To imitate her."
The duchess again beheld her early friends, once more she partook of their juvenile pastimes. Time advances—her courtship with the duke proceeds—her consent to the marriage given—the wedding takes place—the birth of Adelaide—the duke's increased favour with his sovereign—his several appointments—his promotion—the introduction of the duchess at court—the duke presented with the order of the garter, and appointed viceroy of Ireland—the scenes attendant thereon—Adelaide the admiration of every eye, and the praise of every tongue. All these events, conjured up by deceptive vision, passed in rapid succession, seen through the camera obscura of the past. Now floats before her tortured fancy the obverse of the medal:—The battle of the Boyne is fought and lost—King James is forced to make a precipitate flight—the Duke of Tyrconnel accompanies his deposed sovereign—the duke is outlawed by King William, who passes an act of attainder against him—the duchess is compelled to depart from Ireland—Adelaide accompanies her mother in her voyage. The dream continues:—The duchess much perturbed—at sea they encounter a violent storm—she and Adelaide are about to perish in a watery grave. The duchess moans, and becomes deeply depressed, which awakened Adelaide, who arose, and gently opening the shutter, the rays of a summer sun glanced in at the casement. Then putting on her attire with great caution and silence Adelaide seated herself by her mother's side. The duchess greatly disturbed in her sleep, with a deep moan and restless motion turned around in the bed; in doing so her arm fell next Adelaide; who gently, but affectionately, kissed her mother's hand, and while in the act the duchess awoke.
"Oh! this, at least, is no vision to mock my misery!—I am awake—this is no dream! Oh, my dear, dear Adelaide!—my darling child is it you?"
The duchess sat up in her bed, and warmly embracing Adelaide, while the fond, maternal tear moistened as it fell upon her daughter's cheek, she said:—"May heaven ever bless and protect thee, my dear and duteous daughter, and its gracious mercy be always thine! for thou hast ever been dutiful to thy parents, and obedient to thy Creator!"
The duchess now arose, and as neither her Grace nor Adelaide expended any unnecessary waste of time at their toilette, they were soon at their post at the breakfast table. Sir Patricius rung, and desired the waiter to place a Malines ham and a bottle of Louvain beer on the side-table, both of which he declared were excellent in their kind; some of the ladies tasted the ham, but the Louvain beer remained untasted except by the provident Baronet himself, who smacked his lips, and observed that it was passing good; and then noticed that there were three kinds of it, that which lay upon the table was of the weakest sort; the next was called Caniac, which was to be met with at the tables of the noblesse and the wealthier bourgeois; the strongest kind is called Peterman, which, he observed, was sold at the coffee-houses in the evening; and in such repute is Louvain beer held, he said, that annually one hundred and fifty thousand tuns are brewed for exportation; "but for my poor part," next continued Sir Patricius, (filling out a second glass,) "I have slight objection to quaff it at the fountain head!—"Satius est petere fontes, quam sectari rivulos."—Ha, ha, ha!
Breakfast having terminated, and the practical panegyric of Sir Patricius on Louvain beer and Malines ham being duly exemplified and concluded, the duchess sallied forth in search of a furnished house, which her Grace intended to engage for a term not less than that of a year. Three or four houses were inspected, but they were found not to answer; one was too small to accommodate the family, another was indifferently furnished, a third was objected to from its unpleasantness of situation; a fourth was examined, which was agreeably situated in the Rue Ducale, opposite to the park; this seemed to promise well, Sir Patricius rang the hall bell, and a tall, meagre figure, in a rich flowered silk robe de chambre, and his head enveloped in a red night-cap, opened the door; it was Monsieur Passemier, the proprietor of the house, who grinned and bowed most obsequiously; he was about sixty-five years of age, but seemed in spirits, and also in activity, to enjoy all the vigour of youth. He now proceeded to show the house: the hall, or vestibule, was spacious, and very handsomely ornamented with marble tables, bronze busts on brackets, and a statue of white marble of the god of silence. The garden, which adjoined the hall, was very tastefully laid out; a corridore of trellis work, entwined with parasite plants, led from the hall to the garden, where several walks, arched above, formed pleasant arbours, through and around which the clustering vines had entwined themselves, and now displayed their luxuriant bunches of red and white grapes.
The duchess ascended to the drawing-rooms, which were hung with rich Brussels' tapestry, and hangings of Arras; the subjects represented were woven from designs of Teniërs, Snyders, and Rubens; the different compartments represented village fairs, rural merry-makings, and boar hunts.
The sofas, or settees rather we should say, the rude, gothic predecessors of the present modern sofa, were extremely long and extremely low, and yet withal of an enormous size; they were covered with blue velvet, and fringed with gold lace; the chairs, which corresponded, were on castors, and were of that formidable space and magnitude to have afforded seats to the two redoubtable city giants of Guild-Hall, Messieurs Gog and Magog, who, if hither transported, might have held thereon a seeming tête-á-tête, without any diminution or disparagement of their gravity and greatness.
Monsieur Passemier, (for to the lank gentleman in the red night-cap the said mansion appertained,) ever and anon was restlessly employed in raising or lowering the red cap on his forehead, and with continued and extravagant grin, grimace, and gesticulation, became exceedingly loquacious, his teeth chattering most monkey-like. He dwelt much on the commodiousness of his house, the fine view of the park which it commanded, the fashionableness of the situation, the salubrity of the air, the convenience of his jardin ornè; and rung various changes on the fine furniture of his mansion, so superior, he insisted, to les miserablès meubles garnis of Paris; he once indeed (malheureux!) had, in an evil hour, let lodgings, but he would never do so again—jamais! He once, pardié, had set these apartments (en haut) to Monsieur Le Compte d'Egmont and Madame la Comptesse, et quatres petites diables des enfants; the lower (en bas) apartments were set to le bon Evêque de Brugès. But, une jour, Le Compte et Madam la Comptesse were abroad pour faire visite, when les quatres petites diables des enfants made, mon Dieu! such a grand bouleversement, you never did hear—no persone did ever see de like.