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 assert 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 canals 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 cockney dialect he designated as "Anglicisms," and therefore much to be preferred to the most classical 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 compassion her name always excites, the hand-writing of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, in a Sallust 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 passed 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 multitude 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 passing stranger. Our party met with many such petitioners, 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 passenger 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 God 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.
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 anticipating the moment when she would be wholly and solely his. The dilettante, as they passed 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 pass 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 amusement.
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 Phœnix Park.