Part 29

The great object, however, of his highness's Irish excursion was, as might have been anticipated, to visit Mr. O'Connell; and accordingly he gets a horse (a friend's, of course) to ride to Derrinane, by a route which man on horseback never went before. On the journey a "soft rain began to fall," and his delicate highness (who, be it remembered, always prefers, or, at least, adopts the fashion of "travelling outside") writes thus:--"As I am seldom in the way of enjoying such a bath in the open air, I waded with a great feeling of satisfaction and pleasure through the streams, throwing myself in some degree into the pleasurable state of mind of a duck. Nothing of that kind is, as you know, impossible to my mobile fancy." What are we to make of this? His "thorough-lustre," the Prince Puckler-Muskau--the "dignified," "prepossessing," all-accomplished, admired of Goethe, the frank and favoured correspondent of Julia, and the personal friend of Lady Morgan,--to be able to throw himself into the pleasurable state of mind of a duck! and then appealing to his "beloved soul" to bear public testimony that he is capable of such an exertion. But perhaps the translator is in fault, and "duck" is not the right word.

In his progress to Derrinane, a series of Munchausen adventures await his highness:--he contrives to keep his seat in the saddle six miles after having broken his saddle-girths--he subsequently saddles himself, and leads his horse, (his carriage and people not being there)--and at length, after fording bottomless torrents, ascending inaccessible hills, and avoiding various inevitable accidents, the least of which would have been mortal, he reaches "the Abbey," and, after much thumping and ringing, obtains admission. As many of our readers may never have had the honour of inspecting this distinguished _interieur_, we must let his highness speak:--

"The tower clock was striking eleven, and I was, I confess, somewhat anxious as to my dinner, especially as I saw no living being, except a man in a dressing-gown at an upper window. Soon, however, I heard sounds in the house; a handsomely dressed servant appeared, bearing silver candlesticks, and opened the door of a room, in which I saw with astonishment a company of from fifteen to twenty persons sitting at a long table, on which were placed wine and dessert. A tall, handsome man, of cheerful and agreeable aspect, rose to receive me, and apologized for having given me up in consequence of the lateness of the hour, regretted that I had made such a journey in such terrible weather, presented me in a cursory manner to his family, who formed the majority of the company, and then conducted me to my bedroom. This was the great O'Connell!

"On the whole, he exceeded my expectations. His exterior is attractive; and the expression of intelligent good-nature, united with determination and prudence, which marks his countenance, is extremely winning. He has, perhaps, more of persuasiveness than of genuine, large, and lofty eloquence; and one frequently perceives too much design and manner in his words. Nevertheless, it is impossible not to follow his powerful arguments with interest, to view the martial dignity of his carriage without pleasure, or to refrain from laughing at his wit. It is very certain that he looks much more like a general of Napoleon's than a Dublin advocate. This resemblance is rendered much more striking by the perfection with which he speaks French, having been educated at the Jesuits' College at Doual and St. Omer. His family is old, and was probably one of the great families of the land. His friends, indeed, maintain that he springs from the ancient kings of Kerry,--an opinion which no doubt adds to the reverence with which he is regarded by the people. He himself told me--and not without a certain pretension--that one of his cousins was Comte O'Connell, and 'cordon rouge' in France; and another a baron, general and chamberlain to the Emperor of Austria; but that he was the head of the family. He is about fifty years old, and in excellent preservation, though his youth was rather wild and riotous....

"If he should succeed in obtaining emancipation, of which I have no doubt, his career, so far from being closed, will, I think, only then properly begin. The evils of Ireland, and of the constitution of Great Britain generally, lie too deep to be removed by emancipation. His understanding is sharp and quick, and manners, as I have said, winning and popular; although somewhat of the actor is perceivable in them, they do not conceal his very high opinion of himself, and are occasionally tinged by what an Englishman would call 'vulgarity.' Where is there a picture entirely without a shade?

"Another interesting man, the real, though not ostensible, head of the Catholics, was present, Father L'Estrange, a friar, and O'Connell's confessor. He may be regarded as the real founder of that Catholic Association so often derided in England, but which by merely negative powers, by dexterous activity in secret, and by universally organizing and training the people to one determinate end, attained a power over them as boundless as that of the hierarchy in the middle ages; with this difference, that the former strove for light and liberty, the latter for darkness and slavery. This is another outbreak of that second great revolution, which solely by intellectual means, without any admixture of physical force, is advancing to its accomplishment; and whose simple but resistless weapons are public discussion and the press. L'Estrange is a man of philosophical mind and unalterable calmness. His manners are those of an accomplished gentleman who has traversed Europe in various capacities, has a thorough knowledge of mankind, and with all his mildness cannot always conceal the sharp traces of great astuteness. I should call him the ideal of a well-intentioned Jesuit. As O'Connell was busy, I took an early walk with the friar to a desert island, to which we crossed dry-footed over the smooth sand now left by the ebb. Here stand the genuine ruins of Derrinane Abbey, to which O'Connell's house is only an appendix. It is to be repaired by the family, probably when some of their hopes are fulfilled....

"I wondered when I afterwards found both O'Connell and L'Estrange entirely free from religious bigotry, and even remarked in them very tolerant and philosophical views, though they persisted in choosing to continue true Catholics. I wished I had been able to conjure hither some of those furious imbeciles among the English Protestants, who cry out at those Catholics as irrational and bigoted; while they themselves alone, in the true sense of the word, cling to the fanatical faith of their politico-religious party, and are firmly predetermined to keep their long ears for ever closed to reason and humanity."--Vol. i., pp. 334-338.

Tearing himself from "the Man of the People," Father L'Estrange, and the rest of "the court of Derrinane," our prince transports himself to Killarney; inspects Mucruss, rows about the lakes, repeats some of Mr. Crofton Croker's stories of the great O'Donoghue, and again falls into one of those _affaires du cœur_, his clever management of which has so moved the admiration of the venerable Goethe.

"The Irish naïveté of the innkeeper's daughter made such an agreeable impression on me, that on my return to her father's inn I scarcely talked to anybody else, and thus won her good graces. She had never quitted her native mountains, and was as ignorant of the world as it is possible to conceive. I asked her, in jest, if she would go with me to Cork. 'Oh no,' said she, 'I should be afraid to go so far with you. Do tell me now who you really are: You are a Jew--_that_ I know already.' 'Why, are you mad?' said I; 'what makes you think I must be a Jew?' 'Ah, you can't deny it; haven't you a black beard all round your chin, and five or six gold rings on your fingers?' My disclaimer was of no use. At last, however, she said good-humouredly, that if I positively would not allow that I was one, she wished at least that I might 'become as rich as a Jew,' (an English phrase.) I confirmed this with a Christian 'Amen!'"

Barring the last bit of blasphemy, this is a laughable page. We only ask, whether any prince, who had not the mind of a duck, would record such an adventure as this? Another bar-maid--another pot-girl--and she to whom he exclusively devoted his attentions, to set him down for a Jew, and not to be convinced to the contrary! Where were his "people"--where the evidence to counteract this calumny? The mere nastiness of encouraging a tuft of unseemly hair under his chin could hardly have led the girl to this conclusion.

The second volume presents us with a series of visits to Protestant country gentlemen, whose manners and dinners he derides, and whose wives and daughters are talked of as "imbecile bigots," because they "remember the Sabbath-day, and keep it holy,"--interspersed with scenes on which his highness dwells with more satisfaction, but of which we regret to find we can afford but few specimens. At Cashel he passes several of his _white_ days, chiefly, of course, in the company of persons unconnected with the "stupid, dull, Anglican system." _Inter alia_, he is invited by "the Catholic dean to meet the archbishop and sixteen other clergymen at dinner."

"The table did honour to a chaplain of the Holy Father.... The conversation then turned on religious subjects, and was in a perfectly free and partial spirit: never did I perceive the least trace of bigotry, or of the disgusting affectation of puritanical rigour. At the dessert, several sang their national songs, some of which had no pretension to sanctity. As the one who sat next me remarked some little surprise on my countenance, he said in my ear, 'Here we forget the foreign * * * * the archbishop, and the priest,--at table we are only gentlemen, and to enjoy ourselves.'"--Vol. ii., pp. 47, 48.

"Before the archbishop retired," says his highness, "he said to me, in a most obliging manner, 'You are _as you tell us!_ a bishop! consequently, you owe obedience to the archbishop. I employ this, my authority, to command you to dine here to-morrow with your colleague the Bishop of Limerick, whom we expect to-day;--I must hear of no excuse.' I answered, taking up the jest, 'I readily confess that it does not beseem me to withstand the discipline of the Church, and your grace and the dean know so well how to sweeten obedience, that I submit the more willingly.'"

"I passed the evening in the society of the * * * * I have seldom found Protestant clergymen so frank and sincere as these Catholics. We came to the conclusion, that we must either receive blindly the hereditary faith the Church prescribes; or, if this be not in our power, form our own religious system as the result of individual thoughts and individual feelings, which may rightly be called the religion of philosophers. The * * * * spoke French most fluently, I therefore quote his own words: 'Heureusement on peut en quelque sorte combiner l'un et l'autre; car, au bout du compte, il faut une religion positive au peuple.' 'Et dites surtout,' replied I, 'qu'il en faut une aux rois et aux prêtres; car aux uns elle fournit le par la grâce de Dieu, et aux autres, de la puissance, des honneurs, et des richesses; le _peuple_ se contenterait, peut-être, de bonnes lois et d'un gouvernement libre.' 'Ah,' interrupted he, 'you think like Voltaire,

"Les prêtres ne sont pas ce qu'un vain peuple pense, Et sa crédulité fait toute notre science."'

'Ma foi,' said I, 'si tous les prêtres vous ressemblaient je penserais bien autrement.'"

"I was, unfortunately, unable to keep my word with my friendly Amphitryon. A 'megrim' confined me all day to my bed. The archbishop sent me word that he would cure me; and, if I would but bring firm faith, would be sure to drive away the headache-fiend by a well-applied exorcism. I was, however, obliged to reply, that this devil was not one of the most tractable, and that he respected no one but Nature, who sends and recalls him at her pleasure, which, alas! is seldom in less than four-and-twenty hours. I must, therefore, cut off even you, dearest Julia, with a few words."

This is a pleasant specimen of communication between a "frank and sincere" Irish * * * *, and a Lutheran liberal, who, in order to quiz the very idea of a Protestant episcopacy, announces himself at a drinking, singing party of papists, of which an archbishop makes one, to be a bishop himself.

When the prince has done with the popish archbishop, he takes to the pipers, and is safely delivered of this sapient remark:--"These pipers, who are almost all blind, derive their origin from remote antiquity. They are gradually fading away, for all that is old must vanish from the earth." This is a truism:--but, as pipers, like other men, to whatever age they may attain, are all born young--even in Ireland--his highness may still encourage the hope, that when the old ones die off, others will succeed them. The chapter of pipers is succeeded by a not very delicate one on game-cocks; but we must pass over this, and accompany the prince to the Phœnix Park, where he is in his proper sphere.

"Lord Anglesea invited me to dinner," says his highness, "and the party was brilliant. He is beloved in Ireland for his impartiality, and for the favour he has always shown to the cause of emancipation. His exploits as a general officer are well known--no man has a more graceful and polished address in society. A more perfect work of art than his false leg I never saw."

This climax of compliment will, no doubt, be felt and appreciated by his Excellency: he adds--

"The power and dignity of a Lord Lieutenant are considerable as representative of the king; but he holds them only at the pleasure of the ministry. Among other privileges, he has that of creating Baronets; and in former times inn-keepers, and men even less qualified, have received that dignity."

Baronets, as everybody knows, the Lord Lieutenant never could create, and the knighthoods the prince refers to most ungracefully, considering the "free and easy" manner in which, as we shall presently see, he treated Sir Charles Morgan and Sir Arthur Clarke--the individuals to whom he obviously points--and their "womankind." But, indeed, his malignity towards unfortunate Lady Morgan is worthy of severer reprehension. The following passage appears to us entirely indefensible:--

"I spent a very pleasant evening to-day at Lady M----'s. The company was small, but amusing, and enlivened by the presence of two very pretty friends of our hostess, who sang in the best Italian style. I talked a great deal with Lady M---- on various subjects, and she has talent and feeling enough always to excite a lively interest in her conversation. On the whole, I think I did not say enough in her favour in my former letter; at any rate, I did not then know one of her most charming qualities,--that of possessing two such pretty relatives.

"The conversation fell upon her works, and she asked me how I liked her Salvator Rosa? 'I have not read it,' replied I, 'because' (I added by way of excusing myself, 'tant bien que mal') 'I like your fictions so much, that I did not choose to read anything historical from the pen of the most imaginative of romance writers.' 'O, that is only a romance,' said she; 'you may read it without any qualms of conscience.' 'Very well,' thought I; 'probably that will apply to your travels too,'--but this I kept to myself. 'Ah,' said she, 'believe me, it is only _ennui_ that sets my pen in motion; our destiny in this world is such a wretched one that I try to forget it in writing.' Probably the Lord Lieutenant had not invited her, or some other great personage had failed in 'his engagement to her, for she was quite out of spirits."--Vol. ii., p. 103.

At page 108 we are introduced to Lady Clarke, Lady Morgan's sister--for they are both "Ladies"--and Sir Arthur Clarke, and the Misses Clarke, who turn out to be the two "pretty relatives." Lady Clarke, we are told, "is very superior to her celebrated relation in accurate taste and judgment." Of the young ladies, whom his highness calls his "little nightingales," the prince says much; but it would be unfair to criticise his criticisms upon them, which are only distinguished by vanity, puppyism, conceit, bad taste, and bad feeling. He takes these poor girls to see "the fine artist," M. Ducrow, ("an admirable model for sculptors, in an elastic dress, which fits exquisitely,") ride nine horses at once, and "finally go to bed with a pony dressed as an old woman;" and the "little one" trembled with delight, with anxiety and eagerness, and kept her hands clenched all the time; and then comes a history of his fetching out a girl, who had acted Napoleon, from a dressing-room, where she stood naked as "a little Cupid before the glass," (we should have said a little Venus!)--but there is no end to his malice.

"I rested myself (he says) this evening in the accustomed place. 'Tableaux' were again the order of the day. I had to appear successively as Brutus, an Asiatic Jew, Francis the First, and Saladin. Miss J---- was a captivating little fellow as a student of Alcala; and her eldest sister, as a fair slave, a welcome companion to Saladin. As the beautiful Rebecca, she also assorted not ill with the oriental Jew. All these metamorphoses were accomplished with the help only of four candles, two looking-glasses, a few shawls and coloured handkerchiefs, a burnt cork, a pot of rouge, and different heads of hair."

Even the mysteries of her ladyship's dressing-room, and the articles which compose her ladyship's toilette, are not sacred in the eyes of this "right-minded observer!"

Our readers have probably had enough of the prince. On the political portion of his highness's book we cannot enter, because his politics are universally mixed up with impiety. As to personal adventure, his closing chapters on Ireland contain little of that, except his being invited to drink wine at a radical meeting, and a visit to the Catholic Association. The rest is a mere tissue of commonplaces, evidently gleaned from the female attendants of the small inns which his highness was in the habit of frequenting, while his "carriage and people" were absent. He quits Ireland, and starts from Holyhead by the mail; he arrives at Shrewsbury, and, although the mail very rarely stops for anybody, perambulates the whole town,--sketches the horses,--examines the castle, and the tread-mill,--and yet is in time to pursue his journey, which he does on the outside of the mail, with four outside passengers! At Monmouth he pauses,--goes into a bookseller's shop to "buy a Guide,"--and "unexpectedly" makes the acquaintance of the bookseller's "very amiable family," particularly two "pretty daughters,"--of whom his highness observes, as a Lyell or Murchison would of lumps of nickel or tungsten, "they were the most perfect specimens of innocent country girls I ever met with." They were at tea when his highness dropped in; and the father, "unusually loquacious for an Englishman, took him absolutely and formally prisoner, and began to ask him the strangest questions about the Continent and about politics."

"The daughters," said his highness, "obviously pitied me--probably from experience--and tried to restrain him; but I let him go on, and surrendered myself for half an hour _de bonne grace_, by which I won the good-will of the whole family to such a degree, that they all pressed me most warmly to stay some days in this beautiful country, and to take up my abode with them. When I rose at length to go, they positively refused to take anything for the book; '_bongré, malgré_,' I was forced to keep it as a present. Such conquests please me; because their manifestations can come only from the heart."

The reader will presently find the sequel to this double shot, by which two perfect specimens of innocence were killed dead; but he must first be told that his highness, the next morning, charges the landlord of his inn, the waiters, or the chambermaids, or somebody, with stealing his purse and pocket-book. They indignantly deny the charge, and repel the imputation, which his highness appears to have been anxious to cast equally upon gentlemen and innkeepers, and offer to submit to instant search, adding, however, that his highness must undergo a similar operation. This his highness declines; he thinks it best to put up with the loss of ten pounds, and depart; and what will the reader think he therefore did? "Why," says the prince, "I therefore took some more bank-notes out of my travelling-bag, paid the reckoning, and so departed."

From this splendid detail we discern that his highness travelled with a sac de nuit stuffed with bank-notes; nevertheless--

"The Prince, unable to conceal his pain"

at the loss of his ten pounds, runs to his amiable friends at the bookshop, and imparts to them the disaster:--

"The surprise and concern of all were equal. In a few minutes the daughters began to whisper to their mother, made signs to one another, then took their father on one side; and after a short deliberation, the youngest came up to me and asked me, blushing and embarrassed, 'Whether this loss might not have caused me a temporary embarrassment, and whether I would accept a loan of five pounds, which I could restore whenever I returned that way:' at the same time trying to push the note into my hand. Such genuine kindness touched me to the heart: it had something so affectionate and disinterested, that the greatest benefit conferred under other circumstances would perhaps have inspired me with less gratitude than this mark of unaffected goodwill. You may imagine how cordially I thanked them. 'Certainly,' said I, 'were I in the slightest difficulty, I should not be too proud to accept so kind an offer; but as this is not in the least degree the case, I shall lay claim to your generosity in another way, and beg permission to be allowed to carry back to the Continent a kiss from each of the fair girls of Monmouth.' This was granted, amid much laughter and good-natured resignation. Thus freighted, I went back to my carriage!"--(N.B.--He had come by the mail.)

The end of all this interesting story is, that two or three days after, his highness (whom, like Goethe, and unlike the barmaids, and the bookseller's daughters, we always "figure to ourselves as of a dignified aspect") finds his purse and his book in his dressing-gown pocket, so that the whole episode is given to show his Julia what a fine man he is, and how ready his "specimens of innocence" are to fall vanquished at his feet.--"Eich dyn!"

But we must cut his highness short. At Bristol he enters Radcliffe Church while the organ is playing, and stations himself in a corner, whence he could catch a glimpse at the interior:--