and prosperity, diffused through the lower classes of the + people, I was convinced that much may be done by the judicious care and + assistance of landlords for their tenantry. I saw this with mixed + sensations of pleasure and of pain—of pain, for I reflected how + little I had accomplished, and how ill I had done even that little, whilst + the means of doing good to numbers had been in my power. For the very + trifling services I did to some of my poor tenants, I am sure I had + abundant gratitude; and I was astonished and touched by instances of this + shown to me after I had lost my fortune, and when I scarcely had myself + any remembrance of the people who came to thank me. Trivial as it is, I + cannot forbear to record one of the many instances of gratitude I met with + from a poor Irishman. + </p> + <p> + Whilst I was in Dublin, as I was paying a morning visit to Lord Y——, + sitting with him in his library, we heard some disturbance in the inner + court; and looking out of the window, we saw a countryman with a basket on + his arm, struggling with the porter and two footmen. + </p> + <p> + “He is here; I know to a certainty he is here, and I <i>shall</i> see him, + say what you plase now!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you my lord is not at home,” said the porter. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” said Lord Y——, opening the window. + </p> + <p> + “See, there’s my lord himself at the window: are not you ashamed of + yourself now?” said the footman. + </p> + <p> + “And why would I be ashamed that am telling no lies, and hindering no + one?” said the countryman, looking up to us with so sudden a motion that + his hat fell of. I knew his face, but could not recollect his name. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there he is, his own honour; I’ve found him, and <i>axe</i> pardon + for my boldness; but it’s because I’ve been all day yesterday, and this + day, running through Dublin after <i>yees</i>; and when certified by the + lady of the lodgings you was in it here, I could not lave town without my + errand, which is no more than a cheese from my wife of her own making, to + be given to your honour’s own hands, and she would not see me if I did not + do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him come up,” said Lord Y——. “This,” continued his + lordship, turning to me, “reminds me of Henry the Fourth, and the Gascon + peasant with his <i>fromages de boeuf</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “But our countryman brings his offering to an abdicated monarch,” said I. + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow presented his wife’s cheese to me with as good a grace as + any courtier could have made his offering. Unembarrassed, his manners and + his words gave the natural and easy expression of a grateful heart. He + assured me that he and his wife were the happiest couple in all Ireland; + and he hoped I would one day be as happy myself in a wife as I <i>desarved</i>, + who had made others so; and there were many on the estate remembered as + well as he did the good I did to the poor during <i>my reign</i>. + </p> + <p> + Then stepping up closer to me, he said, in a lower voice, “I’m Jimmy + Riley, that married <i>ould</i> Noonan’s daughter; and now that it is all + over I may tell you a bit of a <i>secret</i>, which made me so eager to + get to the speech of your honour, that I might tell it to your own ear + alone—no offence to this gentleman, before whom I’d as soon say it + as yourself, <i>becaase</i> I see he is all as one as another yourself. + Then the thing is—does your honour remember the boy with the cord + round his body, looking for the birds’ eggs in the rock, and the ‘nonymous + bit of a letter that you got? ‘Twas I wrote it, and the <i>gossoon</i> + that threw it to your honour was a cousin of my own that I sent, that + nobody, nor yourself even, might not know him: and the way I got the + information I never can tell till I die, and then only to the priest, <i>becaase</i> + I swore I would not never. But don’t go for to think it was by being a <i>rubble</i> + any way; no man can, I thank my God, charge me with indifferency. So + rejoiced to see you the same, I wish you a good morrow, and long life, and + a happy death—when it comes.” + </p> + <p> + About this time I frequently used to receive presents to a considerable + amount, and of things which were most useful to me, but always without any + indication by which I could discover to whom I was indebted for them: at + last, by means of my Scotch landlady, I traced them to Mr. M’Leod. His + kindness was so earnest and peremptory, that it would admit neither thanks + nor refusals; and I submitted to be obliged to a man for whom I felt such + high esteem. I looked upon it as not the least of his proofs of regard, + that he gave me what I knew he valued more than any thing else—his + time. Whenever he came to Dublin, though he was always hurried by + business, so that he had scarcely leisure to eat or sleep, he used + constantly to come to see me in my obscure lodgings; and when in the + country, though he hated all letter-writing, except letters of business, + yet he regularly informed me of every thing that could be interesting to + me. Glenthorn Castle he described as a scene of riotous living, and of the + most wasteful vulgar extravagance. My poor foster-brother, the + best-natured and most generous fellow in the world, had not sufficient + prudence or strength of mind to conduct his own family; his wife filled + the castle with tribes of her vagabond relations; she chose to be + descended from one of the kings of Ireland; and whoever would acknowledge + her high descent, and whoever would claim relationship with her, were sure + to have their claims allowed, and were welcome to live in all the barbaric + magnificence of Glenthorn Castle. Every instance that she could hear of + the former Lady Glenthorn’s extravagance or of mine—and, alas! there + were many upon record, she determined to exceed. Her diamonds, and her + pearls, and her finery, surpassed every thing but the extravagance of some + of the Russian favourites of fortune. Decked out in the most absurd + manner, this descendant of kings, as Mr. M’Leod assured me, often indulged + in the pleasures of the banquet, till, no longer able to support the regal + diadem, she was carried by some of the meanest of her subjects to her bed. + The thefts committed during these interregnums were amazing in their + amount, and the jewels of the crown were to be replaced as fast as they + were stolen. Poor Christy all this time was considered as a mean-spirited + <i>cratur</i>, who had no notion of living like a prince; and whilst his + wife and her relations were revelling in this unheard-of manner, he was + scarcely considered as the master of the house: he lived by the fireside + disregarded in winter, and in summer he spent his time chiefly in walking + up and down his garden, and picking fruit. He once made an attempt to + amuse himself by mending the lock of his own room door; but he was + detected in the fact, and exposed to such loud ridicule by his lady’s + favourites, that he desisted, and sighing said to Mr. M’Leod—“And + isn’t it now a great hardship upon a man like me to have nothing to do, or + not to be let do any thing? If it had not been for my son Johnny’s sake, I + never would have quit the forge; and now all will be spent in <i>coshering</i>, + and Johnny, at the last, will never be a penny the better, but the worse + for my consinting to be lorded; and what grieves me more than all the + rest, <i>she</i> is such <i>a negre</i>,<a href="#linknote-85" + name="linknoteref-85" id="linknoteref-85"><small>85</small></a> that I + haven’t a guinea I can call my own to send, as I’d always laid out to do + at odd times, such little tokens of my love and duty, as would be becoming + to my dear foster-brother there in Dublin. And now, you tell me, he is + going away too, beyond sea to England, to finish making a lawyer of + himself in London; and what friends will he find there, without money in + his pocket? and I had been thinking this while past, ever since you gave + me notice of his being to quit Ireland, that I would go up to Dublin + myself to see him, and wish him a good journey kindly before he would go; + and I had a little <i>compliment</i> here, in a private drawer, that I had + collected <i>unknownst</i> to my wife; but here last night she <i>lit</i> + upon it, and now that her hand has closed upon it, not a guinea of it + shall I ever see more, nor a farthing the better of it will my dear + foster-brother ever be, for it or for me; and this is what grieves me more + than all, and goes to the quick of my heart.” + </p> + <p> + When Mr. M’Leod repeated to me these lamentations of poor Christy, I + immediately wrote to set his heart at ease, as much as I could, by the + assurance that I was in no distress for money; and that my three hundred a + year would support me in perfect comfort and independence, while “I was + making a lawyer of myself in London.” I farther assured my good + foster-brother, that I was so well convinced of his affectionate and + generous disposition towards me, that it would be quite unnecessary ever + to send me tokens of his regard. I added a few words of advice about his + wife and his affairs, which, like most words of advice, were, as I + afterwards found, absolutely thrown away. + </p> + <p> + Though I had taken care to live with so much economy, that I was not in + any danger of being in pecuniary embarrassments, yet I felt much distress + of another kind in leaving Ireland. I left Miss Delamere surrounded with + admirers; her mother using her utmost art and parental influence to induce + Cecilia to decide in favour of one of these gentlemen, who was a person of + rank and of considerable fortune. I had seen all this going on, and was + bound in honour the whole time to remain passive, not to express my own + ardent feelings, not to make the slightest attempt to win the affections + of the woman who was the object of all my labours, of all my exertions. + The last evening that I saw her at Lord Y——‘s, just before I + sailed for England, I suffered more than I thought it was in my nature to + feel, especially at the moment when I went up to make my bow, and take + leave of her with all the cold ceremony of a common acquaintance. At + parting, however, in the presence of her mother and of Lord Y——, + Cecilia, with her sweet smile, and, I think, with a slight blush, said a + few words, upon which I lived for months afterwards. + </p> + <p> + “I sincerely wish you, sir, the success your perseverance so well + deserves.” + </p> + <p> + The recollection of these words was often my solace in my lonely chambers + in the Temple; and often, after a day’s hard study, the repeating them to + myself operated as a charm that dissipated all fatigue, and revived at + once my exhausted spirits. To be sure, there were moments when my fire was + out, and my candle sinking in the socket, and my mind over-wearied saw + things in the most gloomy point of view; and at these times I used to give + an unfavourable interpretation to Cecilia’s words, and I fancied that they + were designed to prevent my entertaining fallacious hopes, and to warn me + that she must yield to her mother’s authority, or perhaps to her own + inclinations, in favour of some of her richer lovers. This idea would have + sunk me into utter despondency, and I should have lost, with my motive, + all power of exertion, had not I opposed to this apprehension the + remembrance of Lord Y——‘s countenance, at the moment Cecilia + was speaking to me. I then felt assured, that his lordship, at least, + understood the words in a favourable sense, else he would have suffered + for me, and would not certainly have allowed me to go away with false + hopes. Re-animated by this consideration, I persevered—for it was by + perseverance alone that I could have any chance of success. + </p> + <p> + It was fortunate for me, that, stimulated by a great motive, I thus + devoted my whole time and thoughts to my studies, otherwise I must, on + returning to London, have felt the total neglect and desertion of all my + former associates in the fashionable world; of all the vast number of + acquaintance who used to lounge away their hours in my company, and + partake of the luxuries of my table and the festivities of my house. Some, + whom I accidentally met in the street, just at my re-appearance in town, + thought proper, indeed, to know me again at first, that they might gratify + their curiosity about the paragraphs which they had seen in the papers, + and the reports which they had heard of my extraordinary change of + fortune; but no sooner had they satisfied themselves that all they had + heard was true, than their interest concerning me ceased. When they found, + that, instead of being Earl of Glenthorn, and the possessor of a large + estate, I was now reduced to three hundred a year, lodging in small + chambers in the Temple, and studying the law, they never more thought me + worthy of their notice. They affected, according to their different + humours, either to pity me for my misfortunes, or to blame me for my folly + in giving up my estate; but they unanimously expressed astonishment at the + idea of my becoming a member of any active profession. They declared that + it was impossible that I could ever endure the labour of the law, or + succeed in such an arduous career. Their prophecies intimidated me not; I + was conscious that these people did not in the least know me; and I hoped + and believed that I had powers and a character which they were incapable + of estimating: their contempt rather excited than depressed my mind, and + their pity I returned with more sincerity than it was given. I had lived + their life, knew thoroughly what were its pleasures and its pains; I could + compare the ennui I felt when I was a Bond-street lounger with the + self-complacency I enjoyed now that I was occupied in a laborious but + interesting and honourable pursuit. I confess, I had sometimes, however, + the weakness to think the worse of human nature, for what I called the + desertion and ingratitude of these my former companions and flatterers; + and I could not avoid comparing the neglect and solitude in which I lived + in London, where I had lavished my fortune, with the kindness and + hospitalities I had received in Dublin, where I lived only when I had no + fortune to spend. After a little time, however, I became more reasonable + and just; for I considered that it was my former dissipated mode of life, + and imprudent choice of associates, which I should blame for the + mortifications I now suffered from the desertion of companions, who were, + in fact, incapable of being friends. In London I had lived with the most + worthless, in Dublin with the best company; and in each place I had been + treated as, in fact, I deserved. But, leaving the history of my feelings, + I must proceed with my narrative. + </p> + <p> + One night, after I had dined with an Irish gentleman, a friend of Lord Y——‘s, + at the west end of the town, as I was returning late to my lodgings, I was + stopped for some time by a crowd of carriages, in one of the fashionable + streets. I found that there was a masquerade at the house of a lady, with + whom I had been intimately acquainted. The clamours of the mob, eager to + see the dresses of those who were alighting from their carriages, the + gaudy and fantastic figures which I beheld by the light of the flambeaux, + the noise and the bustle, put me in mind of various similar nights of my + past life, and it seemed to me like a dream, or reminiscence of some + former state of existence. I passed on as soon as the crowd would permit, + and took my way down a narrow street, by which I hoped to get, by a + shorter way than usual, to my quiet lodgings. The rattling of the + carriages, the oaths of the footmen, and the shouts of the mob still + sounded in my ears; and the masquerade figures had scarcely faded from my + sight, when I saw, coming slowly out of a miserable entry, by the light of + a few wretched candles and lanterns, a funeral. The contrast struck me: I + stood still to make way for the coffin; and I heard one say to another, + “What matter how she’s buried! I tell you, be at as little expense as + possible, for he’ll never pay a farthing.” I had a confused recollection + of having heard the voice before: as one of the bearers lifted his + lantern, I saw the face of the woman who spoke, and had a notion of having + seen her before. I asked whose funeral it was; and I was answered, “It is + one Mrs. Crawley’s—Lady Glenthorn that was,” added the woman. I + heard no more: I was so much shocked, that I believe I should have fallen + in the street, if I had not been immediately supported by somebody near + me. When I recovered my recollection, I saw the funeral had moved on some + paces, and the person who supported me, I now found, was a clergyman. In a + mild voice, he told me that his duty called him away from me at present, + but he added, that if I would tell him where I could be found, he would + see me in the morning, and give me any information in his power, as he + supposed that I was interested for this unfortunate woman. I put a card + with my address into his hands, thanked him, and got home as well as I + could. In the morning, the clergyman called upon me—a most + benevolent man, unknown to fame; but known to all the wretched within the + reach of his consolatory religion. He gave me a melancholy account of the + last days of the unhappy woman, whose funeral I had just seen. I told him + who I was, and what she had been to me. She had, almost in her last + moments, as he assured me, expressed her sense of, what she called, my + generosity to her, and had shown deep contrition for her infidelity. She + died in extreme poverty and wretchedness, with no human being who was, or + even seemed, interested for her, but a maid-servant (the woman whose voice + I recollected), whose services were purchased to the last, by presents of + whatever clothes or trinkets were left from the wreck of her mistress’s + fortune. Crawley, it seems, had behaved brutally to his victim. After + having long delayed to perform his promise of marrying her, he declared + that he could never think of a woman who had been divorced in any other + way than a mistress: she, poor weak creature, consented to live with him + on any terms; but, as his passions and his interest soon turned to new + objects, he cast her off without scruple, refusing to pay any of the + tradesmen, who had supplied her while she bore his name. He refused to pay + the expenses even of her funeral, though she had shared with him her + annuity, and every thing she possessed. I paid the funeral expenses, and + some arrears of the maid’s wages, together with such debts for necessaries + as I had reason to believe were justly due: the strict economy with which + I had lived for three years, and the parting with a watch and some other + trinkets too fine for my circumstances, enabled me to pay this money + without material inconvenience, and it was a satisfaction to my mind. The + good clergyman who managed these little matters became interested for me, + and our acquaintance with each other grew every day more intimate and + agreeable. When he found that I was studying the law, he begged to + introduce me to a brother of his, who had been one of the most eminent + special pleaders in London, and who now, on a high salary, undertook to + prepare students for the bar. I was rather unwilling to accept of this + introduction, because I was not rich enough to become a pupil of this + gentleman’s; but my clergyman guessed the cause of my reluctance, and told + me that his brother had charged him to overrule all such objections. “My + brother and I,” continued he, “though of different professions, have in + reality but one mind between us: he has heard from me all the + circumstances I know of you, and they have interested him so much, that he + desires, in plain English, to be of any service he can to you.” + </p> + <p> + This offer was made in earnest; and if I had given him the largest salary + that could have been offered by the most opulent of his pupils, I could + not have met with more attention, or have been instructed with more zeal + than I was, by my new friend the special pleader. He was also so kind as + to put me at ease by the assurance, that whenever I should begin to make + money by my profession, he would accept of remuneration. He jestingly + said, that he would make the same bargain with me that was made by the + famous sophist Protagoras of old with his pupil, that he should have the + profits of the first cause I should win—certain that I would not, + like his treacherous pupil Evathlus, employ the rhetorician’s arms against + himself, to cheat him out of his promised reward. My special pleader was + not a mere man of forms and law <i>rigmaroles</i>; he knew the reason for + the forms he used: he had not only a technical, but a rational knowledge + of his business; and, what is still more uncommon, he knew how to teach + what he had learnt. He did not merely set me down at a desk, and leave me + skins after skins of parchment to pore over in bewildered and hopeless + stupidity; he did not use me like a mere copying machine, to copy sheet + after sheet for him, every morning from nine till four, and again every + evening from five till ten. Mine was a law tutor of a superior sort. + Wherever he could, he gave me a clue to guide me through the labyrinth; + and when no reason could be devised for what the law directs, he never + puzzled me by attempting to explain what could not be explained; he did + not insist upon the total surrender of my rational faculties, but with + wonderful liberality would allow me to call nonsense, nonsense; and would, + after two or three hours’ hard scrivening, as the case might require—for + this I thank him more than all the rest—permit me to yawn, and + stretch, and pity myself, and curse the useless repetitions of lawyers, + sinking under the weight of <i>declarations</i>, and <i>replications</i>, + and <i>double pleas</i>, and <i>dilatory, pleas</i>; + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>“Of horse pleas, traverses, demurrers, + Jeofails, imparlances, and errors. + Averments, bars, and profestandoes.’”</i> +</pre> + <p> + O! Cecilia, what pains did I endure to win your applause! Yet, that I may + state the whole truth, let me acknowledge, that even these, my dullest, + hardest tasks, were light, compared with the burden I formerly bore of + ennui. At length my period of probation in my pleader’s office was over; I + escaped from the dusky desk, and the smell of musty parchments, and the + close smoky room; I finished <i>eating my terms</i> at the Temple, and + returned, even, as the captain of the packet swore, “in the face and teeth + of the wind,” to Dublin. + </p> + <p> + But, in my haste to return, I must not omit to notice, for the sake of + poetical equity, that just when I was leaving England, I heard that slow + but sure-paced justice at last overtook that wretch Crawley. He was + detected and convicted of embezzling considerable sums, the property of a + gentleman in Cheshire, who had employed him as his agent. I saw him, as I + passed through Chester, going to prison, amidst the execrations of the + populace. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> + <p> + As I was not, as formerly, asleep in my carriage on deck, when we came + within sight of the Irish shore, I saw, and hailed with delight, the + beautiful bay of Dublin. The moment we landed, instead of putting myself + out of humour, as before, with every thing at the Marine Hotel, I went + directly to my friend Lord Y——‘s. I made my <i>sortie</i> from + the hotel with so much extraordinary promptitude, that a slip-shod waiter + was forced to pursue me, running or shuffling after me the whole length of + the street, before he could overtake me with a letter, which had been + “waiting for my honour, at the hotel, since yesterday’s Holyhead packet.” + This was a mistake, as the letter had never come or gone by any Holyhead + packet; it was only a letter from Mr. M’Leod, to welcome me to Ireland + again; and to tell me, that he had taken care to secure good well-aired + lodgings for me: he added an account of what was going on at Glenthorn + Castle. The extravagance of <i>my lady</i> had by this time reduced the + family to great difficulties for ready money, as they could neither sell + nor mortgage any part of the Glenthorn estate, which was settled on the + son. My poor foster-brother had, it seems, in vain attempted to restrain + the wasteful folly of his wife, and to persuade Johnny, the young + heir-apparent, to <i>larn</i> to be a <i>jantleman</i>: in vain Christy + tried to prevail on his lordship to “refrain drinking whisky <i>preferably</i> + to claret:” the youth pleaded both his father’s and mother’s examples; and + said, that as he was an only son, and his father had but a life-interest + in the estate, he <i>expected</i> to be indulged; he repeated continually + “a short life and a merry one for me.” Mr. M’Leod concluded this letter by + observing, “that far from its being a merry life, he never saw any thing + more sad than the life this foolish boy led; and that Glenthorn Castle was + so melancholy and disgusting a scene of waste, riot, and intemperance, + that he could not bear to go there.” I was grieved by this account, for + the sake of my poor foster-brother; but it would have made a deeper + impression upon me at any other time. I must own that I forgot the letter, + and all that it contained, as I knocked at Lord Y——‘s door. + </p> + <p> + Lord Y—— received me with open arms; and, with all the + kindness of friendship, anticipated the questions I longed, yet feared, to + ask. + </p> + <p> + “Cecilia Delamere is still unmarried—Let these words be enough to + content you for the present; all the rest is, I hope, in your own power.” + </p> + <p> + In my power!—delightful thought! yet how distant that hope! For I + was now, after all my labours, but just called to the bar; not yet likely, + for years, to make a guinea, much less a fortune, by my profession. Many + of the greatest of our lawyers have gone circuit for ten or twelve years, + before they made a <i>Fashionable Life</i>. hundred a year; and I was at + this time four-and-thirty. I confessed to my Lord Y——, that + these reflections alarmed and depressed me exceedingly: but he encouraged + me by this answer—“Persevere—deserve success; and trust the + rest, not to fortune, but to your friends. It is not required of you to + make ten thousand or one thousand a year at the bar, in any given time; + but it is expected from you to give proofs that you are capable of + conquering the indolence of your disposition or of your former habits. It + is required from you to give proofs of intellectual energy and ability. + When you have convinced me that you have the knowledge and assiduity that + ought to succeed at the bar, I shall be certain that only time is wanting + to your actual acquisition of a fortune equal to what I ought to require + for my fair friend and relation. When it comes to that point, it will, my + dear sir, be time enough for me to say more. Till it comes to that point, + I have promised Mrs. Delamere that you will not even attempt to see her + daughter. She blames me for having permitted Cecilia and you to see so + much of each other, as you did in this house when you were last in + Ireland. Perhaps I was imprudent, but your conduct has saved me from my + own reproaches, and I fear no other. I end where I began, with ‘Persevere—and + may the success your perseverance deserves be your reward.’ If I recollect + right, these were nearly Miss Delamere’s own words at parting with you.” + </p> + <p> + In truth, I had not forgotten them; and I was so much excited by their + repetition at this moment, and by my excellent friend’s encouraging voice, + that all difficulties, all dread of future labours or evils, vanished from + my view. I went my first circuit, and made two guineas, and was content; + for Lord Y—— was not disappointed: he told me it would, it + must be so. But though I made no money, I obtained gradually, amongst my + associates at the bar, the reputation for judgment and knowledge. Of this + they could judge by my conversation, and by the remarks on the trials + brought on before us. The elder counsel had been prepared in my favour, + first by Mr. Devereux, and afterwards by my diligence in following their + advice, during my studies in Dublin: they perceived that I had not lost my + time in London, and that <i>my mind was in my possession</i>. They + prophesied, that from the moment I began to be employed, I should rise + rapidly. Opportunity, they told me, was now all that I wanted, and for + that I must wait with patience. I waited with as much patience as I could. + I had many friends; some among the judges, some among a more powerful + class of men, the attorneys: some of these friends made for me by Mr. + Devereux and Lady Geraldine; some by Lord Y——; some, may I say + it? by myself. Yet the utmost that even the highest patronage from the + bench can do for a young barrister is, to give him an opportunity of + distinguishing himself in preference to other competitors. This was all I + hoped; and I was not deceived in this hope. It happened that a cause of + considerable moment, which had come on in our circuit, and to the whole + course of which I had attended with great care, was removed, by an appeal, + to Dublin. I fortunately, I should say prudently, was in the habit of + constant attendance at the courts: the counsel who was engaged to manage + this cause was suddenly taken ill, and was disabled from proceeding. The + judge called upon me; the attorneys, and the other counsel, were all + agreed in wishing me to take up the business, for they knew I was + prepared, and competent to the question. The next day the cause, which was + then to be finally decided, came on. I sat up all night to look over my + documents, and to make myself sure of my points. Ten years before this, if + any one had prophesied this of me, how little could I have believed them! + </p> + <p> + The trial came on—I rose to speak. How fortunate it was for me, that + I did not know my Lord Y—— was in the court! I am persuaded + that I could not have uttered three sentences, if he had caught my eye in + the exordium of this my first harangue. Every man of sensibility—and + no man without it can be an orator—every man of sensibility knows + that it is more difficult to speak in the presence of one anxious friend, + of whose judgment we have a high opinion, than before a thousand auditors + who are indifferent, and are strangers to us. Not conscious who was + listening to me, whose eyes were upon me, whose heart was beating for me, + I spoke with confidence and fluency, for I spoke on a subject of which I + had previously made myself completely master; and I was so full of the + matter, that I thought not of the words. Perhaps this, and my having the + right side of the question, were the causes of my success. I heard a buzz + of thanks and applause round me. The decree was given in our favour. At + this moment I recollected my bargain, and my debt to my good master the + special pleader. But all bargains, all debts, all special pleaders, + vanished the next instant from my mind; for the crowd opened, Lord Y—— + appeared before me, seized my hand, congratulated me actually with tears + of joy, carried me away to his carriage, ordered the coachman to drive + home—fast! fast! + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said he to me, “I am satisfied. Your trial is over—successfully + over—you have convinced me of your powers and your perseverance. All + the hopes of friendship are fulfilled: may all the hopes of love be + accomplished! You have now my free and full approbation to address my ward + and relation, Cecilia Delamere. You will have difficulties with her + mother, perhaps; but none beyond what we good and great lawyers shall, I + trust, be able to overrule. Mrs. Delamere knows, that, as I have an + unsettled estate, and but one son, I have it in my power to provide for + her daughter as if she were my own. It has always been my intention to do + so: but if you marry Miss Delamere, you will still find it necessary to + pursue your profession diligently, to maintain her in her own rank and + style of life; and now that you have felt the pleasures of successful + exertion, you will consider this necessity as an additional blessing. From + what I have heard this day, there can be no doubt, that, by pursuing your + profession, you can secure, in a few years, not only ease and competence, + but affluence and honours—honours of your own earning. How far + superior to any hereditary title!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped at Lord Y——‘s door. My friend presented + me to Cecilia, whom I saw this day for the first time since my return to + Ireland. From this hour I date the commencement of my life of real + happiness. How unlike that life of <i>pleasure</i>, to which so many give + erroneously the name of happiness! Lord Y——, with his powerful + influence, supported my cause with Mrs. Delamere, who was induced, though + with an ill grace, to give up her opposition. + </p> + <p> + “Cecilia,” she said, “was now three-and-twenty, an age to judge for + herself; and Lord Y——‘s judgment was a great point in favour + of Mr. O’Donoghoe, to be sure. And no doubt Mr. O’Donoghoe might make a + fortune, since he had made a figure already at the bar. In short, she + could not oppose the wishes of Lord Y——, and the affections of + her daughter, since they were so fixed. But, after all,” said Mrs. + Delamere, “what a horrid thing it will be to hear my girl called Mrs. + O’Donoghoe! Only conceive the sound of—Mrs. O’Donoghoe’s carriage + there!—Mrs. O’Donoghoe’s carriage stops the way!” + </p> + <p> + “Your objection, my dear madam,” replied Lord Y——, “is fully + as well founded as that of a young lady of my acquaintance, who could not + prevail on her delicacy to become the wife of a merchant of the name of <i>Sheepshanks</i>. + He very wisely, or very gallantly, paid five hundred pounds to change his + name. I make no doubt that your future son-in-law will have no objection + to take and bear the name and arms of Delamere; and I think I can answer + for it, that a king’s letter may be obtained, empowering him to do so. + With this part of the business allow me to charge myself.” + </p> + <p> + I spare the reader the protracted journal of a lover’s hopes and fears. + Cecilia, convinced, by the exertions in which I had so long persevered, + that my affection for her was not only sincere and ardent, but likely to + be permanent, did not torture me by the vain delays of female coquetry. + She believed, she said, that a man capable of conquering habitual + indolence could not be of a feeble character; and she therefore consented, + without hesitation, to entrust her happiness to my care. + </p> + <p> + I hope my readers have, by this time, too favourable an opinion of me to + suspect, that, in my joy, I forgot him who had been my steady friend in + adversity. I wrote to M’Leod, as soon as I knew my own happiness, and + assured him that it would be incomplete without his sympathy. I do not + think there was at our wedding a face of more sincere, though sober joy, + than M’Leod’s. Cecilia and I have been now married above a twelvemonth, + and she permits me to say, that she has never, for a moment, repented her + choice. That I have not relapsed into my former habits, the judicious and + benevolent reader will hence infer: and yet I have been in a situation to + be spoiled; for I scarcely know a wish of my heart that remains + ungratified, except the wish that my friend Mr. Devereux and Lady + Geraldine should return from India, to see and partake of that happiness + of which they first prepared the foundation. They first awakened my + dormant intellects, made me know that I had a heart, and that I was + capable of forming a character for myself. The loss of my estate continued + the course of my education, forced me to exert my own powers, and to rely + upon myself. My passion for the amiable and charming Cecilia was + afterwards motive sufficient to urge me to persevering intellectual + labour: fortunately my marriage has obliged me to continue my exertions, + and the labours of my profession have made the pleasures of domestic life + most delightful. The rich, says a philosophic moralist, are obliged to + labour, if they would be healthy or happy; and they call this labour + exercise. + </p> + <p> + Whether, if I were again a rich man, I should have sufficient voluntary + exertion to take a due portion of mental and bodily exercise, I dare not + pretend to determine, nor do I wish to be put to the trial. Desiring + nothing in life but the continuance of the blessings I possess, I may here + conclude my memoirs, by assuring my readers, that after a full experience + of most of what are called the pleasures of life, I would not accept of + all the Glenthorn and Sherwood estates, to pass another year of such + misery as I endured whilst I was “stretched on the rack of a too easy + chair.” + </p> + <p> + The preceding memoirs were just ready for publication, when I received the + following letter: + </p> + <h3> + “HONOURED FOSTER-BROTHER, + </h3> + <p> + “Since the day I parted yees, nothing in life but misfortins has happened + me, owing to my being overruled by my wife, who would be a lady, all I + could say again it. But that’s over, and there’s no help; for all and all + that ever she can say will do no good. The castle’s burnt down all to the + ground, and my Johnny’s dead, and I wish I was dead in his place. The + occasion of his death was owing to drink, which he fell into from getting + too much money, and nothing to do—and a snuff of a candle. When + going to bed last night, a little in liquor, what does he do but takes the + candle, and sticks it up against the head of his bed, as he used + oftentimes to do, without detriment, in the cabin where he was reared, + against the mud-wall. But this was close to an ould window curtain, and a + deal of ould wood in the bed, which was all in a smother, and he lying + asleep after drinking, when he was ever hard to wake, and before he waked + at all, it appears the unfortunit <i>cratur</i> was smothered, and none + heard a sentence of it, till the ceiling of my room, the blue bedchamber, + with a piece of the big wood cornice, fell, and wakened me with terrible + uproar, and all above and about me was flame and smoke, and I just took my + wife on my back, and down the stairs with her, which did not give in till + five minutes after, and she screeching, and all them relations she had + screeching and running every one for themselves, and no thought in any to + save any thing at all, but just what they could for themselves, and not a + sarvant that was in his right rason. I got the ladder with a deal of + difficulty, and up to Johnny’s room, and there was a sight for me—he + a corpse, and how even to get the corpse out of that, myself could not + tell, for I was bewildered, and how they took me down, I don’t well know. + When I came to my sinses, I was lying on the ground in the court, and all + confusion and screaming still, and the flames raging worse than ever. + There’s no use in describing all—the short of it is, there’s nothing + remaining of the castle but the stones; and it’s little I’d think o’ that, + if I could have Johnny back—such as he used to be in my good days; + since he’s gone, I am no good. I write this to beg you, being married, of + which I give you joy, to Miss Delamere, that is the <i>hare</i> at law, + will take possession of all immediately, for I am as good as dead, and + will give no hindrance. I will go back to my forge, and, by the help of + God, forget at my work what has passed; and as to my wife, she may go to + her own kith and kin, if she will not abide by me. I shall not trouble her + long. Mr. M’Leod is a good man, and will follow any directions you send; + and may the blessing of God attind, and come to reign over us again, when + you will find me, as heretofore, + </p> + <p> + “Your loyal foster-brother, + </p> + <h3> + “CHRISTY DONOGHOE.” + </h3> + <p> + Glenthorn Castle is now rebuilding; and when it is finished, and when I + return thither, I will, if it should be desired by the public, give a + faithful account of my feelings. I flatter myself that I shall not relapse + into indolence; my understanding has been cultivated—I have acquired + a taste for literature, and the example of Lord Y—— convinces + me that a man may at once be rich and noble, and active and happy. + </p> + <p> + Written in 1804. Printed in 1809. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DUN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Horrible monster! hated by gods and men.”—PHILLIPS. +</pre> + <p> + “In the higher and middle classes of society,” says a celebrated writer, + “it is a melancholy and distressing sight to observe, not unfrequently, a + man of a noble and ingenuous disposition, once feelingly alive to a sense + of honour and integrity, gradually sinking under the pressure of his + circumstances, making his excuses at first with a blush of conscious + shame, afraid to see the faces of his friends from whom he may have + borrowed money, reduced to the meanest tricks and subterfuges to delay or + avoid the payment of his just debts, till, ultimately grown familiar with + falsehood, and at enmity with the world, he loses all the grace and + dignity of man.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pembroke, the subject of the following story, had not, at the time + his biographer first became acquainted with him, “grown familiar with + falsehood;” his conscience was not entirely callous to reproach, nor was + his heart insensible to compassion; but he was in a fair way to get rid of + all troublesome feelings and principles. He was connected with a set of + selfish young men of fashion, whose opinions stood him in stead of law, + equity, and morality; to them he appealed in all doubtful cases, and his + self-complacency being daily and hourly dependent upon their decisions, he + had seldom either leisure or inclination to consult his own judgment. His + amusements and his expenses were consequently regulated by the example of + his companions, not by his own choice. To follow them in every absurd + variety of the mode, either in dress or, equipage, was his first ambition; + and all their factitious wants appeared to him objects of the first + necessity. No matter how good the boots, the hat, the coat, the furniture, + or the equipage might be, if they had outlived the fashion of the day, or + even of the hour, they were absolutely worthless in his eyes. <i>Nobody</i> + could be seen in such things—then of what use could they be to <i>any + body</i>? Colonel Pembroke’s finances were not exactly equal to the + support of such <i>liberal</i> principles; but this was a misfortune which + he had in common with several of his companions. It was no check to their + spirit—they could live upon credit—credit, “that talisman, + which realizes every thing it imagines, and which can imagine every + thing.” [See Des Casaux sur le Méchanisme de la Société.] Without staying + to reflect upon the immediate or remote consequences of this system, + Pembroke, in his first attempts, found it easy to reduce it to practice: + but, as he proceeded, he experienced some difficulties. Tradesmen’s bills + accumulated, and applications for payment became every day more frequent + and pressing. He defended himself with much address and ingenuity, and + practice perfected him in all the Fabian arts of delay. “<i>No faith with + duns</i>” became, as he frankly declared, a maxim of his morality. He + could now, with a most plausible face, protest to a <i>poor devil</i>, + upon the honour of a gentleman, that he should be paid to-morrow; when + nothing was farther from his intentions or his power than to keep his + word: and when <i>to-morrow</i> came, he could, with the most easy + assurance, <i>damn the rascal</i> for putting a gentleman in mind of his + promises. But there were persons more difficult to manage than <i>poor + devils</i>. Colonel Pembroke’s tailor, who had begun by being the most + accommodating fellow in the world, and who had in three years run him up a + bill of thirteen hundred pounds, at length began to fail in complaisance, + and had the impertinence to talk of his large family, and his urgent calls + for money, etc. And next, the colonel’s shoe and boot-maker, a man from + whom he had been in the habit of taking two hundred pounds’ worth of shoes + and boots every year, for himself and his servants, now pretended to be in + distress for ready money, and refused to furnish more goods upon credit. + “Ungrateful dog!” Pembroke called him; and he actually believed his + creditors to be ungrateful and insolent, when they asked for their money; + for men frequently learn to believe what they are in the daily habit of + asserting [Rochefoucault], especially if their assertions be not + contradicted by their audience. He knew that his tradesmen overcharged him + in every article he bought, and therefore he thought it but just to delay + payment whilst it suited his convenience. “Confound them, they can very + well afford to wait!” As to their pleas of urgent demands for ready money, + large families, &c., he considered these merely as words of course, + tradesmen’s cant, which should make no more impression upon a gentleman + than the whining of a beggar. + </p> + <p> + One day when Pembroke was just going out to ride with some of his gay + companions, he was stopped at his own door by a pale, thin, + miserable-looking boy, eight or nine years old, who presented him with a + paper, which he took for granted was a petition; he threw the child + half-a-crown. “There, take that,” said he, “and stand out of the way of my + horse’s heels, I advise you, my little fellow.” + </p> + <p> + The boy, however, still pressed closer; and, without picking up the + half-crown, held the paper to Colonel Pembroke, who had now vaulted into + his saddle. + </p> + <p> + “O no! no! That’s too much, my lad—I never read petitions—I’d + sooner give half-a-crown at any time than read a petition.” + </p> + <p> + “But, sir, this is not a petition—indeed, sir, I am not a beggar.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it then?—Heyday! a bill!—Then you’re worse than a + beggar—a dun!—a dun! in the public streets, at your time of + life! You little rascal, why what will you come to before you are your + father’s age?” The boy sighed. “If,” pursued the colonel, “I were to serve + you right, I should give you a good horse-whipping. Do you see this whip?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir,” said the boy; “but——” + </p> + <p> + “But what? you insolent little dun!—But what?” + </p> + <p> + “My father is dying,” said the child, bursting into tears, “and we have no + money to buy him bread, or any thing.” + </p> + <p> + Struck by these words, Pembroke snatched the paper from the boy, and + looking hastily at the total and title of the bill, read—“Twelve + pounds fourteen—John White, weaver.”—“I know of no such + person!—I have no dealings with weavers, child,” said the colonel, + laughing: “My name’s Pembroke—Colonel Pembroke.” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Pembroke—yes, sir, the very person Mr. Close, the tailor, + sent me to!” + </p> + <p> + “Close the tailor! D—n the rascal: was it he sent you to dun me? For + this trick he shall not see a farthing of my money this twelvemonth. You + may tell him so, you little whining hypocrite!—And, hark you! the + next time you come to me, take care to come with a better story—let + your father and mother, and six brothers and sisters, be all lying ill of + the fever—do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + He tore the bill into bits as he spoke, and showered it over the boy’s + head. Pembroke’s companions laughed at this operation, and he facetiously + called it “powdering a dun.” They rode off to the Park in high spirits; + and the poor boy picked up the half-crown, and returned home. His home was + in a lane in Moorfields, about three miles distant from this gay part of + the town. As the child had not eaten any thing that morning, he was + feeble, and grew faint as he was crossing Covent Garden. He sat down upon + the corner of a stage of flowers. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing there?” cried a surly man, pulling him up by the arm; + “What business have you lounging and loitering here, breaking my best + balsam?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean to do any harm—I am not loitering, indeed, sir,—I’m + only weak,” said the boy, “and hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Oranges! oranges! fine China oranges!” cried a woman, rolling her barrow + full of fine fruit towards him. “If you’ve a two-pence in the world, you + can’t do better than take one of these fine ripe China oranges.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not two-pence of my own in the world,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that I see through the hole in your waistcoat pocket?” said the + woman; “is not that silver?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, half-a-crown; which I am carrying home to my father, who is ill, and + wants it more than I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! take an orange out of it—it’s only two-pence—and it + will do you good—I’m sure you look as if you wanted it badly + enough.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be; but father wants it worse.—No, I won’t change my + half-crown,” said the boy, turning away from the tempting oranges. + </p> + <p> + The gruff gardener caught him by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Here, I’ve moved the balsam a bit, and it is not broke, I see; sit ye + down, child, and rest yourself, and eat this,” said he, putting into his + hand half a ripe orange, which he just cut. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!—God bless you, sir!—How good it is!—But,” + said the child, stopping after he had tasted the sweet juice, “I am sorry + I have sucked so much; I might have carried it home to father, who is ill; + and what a treat it would be to him!—I’ll keep the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “No—that you sha’n’t,” said the orange-woman. “But I’ll tell you + what you shall do—take this home to your father, which is a better + one by half—I’m sure it will do him good—I never knew a ripe + China orange do harm to man, woman, or child.” + </p> + <p> + The boy thanked the good woman and the gardener, as only those can thank + who have felt what it is to be in absolute want. When he was rested, and + able to walk, he pursued his way home. His mother was watching for him at + the street-door. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John, my dear, what news? Has he paid us?” + </p> + <p> + The boy shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Then we must bear it as well as we can,” said his mother, wiping the cold + dew from her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “But look, mother, I have this half-crown, which the gentleman, thinking + me a beggar, threw to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Run with it, love, to the baker’s. No—stay, you’re tired—I’ll + go myself; and do you step up to your father, and tell him the bread is + coming in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t run, for you’re not able, mother; don’t hurry so,” said the boy, + calling after her, and holding up his orange: “see, I have this for father + whilst you are away.” + </p> + <p> + He clambered up three flights of dark, narrow, broken stairs, to the room + in which his father lay. The door hung by a single hinge, and the child + had scarcely strength enough to raise it out of the hollow in the decayed + floor into which it had sunk. He pushed it open, with as little noise as + possible, just far enough to creep in. + </p> + <p> + Let those forbear to follow him whose fine feelings can be moved only by + romantic, elegant scenes of distress, whose delicate sensibility shrinks + from the revolting sight of real misery. Here are no pictures for romance, + no stage effect to be seen, no poetic language to be heard; nothing to + charm the imagination,—every thing to disgust the senses. + </p> + <p> + This room was so dark, that upon first going into it, after having been in + broad daylight, you could scarcely distinguish any one object it + contained; and no one used to breathe a pure atmosphere could probably + have endured to remain many minutes in this garret. There were three beds + in it: one on which the sick man lay; divided from it by a tattered rug + was another, for his wife and daughter; and a third for his little boy in + the farthest corner. Underneath the window was fixed a loom, at which the + poor weaver had worked hard many a day and year—too hard, indeed—even + till the very hour he was taken ill. His shuttle now lay idle upon his + frame. A girl of about sixteen—his daughter—was sitting at the + foot of his bed, finishing some plain work. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Anne! how your face is all flushed!” said her little brother, as she + looked up when he came into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Have you brought us any money?” whispered she: “don’t say <i>No</i> loud, + for fear father should hear you.” The boy told her in a low voice all that + had passed. + </p> + <p> + “Speak out, my dear, I’m not asleep,” said his father. “So you are come + back as you went?” + </p> + <p> + “No, father, not quite—there’s bread coming for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me some more water, Anne, for my mouth is quite parched.” + </p> + <p> + The little boy cut his orange in an instant, and gave a piece of it to his + father, telling him, at the same time, how he came by it The sick man + raised his hands to heaven, and blessed the poor woman who gave it to him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how I love her! and how I hate that cruel, unjust, rich man, who + won’t pay father for all the hard work he has done for him!” cried the + child: “how I hate him!” + </p> + <p> + “God forgive him!” said the weaver. “I don’t know what will become of you + all, when I’m gone; and no one to befriend you, or even to work at the + loom. Anne, I think if I was up,” said he, raising himself, “I could still + contrive to do a little good.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear father, don’t think of getting up; the best you can do for us is to + lie still and take rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Rest! I can take no rest, Anne. Rest! there’s none for me in this world. + And whilst I’m in it, is not it my duty to work for my wife and children? + Reach me my clothes, and I’ll get up.” + </p> + <p> + It was in vain to contend with him, when this notion seized him that it + was his duty to work till the last. All opposition fretted and made him + worse; so that his daughter and his wife, even from affection, were forced + to yield, and to let him go to the loom, when his trembling hands were + scarcely able to throw the shuttle. He did not know how weak he was till + he tried to walk. As he stepped out of bed, his wife came in with a loaf + of bread in her hand: at the unexpected sight he made an exclamation of + joy; sprang forward to meet her, but fell upon the floor in a swoon, + before he could put one bit of the bread which she broke for him into his + mouth. Want of sustenance, the having been overworked, and the constant + anxiety which preyed upon his spirits, had reduced him to this deplorable + state of weakness. When he recovered his senses, his wife showed him his + little boy eating a large piece of bread; she also ate, and made Anne eat + before him, to relieve his mind from that dread which had seized it—and + not without some reason—that he should see his wife and children + starve to death. + </p> + <p> + “You find, father, there’s no danger for to-day,” said Anne; “and + to-morrow I shall be paid for my plain work, and then we shall do very + well for a few days longer; and I dare say in that time Mr. Close the + tailor will receive some money from some of the great many rich gentlemen + who owe him so much; and you know he promised that as soon as ever he was + able he would pay us.” + </p> + <p> + With such hopes, and the remembrance of such promises, the poor man’s + spirits could not be much raised; he knew, alas! how little dependence was + to be placed on them. As soon as he had eaten, and felt his strength + revive, he insisted upon going to the loom; his mind was bent upon + finishing a pattern, for which he was to receive five guineas in ready + money: he worked and worked, then lay down and rested himself,—then + worked again, and so on during the remainder of the day; and during + several hours of the night he continued to throw the shuttle, whilst his + little boy and his wife by turns wound spools for him. + </p> + <p> + He completed his work, and threw himself upon his bed quite exhausted, + just as the neighbouring clock struck one. + </p> + <p> + At this hour Colonel Pembroke was in the midst of a gay and brilliant + assembly at Mrs. York’s, in a splendid saloon, illuminated with wax-lights + in profusion, the floor crayoned with roses and myrtles, which the + dancers’ feet effaced, the walls hung with the most expensive hot-house + flowers; in short, he was surrounded with luxury in all its extravagance. + It is said that the peaches alone at this entertainment amounted to six + hundred guineas. They cost a guinea a-piece: the price of one of them, + which Colonel Pembroke threw away because it was not perfectly ripe, would + have supported the weaver and his whole family for a week. + </p> + <p> + There are political advocates for luxury, who assert, perhaps justly, that + the extravagance of individuals increases the wealth of nations. But even + upon this system, those who by false hopes excite the industrious to + exertion, without paying them their just wages, commit not only the most + cruel private injustice, but the most important public injury. The + permanence of industry in any state must be proportioned to the certainty + of its reward. + </p> + <p> + Amongst the masks at Mrs. York’s were three who amused the company + particularly; the festive mob followed them as they moved, and their + bon-mots were applauded and repeated by all the best, that is to say, the + most fashionable male and female judges of wit. The three distinguished + characters were a spendthrift, a bailiff, and a dun. The spendthrift was + supported with great spirit and <i>truth</i> by Colonel Pembroke, and two + of his companions were <i>great</i> and <i>correct</i> in the parts of the + bailiff and the dun. The happy idea of appearing in these characters this + night had been suggested by the circumstance that happened in the morning. + Colonel Pembroke gave himself great credit, he said, for thus “striking + novelty even from difficulty;” and he rejoiced that the rascal of a weaver + had sent his boy to dun him, and had thus furnished him with diversion for + the evening as well as the morning. We are much concerned that we cannot, + for the advantage of posterity, record any of the innumerable <i>good + things</i> which undoubtedly were uttered by this trio. Even the + newspapers of the day could speak only in general panegyric. The + probability, however, is, that the colonel deserved the praises that were + lavished upon his manner of supporting his character. No man was better + acquainted than himself with all those anecdotes of men of fashion, which + could illustrate the spendthrift system. At least fifty times he had + repeated, and always with the same <i>glee</i>, the reply of a great + character to a creditor, who, upon being asked when his <i>bond</i> debts + were likely to be paid, answered, “On the day of judgment.” + </p> + <p> + Probably the admiration which this and similar sallies of wit have + excited, must have produced a strong desire in the minds of many young men + of spirit to perform similar feats; and though the ruin of innumerable + poor creditors may be the consequence, that will not surely be deemed by a + certain class of reasoners worthy of a moment’s regret, or even a moment’s + thought. Persons of tender consciences may, perhaps, be shocked at the + idea of committing injustice and cruelty by starving their creditors, but + they may strengthen their minds by taking an enlarged political view of + the subject. + </p> + <p> + It is obvious, that whether a hundred guineas be in the pocket of A or B, + the total sum of the wealth of the nation remains the same; and whether + the enjoyments of A be as 100, and those of B as 0,—or whether these + enjoyments be equally divided between A and B,—is a matter of no + importance to the political arithmetician, because in both cases it is + obvious that the total sum of national happiness remains the same. The + happiness of individuals is nothing compared with the general mass. + </p> + <p> + And if the individual B should fancy himself ill-used by our political + arithmetician, and should take it into his head to observe, that though + the happiness of B is nothing to the general mass, yet that it is every + thing to him, the politician of course takes snuff, and replies, that his + observation is foreign to the purpose—that the good of the whole + society is the object in view. And if B immediately accede to this + position, and only ask humbly whether the good of the whole be not made up + of the good of the parts, and whether as a part he have not some right to + his share of good, the dexterous logical arithmetician answers, that B is + totally out of the question, because B is a negative quantity in the + equation. And if obstinate B, still conceiving himself aggrieved, objects + to this total annihilation of himself and his interests, and asks why the + lot of extinction should not fall upon the debtor C, or even upon the + calculator himself, by whatever letter of the alphabet he happens to be + designated, the calculator must knit his brow, and answer—any thing + he pleases—except, <i>I don’t know</i>—for this is a phrase + below the dignity of a philosopher. This argument is produced, not as a + statement of what is really the case, but as a popular argument against + political sophistry. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pembroke, notwithstanding his success at Mrs. York’s masquerade in + his character of a spendthrift, could not by his utmost wit and address + satisfy or silence his impertinent tailor. Mr. Close absolutely refused to + give further credit without valuable consideration; and the colonel was + compelled to pass his bond for the whole sum which was claimed, which was + fifty pounds more than was strictly due, in order to compound with the + tailor for the want of ready money. When the bond was fairly signed, + sealed, and delivered, Mr. Close produced the poor weaver’s bill. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Pembroke,” said he, “I have a trifling bill here—I am + really ashamed to speak to you about such a trifle—but as we are + settling all accounts—and as this White, the weaver, is so + wretchedly poor, that he or some of his family are with me every day of my + life dunning me to get me to speak about their little demand—” + </p> + <p> + “Who is this White?” said Mr. Pembroke. + </p> + <p> + “You recollect the elegant waistcoat pattern of which you afterwards + bought up the whole piece, lest it should become common and vulgar?—this + White was the weaver from whom we got it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me! why that’s two years ago: I thought that fellow was paid long + ago!” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, I wish he had been; for he has been the torment of my life + this many a month—I never saw people so eager about their money.” + </p> + <p> + “But why do you employ such miserable, greedy creatures? What can you + expect but to be dunned every hour of your life?” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, indeed, colonel; it is what I always, on that principle, avoid + as far as possibly I can: but I can’t blame myself in this particular + instance; for this White, at the time I employed him first, was a very + decent man, and in a very good way, for one of his sort: but I suppose he + has taken to drink, for he is worth not a farthing now.” + </p> + <p> + “What business has a fellow of his sort to drink? He should leave that for + his betters,” said Colonel Pembroke, laughing. “Drinking’s too great a + pleasure for a weaver. The drunken rascal’s money is safer in my hands, + tell him, than in his own.” + </p> + <p> + The tailor’s conscience twinged him a little at this instant, for he had + spoken entirely at random, not having the slightest grounds for his + insinuation that this poor weaver had ruined himself by drunkenness. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, sir,” said Close, retracting, “the man may not be a drunken + fellow for any thing I know positively—I purely surmised <i>that</i> + might be the case, from his having fallen into such distress, which is no + otherwise accountable for, to my comprehension, except we believe his own + story, that he has money due to him which he cannot get paid, and that + this has been his ruin.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pembroke cleared his throat two or three times upon hearing this + last suggestion, and actually took up the weaver’s bill with some + intention of paying it; but he recollected that he should want the ready + money he had in his pocket for another indispensable occasion; for he was + <i>obliged</i> to go to Brookes’s that night; so he contented his humanity + by recommending it to Mr. Close to pay White and have done with him. + </p> + <p> + “If you let him have the money, you know, you can put it down to my + account, or make a memorandum of it at the back of the bond. In short, + settle it as you will, but let me hear no more about it. I have not + leisure to think of such trifles—Good morning to you, Mr. Close.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Close was far from having any intention of complying with the + colonel’s request. When the weaver’s wife called upon him after his return + home, he assured her that he had not seen the colour of one guinea, or one + farthing, of Colonel Pembroke’s money; and that it was absolutely + impossible that he could pay Mr. White till he was paid himself—that + it could not be expected he should advance money for any body out of his + own pocket—that he begged he might not be pestered and dunned any + more, for that <i>he really had not leisure to think of such trifles</i>. + </p> + <p> + For want of this trifle, of which neither the fashionable colonel nor his + fashionable tailor had leisure to think, the poor weaver and his whole + family were reduced to the last degree of human misery—to absolute + famine. The man had exerted himself to the utmost to finish a pattern, + which had been bespoken for a tradesman who promised upon the delivery of + it to pay him five guineas in hand. This money he received; but four + guineas of it were due to his landlord for rent of his wretched garret, + and the remaining guinea was divided between the baker, to whom an old + bill was due, and the apothecary, to whom they were obliged to have + recourse, as the weaver was extremely ill. They had literally nothing now + to depend upon but what the wife and daughter could earn by needlework; + and they were known to be so miserably poor, that the <i>prudent</i> + neighbours did not like to trust them with plain work, lest it should not + be returned safely. Besides, in such a dirty place as they lived in, how + could it be expected that they should put any work out of their hands + decently clean? The woman to whom the house belonged, however, at last + procured them work from Mrs. Carver, a widow lady, who she said was + extremely charitable. She advised Anne to carry home the work as soon as + it was finished, and to wait to see the lady herself, who might perhaps be + as charitable to her as she was to many others. Anne resolved to take this + advice: but when she carried home her work to the place to which she was + directed, her heart almost failed her; for she found Mrs. Carver lived in + such a handsome house, that there was little chance of a poor girl being + admitted by the servants farther than the hall-door or the kitchen. The + lady, however, happened to be just coming out of her parlour at the moment + the hall-door was opened for Anne; and she bid her come in and show her + work—approved of it—commended her industry—asked her + several questions about her family—seemed to be touched with + compassion by Anne’s account of their distress—and after paying what + she had charged for the work, put half-a-guinea into her hand, and bid her + call the next day, when she hoped that she should be able to do something + more for her. This unexpected bounty, and the kindness of voice and look + with which it was accompanied, had such an effect upon the poor girl, that + if she had not caught hold of a chair to support herself she would have + sunk to the ground. Mrs. Carver immediately made her sit down—“Oh, + madam! I’m well, quite well now—it was nothing—only surprise,” + said she, bursting into tears. “I beg your pardon for this foolishness—but + it is only because I’m weaker to-day than usual, for want of eating.” + </p> + <p> + “For want of eating! my poor child! How she trembles! she is weak indeed, + and must not leave my house in this condition.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Carver rang the bell, and ordered a glass of wine; but Anne was + afraid to drink it, as she was not used to wine, and as she knew that it + would affect her head if she drank without eating. When the lady found + that she refused the wine, she did not press it, but insisted upon her + eating something. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madam!” said the poor girl, “it is long, long indeed, since I have + eaten so heartily; and it is almost a shame for me to stay eating such + dainties, when my father and mother are all the while in the way they are. + But I’ll run home with the half-guinea, and tell them how good you have + been, and they will be so joyful and so thankful to you! My mother will + come herself, I’m sure, with me to-morrow morning—she can thank you + so much better than I can!” + </p> + <p> + Those only who have known the extreme of want can imagine the joy and + gratitude with which the half-guinea was received by this poor family. + Half-a-guinea!—Colonel Pembroke spent six half-guineas this very day + in a fruit-shop, and ten times that sum at a jeweller’s on seals and + baubles for which he had no manner of use. + </p> + <p> + When Anne and her mother called the next morning to thank their + benefactress, she was not up; but her servant gave them a parcel from his + mistress: it contained a fresh supply of needlework, a gown, and some + other clothes, which were directed <i>for Anne</i>. The servant said, that + if she would call again about eight in the evening, his lady would + probably be able to see her, and that she begged to have the work finished + by that time. The work was finished, though with some difficulty, by the + appointed hour; and Anne, dressed in her new clothes, was at Mrs. Carver’s + door just as the clock struck eight. The old lady was alone at tea; she + seemed to be well pleased by Anne’s punctuality; said that she had made + inquiries respecting Mr. and Mrs. White, and that she heard an excellent + character of them; that therefore she was disposed to do every thing she + could to serve them. She added, that she “should soon part with her own + maid, and that perhaps Anne might supply her place.” Nothing could be more + agreeable to the poor girl than this proposal: her father and mother were + rejoiced at the idea of seeing her so well placed; and they now looked + forward impatiently for the day when Mrs. Carver’s maid was to be + dismissed. In the mean time the old lady continued to employ Anne, and to + make her presents, sometimes of clothes, and sometimes of money. The money + she always gave to her parents; and she loved her “good old lady,” as she + always called her, more for putting it in her power thus to help her + father and mother than for all the rest. The weaver’s disease had arisen + from want of sufficient food, from fatigue of body, and anxiety of mind; + and he grew rapidly better, now that he was relieved from want, and + inspired with hope. Mrs. Carver bespoke from him two pieces of + waistcoating, which she promised to dispose of for him most + advantageously, by a raffle, for which she had raised subscriptions + amongst her numerous acquaintance. She expressed great indignation, when + Anne told her how Mr. White had been ruined by persons who would not pay + their just debts; and when she knew that the weaver was overcharged for + all his working materials, because he took them upon credit, she + generously offered to lend them whatever ready money might be necessary, + which she said Anne might repay, at her leisure, out of her wages. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, madam!” said Anne, “you are too good to us, indeed—too good! + and if you could but see into our hearts, you would know that we are not + ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure <i>that</i> is what you never will be, my dear,” said the old + lady; “at least such is my opinion of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma’am! thank you, from the bottom of my heart!—We should + all have been starved, if it had not been for you. And it is owing to you + that we are so happy now—quite different creatures from what we + were.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a different creature indeed, you look, child, from what you did the + first day I saw you. To-morrow my own maid goes, and you may come at ten + o’clock; and I hope we shall agree very well together—you’ll find me + an easy mistress, and I make no doubt I shall always find you the good, + grateful girl you seem to be.” + </p> + <p> + Anne was impatient for the moment when she was to enter into the service + of her benefactress; and she lay awake half the night, considering how she + should ever be able to show sufficient gratitude. As Mrs. Carver had often + expressed her desire to have Anne look neat and smart, she dressed herself + as well as she possibly could; and when her poor father and mother took + leave of her, they could not help observing, as Mrs. Carver had done the + day before, that “Anne looked quite a different creature from what she was + a few weeks ago.” She was, indeed, an extremely pretty girl; but we need + not stop to relate all the fond praises that were bestowed upon her beauty + by her partial parents. Her little brother John was not at home when she + was going away; he was at a carpenter’s shop in the neighbourhood mending + a wheelbarrow, which belonged to that good-natured orange-woman who gave + him the orange for his father. Anne called at the carpenter’s shop to take + leave of her brother. The woman was there waiting for her barrow—she + looked earnestly at Anne when she entered, and then whispered to the boy, + “Is that your sister?”—“Yes,” said the boy, “and as good a sister + she is as ever was born.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe so,” said the woman; “but she is not likely to be good for much + long, in the way she is going on now.” + </p> + <p> + “What way—what do you mean?” said Anne, colouring violently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you understand me well enough, though you look so innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you in the least.” + </p> + <p> + “No!—Why, is not it you that I see going almost every day to that + house in Chiswell-street?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Carver’s?—Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Carver’s indeed!” cried the woman, throwing an orange-peel from her + with an air of disdain—“a pretty come-off indeed! as if I did not + know her name, and all about her, as well as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” said Anne; “then I am sure you know one of the best women in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + The woman looked still more earnestly than before in Anne’s countenance; + and then, taking hold of both her hands, exclaimed, “You poor young + creature! what are you about? I do believe you don’t know what you are + about—if you do, you are the greatest cheat I ever looked in the + face, long as I’ve lived in this cheating world.” + </p> + <p> + “You frighten my sister,” said the boy: “do pray tell her what you mean at + once, for look how pale she turns!” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better, for now I have good hope of her. Then to tell you all + at once—no matter how I frighten her, it’s for her good—this + Mrs. Carver, as you call her, is only Mrs. Carver when she wants to pass + upon such as you for a good woman.” + </p> + <p> + “To pass for a good woman!” repeated Anne, with indignation. “Oh, she is, + she is a good woman—you do not know her as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I know her a great deal better, I tell you: if you choose not to believe + me, go your ways—go to your ruin—go to your shame—go to + your grave—as hundreds have gone, by the same road, before you. Your + Mrs. Carver keeps two houses, and one of them is a bad house—and + that’s the house you’ll soon go to, if you trust to her: now you know the + whole truth.” + </p> + <p> + The poor girl was shocked so much, that for several minutes she could + neither speak nor think. As soon as she had recovered sufficient presence + of mind to consider what she should do, she declared that she would that + instant go home and put on her rags again, and return to the wicked Mrs. + Carver all the clothes she had given her. + </p> + <p> + “But what will become of us all?—She has lent my father money—a + great deal of money. How can he pay her?—Oh, I will pay her all—I + will go into some honest service, now I am well and strong enough to do + any sort of hard work, and God knows I am willing.” + </p> + <p> + Full of these resolutions, Anne hurried home, intending to tell her father + and mother all that had happened; but they were neither of them within. + She flew to the mistress of the house, who had first recommended her to + Mrs. Carver, and reproached her in the most moving terms which the agony + of her mind could suggest. Her landlady listened to her with astonishment, + either real or admirably well affected—declared that she knew + nothing more of Mrs. Carver but that she lived in a large fine house, and + that she had been very charitable to some poor people in Moorfields—that + she bore the best of characters—and that if nothing could be said + against her but by an orange-woman, there was no great reason to believe + such scandal. + </p> + <p> + Anne now began to think that the whole of what she had heard might be a + falsehood, or a mistake; one moment she blamed herself for so easily + suspecting a person who had shown her so much kindness; but the next + minute the emphatic words and warning looks of the woman recurred to her + mind; and though they were but the words and looks of an orange-woman, she + could not help dreading that there was some truth in them. The clock + struck ten whilst she was in this uncertainty. The woman of the house + urged her to go without farther delay to Mrs. Carver’s, who would + undoubtedly be displeased by any want of punctuality; but Anne wished to + wait for the return of her father and mother. + </p> + <p> + “They will not be back, either of them, these three hours, for your mother + is gone to the other end of the town about that old bill of Colonel + Pembroke’s, and your father is gone to buy some silk for weaving—he + told me he should not be home before three o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding these remonstrances, Anne persisted in her resolution: she + took off the clothes which she had received from Mrs. Carver, and put on + those which she had been used to wear. Her mother was much surprised, when + she came in, to see her in this condition; and no words can describe her + grief, when she heard the cause of this change. She blamed herself + severely for not having made inquiries concerning Mrs. Carver before she + had suffered her daughter to accept of any presents from her; and she wept + bitterly, when she recollected the money which this woman had lent her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “She will throw him into jail, I am sure she will—we shall be worse + off a thousand times than ever we were in our worst days. The work that is + in the loom, by which he hoped to get so much, is all for her, and it will + be left upon our hands now; and how are we to pay the woman of this house + for the lodgings?——Oh! I see it all coming upon us at once,” + continued the poor woman, wringing her hands. “If that Colonel Pembroke + would but let us have our own!—But there I’ve been all the morning + hunting him out, and at last, when I did see him, he only swore, and said + we were all a family of <i>duns</i>, or some such nonsense. And then he + called after me from the top of his fine stairs, just to say, that he had + ordered Close the tailor to pay us; and when I went to him there was no + satisfaction to be got from him—his shop was full of customers, and + he hustled me away, giving me for answer, that when Colonel Pembroke paid + him, he would pay us, and no sooner. Ah! these purse-proud tradesfolk, and + these sparks of fashion, what do they know of all we suffer? What do they + care for us?—It is not for charity I ask any of them—only for + what my own husband has justly earned, and hardly toiled for too; and this + I cannot get out of their hands. If I could, we might defy this wicked + woman—but now we are laid under her feet, and she will trample us to + death.” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of these lamentations, Anne’s father came in: when he learned + the cause of them, he stood for a moment in silence; then snatched from + his daughter’s hand the bundle of clothes, which she had prepared to + return to Mrs. Carver. + </p> + <p> + “Give them to me; I will go to this woman myself,” cried he with + indignation: “Anne shall never more set her foot within those doors.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear father,” cried Anne, stopping him as he went out of the door, + “perhaps it is all a mistake: do pray inquire from somebody else before + you speak to Mrs. Carver—she looks so good, she has been so kind to + me, I cannot believe that she is wicked. Do pray inquire of a great many + people before you knock at the door.” + </p> + <p> + He promised that he would do all his daughter desired. + </p> + <p> + With most impatient anxiety they waited for his return: the time of his + absence appeared insupportably long, and they formed new fears and new + conjectures every instant. Every time they heard a footstep upon the + stairs, they ran out to see who it was: sometimes it was the landlady—sometimes + the lodgers or their visitors—at last came the person they longed to + see; but the moment they beheld him, all their fears were confirmed. He + was pale as death, and his lips trembled with convulsive motion. He walked + directly up to his loom, and without speaking one syllable, began to cut + the unfinished work out of it. + </p> + <p> + “What are you about, my dear?” cried his wife. “Consider what you are + about—this work of yours is the only dependence we have in the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “You have nothing in this world to depend upon, I tell you,” cried he, + continuing to cut out the web with a hurried hand—“you must not + depend on me—you must not depend on my work—I shall never + throw this shuttle more whilst I live—think of me as if I was dead—to-morrow + I shall be dead to you—I shall be in a jail, and there must lie till + carried out in my coffin. Here, take this work just as it is to our + landlady—she met me on the stairs, and said she must have her rent + directly—that will pay her—I’ll pay all I can. As for the + loom, that’s only hired—the silk I bought to-day will pay the hire—I’ll + pay all my debts to the uttermost farthing, as far as I am able—but + the ten guineas to that wicked woman I cannot pay—so I must rot in a + jail. Don’t cry, Anne, don’t cry so, my good girl—you’ll break my + heart, wife, if you take on so. Why! have not we one comfort, that let us + go out of this world when we may, or how we may, we shall go out of it + honest, having no one’s ruin to answer for, having done our duty to God + and man, as far as we are able?—My child,” continued he, catching + Anne in his arms, “I have you safe, and I thank God for it!” + </p> + <p> + When this poor man had thus in an incoherent manner given vent to his + first feelings, he became somewhat more composed, and was able to relate + all that had passed between him and Mrs. Carver. The inquiries which he + made before he saw her sufficiently confirmed the orange-woman’s story; + and when he returned the presents which Anne had unfortunately received, + Mrs. Carver, with all the audacity of a woman hardened in guilt, avowed + her purpose and her profession—declared that whatever ignorance and + innocence Anne or her parents might now find it convenient to affect, she + was “confident they had all the time perfectly understood what she was + about, and that she would not be cheated at last by a parcel of swindling + hypocrites.” With horrid imprecations she then swore, that if Anne was + kept from her she would have vengeance—and that her vengeance should + know no bounds. The event showed that these were not empty threats—the + very next day she sent two bailiffs to arrest Anne’s father. They met him + in the street, as he was going to pay the last farthing he had to the + baker. The wretched man in vain endeavoured to move the ear of justice by + relating the simple truth. Mrs. Carver was rich—her victim was poor. + He was committed to jail; and he entered his prison with the firm belief, + that there he must drag out the remainder of his days. + </p> + <p> + One faint hope remained in his wife’s heart—she imagined that if she + could but prevail upon Colonel Pembroke’s servants, either to obtain for + her a sight of their master, or if they would carry to him a letter + containing an exact account of her distress, he would immediately pay the + fourteen pounds which had been so long due. With this money she could + obtain her husband’s liberty, and she fancied all might yet be well. Her + son, who could write a very legible hand, wrote the petition. “Ah, + mother!” said he, “don’t hope that Colonel Pembroke will read it—he + will tear it to pieces, as he did one that I carried him before.” + </p> + <p> + “I can but try,” said she; “I cannot believe that any gentleman is so + cruel, and so unjust—he must and will pay us when he knows the whole + truth.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pembroke was dressing in a hurry, to go to a great dinner at the + Crown and Anchor tavern. One of Pembroke’s gay companions had called, and + was in the room waiting for him. It was at this inauspicious time that + Mrs. White arrived. Her petition the servant at first absolutely refused + to take from her hands; but at last a young lad, whom the colonel had + lately brought from the country, and who had either more natural feeling, + or less acquired power of equivocating, than his fellows, consented to + carry up the petition, when he should, as he expected, be called by his + master to report the state of a favourite horse that was sick. While his + master’s hair was dressing, the lad was summoned; and when the health of + the horse had been anxiously inquired into, the lad with country + awkwardness scratched his head, and laid the petition before his master, + saying—“Sir, there’s a poor woman below waiting for an answer; and + if so be what she says is true, as I take it to be, ‘tis enough to break + one’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Your heart, my lad, is not seasoned to London yet, I perceive,” said + Colonel Pembroke, smiling; “why, your heart will be broke a thousand times + over by every beggar you meet.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I be too much of a man for that,” replied the groom, wiping his + eyes hastily with the back of his hand—“not such a noodle as that + comes to, neither—beggars are beggars, and so to be treated—but + this woman, sir, is no common beggar, not she; nor is she begging any ways—only + to be paid her bill—so I brought it, as I was coming up.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, as you are going down, you may take it down again, if you + please,” cried Colonel Pembroke; “and in future, sir, I recommend it to + you to look after your horses, and to trust me to look after my own + affairs.” + </p> + <p> + The groom retreated; and his master gave the poor woman’s petition, + without reading it, to the hair-dresser, who was looking for a piece of + paper to try the heat of his irons. + </p> + <p> + “I should be pestered with bills and petitions from morning till night, if + I did not frighten these fellows out of the trick of bringing them to me,” + continued Colonel Pembroke, turning to his companion. “That blockhead of a + groom is but just come to town; he does not yet know how to drive away a + dun—but he’ll learn. They say that the American dogs did not know + how to bark, till they learnt it from their civilized betters.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pembroke habitually drove away reflection, and silenced the + whispers of conscience, by noisy declamation, or sallies of wit. + </p> + <p> + At the bottom of the singed paper, which the hair-dresser left on the + table, the name of White was sufficiently visible. “White!” exclaimed + Colonel Pembroke, “as I hope to live and breathe, these Whites have been + this half-year the torment of my life.” He started up, rang the bell, and + gave immediate orders to his servant, that <i>these Whites</i> should + never more be let in, and that no more of their bills and petitions in any + form whatever should be brought to him. “I’ll punish them for their + insolence—I won’t pay them one farthing this twelvemonth: and if the + woman is not gone, pray tell her so—I bid Close the tailor pay them: + if he has not, it is no fault of mine. Let me not hear a syllable more + about it—I’ll part with the first of you who dares to disobey me.” + </p> + <p> + “The woman is gone, I believe, sir,” said the footman; “it was not I let + her in, and I refused to bring up the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “You did right. Let me hear no more about the matter. We shall be late at + the Crown and Anchor. I beg your pardon, my dear friend, for detaining you + so long.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst the colonel went to his jovial meeting, where he was the life and + spirit of the company, the poor woman returned in despair to the prison + where her husband was confined. + </p> + <p> + We forbear to describe the horrible situation to which this family were + soon reduced. Beyond a certain point, the human heart cannot feel + compassion. + </p> + <p> + One day, as Anne was returning from the prison, where she had been with + her father, she was met by a porter, who put a letter into her hands, then + turned down a narrow lane, and was out of sight before she could inquire + from whom he came. When she read the letter, however, she could not be in + doubt—it came from Mrs. Carver, and contained these words:— + </p> + <p> + “You can gain nothing by your present obstinacy—you are the cause of + your father’s lying in jail, and of your mother’s being as she is, nearly + starved to death. You can relieve them from misery worse than death, and + place them in ease and comfort for the remainder of their days. Be + assured, they do not speak sincerley to you, when they pretend not to wish + that your compliance should put an end to their present sufferings. It is + you that are cruel to them—it is you that are cruel to yourself, and + can blame nobody else. You might live all your days in a house as good as + mine, and have a plentiful table served from one year’s end to another, + with all the dainties of the season, and you might be dressed as elegantly + as the most elegant lady in London (which, by-the-bye, your beauty + deserves), and you would have servants of your own, and a carriage of your + own, and nothing to do all day long but take your pleasure. And after all, + what is asked of you?—only to make a person happy, whom half the + town would envy you, that would make it a study to gratify you in every + wish of your heart. The person alluded to you have seen, and more than + once, when you have been talking to me of work in my parlour. He is a very + rich and generous gentleman. If you come to Chiswell-street about six this + evening, you will find all I say true—if not, you and yours must + take the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Coarse as the eloquence of this letter may appear, Anne could not read it + without emotion: it raised in her heart a violent contest. Virtue, with + poverty and famine, were on one side—and vice, with affluence, love, + and every worldly pleasure, on the other. + </p> + <p> + Those who have been bred up in the lap of luxury; whom the breath of + heaven has never visited too roughly; whose minds from their earliest + infancy have been guarded even with more care than their persons; who in + the dangerous season of youth are surrounded by all that the solicitude of + experienced friends, and all that polished society, can devise for their + security; are not perhaps competent to judge of the temptations by which + beauty in the lower classes of life may be assailed. They who have never + seen a father in prison, or a mother perishing for want of the absolute + necessaries of life—they who have never themselves known the + cravings of famine, cannot form an adequate idea of this poor girl’s + feelings, and of the temptation to which she was now exposed. She wept—she + hesitated—and “the woman that deliberates is lost.” Perhaps those + who are the most truly virtuous of her sex will be the most disposed to + feel for this poor creature, who was literally half famished before her + good resolutions were conquered. At last she yielded to necessity. At the + appointed hour she was in Mrs. Carver’s house. This woman received her + with triumph—she supplied Anne immediately with food, and then + hastened to deck out her victim in the most attractive manner. The girl + was quite passive in her hand. She promised, though scarcely knowing that + she uttered the words, to obey the instructions that were given to her, + and she suffered herself without struggle, or apparent emotion, to be led + to destruction. She appeared quite insensible—but at last she was + roused from this state of stupefaction, by the voice of a person with whom + she found herself alone. The stranger, who was a young and gay gentleman, + pleasing both in his person and manners, attempted by every possible means + to render himself agreeable to her, to raise her spirits, and calm her + apprehensions. By degrees his manner changed from levity to tenderness. He + represented to her, that he was not a brutal wretch, who could be + gratified by any triumph in which the affections of the heart have no + share; and he assured her, that in any connexion which she might be + prevailed upon to form with him, she should be treated with honour and + delicacy. + </p> + <p> + Touched by his manner of speaking, and overpowered by the sense of her own + situation, Anne could not reply one single word to all he said—but + burst into an agony of tears, and sinking on her knees before him, + exclaimed, “Save me! save me from myself!—Restore me to my parents, + before they have reason to hate me.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman seemed to be somewhat in doubt whether this was <i>acting</i> + or nature: but he raised Anne from the ground, and placed her upon a seat + beside him. “Am I to understand, then, that I have been deceived, and that + our present meeting is against your own consent?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I cannot say that—oh, how I wish that I could!—I did + wrong, very wrong, to come here—but I repent—I was + half-starved—I have a father in jail—I thought I could set him + free with the money——but I will not pretend to be better than + I am—I believe I thought that, beside relieving my father, I should + live all my days without ever more knowing what distress is—and I + thought I should be happy—but now I have changed my mind—I + never could be happy with a bad conscience—I know—by what I + have felt this last hour.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice failed; and she sobbed for some moments without being able to + speak. The gentleman, who now was convinced that she was quite artless and + thoroughly in earnest, was struck with compassion; but his compassion was + not unmixed with other feelings, and he had hopes that, by treating her + with tenderness, he should in time make it her wish to live with him as + his mistress. He was anxious to hear what her former way of life had been; + and she related, at his request, the circumstances by which she and her + parents had been reduced to such distress. His countenance presently + showed how much he was interested in her story—he grew red and pale—he + started from his seat, and walked up and down the room in great agitation, + till at last, when she mentioned the name of Colonel Pembroke, he stopped + short, and exclaimed, “I am the man—I am Colonel Pembroke—I am + that unjust, unfeeling wretch! How often, in the bitterness of your + hearts, you must have cursed me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no—my father, when he was at the worst, never cursed you; and I + am sure he will have reason to bless you now, if you send his daughter + back again to him, such as she was when she left him.” + </p> + <p> + “That shall be done,” said Colonel Pembroke; “and in doing so, I make some + sacrifice, and have some merit. It is time I should make some reparation + for the evils I have occasioned,” continued he, taking a handful of + guineas from his pocket: “but first let me pay my just debts.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor father!” exclaimed Anne; “to-morrow he will be out of prison.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go with you to the prison, where your father is confined—I + will force myself to behold all the evils I have occasioned.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pembroke went to the prison; and he was so much struck by the + scene, that he not only relieved the misery of this family, but in two + months afterwards his debts were paid, his race-horses sold, and all his + expenses regulated, so as to render him ever afterwards truly independent. + He no longer spent his days, like many young men of fashion, either in + DREADING or in DAMNING DUNS. + </p> + <p> + <i>Edgeworthstown</i>, 1802. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_FOOT" id="link2H_FOOT"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOOTNOTES: + </h2> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ “The cloak, or mantle, as + described by Thady, is of high antiquity. Spenser, in his ‘View of the + State of Ireland,’ proves that it is not, as some have imagined, + peculiarly derived from the Scythians, but that most nations of the world + anciently used the mantle; for the Jews used it, as you may read of + Elias’s mantle, &c.; the Chaldees also used it, as you may read in + Diodorus; the Egyptians likewise used it, as you may read in Herodotus, + and may be gathered by the description of Berenice in the Greek Commentary + upon Callimachus; the Greeks also used it anciently, as appeared by + Venus’s mantle lined with stars, though afterward they changed the form + thereof into their cloaks, called Pallai, as some of the Irish also use: + and the ancient Latins and Romans used it, as you may read in Virgil, who + was a great antiquary, that Evander when Aeneas came to him at his feast, + did entertain and feast him sitting on the ground, and lying on mantles: + insomuch that he useth the very word mantile for a mantle, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘———Humi mantilia sternunt:’ +</pre> + <p class="foot"> + so that it seemeth that the mantle was a general habit to most nations, + and not proper to the Scythians only.” + </p> + <p class="foot"> + Spenser knew the convenience of the said mantle, as housing, bedding, and + clothing. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + “<i>Iren</i>. Because the commodity doth not countervail the discommodity; + for the inconveniences which thereby do arise are much more many; for it + is a fit house for an outlaw, a meet bed for a rebel, and an apt cloak for + a thief. First, the outlaw being, for his many crimes and villanies, + banished from the towns and houses of honest men, and wandering in waste + places, far from danger of law, maketh his mantle his house, and under it + covereth himself from the wrath of Heaven, from the offence of the earth, + and from the sight of men. When it raineth, it is his penthouse; when it + bloweth, it is his tent; when it freezeth, it is his tabernacle. In summer + he can wear it loose; in winter he can wrap it close; at all times he can + use it; never heavy, never cumbersome. Likewise for a rebel it is as + serviceable; for in this war that he maketh (if at least it deserves the + name of war), when he still flieth from his foe, and lurketh in the <i>thick + woods (this should be black bogs</i>) and straight passages, waiting for + advantages, it is his bed, yea, and almost his household stuff.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ These fairy-mounts are + called ant-hills in England. They are held in high reverence by the common + people in Ireland. A gentleman, who in laying out his lawn had occasion to + level one of these hillocks, could not prevail upon any of his labourers + to begin the ominous work. He was obliged to take a <i>loy</i> from one of + their reluctant hands, and began the attack himself. The labourers agreed, + that the vengeance of the fairies would fall upon the head of the + presumptuous mortal, who first disturbed them in their retreat. See + Glossary [K].] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ The Banshee is a species of + aristocratic fairy, who, in the shape of a little hideous old woman, has + been known to appear, and heard to sing in a mournful supernatural voice + under the windows of great houses, to warn the family that some of them + are soon to die. In the last century every great family in Ireland had a + Banshee, who attended regularly; but latterly their visits and songs have + been discontinued.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Childer:</i> this is the + manner in which many of Thady’s rank, and others in Ireland, <i>formerly</i> + pronounced the word <i>children</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Middle men</i>.—There + was a class of men termed middle men in Ireland, who took large farms on + long leases from gentlemen of landed property, and let the land again in + small portions to the poor, as under-tenants, at exorbitant rents. The <i>head + landlord</i>, as he <i>was</i> called, seldom saw his <i>under-tenants</i>; + but if he could not get the <i>middle man</i> to pay him his rent + punctually, he <i>went to his land, and drove the land for his rent</i>, + that is to say, he sent his steward or bailiff, or driver, to the land to + seize the cattle, hay, corn, flax, oats, or potatoes, belonging to the + under-tenants, and proceeded to sell these for his rents: it sometimes + happened that these unfortunate tenants paid their rent twice over, once + to <i>the middle man</i>, and once to the <i>head landlord</i>. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + The characteristics of a middle man <i>were</i>, servility to his + superiors, and tyranny towards his inferiors: the poor detested this race + of beings. In speaking to them, however, they always used the most abject + language, and the most humble tone and posture—“<i>Please your + honour; and please your honour’s honour</i>” they knew must be repeated as + a charm at the beginning and end of every equivocating, exculpatory, or + supplicatory sentence; and they were much more alert in doffing their caps + to these new men, than to those of what they call <i>good old families</i>. + A witty carpenter once termed these middle men <i>journeymen gentlemen</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br /> [ This part of the history of + the Rackrent family can scarcely be thought credible; but in justice to + honest Thady, it is hoped the reader will recollect the history of the + celebrated Lady Cathcart’s conjugal imprisonment.—The editor was + acquainted with Colonel M’Guire, Lady Cathcart’s husband; he has lately + seen and questioned the maid-servant who lived with Colonel M’Guire during + the time of Lady Cathcart’s imprisonment. Her ladyship was locked up in + her own house for many years; during which period her husband was visited + by the neighbouring gentry, and it was his regular custom at dinner to + send his compliments to Lady Cathcart, informing her that the company had + the honour to drink her ladyship’s health, and begging to know whether + there was any thing at table that she would like to eat? the answer was + always, “Lady Cathcart’s compliments, and she has every thing she wants.” + An instance of honesty in a poor Irish woman deserves to be recorded:—Lady + Cathcart had some remarkably fine diamonds, which she had concealed from + her husband, and which she was anxious to get out of the house, lest he + should discover them. She had neither servant nor friend to whom she could + entrust them; but she had observed a poor beggar woman, who used to come + to the house; she spoke to her from the window of the room in which she + was confined; the woman promised to do what she desired, and Lady Cathcart + threw a parcel, containing the jewels, to her. The poor woman carried them + to the person to whom they were directed; and several years afterwards, + when Lady Cathcart recovered her liberty, she received her diamonds + safely. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + At Colonel M’Guire’s death her ladyship was released. The editor, within + this year, saw the gentleman who accompanied her to England after her + husband’s death. When she first was told of his death, she imagined that + the news was not true, and that it was told only with an intention of + deceiving her. At his death she had scarcely clothes sufficient to cover + her; she wore a red wig, looked scared, and her understanding seemed + stupified; she said that she scarcely knew one human creature from + another: her imprisonment lasted above twenty years. These circumstances + may appear strange to an English reader; but there is no danger in the + present times, that any individual should exercise such tyranny as Colonel + M’Guire’s with impunity, the power being now all in the hands of + government, and there being no possibility of obtaining from parliament an + act of indemnity for any cruelties.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br /> [ Boo! boo! an exclamation + equivalent to <i>pshaw</i> or <i>nonsense</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Pin</i>, read <i>pen</i>. + It formerly was vulgarly pronounced <i>pin</i> in Ireland.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Her mark</i>. It <i>was</i> + the custom in Ireland for those who could not write to make a cross to + stand for their signature, as was formerly the practice of our English + monarchs. The Editor inserts the fac-simile of an Irish <i>mark</i>, which + may hereafter be valuable to a judicious antiquary— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Her + Judy X M’Quirk, + Mark. +</pre> + <p class="foot"> + In bonds or notes, signed in this manner, a witness is requisite, as the + name is frequently written by him or her.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Vows</i>.—It has + been maliciously and unjustly hinted, that the lower classes of the people + in Ireland pay but little regard to oaths; yet it is certain that some + oaths or vows have great power over their minds. Sometimes they swear they + will be revenged on some of their neighbours; this is an oath that they + are never known to break. But, what is infinitely more extraordinary and + unaccountable, they sometimes make and keep a vow against whiskey; these + vows are usually limited to a short time. A woman who has a drunken + husband is most fortunate if she can prevail upon him to go to the priest, + and make a vow against whiskey for a year, or a month, or a week, or a + day.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-11" id="linknote-11"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 11 (<a href="#linknoteref-11">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Gossoon</i>, a little + boy—from the French word <i>garçon</i>. In most Irish families there + <i>used</i> to be a barefooted gossoon, who was slave to the cook and + butler, and who in fact, without wages, did all the hard work of the + house. Gossoons were always employed as messengers. The Editor has known a + gossoon to go on foot, without shoes or stockings, fifty-one English miles + between sunrise and sunset.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-12" id="linknote-12"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 12 (<a href="#linknoteref-12">return</a>)<br /> [ At St. Patrick´s meeting, + London, March, 1806, the Duke of Sussex said he had the honour of bearing + an Irish title, and, with the permission of the company, he should tell + them an anecdote of what he had experienced on his travels. When he was at + Rome, he went to visit an Irish seminary, and when they heard who he was, + and that he had an Irish title, some of them asked him, “Please you Royal + Highness, since you are an Irish peer, will you tell us if you ever trod + upon Irish ground?” When he told them he had not, “Oh, then,” said one of + the order, “you shall soon do so”. They then spread some earth, which had + been brought from Ireland, on a marble slab, and made him stand upon it.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-13" id="linknote-13"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 13 (<a href="#linknoteref-13">return</a>)<br /> [ This was actually done at + an election in Ireland.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-14" id="linknote-14"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 14 (<a href="#linknoteref-14">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>To put him up</i>—to + put him in gaol.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-15" id="linknote-15"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 15 (<a href="#linknoteref-15">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>My little potatoes</i>—Thady + does not mean, by this expression, that his potatoes were less than other + people’s, or less than the usual size—<i>little</i> is here used + only as an Italian diminutive, expressive of fondness.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-16" id="linknote-16"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 16 (<a href="#linknoteref-16">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Kith and kin</i>—family + or relations. <i>Kin</i> from <i>kind</i>; <i>kith</i> from we know not + what.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-17" id="linknote-17"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 17 (<a href="#linknoteref-17">return</a>)<br /> [ Wigs were formerly used + instead of brooms in Ireland, for sweeping or dusting tables, stairs, + &c. The Editor doubted the fact, till he saw a labourer of the old + school sweep down a flight of stairs with his wig; he afterwards put it on + his head again with the utmost composure, and said, “Oh, please your + honour, it’s never a bit the worse.” + </p> + <p class="foot"> + It must be acknowledged, that these men are not in any danger of catching + cold by taking off their wigs occasionally, because they usually have fine + crops of hair growing under their wigs. The wigs are often yellow, and the + hair which appears from beneath them black; the wigs are usually too + small, and are raised up by the hair beneath, or by the ears of the + wearers.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-18" id="linknote-18"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 18 (<a href="#linknoteref-18">return</a>)<br /> [ A wake in England is a + meeting avowedly for merriment; in Ireland it is a nocturnal meeting + avowedly for the purpose of watching and bewailing the dead; but, in + reality, for gossiping and debauchery. See Glossary [C2].] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-19" id="linknote-19"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 19 (<a href="#linknoteref-19">return</a>)<br /> [ Shebean-house, a hedge + alehouse. Shebcan properly means weak small-beer, taplash.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-20" id="linknote-20"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 20 (<a href="#linknoteref-20">return</a>)<br /> [ At the coronation of one + of our monarchs, the king complained of the confusion which happened in + the procession. The great officer who presided told his majesty, “That it + should not be so next time.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-21" id="linknote-21"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 21 (<a href="#linknoteref-21">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Kilt and smashed</i>.—Our + author is not here guilty of an anti-climax. The mere English reader, from + a similarity of sound between the words <i>kilt</i> and <i>killed</i>, + might be induced to suppose that their meanings are similar, yet they are + not by any means in Ireland synonymous terms. Thus you may hear a man + exclaim, “I’m kilt and murdered!” but he frequently means only that he has + received a black eye, or a slight contusion.—<i>I’m kilt all over</i> + means that he is in a worse state than being simply <i>kilt</i>. Thus, <i>I’m + kilt with the cold</i>, is nothing to <i>I’m kilt all over with the + rheumatism</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-22" id="linknote-22"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 22 (<a href="#linknoteref-22">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>The room</i>—the + principal room in the house.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-23" id="linknote-23"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 23 (<a href="#linknoteref-23">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Tester</i>—sixpence; + from the French word, tête, a head: a piece of silver stamped with a head, + which in old French was called “un testion,” and which was about the value + of an old English sixpence. Tester is used in Shakspeare.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-24" id="linknote-24"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 24 (<a href="#linknoteref-24">return</a>)<br /> [ Natural History, century + iii. p. 191.—<i>Bacon produces it to show that echoes will not + readily return the letter S.</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-25" id="linknote-25"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 25 (<a href="#linknoteref-25">return</a>)<br /> [ “Un savant écrivoit à un + ami, et un importun étoit à côté de lui, qui regardoit par dessus l’épaule + ce qu’il écrivoit. Le savant, qui s’en apperçut, écrivit ceci à la place: + ‘Si un impertinent qui est à mon côté ne regardoit pas ce que j’écris, je + vous écrirois encore plusieurs choses qui ne doivent être sues que de vous + et de moi.’ L’importun, qui lisoit toujours, prit la parole et dit: ‘Je + vous jure que je n’ai regardé ni lû ce que vous écriviez.’ Le savant + repartit, ‘Ignorant, que vous êtes, pourquoi me dites-vous done ce que + vous dites?’” <i>Les Paroles Remarquables des Orientaux; traduction de + leurs ouvrages en Arabe, en Persan, et en Turc (suivant la copie imprimée + à Paris), à la Haye, chez Louis et Henry Vandole, marchands libraires, + dans le Pooten, à l’enseigne du Port Royal, M.DC.XCIV.</i>] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-26" id="linknote-26"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 26 (<a href="#linknoteref-26">return</a>)<br /> [ “Le bailli nous donne an + diable, et nous nous recommandons à vous, monseigneur.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-27" id="linknote-27"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 27 (<a href="#linknoteref-27">return</a>)<br /> [ On faisoit compliment à + madame Denis de la façon dont elle venoit de jouer Zaïre. “Il faudroit,” + dit elle, “être belle et jeune.” “Ah, madame!” reprit le complimenteur + naïvement, “vous êtes bien la preuve du contraire.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-28" id="linknote-28"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 28 (<a href="#linknoteref-28">return</a>)<br /> [ Locke’s Essay concerning + the Human Understanding, fifteenth edit. vol. i. p. 292.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-29" id="linknote-29"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 29 (<a href="#linknoteref-29">return</a>)<br /> [ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “De moi je commence à douter tout de ben. + Pourtant quand je me tâte, et quand je me rappelle, + Il me semble que je suis moi.”] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-30" id="linknote-30"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 30 (<a href="#linknoteref-30">return</a>)<br /> [ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “So Indian murd’rers hope to gain + The powers and virtues of the slain, + Of wretches they destroy.”] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-31" id="linknote-31"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 31 (<a href="#linknoteref-31">return</a>)<br /> [ Vide Mémoires du Cardinal + de Retz.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-32" id="linknote-32"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 32 (<a href="#linknoteref-32">return</a>)<br /> [ Vide Sir W. Hamilton’s + account of an eruption of Mount Vesuvius.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-33" id="linknote-33"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 33 (<a href="#linknoteref-33">return</a>)<br /> [ This fact, <i>we believe</i>, + is mentioned in a letter of Mrs. Cappe’s on parish schools.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-34" id="linknote-34"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 34 (<a href="#linknoteref-34">return</a>)<br /> [ Vide Mrs. Piozzi’s + English Synonymy.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-35" id="linknote-35"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 35 (<a href="#linknoteref-35">return</a>)<br /> [ John Lydgate.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-36" id="linknote-36"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 36 (<a href="#linknoteref-36">return</a>)<br /> [ Iliad, 6th book, l. 432, + Andromache says to Hector, “You will make your son an orphan, and your + wife a widow.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-37" id="linknote-37"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 37 (<a href="#linknoteref-37">return</a>)<br /> [ Lord Chesterfield.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-38" id="linknote-38"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 38 (<a href="#linknoteref-38">return</a>)<br /> [ Essay on Chemical + Nomenclature, by S. Dickson, M.D.; in which are comprised observations on + the same subject, by R. Kirwan, Pres. R.I.A,—Vide pages 21, 22, 23, + &c.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-39" id="linknote-39"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 39 (<a href="#linknoteref-39">return</a>)<br /> [ This conjuror, whose name + was Broadstreet, was a native of the county of Longford, in Ireland: he by + this hit pocketed 200<i>l.</i>, and proved himself to be more knave than + fool.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-40" id="linknote-40"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 40 (<a href="#linknoteref-40">return</a>)<br /> [ A gripe or fast hold.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-41" id="linknote-41"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 41 (<a href="#linknoteref-41">return</a>)<br /> [ An oak stick, supposed to + be cut from the famous wood of Shilala.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-42" id="linknote-42"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 42 (<a href="#linknoteref-42">return</a>)<br /> [ This is nearly verbatim + from a late Irish complainant.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-43" id="linknote-43"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 43 (<a href="#linknoteref-43">return</a>)<br /> [ “Pleurez, pleurez, mes + yeux, et fondez vous en eau, La moitié de ma vie a mis l’autre au + tombeau.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-44" id="linknote-44"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 44 (<a href="#linknoteref-44">return</a>)<br /> [ “Il pover uomo che non + sen’ era accorto, Andava combattendo, ed erà morto.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-45" id="linknote-45"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 45 (<a href="#linknoteref-45">return</a>)<br /> [ See his account of the + siege of Gibraltar.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-46" id="linknote-46"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 46 (<a href="#linknoteref-46">return</a>)<br /> [ Life of Hyder Ali Khan, + vol. ii. p. 231.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-47" id="linknote-47"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 47 (<a href="#linknoteref-47">return</a>)<br /> [ See the advice of + Cleomenes to Crius. HERODOTUS EBATO.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-48" id="linknote-48"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 48 (<a href="#linknoteref-48">return</a>)<br /> [ It is said that the + waters of the Garonne are famed for a similar virtue.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-49" id="linknote-49"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 49 (<a href="#linknoteref-49">return</a>)<br /> [ The stomach.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-50" id="linknote-50"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 50 (<a href="#linknoteref-50">return</a>)<br /> [ This ancient old man, we + fear, was more knave than fool. History informs us, that the Bishop of + Rochester had diverted the revenue, appropriated for keeping Sandwich + harbour in repair, to the purpose of building a steeple.—Vide + Fuller’s Worthies of England, page 65.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-51" id="linknote-51"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 51 (<a href="#linknoteref-51">return</a>)<br /> [ Baskets.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-52" id="linknote-52"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 52 (<a href="#linknoteref-52">return</a>)<br /> [ Vide Robertson’s History + of Scotland.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-53" id="linknote-53"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 53 (<a href="#linknoteref-53">return</a>)<br /> [ Slink calf.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-54" id="linknote-54"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 54 (<a href="#linknoteref-54">return</a>)<br /> [ This was written down a + few minutes after it had been spoken.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-55" id="linknote-55"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 55 (<a href="#linknoteref-55">return</a>)<br /> [ James Adams, S.R.E.S., + author of a book entitled, “The Pronunciation of the English Language + vindicated from imputed Anomaly and Caprice; with an Appendix on the + Dialects of Human Speech in all Countries, and an analytical Discussion + and Vindication of the Dialect of Scotland.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-56" id="linknote-56"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 56 (<a href="#linknoteref-56">return</a>)<br /> [ Vide Illustrations on + Sublimity, in his Essays.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-57" id="linknote-57"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 57 (<a href="#linknoteref-57">return</a>)<br /> [ The glossary to the + Lancashire dialect informs us, that <i>‘lieve me</i> comes from <i>beleemy</i>, + believe me; from <i>belamy</i>, my good friend, <i>old French</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-58" id="linknote-58"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 58 (<a href="#linknoteref-58">return</a>)<br /> [ Gawmbling (<i>Anglo-Saxon</i>, + gawmless), stupid.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-59" id="linknote-59"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 59 (<a href="#linknoteref-59">return</a>)<br /> [ “Every thing speaks + against us, even our silence.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-60" id="linknote-60"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 60 (<a href="#linknoteref-60">return</a>)<br /> [ Lord Chatham.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-61" id="linknote-61"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 61 (<a href="#linknoteref-61">return</a>)<br /> [ Your hands alone have a + right to conquer the unconquerable.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-62" id="linknote-62"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 62 (<a href="#linknoteref-62">return</a>)<br /> [ And when Caesar was the + only emperor within the dominion of Rome, he suffered me to be another.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-63" id="linknote-63"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 63 (<a href="#linknoteref-63">return</a>)<br /> [ This bull was really + made.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-64" id="linknote-64"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 64 (<a href="#linknoteref-64">return</a>)<br /> [ Castle Rackrent.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-65" id="linknote-65"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 65 (<a href="#linknoteref-65">return</a>)<br /> [ Il y a des nations dont + l’une semble faite pour être soumise à l’autre. Les Anglois ont toujours + eu sur les Irlandois la superiorite du génie, des richesses, et des armes. + <i>La supériorite que les blancs ont sur les noirs</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-66" id="linknote-66"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 66 (<a href="#linknoteref-66">return</a>)<br /> [ “On lisait dans les + premières éditions, <i>la supèrioritè que les blancs ont sur les négres</i>. + M. de Voltaire effaça cette expression injurieuse. L’état presque sauvage + ou étoit l’Irlande lorsqu’elle fut conquise, la superstition, l’oppression + exercée par les Anglois, le fanatisme religieux qui divise les Irlandois + en deux nations ennemies, telles sont les causes qui ont retenues ce + peuple dans l’abaissement et dans la foiblesse. Les haines religieuses se + sont assoupies, et elle a repris sa liberté. <i>Les Irlandois ne le cédent + plus aux Anglois, ni en industrie ni en lumières</i>.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-67" id="linknote-67"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 67 (<a href="#linknoteref-67">return</a>)<br /> [ See O’Halloran’s History + of Ireland.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-68" id="linknote-68"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 68 (<a href="#linknoteref-68">return</a>)<br /> [ Author of Chiysal, or + Adventures of a Guinea.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-69" id="linknote-69"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 69 (<a href="#linknoteref-69">return</a>)<br /> [ Author of the beautiful + moral tale Nourjahad.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-70" id="linknote-70"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 70 (<a href="#linknoteref-70">return</a>)<br /> [ Marmontel.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-71" id="linknote-71"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 71 (<a href="#linknoteref-71">return</a>)<br /> [ Emilius and Sophia.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-72" id="linknote-72"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 72 (<a href="#linknoteref-72">return</a>)<br /> [ Vide Duchess of + Marlborough’s Apology.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-73" id="linknote-73"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 73 (<a href="#linknoteref-73">return</a>)<br /> [ Clodius Albinus.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-74" id="linknote-74"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 74 (<a href="#linknoteref-74">return</a>)<br /> [ I was not the nobleman + who laid a wager, that he could ride a fine horse to death in fifteen + minutes. Indeed, I must do myself the justice to say, that I rejoiced at + this man’s losing his bet. He <i>blew</i> the horse in four minutes, and + killed it; but it did not die within the time prescribed by the bet.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-75" id="linknote-75"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 75 (<a href="#linknoteref-75">return</a>)<br /> [ If any one should think + it impossible that a man of Lord Glenthorn’s consequence should, at the + supposed moment of his death, thus be neglected, let them recollect the + scenes that followed the death of Tiberius—of Henry the Fourth of + France—of William Rufus, and of George the Second.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-76" id="linknote-76"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 76 (<a href="#linknoteref-76">return</a>)<br /> [ “For fostering, I did + never hear or read, that it was in use or reputation in any country, + barbarous or civil, as it hath been, and yet is, in Ireland.... In the + opinion of this people, fostering hath always been a stronger alliance + than blood; and the foster-children do love and are beloved of their + foster-fathers and their sept (or <i>clan</i>) more than of their natural + parents and kindred; and do participate of their means more frankly, and + do adhere unto them, in all fortunes, with more affection and + constancy.... Such a general custom in a kingdom, in giving and taking + children to foster, making such a firm alliance as it doth in Ireland, was + never seen or heard of in any other country of the world beside.”—DAVIES. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + See in Lodge’s Peerage of Ireland an account of an Irish nurse, who went + from Kerry to France, and from France to Milan, to see her foster-son, the + Lord Thomas Fitzmaurice; and to warn him that his estate was in danger + from an heir-at-law, who had taken possession of it in his absence. The + nurse, being very old, died on her return home.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-77" id="linknote-77"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 77 (<a href="#linknoteref-77">return</a>)<br /> [ Verbatim.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-78" id="linknote-78"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 78 (<a href="#linknoteref-78">return</a>)<br /> [ Since Lord Glenthorn’s + Memoirs were published, the editor has received letters and information + from the east, west, north, and south of Ireland, on the present state of + posting in that country. The following is one of the many, which is + vouched by indisputable authority as a true and recent anecdote, given in + the very words in which it was related to the editor ... Mr. ———, + travelling in Ireland, having got into a hackney chaise, was surprised to + hear the driver knocking at each side of the carriage. “What are you + doing?”—“A’n’t I nailing your honour up?”—“Why do you nail me + up? I don’t wish to be nailed up.”—“Augh! would your honour have the + doors fly off the hinges?” When they came to the end of the stage, Mr. + ——— begged the man to unfasten the doors. “Ogh! what + would I he taking out the nails for, to be racking the doors?”—“How + shall I get out then?”—“Can’t your honour get out of the window like + any other <i>jantleman?</i>” Mr. ——— began the + operation; but, having forced his head and shoulder out, could get no + farther, and called again to the postilion. “Augh! did any one ever see + any one get out of a chay head foremost? Can’t your honour put out your + feet first, like a Christian?” + </p> + <p class="foot"> + Another correspondent from the south relates, that when he refused to go + on till one of the four horses, who wanted a shoe, was shod, his two + postilions in his hearing commenced thus: “Paddy, where <i>will</i> I get + a shoe, and no smith nigh hand?”—“Why don’t you see yon <i>jantleman’s</i> + horse in the field? can’t you go and unshoe him?”—“True for ye,” + said Jem; “but that horse’s shoe will never fit him.”—“Augh! you can + but try it,” said Paddy.—So the gentleman’s horse was actually + unshod, and his shoe put upon the hackney horse; and, fit or not fit, + Paddy went off with it. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + Another gentleman, travelling in the north of Ireland in a hackney chaise + during a storm of wind and rain, found that two of the windows were + broken, and two could not by force or art of man be pulled up: he ventured + to complain to his Paddy of the inconvenience he suffered from the storm + pelting in his face. His consolation was, “Augh! God bless your honour, + and can’t you get out and <i>set</i> behind the carriage, and you’ll not + get a drop at all, I’ll engage.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-79" id="linknote-79"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 79 (<a href="#linknoteref-79">return</a>)<br /> [ Mirabeau—Secret + Memoirs.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-80" id="linknote-80"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 80 (<a href="#linknoteref-80">return</a>)<br /> [ See Philosophical + Transactions, vol. lxvii. part ii., Sir George Shuckburgh’s observations + to ascertain the height of mountains—for a full account of the cabin + of a couple of Alpine shepherdesses.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-81" id="linknote-81"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 81 (<a href="#linknoteref-81">return</a>)<br /> [ See Harrison.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-82" id="linknote-82"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 82 (<a href="#linknoteref-82">return</a>)<br /> [ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “En petit compris vous pouvez voir + Ce qui comprend beaucoup par renommé, + Plume, labeur, la langue, et le devoir + Furent vaincus par l’amant de l’aimée. + O gentille ame, étant toute estimée! + Qui te pourra louer, qu’en se taisant? + Car la parole est toujours réprimée + Quand le sujet surmonte le disant.”] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-83" id="linknote-83"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 83 (<a href="#linknoteref-83">return</a>)<br /> [ “The stag is roused from + the woods that skirt Glenaa mountain, in which there are many of these + animals that run wild; the bottoms and sides of the mountains are covered + with woods, and the declivities are so long and steep that no horse could + either make his way to the bottom, or climb these impracticable hills. It + is impossible to follow the hunt, either on foot or on horseback. The + spectator enjoys the diversion on the lake, where the cry of hounds, the + harmony of the horn, resounding from the hills on every side, the + universal shouts of joy along the valleys and mountains, which are often + lined with foot-people, who come in vast numbers to partake and assist at + the diversion, re-echo from hill to hill, and give the highest glee and + satisfaction that the imagination can conceive possible to arise from the + chase, and perhaps can nowhere be enjoyed with that spirit and sublime + elevation of soul, that a thorough-bred sportsman feels at a stag-hunt on + the Lake of Killarney. There is, however, one imminent danger which awaits + him; that in his raptures and ecstasies he may forget himself and jump out + of the boat. When hotly pursued, and weary with the constant difficulty of + making his way with his ramified antlers through the woods, the stag, + terrified at the cry of his open-mouthed pursuers, almost at his heels, + now looks toward the lake as his last resource—then pauses and looks + upwards; but the hills are insurmountable, and the woods refuse to shelter + him—the hounds roar with redoubled fury at the sight of their victim—he + plunges into the lake. He escapes but for a few minutes from one merciless + enemy to fall into the hands of another—the shouting boat-men + surround their victim—throw cords round his majestic antlers—he + is haltered and dragged to shore; while the big tears roll down his face, + and his heaving sides and panting flanks speak his agonies, the keen + searching knife drinks his blood, and savages exult at his expiring + groan.”] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-84" id="linknote-84"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 84 (<a href="#linknoteref-84">return</a>)<br /> [ Than.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-85" id="linknote-85"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 85 (<a href="#linknoteref-85">return</a>)<br /> [ An Irishman in using this + word has some confused notion that it comes from <i>negro</i>; whereas it + really means niggard.] + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales And Novels, Volume 4 (of 10), by +Maria Edgeworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME 4 (OF 10) *** + +***** This file should be named 9439-h.htm or 9439-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/4/3/9439/ + + +Text file produced by Jonathan Ingram, Tapio Riikonen and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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