Manners Volume Ii Part 6

and that he had little now left but what she pleased to give him. Mr.

Webberly had found out from Selina's conduct, it was possible he might be refused; therefore, yielding in part to his mother's wishes, acknowledging, on second thoughts, a little delay would be no bad thing, as it might enable him to conquer his mistress's resentment for his having transferred his attention elsewhere, which he elegantly expressed, by saying "In the first brush of the thing she may cuff off her nose to punish her face."

Our travellers proceeded on their journey with the most dissimilar feelings possible. Mrs. Sullivan enjoying the idea of the fortune this expedition would secure to Caroline--the Miss Webberlys, in sullen discontent, were forming schemes to make their mother return as soon as possible to the neighbourhood of London, supposing the society of Ballinamoyle must be still more insipid than that in the vicinity of Webberly House--their brother engaged in promoting the success of his pa.s.sion for Adelaide, she not less so in keeping him at a distance, and in the endeavour to divert her thoughts from her companions to the country they pa.s.sed through--Caroline alone, with unfeigned pleasure, was enjoying the change of scene, and coaxing her "Dear, precious Adele," who returned the sweet child's caresses with equal affection.

The weather was intolerably hot; the Miss Webberlys would not consent to have their pelisses faded by opening the barouche--"You know, mama, we can't get any thing from London for a long time, and you would not have _us_ dress in the Irish fashions:" so the four ladies and Caroline were nearly suffocated with heat; little relief was obtained from letting down the front windows, for Mr. Webberly and a footman in the driving seat intercepted the air. Mr. Webberly had placed himself there, that he might from time to time cast sweet looks at Adelaide. She sat with her back to him that she might not see them; but this was of little avail, for he tapped her every five minutes on the shoulder, on pretence of pointing out some remarkable object to her notice, therefore she willingly accepted Mrs. Sullivan's offer of making room for her on the other seat. Oh! how she envied the abigails, as they drove past in the post chaise! she could not enjoy the pleasure of walking up the hills with Caroline, as in that case, Mr. Webberly was at her side in an instant, ready primed with the compliments he had composed on the barouche seat. But notwithstanding all this, she was enchanted with the picturesque scenery of North Wales: the Vale of Langollen, Capel Kerrick, and Lake Oggen, called forth her rapturous praise, in the expression of which she was sometimes joined by her companions, though they were little capable of feeling the pleasure she experienced.

Mrs. Sullivan's parsimony always showing itself in trifles, she quarrelled with all the drivers, ostlers, chamber maids, and waiters, as she came along, by offering them less than people who travelled with the same _cortege_ usually did. The Welsh are a remarkably st.u.r.dy people; and if, on entering Wales, you offend the man who drives you the first stage, the bad effects of his irascible feelings follow your carriage wheels to the last. What must it be when each equestrian is individually enraged at you!

The carriage windows were no sooner drawn up, to put an end to the clamour occasioned by such squabbles on the outside, than the usual contentions were renewed within, which seldom ceased till the time for wrangling with the ostlers arrived again, for which a scold to the last turnpike keeper, for the badness of the roads, in proportion to the high tolls, served as a prelude. However, they at last reached Holyhead: as Adelaide skipped into the inn, overjoyed to be comparatively at liberty, she exclaimed, in thought, "Thank goodness, so much of my Purgatory is over! Why Webberly House was Heaven to this! However we shall travel only a small portion of the time I am to spend in penance for my sins.--They will all be sea-sick to-morrow, and then I shall have a few hours' peace."

CHAPTER XIV.

Now hoist the sail, and let the streamers float Upon the wanton breezes; strew the deck With lavender, and sprinkle liquid sweets, That no rude savour maritime invade The nose of nice n.o.bility.

COWPER.

On the following evening, wind and tide answering, the packet in which our travellers were to embark was prepared for sailing.

The music of the indefatigable harper, in the pa.s.sage, was completely drowned by the uproar of an universal commotion; the persons and voices of masters and mistresses, children, ladies' maids, footmen, and boatmen, were mixed in one undistinguished throng, as they crowded about the inn door. Mrs. Sullivan stood at the foot of the stairs screaming, loud enough for her shrill _contr'alto_ to be heard above all the murmuring crowd:--"Meely! Cilly! do bestir yourselves; we're too late by a mile! here's the wery last boat imparting." The tardy-gaited damsels made their appearance just as one of the boatmen informed their mother, the captain had sent to say, he would not wait another minute; and they reached the side of the ship exactly at the moment he prepared to put his threat in execution. Poor Mrs. Sullivan had seldom seen, and had never been on the sea before, therefore it is not surprising that she was much terrified at finding herself in a small boat, on this, to her, unusual element; however, after many exclamations of terror, she congratulated herself, and all the party, on being safe on board: she might now have said with Foote,

"When first I went on board, Good Lord! what a racket, Such babbling and squalling fore and aft through the packet; The pa.s.sengers bawling, the sailors yo-ho-ing, The ship along dashing, the wind aloft blowing; Some sick, and some swearing, some singing, some shrieking, Sails hoisting, blocks rattling, the yards and booms creaking!"

It was that season of the year in which such of the Irish bipeds as are birds of pa.s.sage, pay a summer's visit to their native sh.o.r.es: the packet was crowded to excess; and not only every birth was taken, but the cabin floors were spread with mattresses for the supernumeraries.

Mrs. Sullivan had secured the _state_ cabin, where people pay an additional price, for the honour and glory of encountering imminent danger of suffocation, in a commodious apartment, six feet broad by eight feet long, containing four beds, two above and two below; and in this receptacle of pride, many a repentant victim of human vanity has sent forth pious aspirations after "_a new birth_." Mrs. Sullivan, on going below, found that, besides the beds in the state cabin, only two others could be procured for Caroline and the maids; she however settled the matter, much to her satisfaction, by saying, "Willis must sit up all night." But Adelaide seeing the poor woman's face changing colour, with a compa.s.sion that never rose for an _inferior_ in Mrs. Sullivan's breast, said, "If you will allow me, I will make up a bed for myself in the floor of your cabin, with the night sacks and dressing boxes; and then Willis can have my birth; she looks very sick, poor thing, perhaps you will give her leave to go to bed now." "I have no dejection to your doing what you likes with your own birth, Miss Vildenheim; but if Villis goes to bed, what can I do to undress?"--"Oh! I will be your waiting woman with pleasure." So saying, Adelaide seized the golden opportunity before the permission could be recalled, and persuaded the fainting Willis to occupy her bed.

When they returned to the deck all was comparatively quiet; the ladies were seated, and the gentlemen walking about in parties, examining the various groups of females which presented themselves to their view. Next to Adelaide was seated a very elegant woman, whom she heard addressed by the name of St. Orme, and whose husband was walking arm in arm with a remarkably handsome man, who united in his deportment the mien of a soldier, with the air of a man who had lived much in the world. His back was to Adelaide when he first attracted her notice, but when he came close to her, she started up, and met the hand he extended to her, with reciprocal cordiality, and their mutual astonishment, making them for an instant regardless of the presence of so numerous an audience, they addressed each other in the language they had long been accustomed to converse in, and, after a few hasty sentences of German, Adelaide, blushing to her fingers' ends, on perceiving she had attracted the attention of every person present, introduced the handsome stranger to Mrs. Sullivan as Colonel Desmond, and he was not a little surprised to find in her the widow of his most particular friend. This ceremony being over, Colonel Desmond again addressed Adelaide: "Good Heavens! Miss Wildenheim, who could have thought of seeing you _here_! how time does run on! I hope you don't forget what I remember with so much pleasure, that our acquaintance commenced before you were six years old; and that you used to seat yourself on my knee, with as little ceremony as that beautiful child is preparing to do on yours." Adelaide's dialogue with her new found friend was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Sullivan becoming so qualmish, that a speedy retreat to her own cabin was judged advisable, and Colonel Desmond, after a.s.sisting the ladies to go down stairs, returned to the deck, his fair acquaintance remaining below to give her promised aid to her _chaperone_.

Though Colonel Desmond was then in his forty-fifth year, his florid complexion, brilliant eye, and martial air, made him appear nearly ten years younger; nor were the few unwelcome gray hairs, that attempted to tell tales of other times, in contradiction to their darker companions, in sufficient number to counteract the appearance of youth, that the finest set of teeth in the world gave to his face. His forehead, eyes, and brows, seemed the seat of sense and manly daring, but all the kindly affections of human nature dwelt about his mouth. Adelaide had early applied to him the motto of the Chevalier Bayard--_L'homme sans peur et sans reproche_: and in the days of youthful enthusiasm, he had, in her scale of admiration, ranked next to her father--nor was he unworthy of her regard.

This gallant soldier was the second son of a country gentleman, whose family had lived from generation to generation in habits of friendship with that of the late Mr. Sullivan, who was also a younger son. These young men were companions, school-fellows, and friends, and on the death of their fathers, found themselves but scantily provided for. Edward Desmond, being intended for the church, had gone through some part of his collegiate course in the university of Dublin; but on the death of his father, agreeing with his young friend, that "it was much better to be a soldier than a d.a.m.ned quiz of a parson" resolved to exchange the ca.s.sock for the sword. Being a protestant, Edward did not labour under the same disabilities as his friend, but he would not separate their fortunes, and determined to share the same fate, and follow the same standard; accordingly they left their homes, in order, as they expressed it, in the words of a favourite song, to "go round the world for sport."

They entered the Austrian armies, and the first five years of their career served under the command of Baron Wildenheim, during which time he proved himself their patron and friend; grat.i.tude on their side, and regard on his, preserved the intimacy thus formed, by correspondence and personal communication, long after they had ceased to be brother soldiers. Colonel Desmond remained in Germany, several years subsequent to Mr. Sullivan's return to England, so that he was much better known to Adelaide than the latter gentleman; and till she recollected he was unmarried, she had often wondered her father had not left her to his guardianship, in preference to a person who was to her a comparative stranger. Though Desmond and Sullivan had commenced their career of life together, they did not long continue on an equality as to character. The superior education Edward had received, in order to qualify him for the profession he was originally designed to embrace, showed its beneficial effects in far different pursuits; for whilst Maurice Sullivan plunged into every species of dissipation, his companion, incited by the expostulations and example of Baron Wildenheim, occupied himself in the acquirement of the knowledge most necessary to his profession, occasionally varying his studies by the pleasures arising from the cultivation of literature and the fine arts.

But, however advantageous Colonel Desmond's intercourse with Baron Wildenheim had been to the formation of his character, it had latterly been dangerous to the peace of his mind. He had so long regarded the daughter of his friend with almost parental affection, that he was not exactly aware of the moment, when his feelings towards her became those of a lover; but when awakened to a sense of the real nature of his sentiments, his hours of solitude were tinctured with regret, as he bitterly lamented that hitherto disregarded want of fortune, which forbade his seeking the hand of the lovely girl. Neither Adelaide, nor the Baron, was ever conscious of this attachment; she only felt for him as a sort of second father, in whose approbation she delighted, and by whose admonition she profited; honour and generosity withheld his using any endeavours to win further on her regard; and feeling that self-control would not much longer be possible, he left Vienna, apparently induced only by the desire to revisit his native country.

Time and absence had deadened, but not changed his feelings: with such sentiments, it may therefore be supposed, what happiness this unexpected meeting gave to both. The Miss Webberlys had come down below with their mother and Adelaide, so that the latter was obliged to stay in the suffocating cabin, where she remained in durance vile above an hour; from time to time she heard Caroline's little merry voice on deck, and longed to be there also; at last, when the little girl retired to bed, she gave Adelaide Mrs. St. Orme's compliments, to know if she would like to come on deck, adding, that she and Colonel Desmond were waiting in the outer cabin to take her up. With the utmost delight she profited by this good natured attention. When they ascended, she found all the pa.s.sengers disposed of for the night, except Mr. and Mrs. St. Orme and Colonel Desmond.

Miss Wildenheim's present _chaperone_ was a very elegant pleasing Irish woman, who added to the ease of well bred manners that sort of kindliness, which appears in those of her countrywomen in general. She was of good family, and was so well a.s.sured of her own place in society, that she never took the least trouble to impress any body else with an idea of her consequence; but her unaffected simplicity of dress, manner, and deportment, were the best credentials she could present to those accustomed to move in the same rank of life with herself. Adelaide and she understood each other at once: before their acquaintance had lasted half an hour, a casual observer would have supposed they had long been known to each other.

It was a most delightful night, the ship was smoothly cutting her rapid way before a fair, wind, and as it pa.s.sed, the rippling waters sparkled with the beams of the moon. Colonel Desmond, leaning carelessly over the side of the vessel, half sung, half hummed, this verse, translated from an ancient Irish song:--

The moon calmly sleeps on the ocean, And tinges each white bosom'd sail; The bark, scarcely conscious of motion, Glides slowly before the soft gale.

How vain are the charms they discover, My heart from its sorrows to draw!

Whilst memory carries me over To _Ma cailin beog chruite nambo_.

Adelaide thought the sound of his well remembered voice "pleasant and mournful to the soul, like the memory of joys that are past;" and it was insensibly leading her into a train of ideas, which she was not sorry to have interrupted by general conversation. How much did she enjoy the delightful freshness of the night, and the enlivening sallies of her animated companions; they were, however, at length terminated by Mr. St.

Orme complaining of the increasing chilliness of the air, and proposing that she and her fair companion should take refuge from it in the body of her barouche, which was on deck. There they pa.s.sed the remainder of the night most comfortably; and, when the sun rose, Miss Wildenheim was very sorry to hear they were entering the bay of Dublin, as she recollected her landing would put an end to the temporary release the packet had afforded her from the annoyances of the Webberly family.

CHAPTER XV.

To sail in unknown seas, To land in countries. .h.i.therto unseen, To breathe a fresh invigorating air: ----All this, I am convinced, Will renovate me a second time, To be what once I was.

LLOYD'S MYRHA.

Before any of the other pa.s.sengers came on deck, Mrs. St. Orme and Adelaide contrived to make their morning toilet quite _comme il faut_, and when it was finished, and their dressing-boxes were repacked, they drew up the blinds of the carriage, and beheld a most beautiful scene.

The sun was shining in all his brightness, and seemed to exult on beholding the fair isle, that, cheered by his smiles, was venturing to raise her lovely face from beneath its misty veil, no longer fearful of beholding the dark visage of Night, who, sullenly retreating from his glorious foe, had turned his louring brow on other daughters of the sea.

The hill of Howth rose proudly from the bosom of the deep; and whilst its rocky sides, from age to age, beheld unmoved the fury of the sounding surge, the pointed summits of the distant Wicklow mountains courted the beams of morn and the dews of evening, ere they descended to visit the plains beneath. The bold promontory of Bray rushed to meet the foaming waves; and by its side the beautiful bay of Killina retreated from their half spent rage; whilst in the distant sky a darkened line of smoke pointed out the site of the fine city of Dublin. "Dear Ireland!"

exclaimed Mrs. St. Orme, whilst the tear of feeling and the smile of joy struggled for mastery in her beaming eyes--"Oh! only those who have pined for their native land beneath a stranger sky, whose eye has been long unblessed by her loved face, whose ear has vainly paused to hear once again her kindly, though unpolished accents; who have held her--

'dear by every tie Which binds us to our infancy, By weeping Mem'ry's fondest claims, By nature's holiest highest names;'

can feel their souls moved to sympathy at the sight of her children's emotions, when they at last behold her cherished soil." Poor Adelaide!

she felt the current of life retire from her chilled heart, as it was oppressed by the sad thought, that no revered parent or beloved sister would receive her in the arms of affectionate love, when she landed on the smiling sh.o.r.e, that spread before her sight. She gazed on the countless dwellings, that met her view, with a bitterness of sorrow that was faithfully depicted in her speaking countenance. In every mourner Mrs. St. Orme saw a friend; and understanding the nature of her companion's affliction, from a conversation she had the evening before with Colonel Desmond, she pressed her hand, saying in the kindest tones of benevolence, "You will find friends every where; in that hospitable land there are many warm hearts, to whom you will quickly be dear." The expression of Adelaide's grat.i.tude, though mute, was eloquent, and she soon recovered herself sufficiently to answer, with apparent ease, the various inquiries put to her by Mr. St. Orme and Colonel Desmond, who now appeared to offer their services.

About nine o'clock all was again commotion in the ship; many a strange figure might have been seen in the cabins below. Here Mr. Webberly, doffing his white cotton nightcap, and reeling on the floor, was cut short in the ecstasy of a yawn, and of an outstretched arm, and balancing opposite leg, by a return of the sickness, which had kept him below stairs all night, to Adelaide's great joy. There a fop was calmly settling his hat, so as to display the glossy curls, that were to appear below its edge, to the utmost advantage. Behind that white dimity curtain a lady is viewing herself in a pocket gla.s.s, and laments her bilious complexion; but quickly comforts herself with the reflection, that she can wear a veil, and in a day or two she shall be ten times fairer than ever. One gentleman is d.a.m.ning the steward for suffering his sea store to be demolished, who appeases him by saying he will give him another hamper to ransack. There is the wag of a mail coach, continuing his jokes with a fat cook, whose tongue has seldom ceased since they left London, in the endeavour to persuade every one she met that she was a lady of great consequence, and who literally talked all night, to the edification of the people in the cabin with her. An odd looking man is running about with a box of artificial flowers, tormenting every body, by asking if the custom-house officers will seize them; and to every reply rejoining, "I'll just give them a trifle, just a trifle. Do you think they'll search my night sack?" Lastly, the English Abigails loudly declare they shall die; and the Irish that they _will_ die, whilst in the intervals of sickness they endeavour to quiet a set of squalling children.

When these motley groupes a.s.sembled on deck, it was agreed by most it would be much better to take boats to Dunleary, than to wait for the returning tide to land at the Pigeon House, which is the regular station appointed for the packets.

Adelaide now offered her arm to Mrs. Sullivan, who had just ascended the cabin stairs in a rueful condition. Her face was indeed the emblem of "green and yellow melancholy." Somebody had done her the favour to sit upon her hat, and had bent its white plume in every direction; her habit was crumpled up in a thousand folds, and the queen of Otaheite herself could not have boasted of more feathers than adorned it in detached spots. Mr. Webberly, who accompanied his mother and sisters upon deck, as he looked at Adelaide's lovely face, blooming with the freshness of the sea air, said to himself, "Well, Miss Wildenheim must have his Majesty's patent in her pocket to be so beautiful, when all the other women look so bad. Sister Cilly is as ugly as old Mother Shipton this morning; and as for Meely, she's enough to frighten the crows. I wonder what business that Colonel Desmond has to talk to Miss Wildenheim so--he's too civil by half; I've a month's mind to tell him so; and how she does smile and show her white teeth at him. I see nothing so diverting about him, not I."

"Jack!" said his mother, interrupting his reverie, "Miss Wildenheim has dissuaded me to go in that 'ere boat;--do get our band-boxes put in it.

They say we mustn't take none of our trunks, neither one of the carriages. I suspect me they're playing tricks upon travellers; and if so be, I'll take the law of them as sure as my name's Hannah Silliwan.

The ship may sail away with all our things afore ever we can send the constables after it.--They say the Irish are a sad set of rogues. I vish I vas safe back in Lunnon again."

The party were soon summoned to the boat, and quickly reached the pier of Dunleary in safety. This place is merely a fishing village, chiefly inhabited by those amphibious animals called bathing women, whose appearance renders their s.e.x nearly as dubious as their occupation makes it difficult to decide whether they mostly inhabit the land or the water. A crowd of these strange looking creatures a.s.sembled about the newly arrived ladies. Adelaide involuntarily shrunk from one of them, whose complexion was at least three shades darker than fashionable mahogany, who had but one furious black eye, and was of a stature that promised the power of carrying into execution the evil designs, which seemed painted in that eye. This woman's voice, when she spoke, was nearly as appalling as her aspect when silent; but yet she was perfectly harmless, and had never been known to injure any human being.--"Clear the way there, Moll Kelly! Don't you see you're putting the ladies all through other? Can't ye lend a hand to the spalpeen while you're doing nothing? Or do the t'other thing, and take yourself aff clane and clever?" said a good-natured looking man, who formed one of the crowd of idlers, who stood wrapped up in great coats (a hot day in June), with their backs propped against the pier, or the walls of the houses opposite to it. "It's myself that would be sore and sorry not to be agreeable to them. I just stepped down to take a peep at their sweet faces, G.o.d bless them!" said she. Adelaide, shocked at the repugnance her countenance had involuntarily expressed to this unoffending mortal; made the _amende honorable_ by slipping into her hand, as she pa.s.sed close by, a piece of silver, accompanied by a smile of conciliation.

"Och, its yourself that's the real quality;--and did ye look on the like of me, jewel?--I'm entirely obliged to your ladyship." A number of men now came up, saying, "I'll whip your honour up to Dublin in a crack."

"Plase your honour, mine's the best going gingle on all the Black Rock road." "Arrah, hould your palaver, Barny," said a third; "didn't my Padderene mare beat the Bang-up coach to tatters the day Mr. Shorly broke his arm; when the gingle, for no rason in life, upset? The Lord spare him to his childer, poor gintleman." Colonel Desmond now came forward to explain what this might mean--namely, that there was no other conveyance to Dublin except the carriages he pointed out, which were sufficiently expeditious, and perfectly safe, if their drivers would not insist on running races with the stage coaches. Accordingly the party were stowed into these gingles, which more nearly resemble sociables in miniature than any other vehicle; but their backs, instead of being solid wood, are railed. They are totally uncushioned, and are drawn by one stout, though ill-conditioned horse. They soon struck into a very fine road, sufficiently broad to lead to a city twice the size of Dublin, on which numberless cars, carts, and carriages, of all descriptions, pa.s.sed each other, without the smallest inconvenience, except from clouds of white dust, peculiarly distressing from the nature of the soil. The views on all sides were exquisite, combining the various beauties of marine and mountain scenery, ornamented with abundance of wood and an appearance of high cultivation. The peculiarly vivid green of the gra.s.s justified to our travellers the appellation of "the emerald isle," which Ireland has long possessed. They saw at a distance many beautiful seats; but were not a little diverted by the names of the diminutive villas which rose close to the road. Three houses, built in a row, had in large letters on their walls, _Anne's Hill_, Many _Vale_, and Ballynacleigh. A house was perched on a little mount, glorying in three lilacs and a laburnum; on its gate was engraved _Val ombrosa_. Another, with half an acre of ground and a single row of trees before the door, was called Wood Park: and they observed more than one Frescati and Marino. The proprietor of one of these abodes did not consider his house sufficiently near the road, though within a stone's throw, therefore had erected a brick and mortar building, the size and shape of a sentry box, resting on the wall which divided his domain from the road, so as to overhang it; and at the moment the gingles drove past, he was enjoying the delights of this "_happy rural seat of various view_" reading the newspapers in the moments he could spare from watching the company who drove by. Our travellers were much pleased with the regular and beautiful appearance of Dublin, as this entrance into it is not defaced by any mean hovels, the abode of squalid poverty, which are the too frequent preludes of many a magnificent capital. Entering at once into Bagot-street, which is handsome and well built, they drove through several fine streets and squares, caught a glimpse of some elegant public buildings, such as the college, the _ci-devant_ parliament-house, and the rotunda, and at last stopped at Layton's hotel, in Sackville-street, which is inferior to few in London.

And oh! the luxury of comfortable quiet rooms and beds, after being condemned to the turmoil of a Holyhead packet, and exposed to the dislocating powers of a Black Rock gingle! Our travellers retired at an early hour, to profit by these lately unknown comforts; and here, wishing them sound sleep and pleasant dreams, we bid them "good night."

CHAPTER XVI.

Ah! si mon coeur osoit encore se renflammer!

Ne sentirai-je plus de charme qui m'arrete?

Ai-je pa.s.se le temps d'aimer?

LA FONTAINE.