THE EVE OF ALL-HALLOWS;

OR,

ADELAIDE OF TYRCONNEL;

A ROMANCE.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

By MATTHEW WELD HARTSTONGE, Esq. M. R. I. A.

VOL. I.

LONDON:

FOR G. B. WHITTAKER, AVE MARIA LANE.

1825.

TO

SIR WALTER SCOTT, OF ABBOTSFORD, BART.,

&c. &c. &c.

(WITH WHOSE KIND PERMISSION,)

THE FOLLOWING TALE OF ERIN

IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,

BY HIS EVER OBLIGED FRIEND

AND FAITHFUL SERVANT,

THE AUTHOR.

Molesworth-street, Dublin,

February 1, 1825.

CONTENTS

THE EVE OF ALL-HALLOWS.

CHAPTER I.

Tollimur in cœlum curvato gurgite, et idem Subductâ ad manes imos descendimus undâ. Ter scopuli clamorem inter cava saxa dedere; Ter spumam elisam, et rorantia vidimus astra. Virg. Æ. l. III.

Lay her aloof, the sea grows dangerous: How it spits against the clouds! how it capers, And how the fiery element frights it back! There be devils dancing in the air, I think. The Sea Voyage.—Fletcher.

It was upon a dark and lowering afternoon, the 30th day of October, one thousand six hundred and——the day preceding The Eve of All-Hallows, when the Rev. Doctor M'Kenzie, at that time Chaplain to his Grace the Duke of Tyrconnel, and who had been for some time in the ancient realm of Scotland, on a visit to his kind relatives and friends in that hospitable land, had formed a resolution to depart for the shores of Ireland, to meet his noble patron. When, in pursuance of this intention, he embarked on board "The William Wallace of Ayr," the sails of the vessel were unfurled, and the signal-flag was seen streaming from the pendant of the main-top-gallant, all giving true and significant indications that the sea-worthy vessel was upon the eve of sailing, and her destination was known to be for the northern coast of Ireland.

Torrents of rain had showered down during the entire of the day, as is not unusual at that advanced autumnal period; these were accompanied with loud peals of thunder, while continuous sheets of lightning illumined and flashed throughout the darkly tinted horizon, which were succeeded by frequent squalls of wind, that at intervals dying suddenly away, served but to make the returning roaring blast the more tremendous and disheartening.

The vessel was to have sailed at the full tide, but this measure was entirely prevented by the strong and continued recurrence of the storm, which blew with such pertinacious force and opposition that "The William Wallace of Ayr" lay close to its anchors all that afternoon, the whole of the night, and during the next succeeding day. About nine o'clock, however, of the evening of the thirty-first, The Eve of All-Hallows, the storm to every appearance had wholly abated, and preparations accordingly were commenced for the ship to sail, without any further delay, as bound on its destination. At that point of time the Reverend Chaplain, Doctor M'Kenzie, and his servant, were the only passengers on board. "All hands unmoor!" was now loudly and manfully rung forth by the crew; and all matters having been duly arranged for setting sail, while the wind blowing fresh and fair, the ponderous anchor was raised from its oozy bed.

The reader may well imagine, from all these previous preparations, that the vessel and crew were on the point of sailing; when, hark! the hoarse exclaiming "halloo!" and the clattering hoofs of horsemen in full gallop, were heard sounding sullenly on the ear, and next loudly thundering their deep echoes through the hollow and deserted streets of Ayr, which rivetted the sailor to the deck, and at once, as if by magic influence, paralyzed and arrested his motions. The rapid progress of the strangers exciting the curiosity of the sailors, called forth in a no less degree the astonishment of the quiet and peaceable burghers of the good and loyal town of Ayr, who were then about to retire to repose. Two horsemen now advanced, their wearied steeds pressed onward with the utmost velocity; who halting for the instant at the brig of Ayr, inquired with breathless and hurried anxiety, if a boat did not there await in readiness to convey passengers on board "The William Wallace?" But the boat was gone! The few sailors, however, or fishermen, who loitered on the quay, said in reply, that they had gude reason to ken that the Bonnie Wullie had not slipped cables, sic warstling winds had blown sic a hurricane, that the gude and bonnie ship was unco snug in harbour.

The strangers now dashed desperately onward, as if life or death were staked upon the attainment of their object. The vessel was not yet under way when they arrived on the beach, their panting steeds besmeared with blood and foam, and nearly exhausted by fatigue.

The principal personage attracted the gaze of every eye, so noble and martial was his mien; a tall, graceful, and commanding figure, whose whole appearance bespoke the undaunted warrior; his firm step, and manly air, and sinewy arm, boldly told that he knew well how to wield the falchion in the doubtful fight; while his intrepid eye blazed forth the talisman of feats in arms and war, and nobly indicating how oft it had flashed defiance and death upon the daring foe.

"From gory selle and reeling steed Sprung the fierce horseman with a bound, And reeking from some recent deed, He dash'd his carbine on the ground." [1]

He was enveloped in a plaid, and wore a Highland bonnet, richly surmounted with plumes; the stranger was nearly breathless from fatigue and the rapidity of his flight, for such it seemed to be; added to which the pallid brow and glaring eye-balls, gave strong and powerful demonstrations that there existed some other more influential, though latent source—perchance, it was of sorrow! which affected him even still more than bodily fatigue. But still these might have been only mere suspicions, suggestions probably unjustly awakened at the interesting moment, from the lateness of the hour, the hasty, embarrassed approach of the stranger; and added to all this, his impatience and manifest anxiety to embark. It might be assumed that "the sum and front" of all amounted to no more than this. What then of the extraordinary or the marvellous could by possibility attach to circumstances that doubtless any individual, placed in similar situations, must unavoidably have felt, and betrayed a strong and equal portion of awkwardness and embarrassment to have encountered?

But without further interlocution we proceed onward with our tale. The stranger hastily, but urgently, inquired if the vessel would immediately sail? Upon his being answered in the affirmative, and the boat on the instant having been hauled down to take him on board, he promptly flung into it a small valise, which he had carried at his saddle-bow, and instantly springing after it himself, was followed by his attendant. When placed in the boat, he took his station at the stern, where, enveloped in his plaid, he sat immoveably silent, wrapped in gloomy meditation. Upon the stranger's having reached the ship, he still seemed deeply absorbed in thought; the same continued gloom and silence were preserved, while with hurried strides ever and anon he stately paced the deck. At intervals, however, he would suddenly stop, and then he would deeply and intently muse within himself, with folded arms, and dark and lowering brow. Upon his valise was his address written, "Colonel Davidson,——Brigade;" the term or epithet preceding the word "brigade," was torn off, whether by accident or intention did not appear.

All matters on board having been duly arranged and adjusted, while a momentary interval of silence prevailed—"I say," said a sailor, addressing his comrade, "its a fearfu' mirk to-night, which bodes nae gude!"

"Aye, aye!" replied his companion; "but what is still warse, it is Hallowmass; and too weel I ken that the arch-fient, wi' a' the weirds and warlocks, will be abread, and alake! I spae the Bonnie Wullie wull tint the gate! and then we a' maun gang down auld Davie's locker."

"Weel," rejoins the comrade, "it is a donsie night, but I'm nae fasht my cantie carl! whare we a' maun gang togither, a' that's kenspeckle, sae nae mair Claivers!"

"Aye, but I wiss, Sandy," replies the other, "to make a' sicker, that the Deil haed a houd o' the haly man belaw!"

"Whom do you mean?—what holy man below do you speak of?" said Colonel Davidson, the first time that he had noticed aught was going forward.

"A haly auld chiel belaw," rejoined the sailor, "that's boune for Eirin."

"Who——what——how——whom do you call him, friend?"

"I ca' him nae doot Maukeenzie. Pray wha do ye ca' um, your worship?"

"Is the vessel bound for Ireland?"

"Yea it be, anely frae the gate o' the wind, that says nae to it."

Occasional squalls of wind now arose, the compass veered, the wind became adverse; and the storm, or rather hurricane, of the preceding day threatened to return. Under these gloomy presages

"Short time there were for gratulating speech."

Suddenly sounds like the mournful cadence of the plaintive Æolian harp, were heard above the waves; but no shape, no form, was visible, not even in shadowy indistinctness: but solemn musical sounds, wherever they might have proceeded from, and mocking the human voice, only were heard, sad, slow, and solemn, as the choral chant, De mortuis.

THE SPIRIT OF THE STORM.

LOQUITUR.

Where loud tumultuous tempests rave, And foaming surges daunt the brave; I mount my storm-swept throne, the wave!

When midnight fiends their vigils keep, While lightnings rend the mountain's steep, I, scowling, rise from out the deep!

When hope within each bosom dies, While heard the drowning seaman's cries, The raving spirit of the storm, I rise!

Now list! with more than mortal fear, The dismal dirge which strikes the ear!

THE DIRGE.

Once we held fair Scotland's throne, Aye, once we claimed that realm our own; Fuimus, non sumus!

Valorous deeds our claymores crowned, We ever were true heroes found. Fuimus, non sumus!

But feuds, dissension, strife arose; Oppressed by ranks of hostile foes. Fuimus, non sumus!

Behold! the last of all our race Is forced to fly his natal place! He bears the vengeful, fatal knife, Deep stained by bloody feudal strife! Fuimus, non sumus![2]

The chant and dirge were audible to the crew, who listened with deep consternation, and were awfully impressed upon the recollection of the Reverend Chaplain.

Every succeeding blast of wind bore increased terror as it swept along, and every startling sound excited suspense and dismay. Again the howling tempest burst forth, and raged with loud and renovated force, what time the stately stranger, or more correctly to speak, Colonel Davidson, in deep apparent despondency, was incontinently observed furiously to pace to and fro the deck, as if in a state of mental aberration. He appeared of more than mortal size to the terrified eyes of the beholders; his action was wild and frantic. At one time he walked with such rapidity as if pursued by an enemy; anon he would suddenly halt, and, folding his arms, gaze upon the troubled deep, which seemed in unison with his troubled mind. Next, loudly he uttered a deep and contrite groan; when having rapidly pushed aside his plaid, he drew forth dirk, sabre, or sword, whatever it might be, which brightly glistened in the lightning flash; and then, with hurried impulse, he at once precipitated it down the side of the vessel into the foaming waves. It sunk with a hissing noise, and its descent was accompanied by a fiend-like laugh, which arose from the billows; while at the moment, in a deep, base, sepulchral tone, the chorus of the dirge again fearfully was chanted from the waves:

Fuimus, Non Sumus!

When this dolefully awful chorus was repeated, the Colonel's countenance assumed the horrible expression of one writhing under intolerable pain, and seeming to undergo the agonizing tortures of the damned! His eye-balls flashed fire, he gnashed his teeth, then clenched his brawny hand, and made a sudden spring, as if in the very act of throwing himself over board. When at the moment his faithful attendant manfully grasped him by the shoulder. The Colonel was seized with a trance, and instantly fell, apparently lifeless, upon the deck. This fainting fit lasted for some time. At length, however, he was heard deeply to respire; then broke forth a hollow moan; a cold and clammy moisture was perceivable on his face and hands. His attendant had him carried down immediately to the cabin, where he was placed in his bed.

The unearthly dirge and chorus, as has been before observed, were long remembered by Doctor M'Kenzie, who was then in bed in the cabin below; and he has been often heard to express his feelings deeply excited upon this awful occasion; and to declare, that to the last expiring moment of his existence, he never could forget the mysterious sounds of that ominous night!

The events, beyond all dispute, were passing strange and fearful; but then all on board "The William Wallace" bore strongly in their remembrance, that this portentously awful night was "The Eve of All-Hallows;" and then they ceased to wonder, while each thought to himself, that

"Hell is empty, and all the devils are here!"

They scarcely had been a few hours at sea, bound on their destined track, when again, with resumed fury, the storm returned. They consequently were obliged to make several tacks, still endeavouring to force their way upon the perilous voyage. The harbour of Ayr is a dangerous one, and to attempt to regain it were to encounter greater danger than what might eventually await the navigators upon the open seas. For a length of time they beat between the isles of Arran and the Firth of Clyde; when at last the wind changing, the breeze blew fair from the north-east, while the staunch vessel proceeded on her watery way. They were now sailing along the deep-indented and romantic coast of Ayrshire, when wearied by the eternal tacking to and fro, the heat and pent-up-air, and all the dull monotony and purgatorial misery of the cabin of a ship, Doctor M'Kenzie ascended the deck, and thence inhaled the invigorating and refreshing breeze, while intently, with admiring gaze, he surveyed the bold and broken masses of those picturesque shores, which had become strongly illuminated by the bright lightning flashes then briskly darting over the wild masses of rock, bank, and brae, and glanced athwart steeple, fort, and tower, o'er lofty peak and promontory; when suddenly again all was immersed in darkness! Yet he perceived that this interesting scene totally failed to attract the stranger's attention, who had returned about the same time on deck that the Reverend Chaplain had done, and continued with persevering pertinacity to pace it, as upon the preceding day.

At that period of time nobly frowned in feudal grandeur those fortresses, castles, towers, and rampires, which then defended the romantic shores of Ayrshire from the sword of the invader, extending their line of defence from Loch-Ryan to the port of Irvine; but which in our own days have become picturesque ruins, festooned with fern, lichen, and ivy, and affording solitary shelter to the owl, bat, and raven.

All these were passed by unlooked at and unobserved by the singular and silent stranger; those classic shores of fame, destined in subsequent ages to be immortalized in the ever imperishable song of the tender and inimitable Burns; these scenes, the favourite haunt of his "Tam o' Shanter," the rich and verdant lawns, and the romantic rocky braes of lordly Cassilis. All these delightful scenes were passed by unheeded, for the stranger did not even look to shore, but studiously turned his eyes seaward; and wrapt in deep, moody, mournful meditation, he seemed to rejoice in the bounding billow, and in the roar of the tempest. Not the mighty towering pyramid, of stupendous height, the colossal craig of Ailsa,[3] which now they sailed past, could arrest his eye; nor the fierce wild scream of the osprey, on its summit, could strike his ear, although joined in hoarse, sullen, and dissonant chorus, by myriads of the Solan tribe, that plumaged its surrounding base; while other sea-fowl, like a misty-halo, hovering in mid-air, crowned its conic crest.

The vessel had just shot past Ailsa-Rock, when fiercely the rising tempest blew such a violent gale, that it caused "The William Wallace" to be hurried, with vast impetuosity, through the straits between Fair-Head and the Mull of Cantyre, and then boldly to be at once launched into the Irish Sea.

The storm now raged with such fury, that it was necessary to furl every sail, and to beat about the entire night under bare poles; while the pitchy darkness of the sky, added to the horrors of the storm, made their situation still more alarming and formidable.

The Reverend Chaplain, much fatigued and wearied, thought it advisable to retire below to his hammock; so thought too even the solitary stranger, who, although hitherto he seemed to woo the breeze, and enjoy the storm, yet also thought it prudent to resume his station in the cabin, and descended accordingly.

None now remained upon deck except such of the crew as were upon immediate duty, and who were lashed to the masts; the hatchways were closed down, and the sea, in mountain cataracts, burst over the deck with impetuous roar; while overpowered with fatigue, perhaps too with fear, the passengers fell into a sound sleep. Thus passed away the first tempestuous night of their voyage.

Before the morning watch the wind strangely and perversely changed to the opposite point of the compass, while squall fiercely succeeded squall; and the dawn of day witnessed them coasting, west and by south,

"The storm-swept Orcades," [4]

in a boisterous swollen sea, and beneath a darkened sky. Sorry we are here to have it our duty to narrate that the vessel, probably from the straining of her timbers, unhappily sprung a leak. All hands instantly were at their post, and the crew exerted them-selves to the utmost in closing the chasm, and incessantly, without respite or intermission, plying every pump; and at length their efforts providentially fully succeeded: for what will not determined resolution do, and persevering unabating energy achieve! Relieved from this imminent and impending danger, once more they proceed on their perilous course, amid this fearful warfare of the elements.

The entire of this eventful day the storm raged with unabated fury, the wind continuing still in the same point, and onward tumultuously they were driven by force of wave and wind. Towards night-fall the vessel came close to the Feroe Islands, where it shortly got hemmed in amid a cluster of rocks, not noticed in their charts. The night was pitch-dark. However, after an interval, the clouds partially giving way, the moon, which was nearly full, arose, and afforded a sufficient friendly light for the Captain to ascertain the extent of the danger which he had to encounter. He immediately caused the gunwale to be lightened, by throwing the guns overboard, which effectually raised her, and the waves of the returning tide assisted in extricating the vessel from imminent peril. They at length happily succeeded in clearing the vessel from her jeopardy, and rescuing the crew from impending destruction. Still, however, it was momentarily dreaded that a new leak might break forth, or that the vessel, bulging upon other unknown rocks, might go to pieces, and the sufferers be swallowed up by the treacherous and remorseless deep. These apprehensions continued throughout the entire day.

The storm ere long returned more furious than at its first onset, and soon broadly launched the vessel into the Northern Sea,

"While to the helm unfaithful still she lies."

The masts now became dreadfully shattered from the intensity of the storm. Dangers and difficulties so increased, that all hopes of safety seemed nearly at an end. Upon Providence, nevertheless, still the hapless crew devoutly placed their trust; the Captain, from the very perilous situation in which they were placed, was compelled to try one desperate remedy, namely, to cut away the shrouds, and stay, and with all possible expedition to hew down the mizen-mast. During this awful operation the crew did not conduct them-selves like men without hope, although around them all was danger and despair! They felt, however, fully aware that little less than a miracle could extricate them from the horrors which surrounded them. With instant promptitude having obeyed and executed the orders of their Captain, with bold and skilful celerity they soon lightened the vessel, which bounded with desperate rapidity into the vast and boundless German Ocean: the watery world was now all before them, and Providence their guide!

Once more it was day. Nothing however, worthy of being recorded, occurred at that period, nor during the night.

On the fourth morning a watery sun arose in a hazy sky, they now were close in view of the coast of Austrian-Flanders, with such rapidity, had wind, and tide, and currents impelled them onward. They now proceeded at the surprising rate of twelve knots an hour, the wind and tide conjointly impelling, unassisted by any sail!

On the disastrous afternoon of this day the vessel made a desperate plunge, striking upon a cluster of rocks some leagues distant from land; the shock was so violent that nearly it had split the stern of the gallant ship. Overcome by terror and fatigue, depressed by despair, and more like the dead than the living, they remained awfully wedged in between these dreadful rocks. Eventually, after an interval of suspense and horror, which appeared to all as though it would never end, the force and ascendant power of the buoyant billows heaved the vessel completely over these formidable crags. She was now once more afloat, but her rudder was borne away; and onward she was drifted at the sport and will of the fiercely rolling waves.

Thus rapid was the vessel whirled, the mounting waves every moment dashing in torrents athwart the deck. Again a second shock was encountered. It was then all despair, desperation, madness! But, oh how appalling to every feeling heart was the dreadful cry,

"All's lost! to prayers, to prayers! all's lost!"

Still in this state awfully the vessel rapidly was impelled, and approached more closely to the coast of Austrian-Flanders. But alas! it is our painful lot to record the unhappy fate of "The William Wallace of Ayr;" when approaching Ostend the ill-omened bark struck upon a sand bank, which but too truly is called "Banc-Dangereux;" then her crushing timbers fatally loosened, and, dissevered by the convulsive shock, promiscuously scattered upon the surface of the waves were seen floating the disjoined wreck, shattered spars, divided stores, bales of cargo, &c., along with the mangled corses of the dead, and the struggling bodies of the living, all commingled, and tumultuously undulating upon the agitated billows. But providential it was for the survivors, who, in number, we grieve to state, were but few, that this dreadful catastrophe occurred so closely to the shores of Ostend. Sorry, however, we are to relate that all the crew (except two persons) perished; and that among those who were saved, we have only to count the Captain of the ship, the Mate, the Rev. Doctor M'Kenzie, Colonel Davidson and his servant, these forming the very confined list, we regret to say, of those who survived the terrors of that eventful day.

Impelled by the resistless call of humanity, several boats had put out from the harbour, perceiving the perilous situation of the poor unhappy sufferers; so that when the dread event took place, these were ready and prompt to save the remnant of those who survived what time "The William Wallace"

"Bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost!"

The humanity of the Flemish sailors was rewarded by preserving the lives of five individuals, as we have already observed, from a watery grave; great manual and unwearied exertions were necessary for success, and the unhappy sufferers were landed in safety upon the quay of Ostend.

Ostend is well known to every intelligent reader as a strong fortified sea-port; but at the period of our narrative it did not appear under the most favourable point of view, from the devastation that had ensued in consequence of the long protracted siege of three years and three months, which it had sustained against the Spaniards, under the command of Spinola,[5] when fifty thousand of the garrison and inhabitants perished in this fatal siege, either by disease or the sword; which losses were severely retaliated and multiplied by the deaths of eighty thousand of the besiegers!

Upon their landing on terra firma, Colonel Davidson and Doctor M'Kenzie put up their quarters at the old Saint Michael Inn; and there having been refreshed and invigorated by a hearty substantial meal, which fully and essentially answered every purpose of three or four breakfasts, dinners, and suppers, they heartily congratulated each other in a bottle of genuine and veritable Rhenish wine, upon their most miraculous escape from a watery grave! They subsequently retired at an early hour to repose, overcome, as they had been, by their sufferings and fatigue both of body and of mind, to recover, by the renovation of slumber, "kind Nature's gentle restorer," from the lassitude and horrors of this eventful day.

The next morning they arose quite, or nearly, recovered from their past sufferings; however, with the exception of the Reverend Gentleman, who rather somewhat gravely grumbled at the perils which they had passed. Nevertheless, with good seeming appetites, both began a tolerable coup de main et de fourchette upon the breakfast placed before them. Doctor M'Kenzie observed, while he and the Colonel were sipping some admirable coffee, assisted by the agrèments of excellent Flemish bread and eggs, and swallowing con amorè some Malines ham, which, accompanied with a flowing flagon of Louvaine beer, no doubt put the grave and Reverend Gentleman into the following train of thought: "I feel, my dear Sir," said he, "such a decided and unconquerable objection to a sea-voyage, at least for some time to come, from which, although it may be silly in sooth to say I have suffered so much, yet for the present I quite forego my intention of returning to Ireland—I have indeed too much in my recollection the

'Quæque ipse miserrima vidi, Et quorum pars magna fui——.'

I therefore purpose to proceed to Aix la Chapelle for the benefit of its waters. Indeed so great is the decided repugnance which I feel to again encounter an aquatic expedition, that in the words of our old classical acquaintance, Ovid, I needs must confess that—

'Æquora me terrent, et ponti, tristis imago!'
'The expansive ocean now affrights me, And sad the mournful aspect of the deep!'

Moreover, gallant Colonel, I must say that I prefer the peaceful scenes of nature and rural life to the war of elements, and the rage of battle!"

"Well spoken, my Reverend Sir, like a peaceful gownsman, and quite becoming the doctrine of that Gospel of which thou art a sacred minister. But as for me, I like the din of battle, the neighing of the noble war-horse, and the battle-stirring trumpet's brazen voice, the groan of death, where contending squadrons commingle in the dreadful shock, chorused by the cheering shout of victory."

The Colonel had just, in an emphatic tone of voice, twice shouted "victory!" and had fiercely made another gallant attack upon the Malines ham, when the door of the apartment was rudely opened, and entered by a party of Gen d'Armes, who immediately proceeded to arrest them as prisoners of war, on suspicion of being spies; and after a short interval they both were led off and escorted to prison, where, attended by the Colonel's servant, for the present we needs must leave them, however reluctant, in durance vile.

The above Chapter, unquestionably in unison both with the history and chronology of our Tale, should indeed occupy a much more remote station in this our Romance of the days of superstition; but as we felt and considered it of importance, and besides imping too our flight with some portion of epic boldness, we have nobly dared and adventured to dash at once "in medias res;" in the pursuance of which truly magnanimous determination, courteous reader, we shall tell thee fair and softly, yet in candour, that we shall necessarily be obliged (if thou wilt so graciously permit us) to make some retrograde motions in the subsequent chapters.

But, gentle reader, if thou wilt deign to recollect, that once a year even mighty Sol himself, beneath Cancer, the influential sign of the summer solstice, becomes retrograde. When thus we plead such high authority thou wilt not perhaps deny an extension of the same privilege, albeit to a disk, small and insignificant even as ours, undiscernible by the eye of a Brinkley or a Herschell![6]

Permit us then, kind and patient reader, to retrace our steps and story to the early part of this our notable history; then shalt thou learn the birth of our interesting heroine, and become acquainted with personages, characters, and events, connected with our Tale, which we trust thou mayst find to be withal not unpalatable to thy taste; for which favour, and all retrogressions, and progressions, and egressions, (we hope no transgressions!) thanks and health to thee, mild and patient reader! We laud thee for thy gentle forbearance and good humour in having accompanied us thus far in this our long peregrination; wishing, courteous reader, that thou couldst bestow on us the "plaudite" of old Plautus, but without his valete, as we shall meet anon!

CHAPTER II.

Still in the vale the village bells ring round, Still in Tyrconnel hall the jests resound; For now the caudle-cup is circling there, Now glad at heart the gossips breathe their prayer, And crowding, stop the cradle to admire The babe.
Human Life.

The lovely Adelaide Raymond, the heroine of our Tale, was the only child of Raymond Duke of Tyrconnel. An old prophecy or tradition had immemorially prevailed, that what time a raven should build her nest in the ducal coronet which decorated the summit of the loftiest pavilion-tower of the castle, a male heir, upon this event, should then be wanting to the noble house of Tyrconnel. And this sad occurrence, so deprecated by the dark and credulous terror and tenor of those superstitious times, actually occurred some months previous to Adelaide's birth: a raven had then built her nest within the ducal coronet; and a few posts after brought an account that Lord Richard Raymond, the Duke's only brother, had been killed in a duel at Paris. From this partial fulfilment of the augury the Duke's dependants were filled with the melancholy forebodings that the Duchess, expiring during the pains of parturition, should give birth either to a still-born, or a female infant.

However the latter supposition proved to be well-founded, as the Duchess was soon safely delivered of a female child, in due and given time, upon the Eve of All-Hallows, the 31st day of October, in the year one thousand six hundred and——pending the bodings of the raven, and the vaticinations of the vicinage.

The family of Tyrconnel, through the female line, traced their high descent from a proud and ennobled ancestry, (not less illustrious than that of the noble Duke;) the pedigree was traced from the hight chieftain, famed Nial Necalloch, (or, Nial of the Nine Hostages,) who in his glorious and chivalrous career had achieved various noble feats in arms. But not content with these successes at home, he sought for fame in foreign lands, where in the ardent search and attainment of glory, his gallant course of valour run, he closed his brave and honourable life amid the sunny regions of France; where this warlike planet, this Mars of Erin, expired upon the banks of the Loire,[7] falling like the valiant Richard I. of England, "The lion-hearted," by the arrow of the assassin.

Indeed the house of Tyrconnel might be truly called a noble family, "for all the daughters were chaste, and all the sons were valiant." Per acuta belli was the motto which fearlessly they bore, and which, ever unchanged amid the war-trumpet's clang, the burst of battle, and the shouts of victory, or the dismaying groans of defeat, they proudly and nobly maintained; their escutcheon might oft have been encrimsoned by the blood of the bold, but it still defended the heart, and was upheld by the arm of the brave!

The Duke traced his ancient, lordly, and lineal descent from Raymond Count of Toulouse, who was the first zealous champion in serving, and enthusiastically heading, the Christian cause in the holy wars.

Adelaide Raymond, the only child of Raymond Duke of Tyrconnel, was born upon the 31st day of October, anno salutis, one thousand six hundred and——upon the Eve of All-Hallows, as we have already noticed. His Royal Highness James Duke of York, (brother and presumptive heir to Charles II.,) and who afterwards succeeded to the throne of the triple realms as James II., upon this happy event was most graciously pleased to signify his royal intention of standing sponsor for Lady Adelaide; which high distinction was gratefully and proudly accepted by the Duke and Duchess of Tyrconnel; and the Lord Glandarrah was chosen as proxy for the royal sponsor.

Adelaide almost immediately after her birth had been privately baptized; but the first day of May, which had now arrived, was the day appointed for the state christening. The Duchess d'Aremberg, an early friend of the Duchess of Tyrconnel, stood godmother for the Lady Adelaide, and appointed Lady Lucy Raymond, the Duke's youngest sister, as her proxy. Nor did the Duchess d'Aremberg forget to send a baptismal present upon this august occasion, which arrived in due season, in the shape and form of an infant's cap and frock, all beautifully formed of exquisite Brussels lace, and made under the eye and express directions of the illustrious godmother: and to these were added a scarf and sash of rich Mechlin lace. Nor did Her Grace omit also to send, as was then usual, a handsome honorarium to the child's nurse, Mrs. Judith Braingwain, with whom our gentle reader, in due and given time and place, shall become better acquainted in the following pages of this our eventful history.

But with due leave and respect we must now be permitted to say a word or two concerning the ancient and noble baronial castle, where the high and exalted ceremonial of this day was with such pomp to be celebrated.

The castle of Tyrconnel was situated in the province of Ulster, where its majestic stately ruins still remain magnificent even in decay. It stood upon the verge of a triangular village, to which it gave its own ennobled name, as it was the generic name at that period of the town and the county, which was a district of large extent. Since that time, in these our modern days, the ancient name of Tyrconnel has been changed into Donegal.[8]

The castle is boldly elevated upon the rocky and precipitous margin of the river Eske, which rolls its impetuous torrent into the Atlantic Ocean, from which it is only half-a-mile distant. Mountains surround the castle on every side, except to the west, from which point receding, they open a noble vista to the sea, and give a solemn and magnificent character to the entire scenery. Here the curving and fantastic outlines of the distant mountains, clad in ë blue, arise in endless and beautiful variety, glowing or darkening with every varying tint and tone of sun-shine or of shadow, reflecting each rainbow hue of the atmosphere, and then boldly blending sky and mountain into one congregated mass of undefinable tint; so that the dark blue cloud which rolls above can with difficulty be distinguished from the dark blue mountain that, towering, frowns beneath.

The approach to the majestic steep where this ancient and celebrated fortress stands, is through the well-known pass of Barna-More, or the great gap; which is here formed by the opening arms of the stupendous mountain of Sleavedoon, whose gigantic heights constitute vast continuous barriers to the extent of fourteen miles, girdling within their extended embrace a varied and lonely valley, which expands and smiles beneath.

This massive fabric was planned and piled in the twelfth century by the first Earl of Tyrconnel, and was then, and subsequently for a series of years, garrisoned as a fortress. The castle, although by no means deficient in architectural grandeur, yet appears to have been constituted principally with a view to strength; and that object unquestionably in those days was fully attained, for it was utterly impregnable to all hostile attacks in that early age. The form of the castle is square, and flanked by frowning turrets of similar conformation; the ground-plan is constructed upon an extended scale, and the design of the building is withal irregular: a large magnificent quadrangular court-yard adorns the interior, which is surrounded by bastions, battlements, and towers.

There is a projecting barbican, whose fragments yet remain still boldly overhanging the river Eske, and which seems to have been intended for the purpose of supplying the castle with water, while it is also supposed to have been occasionally used as a donjon-keep, and which afforded an expeditious mode of despatching the prisoners whom the haughty Lord refused to surrender, or was unwilling to maintain, by plunging them down the vortex of the ceaseless current which rapidly rolls beneath.

When the Duke of Tyrconnel resided here several small pieces of cannon were pointed from the embattled bartizan of the central tower, adding to its ornament as well as to its defence. The grand front of the castle was situated seaward; to the west extended a lofty terrace; the embrasures of the parapet wall which enclosed the terrace were furnished with about a dozen of twelve pounders; while the deep foundations of the bastions were moated by the impetuous waters of the Eske, fiercely rolling onward to the Atlantic Ocean.

This lordly pile was this day (the 1st of May, one thousand six hundred and——) destined to be the scene of uncommon festivity and grandeur; indeed such pomp and magnificence never before were witnessed within the walls of Tyrconnel castle. All the nobility and gentry in the country for many miles round were invited to assist at the baptismal banquet given for the noble and lovely infant; and every princely preparation was in readiness duly to celebrate this distinguished day.

The noble banner, quartered and emblazoned with the ancient bearings of this illustrious family, from its gilt flag-staff, which was crowned with the ducal coronet, proudly floated over the high central tower, which latterly had obtained the agnomen of "the raven tower," from a circumstance which already has been related. The guns on the parapet fired a loud salvo to welcome the happy day; while the ancient harper (old blind Cormac) and the piper were put in immediate requisition, to add the notes of harmony to the loud reports of joy.

The tenantry and peasantry, both male and female, were invited, and gladly came, clad in their holiday suits, to partake of a rural banquet, prepared expressly for the occasion within marquees erected on the lawn. The costume of the servants of the Duke was truly princely, and all who wore livery appeared richly apparelled in their state attire of green cloth, deeply laced, and embroidered with gold. The old cathedral tower pealed forth many a merry chime, which duly was responded to by the distant tinkling of the surrounding village bells.

While these preparations were advancing, the Duke happened to be walking upon the terrace, and hearing old Cormac touch his harp and prepare to sing, with the intent, no doubt, that his voice and strings might sound in due tone and harmony at the approaching festival; the Duke had the curiosity to step onward to hear the notes of the aged minstrel—for he was both minstrel and harper; and His Grace listened to learn whether old Cormac had composed any rhythm or song for this great and happy occasion. Accordingly with this fixed intent His Grace advanced to the door of the great hall which led out to the terrace, and which happened to be then open; from thence he listened, and heard the following lines sung by Cormac, which the old man accompanied with his harp:—

CORMAC'S SONG.

Loud strike the harp! and raise the song! To Raymond shall the verse belong! And hail his noble, lovely child, The image of her mother mild.
O softly rest, sweet baby there, And as thy morn, thy life be fair!
Long may that smile of angel grace That now illumes thy beauteous face, Attend thee through life's stormy race!
May no mischance destroy thy rest, Be thine the sun-shine of the blest; And when thy earthly course is past, Be thine the joys shall ever last!
Friendship on earth be thine, and love, And thine eternal bliss above!

The Duke felt exceedingly pleased at the attachment and feeling expressed by the old man in his extempore song, although he might not think very highly of the poetical composition. But the words came from the old man's heart, and the strain to which his harp rang forth was an old Irish air, so the Duke was fully satisfied; and having advanced and entered the hall, he approached old Cormac, and in a gracious tone he said to the sightless bard, "Thanks, Cormac, accept my grateful thanks; and moreover, here is largess for the minstrel, and withal it is stamped in gold." So having said, he passed a gold Carolus into the minstrel's hand; for which bounty, with tears flowing from his sightless eye-balls, the grateful old man made a low and respectful obeisance, adding due courtesy.

Here the Duke retired to dress, to receive his company; and meeting with his physician, Sir Patricius Placebo, on his way, he deputed him to do the honours should any of the guests arrive while His Grace was attiring for the banquet.

Sir Patricius Placebo had been created a baronet by king Charles II., in grateful return for active services and personal kindnesses performed in favour of the monarch during his long exile from the throne of his ancestors; and he was, through the favour of His Royal Highness James Duke of York, who afterwards became James II., introduced, with every favourable recommendation, to the Duke of Tyrconnel.

Sir Patricius Placebo now became forth-with family physician to the Duke. He had been baptized plain Patrick, but assumed that of Patricius; whether it was selected for the euphony of the sound, or the dignity which it implied, or both considerations probably swaying together, the reason of the selection has not been sufficiently defined, nor do our historical annals record the cause. But thus the baronet in sooth was called, and so he wished to be designated.

The attire of Sir Patricius was in due accordance and conformity to the medical costume of the time, which is worthy of being preserved as a historical morceau. His head was enveloped within an enormous bushy peruke, which at this period was confined to the learned professions, or those who affected gravity. This said peruke was bien poudrè, and upon its summit was perched a small gold-laced hat of triangular shape and form, fastened with gold loops, and a button at the sinister side of said triangle. His costume was a rich black velvet coat, without a cape, made single-breasted, with long and portentously extended skirts, starched, and stuffed, and stiffened forth, with a magnanimous expenditure of stay-tape and buckram; from out of which sprung, and sparkled forth, the ornamented hilt of a small sword. The sleeves of the coat were large and slashed, each capacious enough to have contained a moderate sized turkey. The waistcoat, formed of the same materials, was likewise in unison with the coat, single-breasted, with long flaps or skirts, which might have given no bad idea of the Roman sportula. His cravat was formed of the richest muslin, deeply edged with Mechlin lace, which, after passing several times around the neck, meandered through the button-holes of the waistcoat, so as nearly to reach the extremity of the waist. His small-clothes were made likewise of black velvet, according to the curious, and certainly not very seemly fashion of the times. The hose, or stockings, were of scarlet silk, which were tightly drawn up, and ascended the knees upon the exterior of the small-clothes, and that too to the very utmost of their outstretched extent; at the ankles the hose were adorned with clokes of gold net-work.[9] The shoes were fashioned with broad square toes, made with short quarters and high tops, and were so highly polished that they might well indeed have elicited the admiration, if not the envy, of the fabricator (if then living) of "Warren's jet blacking!" [10] The shoes were fastened by small square gold buckles richly wrought. His solitaire of rich black satin, must not perish in oblivion, along with all the dignified et ceteras of a proud chevalier of that chivalrous day. His ruffles and chitterlin were of rich Poyntz lace; while over and around his shoulders was flung a long Spanish càpa ròpa làrga, a large wide cloak or roquelaire of rich Spanish cloth, the inside dyed white, the exterior scarlet; and it is certainly imagined that no one ever yet stood in proximity with the Doctor's red flowing roquelaire without wishing mentally for the approach of a fire-engine!

But we must now complete the portrait of Sir Patricius. He constantly carried an Indian cane, surmounted with a gold head of beautifully perforated filligree-work, the interior of which contained cotton steeped in aromatic vinegar; and it was amusing to behold with what dignified gravity and grimace he ever and anon applied the said cane to the olfactory organ, and with much seeming satisfaction. When this stately toy was relinquished, it gave place to a more magnificent bijou, in the shape of a gold snuff-box: upon the lid was inserted a miniature of Charles II. by the celebrated Samuel Cooper. And let it be remembered that "he was the first who gave the strength and freedom of oil to miniature!" This fine production of original genius was appropriately encircled around with large brilliants. The act of snuff-taking was slowly performed by the grave pressure of the thumb and fore-finger of the right hand, deliberately and ceremoniously performing a curve, or segment of a circle, while with a sly and approving gaze he contentedly ogled a large diamond ring placed on the little finger. When the Baronet spoke it was with a rich and most mellifluous brogue, and to which the tone of consequence did not seem wanting: albeit to those who invited him to a good dinner when the Duke was absent, or who annually vouchsafed to take or order a box of his Pillulæ Vitæ, he was, in sooth, a very pleasant, accommodating, and polite gentleman.

Sir Patricius was standing on the terrace, and leaning thoughtfully upon his cane, when Captain Heaviside rode up to the steps; and alighting from horseback, he ascended the stately terrace. Captain Heaviside was all things to all men—ay, and to all women. He was the pious Æneas in church, conventicle, or chapel; but he was the dux Trojanus in the grotto or drawing-room.

"Good morrow, Captain."

"Sir Patricius, your most humble servant."

"Would you wish, Captain, to view the demesne?"

"Certainly, Sir Patrick—I mean Sir Patricius. I beg pardon, dear Sir; but will you first allow me to jump out of these leathern turrets? I hate all confounded French fashions."

The Captain retired to the chamber appropriated for him. There freely disengaged from the ponderous encumbrances which were worn at that era. After a few moments he rejoined the Baronet in the great hall of the castle. It was not then the fashion, á la Turke, to wear mustâches; nor was it considered necessary to announce the approach into the drawing-room or dancing saloon, of the man of war, by the loud clank and clatter of his iron heels, steel chains, and brass spurs, or the ponderosity of an immense sabre, enclosed in an iron sheath, and "dragging its slow length along." No; Captain Heaviside came in full-dress, according to the studied propriety and etiquette of the age.

The great baronial hall was sumptuously fitted up as an armoury; the walls were adorned with all the ancient arms and weapons which were peculiar to Ireland; it was wainscoted with carved native oak; the ceiling also was of oak, ornamented with carved, basso-relievos of armorial escutcheons, armour, warlike weapons, coats of arms, crests mottoes, &c. Several horns of the moose-deer, of immense dimensions, surmounted the architraves and door-cases. At either end of the hall were two large fire-places, with gigantic chimney-pieces of Irish marble; the central compartment of each was decorated with armorial sculpture, representing the Irish harp, surmounted by the radiate, or Irish crown, the supporters, two wolf-dogs of the Irish breed, and underneath, in Gælic, a motto under each device; the interpretation of which, partly in allusion to the Irish wolf-dog, as also to the manly character of the inhabitants of the island, was, "Gentle when soothed, fierce when provoked." Various war-weapons tastefully displayed and arranged, of ancient Irish make and form, glittered upon the walls; viz. spears and javelins, "the heavy broad-eyed spear of battle," swords, daggers, skeines of iron and brass, two-handled swords, and among them conspicuously shone forth the double-handled sword of the renowned Nial Necalloch, richly ornamented and inlaid with gold; metal halberts were arranged in the same class with tuagh-catha, i.e. battle-axes, tuagh suaighte or clipping axes, fiadhgha, crannuibhs, spears, clubs, Irish lances, spears, javelins, jacks, corslets, haubergeons, targets, bucklers, pavices (shields), cailmhions, salets, skulls (i.e. helmets), sceptres beautifully inlaid with gold, fibula (brooches) of brass, silver, and gold, richly and exquisitely wrought; bits and spurs of an enormous size, and inlaid with gold; druidical scythes, ancient Irish harps (the cithara), ancient Irish trumpets of various kinds and names, the stuic or stock, the buabhall, the beann, the adharc, and the corna or bugle-horn; the dudag, the gall-trompa, the cibbural or corabus, the cornan or cronan, and the iachdarchannus (quasi, cantus bassus.) But here we close our antiquarian summary, as we begin fairly to suspect that many of our readers have no partiality to such ancient researches; suffice it then to say, that all these various specimens were arranged in diversified ornamental shapes and forms of sun, moon, star, and crescent, that fancy could conceive or taste execute.

Here Sir Patricius again proposed to the Captain to accompany him in a ramble to view the grounds; to which Captain Heaviside readily and gladly assented. As they stood upon the terrace, Sir Patricius said, "My worthy Sir, just as you had arrived I was upon this spot, thinking with what taste and judgment my very excellent patron—

(O et præsidium et dulce decus meum!)

has so much improved and adorned these lawns, when, Captain, I can well remember what they were. Great natural capabilities, no doubt, presented them-selves, and His Grace has acted upon them with spirit, taste, and judgment, and withal no expense has been spared. However highly meriting the meed of praise, which doubtless His Grace so well is entitled to, I was just thinking of the great Archimedes, who so sagely and appropriately said,

DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!

And I——"

"I must beg a thousand pardons, most gallant, illustrate, and learned Sir Patricius," said Captain Heaviside, interrupting the Baronet, "but, under favour, my good Sir, I do not in verity understand one word of Hebrew; no, nor any of these nostrums; albeit I have little doubt that Archimedes the great was, in good sooth, a most famous and skilful physician and gifted leech in his celebrated day." [11]

"Nay, Captain Heaviside, I cry nay. Mark me, he was a geometrician and astronomer, and very celebrated as both! The passage which I have put into the mouth of the renowned philosopher of Syracuse is Greek; and if I may be indeed permitted to pique myself upon any kind of erudition, (although, perhaps, in modesty I might say, Vix ea nostra voco), I should then pride myself upon a knowledge of the Greek tongue; and moreover too, the proper pronunciation and due intonation of voice, what Horace so sonorously and emphatically calls the ore rotundo Græcorum. Indeed I do flatter myself that I speak the best Greek beyond any other person in the island!"

"Oh, come, no disparagement, good Sir Patricius! to all your learned acquirements; you excel in speech, and no doubt succeed as well in the gift and exercise of your pen! but I, Sir, the hapless child of wayward fortune, am only acquainted with this! [half drawing his sword from its scabbard.] On this simple stake rest all my fortune and my hope, which, while I have a hand to wield, shall be held forth in the defence of my king and country!"

"Well said, i' faith, my master! and spoken nobly, like a brave and honest soldier! Ay, to be sure, Sir! every man in his vocation, Hal! as the inimitable Shakespeare sagely saith; although, nevertheless, a little knowledge methinks, after all, to the tune of the old proverb, is in sooth no great burden! But come, presto! we shall change the topic and the scene. The day beams forth its vernal glow beneath a brilliant sky, and the melodious strains of the feathered songsters, vying in harmonious notes, invite us abroad. Come, we have stayed too long."

Thus at last the learned physician and the preux chevalier sallied forth to behold the varied and noble domains of the illustrious proprietor. The lawns, shrubberies, walks, gardens, &c., were all kept with the greatest possible care and neatness. Several artificial lakes fed by a living stream, and of great extent, so as to seem as if placed there by the hand of nature, wound along beneath the shadow of ancient groves, and fully diversified the scene. The lawns and parks were smooth and verdant as a bowling-green from the frequent pressure of the roller. While the walks, parterres, and terraces, were so trimly kept that not a fallen leaf was to be seen; which order and regularity was placed to the account and agency of several old females, habited as witches, whose brooms, ever on the alert, kept all in due and perfect neatness. Part of the grounds which adjoined the castle were laid out in that old-fashioned style which we confess we are antediluvian enough to admire; however, be it known that no tree, shrub, nor ever-green, whatever, was clipt and mutilated by the shears to shrink into the abortioned form and pressure of a wizard's broom, or a true-lover's knot! no pyramid of clipped beech, no cypress-tree which assumed the fantastic form of Cleopatra's needle. No: nor did shivering Adam and Eve, and the cold clammy serpent and "forbidden tree," astound the spectator in shorn yew; no fountain impotently attempted to spring upward in boxwood; no such puerilities were tolerated to disfigure by grotesqueness the scenery of nature. So far on the contrary, that every thing was in good taste—at least it was so at the distant time of which now we write. The grounds were laid out in what would now be called the improved English taste: here lawns of richest verdure, and cultivated to the highest degree of luxuriance; there wild rocks of granite or limestone, as placed by the hand of nature, trailed and festooned around with lichen grey and ivy green; while the Osmunda regalis, the royal fern, spreading wide its majestic plumes, and undulating in the breeze, gracefully waved and bent over the apex of these romantic rocks, and gave a pleasure to the eye that scenes of nature only can bestow. The terraces which surrounded the castle were kept gravelled and rolled to the extreme of neatness, and were hedged with luxuriant myrtle. The now old-fashioned ponds, which it would have been little less than sacrilege to remove, reposed beneath the terraces, which gave a tone of grandeur to the whole; jets d'eau sprung from the centre of these to an elevated height, and over the head of many a triton and river deity; while the waters, as the declination of the ground permitted, bursting forth at once the bonds of artificial force, they

"From large cascades in pleasing tumult roll'd, Or rose from figured stone,"

brightly spreading and sparkling beneath a brilliant sun. It must, however, be admitted, that it was somewhat chilling, even in the merry month of May, to behold the shivering deities who presented them-selves in cold tangible marble sans chemisé, sans robé, et sans drapé, while they sentinelled the verdant banks of pond, lake, or canal; and which, in some degree to qualify our praise, we are ready and free to admit were after all somewhat selon le ecole d'Hollandé!

Here suddenly a vernal shower coming on, the Doctor and Captain, at no great distance from the castle, were glad to make a race to avoid a wetting; and before their dress could receive any damage they entered the castle-hall, having luckily accomplished their object. Sir Patricius now proposed to show to Captain Heaviside the Duke's great gallery of paintings, pour passer le temps until the hour appointed for the baptismal ceremony should arrive.

Just at this moment the Duchess of Tyrconnel drove up in her equipage to the castle door. It was a low demesne cabriole, drawn by two small ponies, and driven by a postillion; in it was seated the Duchess, Mrs. Judith Braingwain, the nurse, and in her arms the lovely child, the Lady Adelaide. Sir Patricius hastened forth to hand them from the vehicle, and the Duchess most graciously saluted both her guests, the little Adelaide sweetly smiled, and the Duchess with all due courtesy retired.

"There she goes—there goes Her Grace," said Sir Patricius; "that highly intellectual lady; the rara avis—the black swan of literature of this our day—my right noble patroness; shining amid her compeers a bright star of intellectual, and literary, and domestic worth, and rich indeed in all,

'Velut inter ignes
Luna minores.'"

Captain Heaviside here rejoined—"Although, Sir Patricius, I knew well that the Duchess gave with her noble hand a distinguished fortune to the Duke, yet verily I did not until now learn that Her Grace had any estate in the Minories!"

"No, no; ha, ha!" said Sir Patricius, with a most self-applauding laugh. "Oh no! nor in the Stannaries neither. But allons nous donc, mon preux chevalier! Apollo and the muses now invite us.—So, ho! to the picture gallery." To which the learned Theban and the valiant Captain now hastily ascended.

The grand picture gallery, which now they entered, was of truly magnificent dimensions, and lighted from an elevated dome. This truly splendid collection of paintings was most judiciously arranged on the walls of the superb gallery, collected and selected with a taste and discernment that spoke volumes in praise of the liberality of the distinguished collector. This splendid gallery was adorned with the chefs d'ouvres of the most ancient celebrated masters; forming, on entrance, a truly grand and most imposing coup d'œil of the different works of Reubens', "the prince of painters;" Raphael, "the divine!" Angelo, Guido, Titian, with a long and noble extended et cetera, too magnificently formidable to be here introduced.

The first painting which they approached was from the pencil of Teniers; it was that of his famous Alchymist.

"This," said Sir Patricius, pointing to the painting, "is a work of Teniers!"

"Vastly fine, indeed, Sir Patricius!—Oh, monstrous fine! grand, expressively sublime! eh! But here," added the surprised Captain, "what, ten years!—was the patient artist employed ten years thereon? Monstrous length of time! what sad solemn patience and perseverance the fellow had to be sure!—tedious faith, as the old siege of Troy!"

"No, no, my very good Captain, I did not say that the renowned artist was ten years employed in accomplishing this fine painting, but merely announced that his distinguished name was Teniers."

"Oh, a thousand pardons, Sir Patricius!—eh—ten thousand pardons! But then the painting is truly monstrous fine!—upon my s—l it is vastly fine indeed—eh!"

The next painting which they approached was the famous painting of Europa carried off by Jupiter in the shape of a bull, from the distinguished pencil of the celebrated Claude Lorraine.

"The painter who has produced that truly ennobled specimen of his divine art," said Sir Patricius, with great pomp and emphasis, save when he was interrupted by a constitutional cough, "the painter, hem, hem, hem, was, Sir Captain, let me tell to you, inimitable! He deeply studied nature, and hence he acquired that elevated gùsto, which has justly stamped a superlative value upon all his masterly works; his truly lovely landscapes, glowing with Italian suns, and with Italian verdure, Italia diis sacra, hem, hem, hem! Yes, bold Sir, upon these he acted, and on the noble inspirations of nature! verifying on glowing canvass the most apposite and veritable saying of the great and learned Archimedes,

'DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!'

'That, brave Sir, means—'Give me a point to stand upon;' and Sir, aye Sir, I shall move 'the great globe itself; yea, and all that it inhabit!'—That, Sir, is a Claude!"

"Heaven and earth!—clawed! What do I hear," said the astonished Captain, in a most lachrymal tone; "clawed!—what a thousand pities! irreparable—hopelessly irreparable! Indeed I always knew too well that cats were most destructive, malicious animals. But say what inducing cause—what motive? here was depicted no lively representation of rat, rabbit, pigeon—no, nor mouse! wonderful! 'Fore Jove I swear, that all the confounded pestilential breed of cats in the county should swing before I should endure to have such a noble painting as that clawed by any cat o' the mountain in the province!"

Here Sir Patricius Placebo raised his intelligent eyes in dumb despair, very nearly indeed allied to positive contempt. But after a short momentary gaze of astonishment, and a slight expression of contempt, his muscles relaxed into a cheering smile; and seeing from the window, as he looked out, some of the guests to arrive, he gaily said—"I see clearly, Captain Heaviside, that you prefer living faces to their mute representation on canvass, so let us adjourn, si vous voulez, and attend the ladies; and egad I think I can show you some fine girls; there, Captain, you see are some fair specimens, the six Misses O'Carrol, and all dressed so gay in pink, blue, and crimson, smiling and blooming like a bed of budding pæonies in June!"

"Vastly koind, good Sir Patricius; vastly koind, j'irai la sans failler, eh?—Yes I do admire pretty girls exceedingly; and I must say, by Jove, that I prefer them to all your Hebes, Cupids, and Ganymedes, on copper, canvass, or panel!"

The chimes of the bells of the ducal chapel now gave warning note that the baptismal ceremony was nigh at hand, and all the guests consequently approached the sacred edifice. And at the high altar, gorgeously decorated, from a golden ewer the ceremony of ablution was performed. When the lovely Adelaide received the sprinkling she smiled most sweetly; and as her nurse, Mrs. Judith Braingwain, (whom we shall hear more of anon,) afterwards very appropriately told it: "Heaven bless the dear bonnie babe, how sweetly it was she smiled bekase she was made a Christian cratur!"

The ceremony concluded upon the return of the noble party to the castle. Cake, caudle, and wine, and various confectionary, were dealt out with no sparing hand. Many of the company sat down to different card-tables, and played, as was then the fashion, at ombre, cribbage, loo, jusqué a dìner, when they were entertained at a most princely and magnificent banquet.

The Duke of Tyrconnel received all his guests with frank and due welcome and courtesy. His Grace was attired in the following costume:—a large well powdered peruke, which freely flowed over the splendid mantle and robes of the order of the garter. His Grace also wore the magnificent collar and gem, and resplendent star, of the illustrious order. His stockings were of light blue coloured silk, and drawn up in a fashion similar to those of Sir Patricius Placebo; and around the left leg, beneath the knee, was buckled the embroidered and mottoed garter, which pertains to, and from which this distinguished order receives its appellation. The stockings were adorned "with quirks and clokes about the ancles" of gold withal, and curiously and richly wrought.

The Duke of Tyrconnel was considered as the handsomest man of the age, and upon this occasion looked uncommonly well, every inch the nobleman. Lord Glandarrah was attired in the magnificent robes of the order of the Bath. All the guests, of both sexes were splendidly arrayed, and the entertainment passed off with undiminished eclat.

But we have already exceeded our limits, and have yet to speak of the highly gifted Duchess, who indeed deserves a chapter to be appropriated to herself, to which we shall now proceed, and to the acquaintance of other persons, matters, and things, connected with this our delectable history.

CHAPTER III.

Hæc mulier, genere atque forma, preterea viro atque liberis, satis fortunata fuit: litteris Græcis et Latinis docta, * * * * prorsus multæ facetiæ multusque lepos inerat.
Sallust.

The noble guests sat long and cheerfully to celebrate with due honour the baptismal day; while potations of claret, liberally flowing, and constantly renovated from magnum bottles, according to the approved custom and social fellowship and habit of the times, were deep and frequent.[12] The splendid supper which followed the sumptuous dinner was accompanied with the unqualified commendations of Sir Patricius, who insisted "that it even excelled the Roman banquets of Lucullus or Apicius; and was in sooth so luxurious, that, verily, his old friend Flaccus would have called it a dubia cœna; and although they had neither the juice of the Tuscan nor Falernian grape, they had still nobler potations to quaff!" And it has been currently reported that his actions sagely comported, pari passu, with his asseverations, that he "suited the action to the word," and did most ample, nay summary justice, to testify beyond all possible contradiction how highly his palate lauded the excellence of the entertainment! All this was confidently and cautiously whispered, and discreetly intrusted to a chosen few. But it met with the fate usually attendant upon all such confidential communications, videlicet, to be made known and published in a few hours to the unselected many; or in other words, to all the king's liege subjects throughout the vicinity!

The supper was served at ten o'clock; an hour which was considered at that period as late, and was prolonged still later, while jest and joke, and revelry, and song, and glee, and glass went round; and at a protracted hour the guests retired to repose; and thus terminated the social hilarities of the festive night.

The Duchess rose upon the following day at an early hour, as invariably was her custom, and having retired to her classical cabinet, opened the latticed casement to admit the enlivening rays of a brilliant vernal sun, and to inhale the balmy breeze of the morning. It was truly a beauteous spring morning; the Eske rolled rapidly over his stony channel, pouring forth his tributary torrent into the peaceful bosom of the Atlantic Sea; while with mournful plaint the wood-quest called her mate, perched on her favourite sycamore; and the red-breast and linnet sweetly warbled forth their matin-hymn from bush and spray,

"To gratulate the sweet return of morn."

The Duchess of Tyrconnel was indeed an extraordinary woman, highly gifted by nature, instructed by education, (in these days, certainly an unusual occurrence), and still more learned from her own assiduity and perseverance. All this was the more remarkable, when we pause to consider the period in which she lived! The vast powers of her mind were demonstrated by the universality of her knowledge, the various accomplishments which she possessed, her acquaintance, even to a colloquial knowledge, with several different languages, the numerous acquirements, in all of which she excelled. No less distinguished was the Duchess of Tyrconnel for her singular modesty, her unaffected manners, and that retiring grace, at once characteristic of those high endowments which flung around her such imposing charms. Indeed it has generally been remarked and acknowledged, that affectation and conceit are seldom found to be connected with genius, but are the satellites of those who would usurp her throne; and that the never-failing attendant upon true genius is simplicity of manners.

The Duchess had been educated at the convent of Vernon sur le Seiné, where she was wont

"To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antic pillars massy proof, And storied windows, richly dight, Casting a dim religious light."

Here, during her novitiate, the Duchess (then Lady Katherine O'Nial) formed a friendship with a young lady, an inmate at the convent, which terminated only in death. The friend of her youth was the beautiful Lady Adelaide Alençon, daughter of the Duke of Alençon. They became dear and inseparable friends, from similarity of taste and talent. The idem velle—the idem nolle—was theirs! The same, or nearly the same, distinguished talents, a similar and uncontrollable wish for information, led them on in the paths of science and of literature, of virtue and of religion. Then, oh! how delightful it was, after a short sojourn with their friends, again to return to the sacred convent, and to hear at early morn the solemn anthem from the hallowed choir, which pealed over rock and flood, deeply re-echoed by the convent walls: or if at eve they returned, to hear floating upon the silent and slumbering bosom of the Seiné the sad and solemn evening vesper, which was wafted to the skies!

But this pure and disinterested friendship was doomed to be only of short duration. Lady Adelaide Alençon's powers of mind were superior to the fragile tenement they illuminated and adorned, and over-studiousness brought on a consumption, which unfortunately was a hereditary disease. The physicians ordered the patient to remove to Tours, from thence to the aromatic isles of the Heyéres. But, alas! it was all in vain! The promises at first were fair, like expanding snow-drops on the cold breast of spring, which blow—then bloom—then die! But each sad succeeding account only brought fresh accession of regret; and at an early age, in the ever-blooming green islands of the Heyéres, the lovely and the gifted Lady Adelaide Alençon drooped, and pined, and died! deeply deplored by all her relatives, and justly and duly lamented by her friends.

"The hectic form, the beauteous maid, That just as life its charms displayed, To death devoted, glides away; With brilliant eye, that watery gleams, While still the rosy spectre dreams Of many a morrow gay."

Upon the deeply regretted event of Lady Adelaide Alençon's death, the Duchess made a vow that if she married, her first female child should be called after her first regarded, her early and lamented friend; and to this cause our heroine was indebted for the illustrious name which she bore.

The Duchess, even during her juvenile abode at the convent of Vernon sur le Seiné, had manifested much talent and infinite taste, and at that early period had displayed an extraordinary degree of ingenuity and delicacy of tact; she cut paper into an innumerable variety of figures, characters, and landscapes, solely dictated by her own genius, and executed with much taste and spirit. Her Grace also drew in crayons, flowers that were so naturally depicted, that they seemed to have been recently culled from the garden. She was conversant, besides, with vocal and instrumental music; and, moreover, displayed much skill in oil-painting and in sculpture: indeed her talents seemed to rival those of that noble and distinguished lady, Anne-Maria Schurman.[13] A proficient too in etching. Her writing in various languages was inimitable. She was also perfect mistress of the Greek and Latin languages, and understood and spoke with facility French, Italian, and German; and no less excelling in the sciences of geography, astronomy, and philosophy, with many other rare acquirements, which we shall pass by unnoticed, as we do not choose to classify this gifted lady with the heroines of romance. Under the guidance and instructions of such a mother everything was to be hoped for, if not realized, in the education of an only and beloved daughter—her first-born, and possibly her last; certainly her only one!

With all these splendid acquirements, the Duchess was an ardent admirer of the beauties of nature. She took delight in beholding the sun, with glorious burst, to ascend and illuminate the lofty mountain-peak; and at night to behold the starry host of heaven, the moon, and all the unnumbered stars that gem with imperishable lustre the canopy of the skies. Even while the morning dew impearled the grass, she was wont to traverse the verdant lawn, with "daisies pied and violets blue;" all these charms of rural nature gave delight and indescribable pleasure to a mind at peace with itself, and in harmony with the tranquil solitude which surrounded her. Who can doubt, then, that it was with unmixed contempt that the Duchess looked down upon the green and frivolous field of a loo, tredille, or cribbage-table, and that even primero had no charms for her!—a preference at that period very remarkable, and that completely puzzled all the suppositions and gossipings of the courtly card-playing dowagers of those courtly days.

However, with all this wild love for nature, and with all those commanding accomplishments to boot, we cannot, howbeit, deny that the Duchess was proud of the country which gave her birth, and pardie proud perhaps too of her own ennobled descent; although we must observe that, with due discretion, she was never known to dwell upon the latter, while upon the former, conversant as she was with the aboriginal language of her country, when time and opportunity offered, she then indulged herself therein, in learning the wants and the necessities of the lower orders; and, furthermore, in acquiring a knowledge of the character and the feelings of the native Irish, with which the more she became acquainted, the still more she became endeared.

While thus we have been endeavouring to delineate the mind and acquirements of the Duchess of Tyrconnel, we must, however, not silently pass by her remarkable costume, for this is strictly in unison with the history of those times; and it must be confessed that it was sufficiently outré and extraordinary. Her Grace's head-dress, or head-gear, was strangely elevated, indeed we might say castellated, upon the stiff, formal, and firm foundation of an internal satin cushion, on bastion of silk, surmounted by a natural coronal of fine auburn hair; so that she might have been mistaken for Cybele, the mother of the gods; and like the goddess too, she was crowned with the model of a citadel. The hair was raised with such force, that it appeared from the process to be nearly starting from the roots. A double tier of curls formidably flanked and circled round this superstructure, on which were arranged three magnificent rows of eastern pearls, while above was placed a costly coif or cap of superb Brussels lace, bordered with Mechlin. Large pendant diamond rings sparkled in each ear; a superb brilliant necklace glittered on her bosom; her kerchief was of the richest Poyntz lace; her jacket or bodice was short, formed with close sleeves, and made of light blue Spanish cloth, adorned with longitudinal stripes of gold. This bodice was fastened at the breast, so as to form a most splendid stomacher, by means of two parallel superb rows of large brilliant diamond buttons, which were interlaced by crimson ribbons, enclosing it in front. The sleeves were of deep crimson velvet, trimmed with rich gold net-work. The petticoat was of rich blue velvet, festooned by golden cords and tassels, and richly trimmed with a border of deep gold net-work. The petticoat, it must needs be confessed, was distended to a disfiguring circumference, swelled out by the unseemly and uncouth bell-hoop, which was then the appanage to a lady's full dress, and still further increased by long peaked stays, which gave a most Dutch-like and awkward solemnity, if not an armorial stiffness of carriage, to the wearer.

Her Grace's shoes were of red Morocco leather, with high tapering heels, so elevated as to form with the sole the outlines of an arch; and the colour, to contrast with the red upper leather, was blue. The shoes were tastefully stitched and worked in a pattern of gold-thread work, and fastened with diamond clasps. The hose were of light blue silk, ornamented with clokes of gold.[14]

Upon the festival of the previous day the Duchess was thus attired as we have endeavoured to describe her state dress; her beautifully formed hands and fingers were adorned with bracelets and rings set with "gems both rich and rare;" while her animated countenance, and still more brilliant eyes, and affable manners, spread joy and delight around the festive circle which she graced and adorned.

We must here by no means whatever pass over an important character in the dramatis personæ of our history, (at least so she was in her own personal estimation), and forsooth be it known too, moreover, a highly privileged person. We here venture to speak of Lady Adelaide's nurse, Mistress Judith Braingwain, who was in every respect most truly Irish. Her superstitions were deeply rooted, so that nothing could shake them; and her belief in ghosts, wraiths, banshees, and fairies, and all that was marvellous, was truly orthodox. She believed in astrology, then much in vogue; in dreams, omens, prognostications, and

"Chimeras all, still more absurd or less,"

and all the attendant phantasmagoria of credulity. Mrs. Judith's attachment to her country was great and strong, as likewise was her affection for her child; but her whole stock of fondness seemed to be concentrated in her foster child, whom she actually loved better than the child she had borne in her own maternal bosom. "My dear, dear child, my darling," she would say, "oh, my Adelaide! may the sun-shine and peace of this world ever be thine mavourneen!" [i.e. my beloved.]

Mrs. Judith's dress[15] was so perfectly and truly aboriginal, that it may amuse the reader, and possibly afford a reminiscence to the antiquary, while we notice it in the following description.

The curious specimen of Irish costume worn by persons in Mrs. Judith Braingwain's station in life, prevailed in Ireland at the close of the reign of the second Charles, and during the reign of his successor, James II., the patron and friend of the Duke of Tyrconnel. It was as follows:—

Mrs. Judith wore placed upon her head-top a cushion of linen or stuff, which she called her "system;" it was not dissimilar, save in its want of utility, to the roll or plait twisted cushion of hay used by milk-maids in carrying their pails; but with this difference, that it was not flat, but rose higher to the back of the head; it was fastened and attached by long pins, and over and around this under-structure she combed and attached her long hair, of which the Irish were always proud, even to absurdity, and which withal looked as stiff and formal as if it had been hewn out, the work of some primeval statuary, sternly staring in stone, certainly most Medusa-like, upon some ancient tomb! This most strange redoubt or fortification of hair-work was supported by a side-battery of two curls on each side of the head above the ears, and masked on high by a little round cap or coif, surrounded with a cambric border, over which was thrown a kerchief, which being made fast upon the apex of the head, was allowed to fall down carelessly behind, where it streamed, when she walked abroad, like a banner over a fortress. Her jacket was of brown cloth, and made to fit close to the shape, by means of whalebone scientifically, as now we would say, wrought into it both in front and at the back, but managed so as not to meet; while it was laced in the front across the breast, forming there a stomacher, and evidently borrowed from the Spanish costume. The sleeves, halfway to the elbow, were constructed of the same kind of cloth as the jacket, and from thence they continued to the wrist, formed of longitudinal stripes of red camlet, interwoven with green ferreting, and then being turned up, formed a little cuff, embraced within three circles of narrow green ribbon. Her petticoat was formed of scarlet broad-cloth, bordered with three rows of green ribbon. Her apron was of green serge, striped longitudinally with scarlet ferreting, and bound with the same. Her hose were of blue worsted; and her shoes were of black leather, laced with scarlet galloon, and ankle high, and withal mounted upon heels of a most portentous height. But eheu! jam satis, we are glad to have done with this specimen of costume, of which we are not over fond; but writing of the history, &c. of the times, from such we found it to be our bounden duty not to depart or swerve one single iota.

The Duchess allowed to nurse Braingwain very extensive liberties, and latitude of converse too, induced by the affectionate, nay, almost more than motherly care which she bestowed upon her child; as well as amused withal, she permitted nurse occasionally to show off that strange originality which she possessed.

The Duchess having gone through her morning devotions, ascended the nursery to embrace her dear child, who was sweetly and serenely reposing.

"See, my honoured lady, how sweetly mavourneen sleeps! Och, and may be I didn't dream last night that my dear young princess was one day to be queen of auld Ireland; and in troth, in my dream, sure enough I saw, not a crownet, but a royal crown placed upon her sweet baby brow. But as for you, my lady Duchess, I moreover drimt that Your Grace was created Impress of Europa—and long, long, my lady Impress, may you live and reign over us, and over all the world besides! Musha amen, says a grateful heart!"

"Prithee, Nurse, be silent; you will awake my child with your nonsensical rodomontade!"

Just here a message arrived from the Duke, that he wished to speak with Her Grace in his closet. The Duchess immediately left the nursery, in obedience to the ducal summons.

The Duke took the Duchess by the hand: "Here's great news, my Kate! Charles is dead, and the noble York that was, is now monarch of England; and permit me to kiss the fair and lady-like hand of the vice-queen of Ireland," he said, gaily kissing Her Grace's hand.

"Why, my Lord Duke, I really believe that you have laid this scheme of cajolery with so very great a personage as the very high and mighty lady, Mrs. Judith Braingwain, who even just now saluted me with the all hail hereafter! of Macbeth's witches: for Duchess of Tyrconnel though I be, yet Empress of Europe I am to be, or "Impress of Europa," as I was styled. What think you of that, my Lord? Surely I must feel quite shocked and horrified, as you must well conceive, at this dreadful and unexpected downfall from my high imperial state! Only think, at once too, without meet preparation, to be deprived of the diadem which fancy was fitting upon my brow, and only to be dubbed vice-queen of Ireland; oh! my Lord, you must needs confess what a provoking falling off was here! But no; it will not do; I am resolved that I must be empress, or only simple plain duchess!"

"Now Katherine you think I am rallying, but no such thing, I seriously assure you a patent has arrived, constituting and appointing me, and so forth, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland! And now, fair lady, I must kiss the hands of the vice-queen of Ireland, according to the statute in that case made and provided." And having thus gaily spoken, he affectionately and tenderly embraced his Duchess.

"Well then it appears quite a hopeless case, your patent has arrived; you not only achieve greatness yourself, but likewise have greatness thrust upon you, as Malvolio says; so I suppose that you must have even the grace to submit, and entrap yourself forth-with in the harness of office. As for my part, I shall sigh for the charms of the dear country, and would rather wear a simple coronal of hawthorn-blossoms than a diadem studded with resplendent gems, and "the rich east to boot;" and I, my Lord, warn you, for you must prepare to hear ejaculations from the towers of Dublin castle somewhat to the tune and measure of—O rus quando ego te aspiciam? Then you, my Lord, with your high waving plumed crest of chivalry come rushing up to the turret, fancying that you are most heroically about to liberate some captive dame, or forlorn princess, who has been cruelly incarcerated by some old cruel-hearted necromancer, when I shall fly into your arms, forgetting pomp and power, and even the divine country too; I will rush into your bosom, and only remember that I am your wife—the wife of Tyrconnel!"

"Bravo, bravo, viva, viva, sèmpre l'imperatrice!" exclaimed the Duke in rapture. "Yes, dearest Katherine, you are the empress of my heart, and need never, never fear a rival near the throne: come then to my arms, and with your simple diadem of hawthorn I shall ever adore you, in cottage or in palace!"

The Duke was a Major-General in the army, he had served under the banner of the illustrious Turenne, and his royal patron the Duke of York, now James II., had also fought beneath the same victorious standard. The Duke was considered the handsomest man of the age, and was beloved alike in camp and in court. His knowledge and attainments were great; he was not only aliquis in omnibus, but also singularis in omnibus. He was indeed—

"A courtier of the chamber, A soldier of the field; Whose tongue could never flatter, Whose heart could never yield!"

The Duke's two sisters, Lady Letitia and Lady Lucy Raymond, who constantly resided with him, affectionately approached to congratulate their brother upon his appointment to the viceroyship. "Oh joy, dearest brother!" they both exclaimed, while each at the same moment kissed the Duke's cheeks.

Lady Lucy had been educated abroad, and was always speaking in warmest raptures of "the dear continent," or of whatever was foreign, or recherchè. Indeed her friends were obliged to admit that it was a vast pity that Lady Lucy, with all her amiable qualities, should be somewhat a little tinctured with conceit; and apprehended, that as it had been of long continuance they feared it was too late to be remedied, her affectation having become something very like second nature. Thus argued her kind, consoling friends, who sat down most contentedly beneath the shade of their own sage conclusions.

Lady Lucy continued her expressions of joy in a sort of soliloquy: "Oh really this will be quite deloightful! quite imposè! surpassingly deloightful! Why actually we shall hold a little court of St. Germains at Dublin castle!"

Lady Letitia during her infancy had been a sickly child, and, in consequence of her inability to travel, had remained at home; while her family were sometime resident abroad, and her education was wholly unattended to; or to speak more explicitly, was never once thought of as a matter of the slightest concern—no uncommon occurrence in the olden time. This deficiency at this period was not confined to two or three noble families;—nay, gentle reader, start not, for thou wilt please to recollect that we are speaking of what happened above one hundred and forty years ago. In consequence of this neglect Lady Letitia made such broad and palpable mistakes, and of so extraordinary a kind, as could not of failed to have beaten that modern personage, Mrs. Malaprop, of blundering notoriety, completely defeated from the field.

"No, Lucy, no!" rejoined Lady Letitia, "No, nothing German; neither caps nor boots, rats, whiskers, nor muskatoes. I hate every thing German; no, our court shall not be a German one, but a second St. James's. And old Cormac shall compose such a grand ode upon the solemn occasion, to be said or sung in the old hall at Dublin castle; aye, and we shall have duly chanted for my dear brother such a noble hypothesis as ear never——"

"Apotheosis, you mean, Letitia," said the Duke, interrupting her. "Yes, indeed, that would be a solemn occasion; but I pray you be not in such mighty haste to send me so soon 'unanointed, unanealed,' to the other world before my time too; this is not altogether so kind, sister; and besides, previous to the possession of the honours which you would somewhat too prematurely celebrate.——But a truce to this badinage; I must forth-with prepare for my journey to take possession of the government of Barataria!"

Sir Patricius Placebo now advanced to join and congratulate the family circle, and to express his joy upon the Duke's appointment. "My Lord Duke in verity believe me, that this day there exists none whose feelings and whose heart are more truly gratified by this gracious selection of my sovereign than what mine are; and I also must congratulate your Grace's friends, and the country too, at the happy choice which king James has made. And I further beg to say, with meet reason, and under due discretion and correction, that you confer more honour upon the king by your acceptance of it, than His Majesty has done you by the presentation. Yea, and I may truly and fearlessly add, in the words of old Flaccus,

"Cum tot sustineas et tanta negotia solus,

in publica commoda peccem Si longo sermone morer tua tempora——"

Just at the moment that the words of old Flaccus were flowing forth from the tongue of the obsequious Baronet, in a mellifluent Cork or Kerry brogue, the butler entered the drawing-room, and announced, to the great delight of Sir Patricius, that "dinner was served." The Duke, drawing the arm of the Duchess beneath his own, for a moment stopped, and said playfully—"See, my good Sir Patricius, how opportunely Mercury pops in to clip the wings of Pegasus, and announce that the banquet of the gods is ready; and now to our repast with all the appetite we may!"

Sir Patricius bowed, and handing the ladies Letitia and Lucy, followed to the dinner-room, solemnly muttering to himself,

DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!

while stately he moved along with an increased stride and attitude of dignity.

CHAPTER IV.

Por cierto, Senôr Gobernador * * * * que vuesa merced tiene mucha razon en quanto ha dicho: y que yo ofrezco en nombre de todos los insulanos desta insula, que han de servir à vuesa merced con toda puntualidad, amor y benevolencia, porque el suave modo gobenar que en estos principios vuesa merced ha dado, no les da lugar de hacer, ni de pensar cosa que en deservicio de vuesa merced redunde.

Don Quixote, tome IV.

TRANSLATION.

Doubtless, Sir Governor * * * * you have much reason in all you have been pleased to say: and let me promise you, in behalf of all the inhabitants of this island, that they shall serve your will and pleasure with all due diligence, love, and good-will; for the sweet and mild mode of government that hitherto in the beginning you have administered to them, causes them neither to do, nor even to think, aught that may redound disloyal to your government.

Don Quixote, vol. IV.

Before the Duke had arisen upon the ensuing morning the Duchess thus addressed him, and pronounced, if we may so express it, the curtain-lecture, with which the reader is here made acquainted:—

"My dear and much beloved Lord, you are now about to assume the government of your native island, a land richly abundant in agricultural and commercial resources, possessing a peasantry inured to toil, hardy, industrious, and intelligent; keenly alive to and sensible of wrong and injustice, yet still a passive and a patient people, who, like the Roman ox, stand ready victims, stationed between the ploughshare and the altar, alike prepared for the yoke or for sacrifice!—a soil luxuriant for tillage or for pasture, abounding in quarries, mines, and minerals; blest with a mild and temperate climate, and adorned with scenery picturesque, romantic, and sublime; with mountains high as the lofty spirit of the race who inhabit them, and with harbours (open as their generous hearts) expanding their numerous emporiums to receive the tribute of every coast and every clime.

"Remember, I pray thee, my good Lord, a passage which once we read, and that I never can forget; we found it in the Lives of Plutarch, where we are told the courtiers of Philip of Macedon essayed to mount and master the noble animal Bucephalus, afterwards the war-horse of the great and renowned Alexander. Courtier succeeding courtier attempted to mount the back of Bucephalus, but in vain. They knew, indeed, how to cringe, and fawn, and flatter in a despot's court, but they were wholly ignorant and incompetent how to manage this nobly spirited war-horse; their shadows, as they successively attempted to mount, startled the steed, and they could make nothing of it. It was then that the son of Ammon sprang forth, and said, 'Father, give him into my hands; I see the noble bearing of the proud and generous animal, let me too, therefore, have a trial!' The request was granted. When Alexander, leading him into the shade where the steed neither startled by the shadow of his person nor the flowing of his mantle, Alexander instantly sprung upon his back, and galloped him several times past the presence of Philip, reining him with full command, wheeling him round in full career, and then suddenly halting to address his admiring king and father, and no less astonished courtiers. At length, overcome with joy and admiration, Philip exclaimed to Alexander, 'Go, go, my son, and seek to rule over other realms, for Macedonia is too small for thee!' Yes, my dear Lord, I at once see you forcibly feel the allusion. In the hands of ignorant, or stupid, or bigoted governors, and their underlings, Ireland shall ever prove and remain untractable, as Bucephalus was in the clumsy and untoward hands of the courtiers of Macedon; but rule the inhabitants of this isle with gentleness and moderation, with equal and impartial justice, alike administered to all beneath a mild and conciliatory government, and then mark how submissively they shall obey their ruler. In peace you shall see drawn home the heavy harvest team; and on the day of battle our navies shall ride triumphant, and our armies march victorious!"

The Duke smiled at the conclusion of this lengthened lecture; but he was truly pleased withal at the judicious remarks, the sound sense, and also with the enthusiastic feeling of his Duchess; and he said somewhat gaily, "Bravo! well done, my Katherine. I long knew the extensive range of your reading and information; but, 'fore Jupiter Ammon, I certes did not know until the present what a famous politician thou hast become. Thou assuredly hast pronounced a very notable and altisonant lecture upon legislation, wherewithal from which I fully trust that I shall ultimately derive much advantage. But yet under favour, lady mine, my vice-regal femme covert, you will peradventure please to carry in your noble recollection, that I am no sovereign prince or potentate, and that the roy le veult belongs not to me, but to my royal master; that simply I am but a deputy, and therefore it is evident that I can have no will of mine own, but, on the contrary, that every measure must emanate from the throne. However, it is nevertheless true, that although I owe much to my regarded sovereign, yet unhappily should this reflected light of majesty prove to be but mere "disastrous twilight," I have still the power to resign; and albeit I am not devoid certainly of ambition, yet there exists not a man who is more attached to retirement than what I confessedly am;—none, I am sure, more devoted to his country, friends, family, and home!"

The intention of the Duke of Tyrconnel being fixed to pursue his journey onward without unnecessary delay, to assume the reins of his vice-regal government, His Grace and his amiable Duchess descended betimes to the breakfast saloon. The Duke was in uncommon good spirits, spoke sportively to his beloved Adelaide. The Ladies Letitia and Lucy soon made their appearance, and Sir Patricius was not the last to take his station at the breakfast-table, on which was duly placed every solace for the regalement of the worthy Baronet, if indeed a salutary morning walk amid the mountain-air could have rendered his appetite fastidious.

The Duke soon began in a jocular way to rally the Ladies Letitia and Lucy, by observing, "I propose very soon, gentle ladies, so hearken to me both, to dispose of you twain by promotion—in the temple of Hymen! What say ye, ladies fair, to my proposition? Doubtless it will meet with your joint approval, and most dutiful concurrence to my high and puissant command!"

Lady Lucy replied, that she had no wish nor intention whatsoever to alter her situation, feeling perfectly happy and contented as she was, desirous of no change, and fully resolved, as far as was within her control, that no cruel empêchement should ever separate her from those she so dearly regarded and loved."

Lady Letitia said in reply: "As for your high men, they are always sure to have their own high ways in aught perchance they would do or dare; and I needs must observe that I have no wish whatever to be connected with such high cavaliers, having, alas! upon a former occasion experienced much vexation and disappointment at the hands of one of those said high men."

"Prithee, Letitia, explain in what manner," rejoined the Duke.

"You must know, then, that a proposal of marriage was made to me from one of noble birth, and likewise of affluent fortune, while you, my Lord, were absent in foreign lands. The gentleman was the Honourable Mr. Gwillim Ap-Gwillim, of Caper Ap-Shenkin, in North Wales, who was not slow in using every endeavour to win my love and affections; and, alas! he succeeded but too well in the accomplishment of his wishes. But after all, a long courtship and fair promises, this Cambrian proved himself to be one of your 'perhaps' knights-errant; and so, my good Lord, no more of them for poor me! The man, prince, potentate, or peer, who deals in the shuffling word 'perhaps,' shall never possess my affection, nor have my hand in the tie of holy wedlock. Never, I am resolved. No; for ever I forswear and detest the word, as being the most offensive and deceitful in the English tongue, past, present, or to come."

"Hold, hold, Letitia," said the Duke, "you are off in full gallop from your story. Pray rein in thy noble indignation and imagination awhile, and do let us have the conclusion of your most tragical hero, whom you stigmatize with the title and appanage of 'perhaps?'"

"I fairly promised my hand where before I had given my heart; that is to say, provided you had so approved; and while matters were, as I conceived, happily arriving, as I had fondly hoped, at the long wished claracism (eclaircissement), who would have suspected or have dreamed the result?

"'I am told, Sir,' addressing Mr. Gwillim Ap-Gwillim, of Caper Ap-Shenkin, 'I am told, Sir,' said I, with proud tears in my eyes, 'that you at present entertain a paramour?'

"'Well, Madam,' rejoined he, 'perhaps' (oh, the abominable word) 'I do; and if so, it is surely not unusual or marvellous in an unmarried man.'

"'But then, Sir,' I replied, (somewhat enraged at his tawdry 'perhaps',) 'sure before we become man and wife, you will no doubt part with and discharge this said paramour?'

"'Perhaps,' he rejoined, 'perhaps, (the third time, observe,) Madam, I may.'

"'Perhaps, Sir,' I loudly re-echoed, my blood boiling, my breath parting, my tongue gasping, and enraged to the very utmost, 'Perhaps, Sir,' I said vehemently, 'know, my hand never shall be yours—never, never!' Then with a strong impulse of collected coolness, for very often what is the most opposite will occur, I distantly retired, with the utmost indifference I dropt a low court courtesy, and never beheld him more."

The Duke proposed, previous to departing, to accompany his noble consort and family in a promenade on the pleasure grounds. Their Graces led the way; and while apart from the attending group, the Duke addressed the Duchess in a low voice—"I shall do every thing, depend upon it, that is within my power, to render my vicegerency popular; not from a love of popularity, but from the impulse of administering even and equal justice to all His Majesty's subjects, which is a debt I shall not fail to discharge, so far as the responsibility of my station admits, and my duty to the king allows. The salary which I may receive during my administration shall, to the uttermost farthing, be expended among the generous people, from whose purses I am to receive it; I shall assist the poor, and the great I will entertain. Thus when the termination of my government arrives, I trust that my departure from the viceregency shall not be mistaken for that of a collector of taxes, who retires sub umbra, having embezzled the public coffers, and who departs ex-officio, attended, justly I admit, with "curses, not loud but deep!" Oh no, my dearest love, by no earthly possibility shall any one mistake me for a Jamaica planter, a bullock feeder, or a Jew broker! Never; my private fortune shall be expended in addition to the princely income which I receive from the nation; and I am resolved that in every way it shall be my study, as it will be my pleasure, to prove indeed the true and appropriate representative of a noble and generous king!"

To this expressive burst of loyal and ardent feeling, the Duchess fully accorded her hearty assent. While the noble pair remained thus employed in discussing the high and grave affairs of state, the ladies Letitia and Lucy, attended by Sir Patricius Placebo and Captain Heaviside, were employed in admiring the surrounding scenery.

"What a romantic delightful prospect here presents itself to the spectator," observed Sir Patricius Placebo to Lady Letitia, who stood next him.

"Oh yes," replied her Ladyship, "it is truly a noble tract of verdant valley and lofty mountain, scenery, sea, and river; the goats on the rock, the sheep on the hill, and the cows in the vale; indeed the Duke positively asserts that the surrounding scene displays perhaps the most beautiful cow-dell (coup d'œil) in the whole kingdom."

The promenaders returned from their ramble, and were stationed on the terrace when the Duke's travelling coach and six drove up to the embattled porch of the castle. The Duke, addressing himself to Sir Patricius, pleasantly and playfully said: "Sir knight we do hereby, by the powers in us vested, constitute, nominate, and appoint, with all the briefness and celerity the occasion demands, you, Sir Patricius Placebo, M. D. Baronet, eques non male notus, our locum tenens, and Lord Constable of this our good castle of Tyrconnel during our absence herefrom; and thou, Sir Patricius Placebo, art bound, in due accordance with right, ancient, and laudable usage, to dispense all manner of ancient hospitality, as if we ourself were in person present; and within a few given days to escort our beloved partner and family to His Majesty's castle of Dublin; all which fail not to do, under the pain and penalty of our heavy displeasure."

The Duke fondly and affectionately embracing his Duchess, his beloved Adelaide, and his sisters, and cordially shaking hands with his guests, entered his travelling carriage, which set off, the horses travelling in a brisk pace, for Dublin, to assume the chief government of the island. The ladies followed the Duchess, who retired into the castle to regret even the temporary absence of her lord.

Meanwhile Sir Patricius proposed to Captain Heaviside an excursion on horseback, to pass away the time jusqué a dinér. After a short interval Sir Patricius having doffed his grave professional peruke; and having assumed his hunting wig, mounted his gallant steed, and set out with the Captain in a ramble through the country. While thus they were employed in exploring the surrounding scenery, Captain Heaviside, addressing Sir Patricius, said, "Pray, my good Sir, did I ever repeat to you my chronicle?"

"Oh no, never, Captain, upon my veracity; but in sooth I should be quite delighted to hear it, so pray let us have it by all manner and means."

"I call it," continued Captain Heaviside, my chronicle, but I must say, really and truly, that it was never written by me;—positively not mine, but written indeed by a particular friend."

"Come, come, bold Captain, that is very well, and likewise most sagely and discreetly expressed; very good indeed—an excellent come off, cum grano salis, hem! It is, however, to be sure, vastly convenient upon all such occasions to enlist a friend into the service who shall enact you the part of a poetical godfather, and act too as pioneer: a most meritorious gentleman truly, who is disposed with such magnanimous generosity to place all our written sins and verses upon his own muster-roll. Vastly, egad vastly convenient, I needs must observe, master Heaviside, hah, hah, hah, sed, litera scripta manet! There is no getting over that, my gallant young Captain, by my halidam!"

"My good Sir Patricius accredit me, it was really written by my very excellent friend, Captain Drinkwater, a dashing dragoon."

"I can then flatly tell you, Captain, that it will never do—I know it will never do; for as friend Horace sings,