Part 28

This grateful recipient of Cambrian hospitality is presently discovered at the seat of Mr. Owen Williams, where he is obliged to amuse himself "after dinner with reading the newspaper." This slur upon the gaiety and conviviality of Mr. Williams's table must be as groundless as is an assertion which he also hazards, that there was nothing for dinner but fish--and that after dinner oysters formed the dessert. But whether it be true that his highness felt dull and was driven to the newspaper, or not, glad we are that he has said he was; for he favours us with an extract from the journal, whatever it might have been, which affords a new and convincing proof of the universal correctness of his highness's information and remarks:--

"In this vast desert [the newspaper] I met with only one thing which I think worth quoting to you. The article treated of the speech from the throne, in which were the words 'The Speaker is commanded to congratulate the people on their universal prosperity.' 'This,' says the writer, 'is too insolent; openly to make a jest of the miseries of the people.' It is indeed a settled point, that truth is never to be expected in a speech from the throne; and if ever a king were mad enough to wish to speak the real truth on such an occasion, he must begin his speech, 'My knaves and dupes,' instead of the wonted exordium, 'My lords and gentlemen.'"

That no such words appeared in any king's speech as those which his highness is pleased to comment upon, we need not take the trouble to say; but it is rather strange, since we have already recorded his highness's view of the real causes of popular distress in this country, that he should so entirely coincide in the vindictiveness of the supposed newspaper upon the fictitious expression.

We next find the prince visiting Colonel Hughes's copper-mines; and, while he is standing by the furnace, he receives an invitation from the colonel's brother, the major-commandant of the loyal Chester local militia, to dine with him. His highness not only declines the invitation, which he was quite at liberty to do, but sneers at the hospitality which was offered him; and forthwith starts from Lord Dinorben's copper pots for Holyhead, to embark for Dublin; where, after a dose of sea-sickness, he arrives in good preservation. He says--"As I knew not what else to do--(for all the notables who inhabit the town are in the country)--I visited a number of show-places; and among the first was the theatre,--a very pretty house, with a somewhat less rough and obstreperous audience than in London!" _Eich dyn!_

The descriptions which the "attracting and attracted" prince gives to "Julia" of his little adventures during his rides upon the horses of his friends are edifying. In Wales he discovers a sylph weeding in a field, half naked, but "shy as a roe, and chaste as a vestal." In Ireland he meets with another interesting female, whose personal and mental qualities he thus details to his "beloved soul:"--

"The scene was yet further animated by a sweet-looking young woman, whom I discovered in this wild solitude, busied in the humble employment of straw-plaiting. The natural grace of the Irish peasant-women, who are often truly beautiful, is as surprising as their dress, or rather the want of dress; for though it was very cold on these hills, the whole clothing of the young woman before me consisted of a large very coarse straw hat, and literally two or three rags of the coarsest sackcloth, suspended under the breast by a piece of cord, and more than half disclosing her handsome person. Her conversation was cheerful, sportive, and witty; perfectly unembarrassed, and, in a certain sense, free; but you would fall into a great error if you inferred from that any levity or looseness of conduct. The women of this class in Ireland are, almost universally, extremely chaste, and still more disinterested."

Truly, indeed, does the illustrious Goethe say, that this prince knew how to put himself on a level with the highest and lowest. We are, however, compelled to quit this rustic, half-clad Venus for brighter scenes and more intellectual pleasures. On his return from his ride, his highness proceeds to call on Lady Morgan, who receives him with much grace and urbanity.

"I was very eager (says the distinguished stranger) to make the acquaintance of a woman whom I rate so highly as an authoress. I found her, however, very different from what I had pictured her to myself. She is a little, frivolous, lively woman, apparently between thirty and forty, neither pretty nor ugly, but by no means disposed to resign all claim to the former, and with really fine and expressive eyes. She has no idea of '_mauvaise honte_' or embarrassment; her manners are not the most refined, and affect the 'aisance' and levity of the fashionable world, which, however, do not sit calmly or naturally upon her. She has the English weakness, that of talking incessantly of fashionable acquaintances, and trying to pass for very '_recherchée_,' to a degree quite unworthy of a woman of such distinguished talents; she is not at all aware how she thus underrates herself.

"She is not difficult to know, for, with more vivacity than good taste, she instantly professes perfect openness, and especially sets forth on every occasion her liberalism and her infidelity; the latter of the somewhat obsolete school of Helvetius and Condillac. In her writings she is far more guarded and dignified than in her conversation. The satire of the latter is, however, not less biting and dexterous than that of her pen, and just as little remarkable for a conscientious regard to truth."

Now is this fair?--is this gallant?--is it princely?--is it gentlemanlike?--hunted, followed, worshipped, and besought as his highness was by Lady Morgan; dogged, baited, ferreted out, and _fêted_ as he had been, was it to be expected that he would denounce his kind hostess as frivolous, affected, a liberal and an infidel,--(and _he_ too, of all men in the world)--with more vivacity than taste, and no regard for truth!--and, worst of all, "neither pretty nor ugly!"

He does, indeed, slily drop one lump of sugar into his bowl of gall, and thinking he knows her ladyship's mind to a nicety, no doubt believes that the one sweet drop will "property the whole." "She is apparently between thirty and forty." Miss Owenson, however, was an established authoress six-and-twenty years ago; and if any lady, player's daughter or not, knew what she knew when she wrote and published her first novels, at eight or nine years' of age, (which Miss Owenson must have been at _that_ time, according to the prince's calculation,) she was undoubtedly such a juvenile prodigy as would be quite worthy to make a "case" for the _Gentleman's Magazine_, and as fit to fill a show-waggon at Bartholomew Fair, as her ladyship's namesake who was born with double joints, and could lift a sack of corn with her teeth when she was only six years old.

His highness now determines to explore County Wicklow, and starts for Bray,--"a town twenty miles from Dublin!"--having "left his carriage and people in town."--Of this carriage and people we are often told much, and they seem to give him no more trouble or inconvenience in the management of them than his hat or his gloves,--when he wants them he has them,--when he does not, they vanish into thin air. What did he do with his "carriage and people" while he was flirting with the barmaid at Bangor? When did they cross the water to Ireland? for we have seen he came quite alone through Wales; and we shall see presently that he made all his excursions in Ireland in noddies, jingles, jaunting cars, and went back quite alone through England upon the tops of coaches. But, not to dwell on such trifles--for we suppose one might, without much injury, say, both of "principality" and of "people," _de minimis non curat Prætor_--let us attend his highness (or, to give him the exact title which the Germans bestow on princes of this calibre, "his thorough-illustriousness,") to his supper-table at Bray.

"I supped with a young parson of good family, who made me laugh heartily at his orthodoxy in matters of religion, interspersed with talk, which was by no means remarkable for severe decorum of virtue. But such is the piety of Englishmen (_qu. ?_)--it is to them at once a party matter and an affair of good manners; and as in politics they follow their party implicitly, through thick and thin, reasonable and unreasonable, because it is their party;--as they submit to a custom for ever because it is a custom; so they regard their religion, (without the least tincture of poetry,) in exactly the same point of view: they go to church on Sundays, just as regularly as they dress every day for dinner; and regard a man who neglects church, just in the same light as one who eats fish with a knife."

We may afford to despise this infidel's sneer at English piety. As for his ideas of English manners, the secret of his "thorough-lustre" on that head now begins to peep out. He had evidently been studying the poor puppyisms of what has been well enough called "the silver-fork school of novelists." In the genuine spirit of the doctors of this precious "sapientia," he says,--

"The common people in England put the knife as well as the fork to their mouths. The higher classes, on the contrary, regard this as the true sin against the Holy Ghost, and cross themselves internally when they see a foreign ambassador now and then eat so;--it is an affront to the whole nation."

This specimen of his highness's "decorum" is sufficient. With reference to his highness's horsemanship, we leave the following exploit of the succeeding morning to the consideration of the reader:--

"About a mile and a half farther on, the path suddenly ends in a ha-ha, over which my horse utterly refused to leap. As the wall was on my side, and the turf below very soft, I hit upon a new expedient; I tied my handkerchief over the eyes of the refractory beast, and pushed him down backwards over the wall. He was very little frightened, and not at all hurt by the fall, as I had expected, and grazed peaceably blindfold till I rejoined him. This manœuvre saved me at least five miles." (No doubt German miles.)

We presume this experiment was performed upon a friend's horse. In the execution, however, of his "new expedient," he had, it appears, dropped his purse: and we give the account of its restoration to its owner in his highness's own words, in order to show the opinion his highness entertains of the numerous fools who were civil enough to make "feasts for him" while he was in this country.

"Scarcely had I rested myself at table (at Avoca), when I was told that some one wished to speak to me. A young man, whom I had never seen, was shown in, and presented to me a pocket-book, which, to my no small astonishment, I recognized as my own; containing, besides other important papers which I always carry about me, all the money I had taken for my journey. I had, Lord knows how, dropped it out of my breast-pocket; and had, therefore, no small reason to congratulate myself on so honourable and obliging a finder. In England I should hardly have had the good fortune to see my pocket-book again, even if a 'gentleman' had found it; he would probably have let it lie in peace,--or kept it."

Whatever we might have been likely to do by his pocket-book, we may, on this particular occasion, allow his highness's tour-book to "_lie_ in peace."--He proceeds to exhibit his intimate knowledge of the "insular life:"--

"A really poor man, who is not in a situation to contract debts, can on no terms be a 'gentleman.' On the contrary, a rich scamp, who has had what is called a good education, so long as he preserves his 'character' (reputation) dexterously, passes for a 'perfect gentleman.' In the exclusive society of London there are yet finer 'nuances.' A man, for instance, who were to manifest any timidity or courtesy towards women, instead of treating them in a familiar and 'nonchalant' manner, would awaken the suspicion that he was 'no gentleman;' but should the luckless man ask twice for soup at dinner, or appear in evening dress at a breakfast which begins at three in the afternoon and ends at midnight, he may be a prince and a 'millionaire,' but he is 'no gentleman.'"

Had his highness named none of his English (and Welsh) associates, one might have found a charitable apology for the above: as it is, we are bound to express our cordial agreement with one of his observations--viz., that a man "may be a prince" without being a gentleman. His highness now threads the Dargle; a coarse attack, full of blasphemous allusions, upon Lord Powerscourt, follows; and we then are carried to Donnybrook fair. A description of the bestialities of that festival is given, which concludes with an account of a flirtation, to call it by the gentlest name, between a pair of lovers "excessively drunk,"--the whole of which is introduced merely to usher in this remark:--"My reverence for truth compels me to add, that not the slightest trace of English brutality was to be perceived." We hope the Lady Janes and Lady Marys, who waltzed and gallopaded with this "thoroughly illustrious" prince--their fathers, whose wines he drank--and their brothers, whose horses he rode,--will not forget this passage, in case his "noble and prepossessing aspect" should again chance to enlighten our "insular gloom."

Once more safe in his quarters at Dublin, our Prince lays down as an axiom that "nobody eats soup in England." "This," says his highness, "is the reason, by-the-bye, for which my old Saxon left me; he declared that he could not exist any longer in a state of barbarism--without soup." Now, that his highness's "Saxon" should have quitted "his ground" on this score seems odd,--inasmuch as his highness himself has just before told us, that "the luckless man who asked for soup twice at dinner" could be "no gentleman;" in other words, that such is an usual mark of what our superfine novelists call "vulgarity!" For the rest, his highness appears to have lived much more in coffee-houses than anywhere else; and, as everybody knows, whole seas of soup--black, grey, red, and green--are daily and hourly bubbling and smoking in all such quarters. Of one of these same coffee-houses, after denying the existence of soup, and explaining that the Irish boil their potatoes "in water," his highness thus continues his description:--

"But now follows the second stage:--the table-cloth is removed; clean plate, and knife and fork laid, wine and wine-glass, and a few miserable apples or pears, with stony ship biscuits are brought: and now the dinner seems to begin to enjoy tranquillity and comfort. His countenance assumes an expression of satisfaction; apparently sunk in profound meditation, leaning back in his chair, and looking fixedly straight before him, he suffers a sip of wine to glide down his throat from time to time, only breaking the death-like silence by now and then laboriously craunching his rocky biscuits.

"When the wine is finished, follows stage the third--that of digestion. All motion now ceases; his appetite being satiated, he falls into a sort of magnetic sleep, only distinguishable from the natural by the open eyes. After this has lasted for half an hour or an hour, all at once it ceases; he cries out, as if under the influence of some sudden possession, 'Waiter, my slippers;' and seizing a candle, walks off gravely to his chamber to meet his slippers and repose."

It appears to us very odd that the gallant prince should have, in this luculent sketch of "insular life," suppressed all mention of his "attracted" friends the chambermaids. He proceeds,--

"Englishmen who do not belong to the aristocracy, and are not very rich, usually travel without a servant by the mail or stage-coach, which deposits them at the inn. The man who waits on strangers to the coach, cleans their boots, etc., has the universal appellation of 'Boots.' It is, accordingly, 'Boots' who brings your slippers, helps you to pull off your boots, and then departs, first asking at what time you will have, not, as in Germany, your coffee, but your hot water to shave. He appears with it punctually at the appointed hour, and brings your clothes cleanly brushed. The traveller then hastens to dress himself and to return to his beloved coffee-room, where the ingredients of breakfast are richly spread upon his table. To this meal he seems to bring more animation than to any other, and indeed I think more appetite; for the number of cups of tea, the masses of bread and butter, eggs and cold meat, which he devours, awaken silent envy in the breast, or rather in the stomach, of the less capable foreigner. He is now not only permitted, but enjoined (by custom his gospel) to read. At every cup of tea he unfolds a newspaper of the size of a table-cloth. Not a single speech, crim. con., murder, or other catastrophe, invented by the 'accident maker' in London, escapes him.

"Like one who would rather die of a surfeit than leave anything uneaten which he had paid for, the systematic Englishman thinks that, having called for a newspaper, he ought not to leave a letter of it unread. By this means his breakfast lasts several hours, and the sixth or seventh cup is drunk cold. I have seen this glorious meal protracted so long that it blended with dinner; and you will hardly believe me when I assure you, that a light supper followed at midnight without the company quitting the table."--Pp. 209-212.

The correctness of this picture is striking; but we do not exactly trace the sequence of thought within his highness's illustrious breast which conducts him from this analysis of coffee-house breakfasts, through a few more uncalled-for insinuations of contempt for the individuals at whose houses he had been visiting, to the grand reflection with which it pleases him to close, p. 234, viz., "Nevertheless, the English nobleman, even the least of the lords, in the bottom of his heart, thinks himself a better man than the king of France." This, written A.D. 1828, appears to be gratuitous malice; though, as to being a better man than the king of France, if there be truth in Hennequin, we certainly hope there is hardly an Englishman, whether great lord or little gentleman, amongst us--liable as we are to the charge of stealing pocket-books from living princes,--who would, in January, 1832, be ambitious to change characters with the actual occupant of the Tuileries.

At page 218, this exemplary advocate of Popish emancipation in Ireland, lets slip the following simple and natural observations:--

"I returned to Dublin just at the moment of a meeting of the 'Catholic Association,' and alighted at the door of their house: unfortunately, however, neither Shiel nor O'Connell was present, so that there was no great attraction. Heat and bad smells ('car l'humanité Catholique pûe autant qu'une autre') drove me out in a few minutes.

"In the evening I was better amused by the performances of some other charlatans--a company of English horse-riders who are here."

This is complimentary, and quite consistent with what will be found in the sequel.

The prince now starts for the south of Ireland--visiting and ridiculing a variety of families on his route. On one particular household he is especially jocose, and instances, in illustration of the state of their domestic information, a "long and patient" search which was made "in a map of Europe, for the United States!" (p. 221.) He adds,--

"The occasion of the search was, that the old gentleman wanted to show me Halifax and B---- town, which latter takes its name from him."

For one moment we must beg leave to stop his highness; no Englishman, or Irishman, ever talks of the United States; we always speak of America; and as, unfortunately for his highness, America is the distinctive appellation of one quarter of the globe, no Englishman, or even Irishman, would ever expect to find America in a map of Europe. If, indeed, it had been a question about Puckler-Muskau, or any such place, if place it be, we should, in common with all the rest of the world, the prince himself perhaps excepted, have hunted with the greatest alacrity to find it. But why was this old "country squire" so anxious to find the two American towns, which, by his anxiety, it is clear he thought his illustrious visitor knew nothing about? Why? Why, because he "laid the first stone of both during the American war, in which he commanded seven hundred men, and loves to recall those days of his youth and importance." In the preceding page he tells us that his host "is seventy-two years old, and hale and vigorous as a man of fifty." Now, mark:--Halifax, the capital of the province of Nova Scotia, was founded in May, 1749, being exactly seventy-nine years before the year 1828, in which his highness had the good fortune to meet with its "hale" founder, _anno ætatis_ seventy-two, in Ireland, he having, according to his highness's account and calculation, commanded seven hundred men, and laid the first stone of a city, exactly seven years and four months before he was born. Whether this "vigorous" personage waited for the accouchement of his respectable mother to begin operations at B----, we cannot determine--the initial (so delicate!) baffles us; but we ought to be contented with his early exertions in the public service at Halifax.

These innocent, or rather imbecile, blunders or fictions are followed by another blasphemous satire upon our Church service--coupled with the remark, that Ireland is "debased by the stupid intolerance of the English priesthood," and that, therefore, out of a party of twenty persons, nobody knew where Carlsbad or Prague was; they did not even know where Bohemia was; in short, "everything out of Great Britain and Paris was a country in the moon." All this is at Limerick,--where the sexton of one of the "Catholic churches" told him they had rung the bells as soon as they heard of his arrival, and begged ten shillings as a gratuity; though we strongly suspect, that in 1828, the "Catholic churches" had no bells; where his highness is offered the order of the Liberators, which he declines, and compounds for dining with the Agitators; and where also occurs that scene of his being mistaken for young Ney, which we took leave to transpose to the earlier part of our observations, in order to identify the author.