In the afternoon I visited the Catholic dean, an extremely agreeable man, who lived a long time on the continent, and was chaplain to the late Pope. His frank and enlightened conversation excited my surprise; for we are accustomed to think that every Catholic must of necessity be a superstitious bigot. Among other things, he said to me, “Believe me, this country is devoted to misfortune. We have scarcely such a thing as a Christian among us: Catholics and Protestants have one common religion,—that of hatred.”
Some time afterwards, Captain S—— brought me the latest newspaper, in which my visit to the meeting was mentioned: the few words I said there, and the other speeches, were dressed up with the accustomed charlatanerie, and filled three or four columns of the paper. To give you a specimen of this ‘genre,’ and at the same time to cut a figure in your eyes by my eloquence, I translate the beginning of the article, in which I am puffed in the same style as that in which a quack doctor sets forth the unparalleled virtues of his pills, or a horse-dealer those of his horses:—listen.
“As soon as the arrival of the * * * * was known, the president, accompanied by a deputation, repaired to his apartment, to invite him to honour our feast with his presence. Shortly afterwards, the * * * * entered the room. His air is ‘commanding and graceful.’ He wore moustaches, and although very pale, his countenance is ‘exceedingly pleasing and expressive.’ He took his seat at the upper end of the table, and, bowing to the company, spoke distinctly and ‘with proper emphasis,’ though with a foreign accent, the following words:—‘Gentlemen,—Although ill and very tired, I feel myself too much flattered by your kind invitation not to accept it with thanks, and to express to you personally the lively interest I take in your struggles on behalf of your country. May God bless this beautiful and richly-gifted land! which offers to every foreigner such manifold enjoyments; but in which I, especially, have reason to acknowledge with the deepest gratitude, the kindness and hospitality which I have every where experienced. May Heaven, I repeat, bless this sorely-tried country, and every true Irishman, whether Catholic or Protestant, who desires the welfare not of any exclusive sect or party, but of Ireland!—a welfare that can be attained only by peace, forbearance, and ‘civil and religious liberty,’ (a standing phrase in these islands.) Gentlemen, fill your glasses and allow me to give you a toast:—‘The King, and Erin go bragh!’ (This is the old Irish motto, which is on the medal of the order of the Liberator, and signifies ‘Erin for ever!’)
“The President:—‘Gentlemen, I beg you to participate in my feelings, and to receive the expression of them from me. May our ‘illustrious guest,’ to whose health we now fill our glasses,—if ever he return among us,—find us in the enjoyment of equal laws and equal privileges, and in the possession of that internal tranquillity which alone we have combined to obtain. Three times three:—The ‘* * * *.’” I repeated my thanks for the honour done me, and added, “That nothing could make me happier than to be an eye-witness of the fulfilment of their and my wishes, in a country which I loved as my own, and quitted with extreme regret.”
Now, dear Julia, what do you think of me? Cannot I string common-places as well as another upon occasion? What is no common-place, though reiterated at the end of every one of my letters, is, the assurance of the tender affection with which I am, and ever shall be,
Your Friend L——.
LETTER XXXVIII.
Cashel, Oct. 12th, 1828.
Dearest Friend,