The author’s efforts to discover the source of his name and family—The Irish herald-at-arms—Reference made by him to the English professor—Heraldic speculation—Ascent of the author’s pedigree to the reign of William the Conqueror—Consultation with the Norman herald suggested—Author’s visit to Rouen—Anecdotes of French convents—Madame Cousin and her system—Traits of toleration—M. Helliot, the celebrated ancien avocat of Rouen—Practice of legal bigamy in Normandy—A breakfast party—Death of M. Helliot—Interview with an old herald, formerly of the noblesse—His person and costume described—Discovery of the town and castle of Barentin—Occurrences there—The old beggar-man—Visit to Jersey, where Drogo de Barentin was killed in defending the castle of Mont Orgueil—Return to Barentin, and singular incident at Ivetot—Conclusion.
My visit to France enabled me, besides gratifying myself by the sight and observation of the distinguished characters of whom I have in the Sketches immediately foregoing made mention, to pursue an inquiry that I had set on foot some time previously in my own country.
As I have already informed the reader in the commencement of this work, I was brought up among a sort of democratic aristocracy, which, like the race of wolf-dogs, seems to be extinct in Ireland. The gentry of those days took the greatest care to trace, and to preserve by tradition, the pedigree of their families and the exploits of their ancestors.
It is said that “he must be a wise man who knows his own father;” but if there are thirty or forty of one’s forefathers to make out, it must necessarily be a research rather difficult for ordinary capacities. Such are therefore in the habit of resorting to a person who obtains his livelihood by begetting grandfathers and great-grandfathers ad infinitum!—namely, the herald, who, without much tedious research, can, in these commercial days, furnish any private gentleman, dealer, or chapman, with as beautifully transcribed, painted, and gilt a pedigree as he chooses to be at the expense of purchasing—with arms, crests, and mottoes to match: nor are there among the nobility themselves emblazonments more gaudy than may occasionally be seen upon the tilbury of some retired tailor, whose name was probably selected at random by the nurse of a foundling hospital.
But as there is, I believe, no great mob of persons bearing my name in existence, and as it is pretty well known to be rather old, I fancied I would pay a visit to our Irish herald-at-arms, to find out, if possible to a certainty, from what country I originally sprang. After having consulted every thing he had to consult, this worthy functionary only brought me back to Queen Elizabeth, which was doing nothing, as it was that virgin monarch who had made the first territorial grant to my family in Ireland, with liberty to return two members to every future parliament, which they actually did down to my father.
The Irish herald assured me that he could not honestly carry me one inch farther back on the male line, and so (having painted a most beautiful pedigree) he recommended me to the English herald-at-arms, who, he had no doubt, could take the thread at the top, and unravel it to my satisfaction.
I accordingly took the first opportunity of consulting this fresh oracle in London, whose minister having politely heard my case, transferred it to writing, screwed up his lips, and looked steadfastly at the ceiling for some five minutes: he then began to reckon centuries on his fingers; but there being only eight of them, he applied to his thumbs; took down several large books full of emblazonments, nodded his head, and at last, cleverly and scientifically taking me up from the times of Queen Elizabeth, where I had been abruptly dropped by my fellow-countryman, delivered me, in less than a fortnight, as handsome a genealogical tree as could be reasonably desired: on this I triumphantly ascended to the reign of William the Conqueror, and the battle of Hastings, at which some of my ancestors were, it appears, fairly sped, and provided with neat lodgings in Battle Abbey, where, for aught I know to the contrary, they still remain.
The English herald-at-arms also informed me (but rather mysteriously) that it was probable I had a right to put a French De at the beginning of my name, as there was a Norman ton at the end of it; but that, as he did not profess French heraldry, I had better inquire further from some of the craft in Normandy, where that science had at the period of the crusades greatly flourished—William the Conqueror, at the time he was denominated the Bastard, having by all accounts established a very celebrated heraldic college at Rouen.
I was much pleased with his candour, and thus the matter rested until Louis XVIII. returned home with his family, when, as the reader is aware, I likewise passed over to France with mine.
I did not forget the hint given me by my armorial friend in London; and in order to benefit by it, repaired, as soon as circumstances permitted, to Rouen, in which town we had been advised to place our two youngest daughters, for purposes of education, at a celebrated Ursuline convent, the abbess whereof was considered a more tolerating religieuse than any of her contemporaries. Before I proceed to detail the sequel of my heraldic investigations I will lay before the reader one or two anecdotes connected with French nunneries.