I have thrown away so many words on this abortive work, because, from the name of its possessor, and the great cost of its erection, it enjoys a certain reputation in Ireland. Yet how infinitely preferable is the place of my excellent Colonel W——, on which perhaps an eighth part of the money has been spent.
The internal decorations of the castle are of a piece with its exterior: in five minutes we had quite enough of them, and as we heard of a fine prospect from the top of the tower, but the key was no where to be found, we all returned in no very good-humour to our inn. Here one of the strangers entertained me during breakfast with all sorts of interesting stories of this part of the country and its inhabitants. He told me among other things, that Lord K—— and his family had been remarkable for their very extraordinary adventures. He is now one of the most zealous Orangemen, and is rather feared than loved. His father, when just twelve years old, was married to the heiress of the whole property now possessed by the family, who was just ten. The tutor and governess received the strictest injunctions to watch the young couple most narrowly, and to prevent every possibility of a tête-à-tête. But ‘somehow or other,’ as my informant said, three years afterwards they found means to elude their vigilance, and the present Lord was the result of this little ‘equipée.’ They had afterwards several children, of whom I happened to know one at Vienna. He was a remarkably handsome man, and celebrated for his ‘bonnes fortunes;’ at one time the avowed lover of the Duchess of——, whom he treated with so little ceremony, that once when he invited me to breakfast at the hotel where they were living, I found the Duchess alone, and he came into the room some time after, in dressing gown and slippers, out of his or their chamber.
The youngest child grew up to be one of the most attractive girls in Ireland. She was just sixteen when a cousin on the mother’s side, a married man, named F——, who then enjoyed the greatest celebrity as a resistless seducer, fell in love with her, and confirmed his reputation in so conspicuous a manner, that he actually brought this beautiful girl, the idolized daughter of an earl, not only to sacrifice her innocence to him, but to accompany him to England as his avowed mistress. Here they lived for a year, at first in concealment; but at last he had the effrontery to take her to one of the most frequented watering-places. Her abode was of course discovered, and she was carried off at her father’s command, and placed in safe custody in the north of England. F——, perhaps only irritated by the resistance of the family, determined, let it cost what it would, to get her again into his power; and as he thought she had been taken to her father’s residence, he hurried off to Ireland in disguise. Here he lodged in the very inn in which we were breakfasting, and endeavoured to discover the place of her concealment. His minute inquiries, his mysterious behaviour, and the unlucky accident that a former acquaintance of his met him and remarked that he never saw a greater resemblance than between this stranger and the notorious F——, awakened the suspicions of the host, who immediately went to impart them to Lord K——. The Earl received the communication with perfect apparent indifference, and only enjoined on the informer absolute secrecy. He then asked at what hour the stranger generally rose; learned that it was never before eight: dismissed the host with a present,—and added, that he would examine into the matter himself at six o’clock the next morning, at which hour he desired him to expect him, and to be quite alone. Morning came; and with it, punctually, the Earl. Without any further inquiry he went up stairs accompanied by the host, and desired the stranger’s servant to open his master’s door instantly. The man refused; on which he broke open the door with his foot, walked up to the bed in which F——, awakened by the noise, had just raised himself, looked intently at him; and as soon as he had satisfied himself of his identity, drew a pistol from his pocket, and with perfect coolness blew out the brains of this modern Don Juan, who sank back in the bed without a groan. The sequel proves how lightly the laws sit on great men in England, when there is not a still greater who has an interest in putting them in force. Lord K—— was, indeed, brought to trial; but as he had taken good care to arrange the affair with the only two witnesses, and to get them out of the way, he was acquitted for want of evidence. No man in England can be tried twice for the same offence; so that from this moment, in spite of the perfect notoriety of the murder, all danger to the murderer was at an end. The unhappy girl soon after disappeared,—it was reported, died. Lord K—— long survived her; and at a very late period of his life was famed for the beauty of his mistresses, one of whom inhabited each of his seats. The consequences of this depravity, at length, was a separation from his wife, and the bitter hostility and litigation which subsisted between them till his death. Meanwhile his eldest son, the present Earl, had married, while yet a minor, in Sicily; had already three children by his young wife, and lived completely separated from his country; when suddenly he received a most affectionate invitation from his father, who promised to forget and forgive the past. He was induced by this to set out for Ireland with all his family. Scarcely was he returned, when his father employed all his influence to get the marriage annulled. The young mother was sent home; and the children, declared illegitimate, were disposed of in England. The son, contrary to all expectation, seems to have given in to his father’s schemes without much difficulty, and soon after married a rich heiress. After his father’s death he carried on a still fiercer lawsuit with his mother than his father had done, in order to get possession of an estate which she refused him. In this, however, he could not accomplish his end; nor could she at a later period obtain hers, which was to disinherit him entirely.
Here is a picture of the manners of the great and noble of the eighteenth century.
Cashel.—Evening.
My communicative friend travelled on with me to Cashel. The weather was tolerable,—that is, it did not rain, and that was sufficient in this watery land to set my worthy Irishman repeatedly exclaiming, “What a delightful day!” “What lovely weather!”—I proposed to go a part of the way on foot; on which a tall lad of eighteen, ragged ‘comme de raison,’ offered himself as guide. He walked with great difficulty in a sort of slippers, and appeared to have wounded his feet. I asked him if that was the case: “Oh no,” said he, “it’s only the shoes I’ve put on, because I’m going to be a soldier, and must get used to wearing shoes: but the things are such a plague that I can’t get on with them at all.”
After my usual fashion of disdaining no sources of information,—by which means I often glean some ears from conversation even with the lowest,—I made inquiries of my guide as to the present state of his country. “Yes,” said he, “it’s quiet enough here at present, but in Tipperary, which we shall soon come to, especially off to the north, they know how to stand against the Orangemen: O’Connell and the Association have organized us there, like regular troops: I belong to them, and I have a uniform at home: if you saw me in it, you’d hardly know me;—three weeks ago we all met there, above 40,000 men, to be reviewed. We had all green jackets, (for every man must get one as well as he can,) with an inscription on the arm—King George and O’Connell. We have chosen our own officers; they drill us, and we can march and wheel already like the redcoats. We had no arms to be sure, but they could be had too if O’Connell chose. We had flags, and whoever deserted them or got drunk, we threw into the water till he was sober again: but that very seldom happened.—They call us O’Connell’s Militia.”
The Government has since prudently forbidden this military display; and my promising citizen-soldier was furious against Lord K——, who had arrested all his tenants (little farmers who are as dependent on their lords as serfs) who were present at the review. “But,” added he, “every hour that they sit in prison shall be paid by their tyrants, whom we had rather see dead than alive;—if they in Cork here were not such tame sheep! In Tipperary they would have settled his business long ago: O’Connell never comes here, even when it’s his nearest way, for he cannot endure the sight of K——.”
This is the spirit of party every where at work! and so well informed is this nation of beggars as to the state of their affairs!
The journey to Cahir was not very interesting. The road lies between two chains of mountains, the Galtees and the Knockmildown mountains; but as the wide plain between them affords little wood or variety of objects, the view is not agreeable. My travelling companion pointed out the highest peak of the Galtees, where the most renowned sportsman[138] of the neighbourhood was buried with his dog and his gun. Not far from thence are subterranean caverns, of unfathomable extent, full of stalactites. They are accessible only in the hottest weather; at all other seasons they are filled with water.