Manners Volume Ii Part 7

When the ladies entered their breakfasting room the morning after their arrival in Dublin, they found it fragrant with the most delightful flowers; and the tables presented specimens of the finest fruits this city could boast of. Adelaide quickly recognized Colonel Desmond's habitual attention to the fair s.e.x; whilst Mrs. Sullivan exclaimed, "A fine bill I'll varrant me for all these here kick-shaws:--I'll ring for the waiter to take them away." Her hand was on the bell, when Cecilia stopped her, by declaring she could eat nothing but fruit. "Who would have dreamt of seeing hot-house fruit in _Ireland_! Those flowers will keep me from fainting this hot day; don't send them away, mama:--unless I have every agreement you can procure me, I shan't be able to exist in the odious country you have dragged me over to." By this time Adelaide descried a note directed to herself on the breakfast table; the stalk of a _rose unique_ was slipped into it, and on the outside was written in pencil, "Herself a fairer flower." She smiled at the gallant colonel's compliment, and found her note contained a polite _conge_ from Mrs. St.

Orme, who much regretted being obliged to leave Dublin at too early an hour to bid her adieu in person; but expressed a flattering wish, that an opportunity might occur for cultivating their further acquaintance.

Adelaide, throwing down her note on the table as soon as she had read it, turned to examine the beautiful bouquets that adorned the flower stands; and every individual of the Webberly family took the opportunity of making themselves _au fait_ of its contents. Had they been caught in the fact, they would hardly have felt ashamed, for any thing short of a _letter_, their code of the laws of honour permitted them to peruse. "A _letter_ they would not read for the world"--when any body was looking at them!

Breakfast was scarcely finished when Mrs. Sullivan's servant entered the room, to know if she was at home to Colonel Desmond and Mr. Donolan? An answer being given in the affirmative, they quickly made their appearance. Mr. Donolan was nephew by marriage to Colonel Desmond's elder brother; but though this connection made them sometimes a.s.sociate together, they were as completely dissimilar in mind as they were in person. Mr. Donolan was, as Cecilia called him, "a very pretty man." His hand rivalled her own in whiteness; his hair was not less carefully cut, combed, and curled in the most becoming manner; and the fair Cecilia might have worn his delicate pink waistcoat and worked shirt collar, as elegant and suitable accompaniments to her riding-habit, without the most scrutinizing eye discovering they had ever formed a part of male attire. This Hibernian Jessamy was the only child of a wealthy Catholic merchant of Dublin: the youth being too precious to be exposed to the hardships of a school, was nurtured at home by an obsequious tutor and a doting mother, in the most inordinate vanity. That vivacity of mind, with which nature usually endows his countrymen, fell to his lot also; and had it been properly directed, might have procured him well-earned fame; but unfortunately it only served as an impetus to his self-love, in a never-ceasing career of egotism, which made him prefer the casual "_succes de societe_," to the lasting benefit to be derived from solitary study. The reward of scholarship was of too tedious attainment for this impatient genius, who, without ceremony, dubbed himself a "_dilettante_," a t.i.tle universally conceded to him by his Irish acquaintance, who took the liberty of quizzing him most unmercifully.

Young Donolan did not fail to take advantage of the opportunity the general peace afforded for visiting the continent; he had there acquired a knowledge of the fine arts, which was just sufficient to enable him to interlard his conversation with those technical terms of connoisseurship, which, as "The Diversions of Purley" observe, commonly serve but as a veil to cover the ignorance of those who use them, and to privilege him to treat with sovereign contempt all the 'Aborigines of West Barbary,' as he most patriotically termed such of his countrymen and women, as had not redeemed the original sin of their birth, by at least a six week's visit to England or France. Mr. Donolan's manners corresponded to the double refined tone of his mind, (we are bound to apologize to him for using this term, as it betrays his father's _ci-devant_ trade of sugar-baking): he stood on the threshold of fashion, and finding he could never be admitted into the sanctuary of the _bona dea_, was content to copy from a distance those more conspicuous embellishments of the object of his adoration, which, being singled from the finer web on which they are originally engrafted by the mystery of art, become deformities when deprived of their connecting, though almost invisible thread; and, thus detached, start forward in unmeaning caricature. But so little was he conscious of his _outre_ travesty "_du bel air_," that in the plenitude of his folly he had applied to himself Frederic the Great's description of the Prince de Salm: "Il est petri de graces; tous ses gestes sont d'une elegance recherchee; ses moindres paroles, des enigmes. Il discute et approfondit les bagatelles avec une dexterite infinie, et possede la caste de l'empire du tendre, mieux que tous les Scuderi de l'univers[10]."

[Footnote 10: He is saturated with graces! His every gesture is of refined elegance; his every word an enigma. He investigates and discusses trifles with infinite dexterity, and is more completely master of the etiquette of gallantry than all the Scuderies of the universe.]

Mr. Donolan owed his introduction to our travellers to having accidentally met Colonel Desmond that morning at the Commercial Buildings in Dame-street; an elegant establishment, something of the nature of the Adelphi in London; and the place in the Irish capital where the wanderer is most likely to meet his acquaintances. In answer to some of Colonel Desmond's interrogatories, Mr. Donolan mentioned having just received a pressing invitation to visit Bogberry Hall, but that he was afraid it would not be in his power to visit Connaught this summer. "Certainly a journey there is a much more serious undertaking, than crossing the Alps was before we were indebted to Buonaparte for the Simplon road," replied Colonel Desmond laughing; "but you must some time or other be doomed to remain in this limbo for a short time. You had better encounter its apathetic powers now;--I am going to escort Mr.

O'Sullivan's English connections to Ballinamoyle: perhaps they may enable you to support your penance with tolerable ease." "_Ah ma foi!

maintenant c'est toute autre chose_, as the French say," replied Mr.

Donolan: "I think I will visit my aunt. And you know," continued he, bowing to the exact angle which the upper part of the body of the most fashionable Parisian dancing-master forms with his lower, "more than one specimen of an accomplished gentleman will be necessary to convince the strangers, who have done our country the honour of visiting it, that there are some Irish not deserving the appellation of Goths and Vandals." "Really, my good fellow, you do me too much honour," replied Colonel Desmond; "only your modesty could induce you to place me on a par with yourself." "_Point de tout, mon cher, point de tout!_ You, like me, have had the advantage of travelling; n.o.body could suspect either of _us_ of being Irish." Provoked by this last observation, Colonel Desmond, as they left the coffee-house, hummed the air of the song which begins thus:--

"When Jacky Bull sets out for France, The gosling you discover; When taught to ride, to fence, to dance, The finish'd goose comes over, With his tierce and his quarte ca, ca, And his cotillon so smart, O la!

He charms each female heart, ha! ha!

When Jacky returns from Dover."

Perhaps the satirical expression of his countenance had not entirely pa.s.sed away, when he introduced Mr. Felix Donolan to the ladies of the Webberly party, as an "amateur and connoisseur of the fine arts, and an adept in chemistry, mineralogy, botany, and craniology." Colonel Desmond begged to know how he might be of use to the travellers, either as regarded their stay in Dublin, or their journey to Ballinamoyle, reminding Mrs. Sullivan of the permission she had granted him the day before, to escort her thither, and requesting her leave to const.i.tute Mr. Donolan another knight-errant in the service of the fair itinerants.

Mr. Donolan's vanity acted in two ways regarding his country: it prompted him to use every _secret_ endeavour to make it appear in the best point of view to strangers, whilst it led him to a.s.sert his own superior refinement by pretending to despise it. He recollected that Irish posting was famous and infamous, but that an English tourist of much celebrity had spoken in high terms of the packet-boats on the ca.n.a.ls which lead to the interior; he therefore strongly advised Mrs.

Sullivan to proceed as far as she could by this mode of conveyance.

Colonel Desmond said in reply, "I don't think, Felix, that method of travelling has any thing to recommend it, except its extreme cheapness."

The two words, _extreme cheapness_, conveyed an argument to Mrs.

Sullivan's ear, that was not to be refuted by the powers of the most able logician; therefore it was agreed, that the next day but one they should proceed in the manner Mr. Donolan advised. It was also settled, that the mean time should be spent in seeing as much of Dublin as they could; and Colonel Desmond left them to procure the Provost's permission to show them the college of Dublin to the best advantage, by introducing them to such parts of the library, &c., as he only can admit strangers to see. The _dilettante_ was highly delighted with the party. Mrs.

Sullivan's c.o.c.kney dialect he designated as "Anglicisms," and therefore much to be preferred to the most cla.s.sical English, that could be conveyed to his ear, degraded by that peculiar accent of his country called the _brogue_. He was completely at a loss, whether most to admire Miss Cecilia Webberly's London airs, or Miss Wildenheim's foreign graces; and on leaving the room, said to himself, with the most affected tone and gesture imaginable,

"How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear charmer away!"

Colonel Desmond, on his return, found the ladies and Mr. Webberly prepared to attend him to the college, where they proceeded on foot.

This building stands in front of a small park, called the college gardens, appropriated to the students, who are in number about five hundred. The college presents a handsome front, of the Corinthian order, constructed with Portland stone, forming the base of a place of triangular form, named College Green, which, besides the edifice which designates it, boasts of the late beautiful Parliament House, that still continues to adorn the land it once benefited: _Stat magni nominis umbra_. The interior of Trinity College corresponds with its external elegance. The travellers visited the museum, the library, the chapel, the hall for examinations, and the provost's fine house and gardens. In the library they saw, with the compa.s.sion her name always excites, the hand-writing of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, in a Sall.u.s.t she gave her sons and read, with unmixed horror, a letter of her great grandson, James the second, commanding the cruelties of the siege of Londonderry. Colonel Desmond did not fail to point out the exquisite botanical drawings of the celebrated Anna Maria Schurman, and Quin's bequest, which, besides many other bibliothecal rarities, is supposed to contain the finest copy of Virgil extant. As the party pa.s.sed through the college yard, they were much surprised at the extreme youth of some of the students, who seemed scarcely old enough to have reached the higher forms of a grammar school; and Colonel Desmond told them the remarkable fact, that a few years ago, two boys entered the college on the same day, one from the north of Ireland, of thirteen, the other from the south, of eleven years of age. The former had been, long before this period, fitted to enter on his academical course; but his father not being sufficiently rich to send him, he was, for a considerable time, usher at a grammar school, till a subscription was raised by the publication of his juvenile poems, which enabled him to enter Trinity college. After leaving the college, our party proceeded down Dame Street, so called from the monastery of St. Mary les Dames, founded in the year 1146, by Dermot M'Murrough, king of Leinster, which stood on this spot. Dame Street is the Bond Street of Dublin; and here, at least, that want of crowds and equipages, so melancholy in many parts of that city, more especially at this season of the year, is not perceptible. The mult.i.tude of beggars has long formed a prominent feature in the aspect of the Irish capital; and from their mouths the traveller generally receives his first impression of the energy of language possessed by the lower Irish. No unaccustomed ear can listen without emotion to the awful words in which they clothe their benedictions. Were they of as moving power in Heaven, as on earth, they would be cheaply purchased by the alms of the pa.s.sing stranger. Our party met with many such pet.i.tioners, whose prayers were proffered in words too solemn to be here transcribed. A woman, who called herself "The gentle Eliza," was recorded never to have asked in vain; she seemed once to have filled a higher station, for her figure was elegant, and her voice soft and musical, though a dejection, verging on madness, was depicted in her countenance. She appealed first to the heart, and if there she knocked in vain, she successfully addressed the vanity of her hearers, in a strain of varied flattery. Her life was irreproachable, and her history unknown.

Adelaide's attention was soon however diverted from this interesting object, by another of a very different description. A squalid looking woman, in the garments of extreme poverty, was leading her child by the hand, whose spotless skin, as white as snow, and its clean neat clothes, formed a surprising contrast to the mother's tattered filthy habiliments, Some hasty pa.s.senger knocked the poor infant down.--Adelaide raised it up, and as she beheld the countenance of a cherub, exclaimed, "What a beautiful creature!" The starving mother's mouth had opened to demand her charity, but her maternal pride made her forget her misery. "Troth, she is a beautiful cratur; she's the joy of my heart, and the light of my eyes; many's the long mile I've carried her, and thought it no toil; she makes me kindly welcome wherever I go; it was the Lord G.o.d sent her to me, an angel of comfort in my trouble: and may you never know trouble, dear; but my blessing, and the Lord's, be about you, when you get up, and when you lie down, and in your dying hour[11]." Adelaide felt her heart thrill within her, at this unpurchased benediction; she had scarcely given her all the silver in her purse, and less than she wished to bestow, when Colonel Desmond's sleeve was twitched by a venerable looking old gentleman, who begged to speak a word to him.--His countenance was uncommonly fine; he had

"The eye which tells How much of mind within it dwells;"

his reverend temples were adorned with the most beautiful flowing silver locks; his language and manners spoke the gentleman and the scholar; his threadbare coat alone told that he too was a mendicant! Colonel Desmond satisfied his usual demand of "Will you lend me a guinea?"

without looking up to behold the blush that crimsoned his aged cheek; and with no other commentary than a deep sigh, rejoined his party.

[Footnote 11: _Verbatim._]

This unfortunate man was of a respectable English family: in his youth he had embraced the clerical profession, and was one of the most eloquent preachers of his day; persuasion hung upon his lips; but, as has been said of individuals of his sacred order, he served only as a finger-post, to point out to others the path he did not tread himself.

His talents and his interest procured him considerable church preferment in Ireland, which his extravagance and bad conduct ere long deprived him of. After spending some years in a prison, he repaired to the Irish capital, to live from day to day by any expedient that might occur.

Here he partly supported himself, by being what is called in Ireland a "buckle-beggar," that is, a clergyman who solemnizes irregular marriages; partly by begging, under the pretence of borrowing, from any acquaintance he might happen to meet. He was now old and infirm, and would, five days out of six, have wanted a dinner, but that one of his former friends, who had, in better days, partaken of the charms of his wit at his hospitable board, most humanely requested him, in his decay of fortune and intellect, to share, at his table, a meal he could not otherwise have procured.

When the ladies were tired of their promenade, they returned towards their hotel. As Mr. Donolan took care of both the Miss Webberlys, Colonel Desmond could not do less than offer his arm to Mrs. Sullivan, Adelaide therefore was obliged to prefer the disagreeable necessity of accepting Mr. Webberly's, to the more flattering prudery of declining it: thus honoured, he walked along in triumph, looking from side to side, to see who admired his lovely charge, and antic.i.p.ating the moment when she would be wholly and solely his. The _dilettante_, as they pa.s.sed under the admired portico of the House of Commons, took the delightful opportunity of expatiating on the "_cyma recta_," and "_cyma reversa_," in an architectural combat with Miss Webberly, in which she met his triglyphs and metopes, with toruses, astragals, and plinths; whilst Cecilia much enjoyed their loud talking, as it attracted the eyes of numerous gentlemen to herself, who seldom failed to pa.s.s some audible encomium on her beauty as they walked by. Mrs. Sullivan, mentally lamenting the expenditure she had, in the course of their walk, made in _charity_, feelingly inquired of Colonel Desmond, if there were no asylums allotted to the poor in Dublin? "I believe, my dear madam,"

replied he, "no city, of the same size and wealth, is better provided with charitable establishments; but our poor have an unconquerable aversion to avail themselves of the relief thus afforded. As I went towards the Commercial Buildings this morning, I met a remarkably fine young man, who demanded alms; I remonstrated with him, and told him, what I supposed him ignorant of, that employment for every artisan in want was supplied at the House of Industry; he indignantly replied,--'It's myself that knows that right well! is it a dacent cratur, like me, you'd send to the House of Industry? Civil words eat no bread; and if you keep your charity, don't demane me by making a pauper of me!'"--Thus conversing, they reached the hotel.

Adelaide was not a little pleased to see Colonel Desmond and Mr. Donolan join their circle at dinner. In the evening they were entertained with a variety of itinerant musicians, whom the former collected from all quarters of the town for their amus.e.m.e.nt.

Mrs. Sullivan's stay in Dublin was too short to admit of her party visiting more of its public buildings; but the following day they repaired to the fine botanical gardens in its neighbourhood; and ended their morning excursion by driving through the Phoenix Park.

CHAPTER XVII.

Pray now, the news?

You've made fair work, I fear me: pray, your news?

CORIOLa.n.u.s.

Mrs. Sullivan had agreed to leave Dublin in that packet boat which proceeds westward, at nine o'clock in the morning, and which would take her party to the Ca.n.a.l Inn to sleep, the same night: they were to spend the second at some convenient resting place on the borders of Connaught, and early on the morning of the third day expected to reach Ballinamoyle.

Adelaide had employed herself the evening previous to their departure, in writing Mrs. Temple an account of all she had seen worthy of remark in the Irish capital, not forgetting to make honourable mention of her friend Colonel Desmond. This letter was written in much better spirits than the one she had sent from Shrewsbury by Lamotte; and when it reached Mrs. Temple, she was as much gratified by observing this circ.u.mstance, as by the tone of affectionate grat.i.tude towards herself and her husband, which pervaded it throughout.

At half past nine o'clock the bustle of leaving Dublin had completely subsided, and the party a.s.sembled on the deck of the packet boat had full leisure to view each other, and the surrounding country. As they pa.s.sed slowly along, one fine seat after another presented itself to their eyes. The country being, hereabouts, princ.i.p.ally laid out in parks, lawns, and plantations; that want of wood is not felt for the first twenty miles from Dublin, in this direction, which renders a large proportion of Ireland so desolate to an eye accustomed to woodland scenery. The boat was towed along by two stout horses; but the poor animals were scarcely equal to the laborious task a.s.signed them, and went sideling along in a manner most painful to a humane eye to see.

They were driven by giddy boys, and some faint hearts on board quaked lest any accident should occur from their carelessness. Pa.s.sing the locks is by no means a pleasant operation: you are shut up for a few minutes between ma.s.sive stonewalls, with a watery abyss beneath, which seems to threaten to swallow you up; and one or other of your fellow pa.s.sengers is sure to take that opportunity of informing you, that a packet boat was once upset pa.s.sing a lock, that every soul on board perished, by a variety of deaths, more or less horrible, according to the vivacity of the imagination which the relater may happen to possess.

The bell which announces the arrival of the packet boat at the places appointed for changing horses, a.s.sembles every individual within reach of its sound, who can accomplish reaching the spot ere its departure.

Men, women, and children, of all descriptions, throng to gaze at the pa.s.sengers, and inquire the news from Dublin. Here are to be seen the landlord, the physician, and the curate of the district, debating the politics of the day. Some pa.s.senger gives them the newspapers, or reads an extract from a pamphlet just come out, or relates rumours in direct contradiction to those they heard the day before, which however reign with unquestioned credit, till the next diurnal importation of lies reaches them, which banish, in turn, their ephemeral predecessors, and are themselves dispossessed of their authority by as short-lived usurpers.

Colonel Desmond, as our party pa.s.sed along, pointed out every thing worthy of notice. He was an excellent _cicerone_, and there were few questions asked he could not satisfactorily answer. Mrs. Sullivan was much delighted with the good natured attention he paid her, partly from his natural urbanity, partly from his regard for Adelaide, and for his deceased friend, whose widow and child he could not see without wishing to serve them.

Mrs. Sullivan, looking on him quite as a friend, made him the confidant of her suspicions regarding Miss Wildenheim's birth, which she had resolved to keep secret in Ireland, lest they should tempt her brother-in-law to bequeath any part of his fortune from Caroline. In answer to a long string of interrogatories, respecting her late husband's life abroad, Colonel Desmond laughingly replied, "I really can't affirm that poor Maurice was always immaculate, but he certainly was guiltless of the sin of giving birth to this angelic girl. And I must, as a friend, inform you, that his brother would more easily pardon his presenting to him a dozen such claimants to multiply his name, than you for taking a single letter from it: if you don't call your daughter Miss O--Sullivan, she will never possess an acre of the Ballinamoyle estate, which, I a.s.sure you, is well worth having, though it should entail the ugliest name in the world." Mrs. Sullivan thanked him; and, profiting by the hint, there was such a practising of the most pathetic of interjections that day, that a stranger might have supposed, some half dozen of the party were in the last agonies; or that they were a set of strolling comedians, rehearsing for a tragedy, whereas they were only getting up the farce, which was to be played at Ballinamoyle.

The Miss Webberlys were as much pleased with Mr. Donolan as their mother was with Colonel Desmond. He was the first gentleman they had ever a.s.sociated with, in Adelaide's company, who did not prefer her to them.

The _dilettante_, a few degrees higher than Mr. Webberly in the scale of intellect, appreciated Miss Wildenheim's merits sufficiently to dread the use she might make of her talents; he felt her superiority, though he did not confess, even to himself, that he did so: it is true, she listened to him, when he spoke, with extreme politeness, but her replies betrayed no sister vanity, that encouraged him to display his own.

Besides, she was better acquainted with the continent than himself, therefore he could not hope to astonish her by his relations of the wonders of foreign parts. He therefore transferred all his attentions to the Miss Webberlys, paying them the most exaggerated compliments, which they received as unblushingly as he bestowed. When he, for instance, called the one Venus and the other Minerva, Amelia said in reply, "Now, if Juno had but black hair, Miss Wildenheim there (pointing to Adelaide) would do for her; and then we'd be the three Graces!!!" Colonel Desmond having sufficiently paid his devoirs to Mrs. Sullivan, left her in earnest conversation with a woman, not more elegant in appearance than herself, who was entertaining her with an enumeration of the t.i.tled guests she received at her house, whilst at every high sounding name Mrs. Sullivan's reverence, and her companion's consequence, visibly increased. Adelaide's friend, happy to be thus released, seated himself beside her, and entered into conversation immediately. Mr. Webberly, who had exhausted all the tender speeches he had conned for that morning, was standing near her in total silence:

"His eye, in a fine stupor caught, Implied a plenteous lack of thought; And not one line his whole face seen in, That could be justly charg'd with meaning."

Notwithstanding he was so much displeased at Colonel Desmond's thus engrossing the object of his _speechless_ pa.s.sion, that, unable to bear the odious sight of his rival, he repaired to another part of the boat, to listen to some young Irishmen, who were canva.s.sing the conduct of ministry with more warmth than wisdom. Colonel Desmond and Adelaide rapidly pa.s.sed from one subject to another: in the course of their conversation he abruptly asked her what she thought of young Donolan?

She blushed deeply, and he saw her meek brow bend to chide the arch smile that seemed to bid her lips p.r.o.nounce words partaking of its own nature.--"Come, come," said he, as she hesitated to reply, "out with it Adel--Miss Wildenheim I mean: you were not always so prudent, but used to trust the friend of your infancy with the first thoughts that rose in your mind, without considering and reconsidering them; I am afraid your residence in England has made you very reserved." "Indeed you mistake me, Colonel Desmond," she replied: "the fact is, I am almost as much ashamed to acknowledge any inclination to satire to myself as to you. If I were once to give way to that propensity, I have so many provocatives to indulge it in my present companions, I should never afterwards get rid of the habit; and no heart or understanding can long withstand the destroying powers of a love of ridicule. If you would permit me to parody Shakspeare, I would say that the spirit of personal satire 'Is indeed twice curs'd:' it often abashes the modesty of worth, and paralyses the energy of genius; but oh! how surely does it, with tenfold sterility, blast every generous feeling in the mind it inhabits--first destroying integrity, for no retailer of bon-mots and ludicrous narrations will long respect the rigid exact.i.tude of truth; then the feelings of benevolence fall its sacrifice; and finally, it perverts the understanding, which, having exercised itself more willingly in detecting absurdity than in discovering truth, soon becomes incapable of relishing any serious reflection; and thus this fatal talent, like the flame which dazzles our eyes by its vivid l.u.s.tre, ends by consuming the substance from which it derived its brilliancy."

"And pray, may I ask," said Colonel Desmond, with an arch, incredulous smile, "how happens it that your present theory and former practice differ so widely? You surely never could have suffered in your own person from the effects of satire; no understanding could be so inept, no heart so cold, as to aim at _you_ the shafts of ridicule; to what cause am I indebted for this eloquent tirade?" "I have indeed," replied Adelaide, blushing no less at his encomiums than at the confession she was about to make, "suffered severely from the effects of satire: those 'Best can paint them who shall feel them most.' You may remember, that very early in life I was suffered to be present at those a.s.semblies of literary characters, who used to meet in my happy home at Vienna." Here she sighed, and paused for an instant, then repressing the starting tear, continued, "Incapable of appreciating their merit, or understanding their conversation, I was fully alive to the peculiarities of their manners, so different from the model of refined elegance I had daily before my eyes. Somehow the frank _etourderie_ of my remarks amused; and the smiling pardon, that was granted to the folly of a mere child, I mistook for an applause bestowed on wit. My first sallies proceeded from the gaiety of a guileless heart, accustomed to express every idea as it rose to the most indulgent parent and partial friend; but, as I grew older, a _besoin de briller_ seized me, and I was on the point of becoming one of that despicable cla.s.s, who, while they importune the goodness of Heaven for their daily bread, apply no less earnestly to the weaknesses of their best friends for their daily sarcasm, and rejoice more on finding one foible than ninety-nine good qualities; when my enlightened monitor awakened me to a sense of my danger. And now may I p.r.o.nounce you _au fait_ of the cause to which you are indebted for my 'eloquent tirade' against satire?"

"If you don't convince," said Colonel Desmond, "you at least persuade: but, you know, there is no general rule without exception; so do be ill-natured for once, and let me know what you were thinking of Felix, when I detected those tell-tale smiles." "Well then," said she, "since I must satisfy you, I will at least only be satirical at second-hand, and answer you in the words of Mondon,

Adolescent qui s'erige en barbon, Jeune ecolier qui vous parle en Caton, Est en mon sens un animal bernable: Et j'aime mieux l'air fou, que l'air capable; Il est trop fat.[12]"

[Footnote 12:

----I despise A beardless censor, that with Cato's frown, a.s.sumes the pedant in a scholar's gown: Mere vacant folly, void of all pretence, Is sure less hateful than affected sense; He is too vain.

"_A propos des fous_," replied Colonel Desmond, taking advantage of that language in which so much can be conveyed to the mind without shocking the ear, "_ce Monsieur la_," looking towards Mr. Webberly, "_est amoureux--cela ce peut bien; mais Mademoiselle est elle amoureuse?_"

"_Ah! Dieu l'en garde!_"[13] exclaimed Adelaide, with unfeigned horror, involuntarily raising her hands, lowering her brows, and throwing back her head. "_Tant mieux!_ then I will act the part of Wall in this new tragi-comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe; Pyramus shall truly say, '_O! wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss_,' and will perhaps find our entertainment '_Very tragical mirth_.'" Colonel Desmond faithfully kept the promise thus conveyed; and, when present, completely shielded Adelaide from Mr. Webberly's conceited love, and thus saved her the trouble of standing on the defensive herself. And though the captivating youth would willingly have sent his rival, like the pious aeneas, to visit his father in the realms below; yet such was the unwilling respect that rival's manners extorted, that he never presumed openly to manifest his real sentiments. All this time Caroline had been sitting at Adelaide's feet on one of the small packages, dressing and undressing a huge wax doll, which was her usual travelling companion, and occasionally reading to it the "Memoirs of d.i.c.k the Pony," which her indulgent friend had bought for her in Dublin. Colonel Desmond was delightedly listening to her gay laugh, and watching her infantine merriment, when her mother called her over, in order to display her beauty to the obsequious acquaintance she was so much pleased with, who had been profuse in Caroline's praise. As the little girl skipped along, with the favourite doll closely pressed to her innocent heart by one hand, and the open book in the other, her eyes dancing with delight at the thoughts of d.i.c.k's adventures, he said to Miss Wildenheim, "I am surprised to see how little Mrs. Sullivan notices that charming child; every body but you seems to treat her with absolute unkindness." "I a.s.sure you," replied she, "you do Mrs. Sullivan great injustice; she does not behave _unkindly_ to Caroline, though certainly she is not too prodigal of her caresses to the dear infant. I have heard this indifference is not uncommon towards the offspring of second marriages.

I really believe some people's affections are of the oyster kind, sticking through life to the spot they were first deposited on, without ever having exercised the smallest volition in the affair." "I beg,"

said he, laughing, "that when you undertake to give my character in short hand, you will recollect that 'No heart or understanding can long withstand the destroying powers of a love of ridicule.'" "Thank you for the memento," she replied, with one of her sweetest smiles; "the habit I deprecate gains strength but too quickly."