:>rma 
 
 al 
 
 1
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 A NATIONAL TALE. 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 A NATIONAL TALE. 
 
 BY 
 
 LADY MORGAN, 
 
 (LATE MISS OWEXSOH) 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE WILD IRISH GIRLJ 
 NOVICE OF ST. DOM1NICK, &C. 
 
 Art thou a gentleman? What is thy name ? 
 
 Discuss! .. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 J&eto Coition. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 FVBLIC LIBRARY) CONDUIT-STREET, HANOVER-SQUARE. 
 1815.
 
 , - 1 
 B. Clarke, Printer, Well-Btreet, Londoir. 
 
 *
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 tXHAPTE'R T, 
 
 WHEN the cloth was removed, and 
 Me. Rory had placed the table near 
 the fire, and the chairs round it, he 
 still seemed to linger with an obvious 
 anxiety in the room. It was evident, 
 by his efforts, that he was solicitous 
 to excuse his master's absence, and ap- 
 parent neglect of those hospitable rites, 
 which, in the estimation of this ge- 
 nuine Irishman, were the first of vir- 
 tues. 
 
 Lady Singleton, who always sus- 
 pected something, eveu where there 
 
 VOL. ii. B 
 
 If ' '* : <j-> ,-" I J 
 57367
 
 " O DON N EL. 
 
 were least grounds for suspicion, mere- 
 ly to show her superior acuteness and 
 penetration, now observed in French 
 to her party, that the sudden retreat 
 of the master, and the lingering of the 
 servant, were odd circumstances, that 
 the whole had une mauvaise mine, and 
 that she wished they were safe out 
 of the horrible mountains, where none 
 but a man of desperate fortunes would 
 reside. "She did not like/' she added, 
 *' the air of the place altogether/' and 
 observed, that the immense sword or 
 sabre over the chimney-piece was a 
 singular piece offurniture in any place, 
 but the retreat of a captain of a band of 
 " White Boys" or some such outlawed 
 desperado. As she spoke, she directed 
 her eyes to the sword; and Mr. Glent- 
 worth, laughing' at the folly of her sus- 
 picion, said aloud, that " he supposed 
 the sword was some family relic." 
 
 " Is it the sword, your Honor?" 
 jsaid Me. Rory, whose eyes were fixed
 
 O DONNEL. $ 
 
 Oil the stranger's, though he was affect- 
 ing, in his own words, " just to read/ 
 up the place." 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Glentworth, " it 
 looks as if it had seen service, Me. 
 Rory." 
 
 " O! then it's itself that has," re- 
 turned Me. Uory, taking it down, and 
 blowing the dust off it: " many a tali 
 fine fellow it laid low in its day, any 
 how, I'll engage/' 
 
 <c Indeed 1" returned Lady Single- 
 ton, looking round significantly at her 
 party, while her daughters and Lady 
 Florence turned pale : fi so it has com- 
 mitted great havoc, has it ?" 
 
 " It's truth I am telling you, Madam; 
 the world would'nt get the marks of the 
 blood out of the blade, so it wouhTnt. 
 They say it is the blood of an O'Neil, 
 which an O'Donnel killed in these very 
 mountains." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Lady Singleton, 
 becoming gradually the victim of her 
 B 2
 
 * O DONKEL. 
 
 o\vn idle iYnaginings: " and pray, Sir, 
 who does this sword belong to ?" 
 
 " To the great O'Donnel, my lady, 
 who beat the English troops fairly out 
 of the province.*' 
 
 cc Lately ?" asked Lady Singleton 
 eagerly. 
 
 44 O yes, Madam; that's when the 
 master's people were kings of the 
 county round, I may say, and bale 
 the world before them, which they 
 did in great style." 
 
 tc You mean, I suppose./' asked 
 Lady Singleton in a tremulous voice, 
 '' in the late tumults which we have 
 heard sc* much of in England, as dis- 
 turbing this country ?" 
 
 " O yes, my Lady, I do! surely." 
 
 " And pray, Sir?" asked Lady Sin- 
 gleton still more faintly, " do the White 
 Boijs, or the Oak Boys, prevail in these 
 mountains?'' 
 
 " O, my Lady/' returned Me. Rory, 
 " we have no call to the likes of them
 
 O DONNEL. ^ 
 
 at all, at all ; there never was any 
 RUCTION to signify in these mountains 
 since the ould times, when the great 
 O'Donnel Baldcarg, that's O'Don- 
 nel the Red/ cleared the country fair- 
 ly with this same sword, of all the 
 rogues and rapperies, that wanted to 
 drive us into the bogs and mountains 
 like wild bastes, when he fought at 
 the battle of Balintubber for the glory 
 of Ireland." 
 
 " And this O'Donnel the Red'' said 
 Mr. Glentworth, who had been much 
 amused with the equivoque of a dia- 
 logue, he had hitherto forborne to in- 
 terrupt; " and this O^Donnel the Red 
 was, I suppose, some famous ancestor 
 of your master ?" 
 
 " O ! he was, your Honour, the * Star 
 of the North' he is call'd to this day, 
 long life to him !" 
 
 " An ancestor!" repeated Lady Sin- 
 gleton, recovering from her transient 
 panic : " oh, that is another thing." 
 B 3
 
 t> O DOXNEL. 
 
 " Stay, Madam !" exclaimed Me. 
 Rory in a hurry, putting up the sword, 
 and running to a book-shelf, from 
 which he took down a little volume in 
 primmer size: " s^e here, my Lady> 
 sure here is the whole story, covered 
 with elegant red tnorocky ; and, troth, 
 and it will amuse you greatly till the 
 master comes ; you'll be highly de- 
 lighted with it, 1'il engage. Myself 
 used to get it by heart of a winter's 
 night. That's the fine ancient ould 
 copy of it, which was wrote with 
 Abbe O'DonneFs own hand, but the 
 master got this done out fairly by the 
 Torney Costello's clerk/' 
 
 Lady Singleton took the book ; it. 
 contained but a few pages, and was 
 done in a neat printed hand. Me. Rory 
 trimmed the lamp, pnt fresh turf on 
 the fife, and wishing them " every 
 amusement in life," left the room ; 
 when, at the request of all, Lady Sin- 
 gleton read as follows :
 
 O'DOXNEL. 
 
 O'DONNEL THE RED, 
 
 THE CHI EPS OFTIRCONNEL. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 THE Irish annalist lias boasted, 
 the English historian has avowed, 
 that Ireland first submitted to England 
 in the reign of James the First ; and 
 his Irish subjects fondly believed that 
 in his veins flowed the blood of their 
 own royal line.* 
 
 Till that period, the English set- 
 tled in Ireland, neither " governed the 
 land in peace by law,-f nor could they 
 
 * It was not till the 12th of James I. 1614, 
 that (he Irish were considered as subjects," they 
 " were then taken into his Majesty's gracious 
 protection, under one law, as dutiful subjects." 
 Borlase, p. 188. 
 
 f Sir J, Davis> 
 
 B 4
 
 8 O DONNE?,. 
 
 root out the natives by the sword in 
 war.''* 
 
 Till that period, the few eastern 
 districts which the Saxon arms had 
 won, werej by harassing encroach- 
 ments, partially extended ; but the 
 Irish chiefs of the north, of the south, 
 and of the west, nay, even those who 
 raised their castles on the borders of 
 the pale, were of necessity left to the 
 enjoyment of their own rude indepen- 
 dence. { Their septs in the days of 
 
 * They offered the English sovereign 800O 
 marks to grant them the benefit of the English 
 law, and were refused. (See Sir J. Davis* s 
 Historical Relations.) They were, therefore, 
 governed by their own laws so recently as the 
 reign of Henry VIII. for the then Chief Baron 
 observes, " Those laws and statutes, made by the 
 Irish on their hills, they keep firm and stable, 
 without breaking them for any favor or re- 
 ward." Huron Fingloss, Breviale of Ireland. 
 
 f As in the instance of the O'Beirnes, Chiefs- 
 f Glen-Mai u v a.
 
 O'DONNEL. 9 
 
 Elizabeth, as in the days of Henry the 
 Second, paid submission only to their 
 respective chiefs, and lived in federal 
 alliance with each other. When in 
 amity with the English power, they 
 were termed friends and allies;* when 
 refractory, they were called " the Irhk 
 enemy" The epithet of rebel was not 
 applied to them, till, by being admitted 
 to the benefit of the English laws, they 
 were considered as subjects ; which 
 did not take place till the twelfth year 
 of James the First's reign. 
 
 In the latter days of Queen Eli- 
 zabeth, flourished Calvagh O'Donnelj 
 chief of Tirconnel.f 
 
 On the north-west of Ulster, over 
 a region of rocks and marshes, of lakes 
 
 * u They were sworn to keep the peace, but 
 in every other particular retained their own 
 distinctions and independence." Leland^ Vo~ 
 lume 2. 
 
 t Tirconnel, modern Donegal. 
 B 6
 
 10 O'DONNEL. 
 
 and mountains, deeply indented with 
 the sea, and skirted by precipitous 
 head-lands, the chiefs of Tircouuel had 
 reigned in a regular, though not tran- 
 quil, succession from the tenth cen- 
 tury. 
 
 Their national title was Tanist, or 
 Chief: that bestowed on them by fo- 
 reign potentates bore a loftier sound. 
 Henry III. of England,* solicited their 
 alliance by the title of " King;"-\ Fran- 
 
 *The letter of Henry III. to the Irish Chief 
 is extant in Rymcr, Volume 1, page 426. In 
 which he writes to him, " Rex, Donaldo Regi 
 dc Tirconnel, Salutem." 
 
 f Francis I. failed to induce the Irrsh Chief 
 to unite with him against Henry VIII. And 
 James I. acknowledges the hereditary fealty and 
 attachment of the O'Donncls to the Crown of 
 England, until the Irish Lords, President, and 
 Deputies, drove O'Donnel the Red to despera- 
 tion in Elizabeth's reign. This acknowledgment 
 is made in the King's letter to Earl Rodwick 
 O'Donnel, the brother of the deposed Chief, 
 extant in the Irish. Rolls.
 
 O'DOtfNEL. 11 
 
 cis I. of France, sought tlieir assistance 
 by the name of " Sovereign P-'-nce ;'' 
 and the Roman Pontiff and Spanish 
 Monarch gave them these titles so late- 
 ly as in the days of Elizabeth. 
 
 To the chiefs of Tircorrnel stood 
 opposed the powerful sept of the 
 O'Neils, chiefs of Tyrone. Descended 
 from the same stock, they were yet 
 hereditary rivals, and waged a warfare 
 for ages against each other, under the 
 operation of all those passions, which 
 break out with greatest violence, among 
 a people unsophisticated and unre- 
 fined.* Hugh O'Neil, the celebrated 
 Earl of Tyrone, alternately the favo- 
 rite and the foe of Queen Elizabeth, 
 who, in the end, threw off allegiance 
 with his English Earldom, and re-as- 
 sumed the state and independence of 
 
 * It was Between these haughty Chiefs that the 
 well known anecdote occurred of " pay me iny 
 tribute or els*," c. &C, &c.
 
 an Irish Prince,* saw, and loved, th 
 Lady Johanna O'Donnel ; f and the 
 feuds of ages were extinguished upon 
 the altar of family alliance. The fair 
 daughter of Tircorinel became Coun- 
 tess of Tirowen, and the nuptials were 
 celebrated in the Castle of Donegal, 
 in all the rude magnificence of the 
 ^mes, and consequence of the parties. 
 The septs pledged each other in 
 draughts of meadh from the Coma, 
 which had so often sounded them to 
 battle ;J and the bards of the O'Neils 
 and of the CVDonnels swept their 
 harps to the praises of the descend- 
 ants of " Wall of the Nine Hostages." 
 
 * Annals of the Four Masters. 
 
 + Hugh O'Ntil, Baron of Dungannon, lived 
 jaauch in the court of Elizabeth, had command 
 of a troop of horse, and received letters under, 
 the great seal of England for the Earldom of 
 Tyrone, &c. See Morris's Ireland. 
 
 + See note at theend of the Volume,
 
 O'D-ONXEL.. 
 
 FRAGMENT II. 
 
 The nuptial feast, according to 
 boundless hospitality of the times, was 
 held for many days ; and the carousal 
 was only interrupted by an event, 
 which spread desolation and misery in 
 the House of O'Donnel, caused the 
 annihilation of its glory, and gave birth 
 to conflicts, from which Ireland had 
 not recovered at the end of the suc- 
 ceeding century.* 
 
 In the family of the Chief of Tircon- 
 nel a star had arisen, which, though 
 but just verging above the horizon of 
 life, already shed around a light, des- 
 tined never to be quenched, but with 
 the independence of the land, which it 
 
 *The successes of O'Donnel and O'Neil had 
 unquestionably a great i;;fluence upon English 
 affairs in Ireland, for a considerable time after 
 TOD the death of those celebrated chiefs.
 
 14 O DONNEL. 
 
 for a brief period illuminated. Hugh 
 O'Donnel, called O'Donnel the Red,* 
 the eldest son of Calvagh, a boy in 
 years, a hero in spirit, a being " out of 
 the common roll of men," had already 
 given proofs of such extraordinary va- 
 lour and virtue, that in the language of 
 the chronicle, " his fame had gone 
 throughout the land."f He had as- 
 sisted at the nuptials of his beautiful 
 sister, and on the third nigtot of the 
 carousal, had risen from the nocturnal 
 revels, to enjoy the fresh sea breeze on 
 the ramparts of the castle: thither he 
 had been followed by two young and 
 
 * O'Donnel Baldearg, or O'Donnel Roue, from 
 a red mark in the centre of his forehead. 
 
 t See note at the end of the volume. All the 
 accounts given of this Chief, both by friends and 
 enemies, represent him as a most extraordinary 
 person. See Leland^ AbliOscaghagan t Annafa 
 fthe Four Masters, fyc. He was as remarka. 
 ble for his eloqnence and personal beauty, as far 
 his humanity and roititary prowess.
 
 15 
 
 gallant friends, John and Henry 
 O'Neil. As they descended towards 
 the shores, a sound, sweeter than their 
 native harp, caught their ear; it came 
 from a rocky cove, where a Spanish 
 vessel, which had put in a few days 
 before, lay anchored. 
 
 This ship was said to be the property 
 of a Cadiz merchant, and had furnished 
 out the marriage feast with the racy 
 wines and luscious fruits of Iberia. 
 The Spanish captain had, by his urba- 
 nity and fair dealing, won upon the 
 opinion of the inhabitants of the town 
 and Castle of Donegal, and received a 
 promise from the younger chiefs to 
 pledge him to the health of his king 
 on board his vessel. 
 
 As O'Donnel and his friends ap- 
 proached the eove, they perceived a 
 Spanish minstrel seated on the prow 
 of the bark, and accompanying with 
 his mandoline the sweet strain, which 
 he had raised over the stilness of the
 
 16 O'DONNEL. 
 
 moonlight waters. The youths ap- 
 proached and mounted the deck ; the 
 minstrel changed to a bolder measure. 
 He sung of the common origin of the 
 Spanish and Irish nations; of the 
 prowess of the Sons of Milesius; of the 
 times gone bye, when the O'Donnels, 
 raised the standard of their blood-red 
 cross, in the fields of Arragon, against 
 the Pagan Moors.* The spirits of the 
 listening youth kindled at the song of 
 the strangers. O'Donnel pointed to 
 the cannon mounted on the ramparts*j- 
 of his castle, which the King of Spain 
 had presented to his father. The cap- 
 tain of the vessel sent round the cup,, 
 and pledged the chiefs in the name of 
 his sovereign. The sailors who manned 
 the vessel, a hardy band, crowded on 
 
 * In all the accounts of the capture of the 
 young O'Donnel, these arts of seduction were 
 attributed to the feigned captain of the vessel. 
 
 t Historic.
 
 O'DOKNEL. \7 
 
 the deck, gazed with respectful wonder 
 on the grandeur of the young chiefs 
 powerful figure; approached sur- 
 rounded him. 
 
 FRAGMENT JIT, 
 
 It was midnight the torches wore 
 extinguished in the Castle of Donegal ; 
 the watch-fires on the faughgard were 
 lighted. The warder paced the ram- 
 parts, and threw from time to time a 
 took towards the beach; for the young 
 chief and his friends had not yet je- 
 turned from their visit to the Spanish 
 vessel. 
 
 The moon went down; a profound 
 darkness settled over the face of the 
 deep; no noise was heard but the mur- 
 mur of the refluent tide. The dawn 
 broke, the night-guard was relieved. 
 The warder descended the rock to- 
 wards, the sea-side ; he secretly con-
 
 18 
 
 demned the want of dignity in the 
 young Irish Lords, who condescended 
 to join in the nocturnal wassailage of a 
 foreign trader. He turned his eyes to- 
 wards the cove, where the vessel had 
 been moored, but he saw not the glit- 
 tering of the white sails amidst the 
 darkness of the clifis. He turned his 
 eyes to the north, and to the south, to 
 the cast, and to the west; but all, to 
 the utmost verge of the horizon, was 
 one broad expanse of illuminated 
 waters. The sun rose magnificently 
 from the ocean, but no vessel speckled 
 its placid bosom. The truth flashed 
 like lightning on the warder's mind 
 the heir of Tireonnel was carried off by 
 a stratagem; he flew to the castle with 
 the intelligence, but he had not power 
 to tell the tale to the aged father: he 
 fell speechless at the feet of the vene- 
 rable chief.
 
 FRAGMENT. IV. 
 
 The seeming Spanish vessel was an 
 English frigate, fitted out by the Lord 
 Deputy Perrot, for the purpose of be- 
 traying into his power the young heir 
 of Tirconnel. The youth and his 
 friends, surrounded and overcome by 
 numbers, were placed under the hatches, 
 
 conveyed to Dublin Castle, and thrown 
 
 in the depths of a noisome dungeon. 
 The reason assigned for this act of 
 treachery, which filled a whole pro- 
 vince with dismay, was, that the Ear' 
 of Tyrone having married the Lady 
 O'Donnel, would inevitably seduce the 
 chief, his brother-in-law, to unite the 
 forces of Tirconnel to those of Tyrone, 
 in opposition to the English power, 
 from which the Earl was suspected of 
 deserting; and that the great promise 
 of the youthful chief bespoke a fearful
 
 20 O'DONNEL, 
 
 enemy in future times.* Five years 
 elapsed; and the first emotions of rage 
 and grief, which preyed upon the life 
 of the young O'Donnel, resolved them- 
 selves into a rooted principle of hatred 
 to oppression, and vengeance on his 
 own oppressors. Of the feelings which 
 belonged to his age, hope only remain- 
 ed; and her cheering dream was nearly 
 realized by the ingenuity and efforts 
 of his vounsr fellow-sufferers. The 
 
 / O 
 
 O'Neils, less strictly guarded, because 
 of less consequence than O'Donnel, 
 contrived their own and their friend's 
 escape; broke his chains; and unsus- 
 pected, unobserved, in the midst of 
 darkness and of danger, crossed the 
 
 * Annals -of the Four Masters. Others assert 
 that Sir J. Perrot, by this act, sought to conci. 
 liiite the English government, whom he had dis. 
 pleased by his lenient measures in Ireland. Cut 
 though Sir J. Perrot planned this scheme, (he 
 severity of its execution was left to his successor, 
 Sir W. Fitzwilliam.
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 castle fosse, escaped the vigilance of 
 the guards, and fled to the Wicklow 
 mountain?. Overcome at last by suf- 
 fering and fatigue, torn and wounded 
 by the briary underwood, which crept 
 over their perilous and unfrequented 
 paths, they at last grew desperate, ap- 
 proached a human dwelling, and sound- 
 ed the horn that hung suspended at the 
 gate of the Castle of O'Tool. The 
 warder appeared, and they claimed pro- 
 tection for the son of the great O'Don- 
 nel, of Tirconnel. O'Tool granted a 
 seeming protection, but betrayed his 
 trust. The next day the young chief 
 was delivered into the hands of the 
 English government^ conveyed to the 
 Castle of Dublin, and with his young 
 and faithful friends, was again consign- 
 ed to captivity, and loaded with irons 
 heavier than before.* 
 
 * li His manner of usage was most dishonour. 
 able and discommendable, and neither allowable
 
 22 O DONNEL. 
 
 Another two years of captivity 
 elapsed, when the attachment of one 
 of the vvanlers of the castle to his 
 young and unfortunate prisoner again 
 procured his escape.* His keeper 
 knocked off his irons, and conducted 
 him and his friends beyond the gates 
 of the city. The fugitives sought once 
 more the intricate wilds of the Wick- 
 low mountains, where the passes were 
 alone unguarded. The depth of the 
 snows, the darkness and horrors of the 
 night, the apprehension of pursuit, dis- 
 tracted and bewildered the unhappy 
 wanderers ; and in the confusion and 
 
 before God or man : for O'Donncl being young, 
 and being taken by this stratagem, having neter 
 offended, was imprisoned with great sererity, 
 and many irons laid upon him, as if he had been 
 a notable traitor," Sec. Lee's Memorial to 
 Queen Elizabeth. MSS. Trinity College. 
 
 * The great tie which existed between the 
 keeper and his prisoner was, that l& spoke Irish, 
 says the Chronicle.
 
 O'DONNEL. 23 
 
 precipitancy of retreat, the younger 
 O'Neil was lost. The voices of his 
 friends were in vain raised; in vain 
 O'Donnel and his brother turned back, 
 at the risk of liberty and life, to seek 
 him he was gone for ever! In dis- 
 traction and despair, the brother and 
 the friend pursued their dreary course, 
 amidst the horrors of the night.* The 
 strength of the surviving O'Neil failed. 
 O'Donnel, more vigorous and robust, 
 in vain supported him in his arms 
 O'Neil sunk under his sufferings. 
 O'Donnel laid him under the shelter 
 of a rock, in the Valley of Glendaloch ; 
 stripped off his own wretched garb, 
 and placed it over the shivering body 
 of his friend, ] and stretched himself 
 beside him, in the hope of communi- 
 cating warmth to his chilled and life- 
 less limbs. 
 
 On the borders of the Valley of 
 
 * Annals of the Four Masters. t Ibid.
 
 2-i- O'DONNEL. 
 
 Glcndaloch stood the Castle of 37- 
 /w;a, the ancient seat of the O'Beirnes. 
 It was reserved for the chief of that 
 powerful sept to discover, amidst th<S 
 rocks which screened his castle, two 
 youths nearly buried in the snow. 
 The one lay dead in the other's anus ; 
 the other was alive, but speechless; 
 and when the humane attentions of 
 the chief, who summoned his attend- 
 ants to the spot, restored the facul- 
 ties of the survivor, O'Beirne found 
 in the object of his charity the 
 son of a prince! the son of his own 
 kinsman and friend, the Chief of Tir- 
 connel ! 
 
 The body of the unfortunate O'Neil 
 was consigned to the Abbey of Glen- 
 daloch,* O'Donnel was carried on the 
 backs of some of O'Beirnes sept, to 
 
 * The ruins of this abbey are still visible in 
 the beautiful valley of Glendaloch, iu the county 
 of Wicklow.
 
 O'DONNEL. 25 
 
 the defile of Glen-Maluva.* His name, 
 his youth, his rank, his misfortunes, 
 had gone before him. The clan of the 
 O'Beirnes came forth from their ntrong 
 holds and castles to receive him. They 
 met the northern chief, the descendant 
 of the royal line of Eirin, with shouts of 
 exultation, mingled with expressions 
 of implacable animosity to his ene- 
 mies. 
 
 FRAGMENT V. 
 
 The flight of the illustrious captive 
 was soon discovered. The Lord De- 
 puty posted guards on the fords of the 
 Liffy, to prevent his escape ; but the 
 chief of Glyn-Maluva, true to his trust, 
 risked his own life to save his friend's. 
 He placed himself at the head of a troop 
 of horse, and conducted O'Donnel to- 
 wards Dublin, foreseeing the security 
 of the attempt in its unsuspected bold- 
 
 * Annals of the Four Masters. 
 VOL. II. C
 
 26 O'DONNEL. 
 
 ness. As he imagined, the fords so near 
 the capital were carelessly guarded, and 
 on the banks of the Liffy the friends 
 embraced and parted. When the aged 
 warrior wept, the eyes of the young 
 chief were not dry; national suffering 
 had not yet subdued national sensi- 
 bilitv. 
 
 v 
 
 A messenger, in disguise of a harper, 
 was sent before the fugitive, to prepare 
 the old chief of Tirconnel for the re- 
 turn of his son. Accompanied by eight 
 horsemen only, O'Donnel took his pe- 
 rilous way through the heart of the 
 English pale,* passing near many an 
 English garrison, beholding in distance 
 the night-fires of many an Irish Faugh- 
 
 * His way lay through Meath, Louth, Ar- 
 magh, and Fermanagh. Tht ruins of the fortress 
 of Ballyshauuon still remain ; and the iu-.vn takes 
 Its name from a ford, where the old cme 5 " of Tir- 
 conuel was drowned. Bally shau Eye. 
 of the ford.
 
 O DONNEL. 27 
 
 ghard,* retreating among the heights of 
 the mountainous region of Sleeve-gul- 
 //ow, while the troops stationed in Bal- 
 breken Castle wound along the river 
 beneath. He successively caught a 
 view of Rose Castle ; f of the blue 
 waters of Lough Erne, and the banner 
 of the chief of Fermanagh, floating 
 on the mast of the barge, which the 
 brave Me. Guire had prepared to carry 
 him across the lake, to the foot of 4iis 
 father's fortress at Ballyshannon. Soon 
 distinguished by the friends of his 
 House, the long stilled cry of" O'Don- 
 
 * Faughguard a fort on an eminence. 
 
 t The frontier castle of the pale, on the 
 western borders of Louth : it was built by Rose 
 Verdun, an heiress of the English pale, who 
 married Lord Bellew. According to the Loulhi. 
 na, it is still the property of the ancient family 
 of Bellow, and exhibits a fine ruin. 
 
 C2
 
 $8 O'DONNEL. 
 
 nel aboo,"* rent the air. Borne in joy- 
 ous triumph over the waters of the 
 lake that bathed his native domains, he 
 was received by the inhabitants of Tir- 
 connel, who came in multitudes from 
 the remotest districts' to hail the resto- 
 ration of their betrayed chief to liberty, 
 and to his country. j- They knelt in 
 his path ; they kissed his feet ; they 
 clasped his hands; and, in the midst 
 of the acclamations of thousands of 
 voices, the aged Lord of Tirconnel re- 
 signed his chieftanry to his son, to 
 give him a free scope to avenge his 
 own injuries, and to protect his people. 
 
 * Each chieftain had a war cry peculiar to his 
 sept; as O'Donnel abua Butler abua. The 
 illustrious House of Fitzgerald, of which the 
 Duke of Leinster is the head, hare retained 
 their*s as their motto : Crom a boo. 
 
 t This account is strictly historic. He was 
 captured at fifteen, and escaped at onc.and. 
 twenty. See note end of this volume.
 
 O'DONNEL. 29 
 
 O'Phryle performed the ceremony of 
 inauguration,* and the harpers oFthe 
 family sung the feats of the heroes, 
 which it had produced, calling upon 
 the new chief to emulate the glory of 
 his ancestors. 
 
 FRAGMENT VI. 
 
 Indignant feelings of personal op- 
 pression and injustice sharpened the 
 sympathy of national suffering. The 
 outrages committed by the Lords Pre- 
 sidents of Ulster and Connaught suf- 
 fered not the wounded spirit of O'Don- 
 nel to heal. While his limbs were still 
 galled from the weight of the chains, 
 he had so miraculously broken, the 
 protection of his arm was claimed by 
 the cries of his countrymen. -\ All 
 
 * A kind of Bardic priest; the hereditary per- 
 former of this ceremony. 
 
 r The injustice and atrocities committed on 
 the Ulster and Connaught chiefs, by Bagnall and 
 c 3
 
 30 O'DONNEL. 
 
 Ulster rose, and ranged itself under the 
 red banner of the O'Donnel and the 
 O'Neil; and he, whose young and 
 balmy blood had been so early " turned 
 to gall/' whose warm and amicable 
 
 Bingham, in their presidencies, were by all co- 
 temporary historians assigned as causes of the 
 insurrection in those provinces. Queen Elizabeth 
 was so well assured of it, that she publicly ac- 
 cused them of their enormities, and thus alludes 
 to it in her instructions to the Lord Deputy : 
 
 " For that our subjects of that rea'm have 
 been grievously oppressed by certain ill-afiected 
 of our garrisons serving there, which have been 
 partly a cause of the alienation of the good-will, 
 irhich they (the Irish) before did bear unto us ; 
 and as such abuses as have hitherto been com. 
 mitted by such captains as have had heretofore 
 more regard to their own particular profit, than 
 to the discharge of their duties, may be met 
 withal, &c. &c." 
 
 Desiderata Curiosa Hibern. vol. 1, p. 38. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth made frequent attempts in 
 
 favor of the Irish ; ** but her gracious intention* 
 
 were neglected or disobeyed by her principal 
 
 .ministers in that kingdom."
 
 O'DONNEL. 31 
 
 feelings had been so prematurely rous- 
 ed into vindictiveness, was elected the 
 champion of the oppressed, and trium- 
 phantly styled by compatriots, 
 
 " The invincible Hero of the North," 
 for, in the successive conflicts which 
 tore and distracted his country, he was 
 invincible. 
 
 The young chief of Tirconnel soon 
 spread the fame of his prowess through- 
 out the kingdom. Those who had 
 wept, his unbought misfortunes, now 
 triumphed in his unequalled successes. 
 In a short space of time he had over- 
 run the province of Connaught, re- 
 stored those chiefs who had been de- 
 posed,* punished others who had be- 
 
 * The sheriffs and other officers of the Lords 
 President followed their example; entered the 
 several counties, attended with large bodies of 
 armed men, pillaging the inhabitants, whom they 
 affected to despise. 
 
 Leland'e Hist, of Ireland, p. 302. 
 C 4
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 come apostate,* expelled the unjust 
 stewards of an abused sovereign, and 
 scattered those " bands of landless re- 
 solutes who had been sharked upj*" by 
 borrowed power to spoliate his owi* 
 possessions, and lay waste the land of 
 his fathers. J Pursued by disciplined 
 armies and distinguished leaders, he 
 turned back upon their multitudinous 
 forces with a desperate, but successful 
 valour ; overcame the troops of the fa- 
 mous General Norris at the battle of 
 the CurlieuSj and routed the English 
 army, though led on by the gallant 
 Clifford, in the plains of Dunaveeragh; 
 
 * O'Rourke. f O'Connor Don. 
 A great part of the unqtiietncss of O'Don. 
 nel's country came by Sir W. Fitzwilliam placing 
 there one tVillis as Sheriff, who had with him 
 three hundred of the very rascals and scum of 
 the kingdom, who did rob and spoil the people, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 Lee>s Memorial to Queen Elizabeth, MSS. 
 Trinity College.
 
 O'DONNEL. 33 
 
 held parleys with the Essex's and the 
 Mountjoys, and won " golden opi- 
 nions'' alike from the enemy he van- 
 quished, and the friend he redressed. 
 
 FRAGMENT VII. 
 
 O'Donnel, covered with glory, re- 
 tired to the Castle of Donegal, to cele- 
 brate his union with the fair object of 
 a- long-cherished and romantic passion. 
 The Lady Avelina O'Neil, the daugh- 
 ter of the Earl of Tyrone, by a former 
 marriage with an English lady, had 
 alone shared with his country the 
 feelings of his heart. To years of suf- 
 fering, disquietude, and hardships, 
 some months of domestic felicity suc- 
 ceeded ; when the family compact, 
 formed by double alliance between the 
 chiefs ofTirconnel and Tyrone, obliged 
 him to draw his sword in a cause, 
 which, unlike all the other contests, in 
 c 6
 
 34 O'DONNEL. 
 
 which he had engaged, brought not its 
 excuse along with it. 
 
 His fortunes changed with the cause, 
 in which he was led, by his ambitious 
 kinsman, to embark them. The unex- 
 ampled rapidity of his marches from the 
 north to the south of Ireland, his dis- 
 tinguished feats of personal prowess, 
 availed him not ; the red cross banner 
 of the O'Donnel was trampled in the 
 dust before the walls of Kinsale ; his 
 castle was seized, and garrisoned by the 
 English forces in Donegal ; his life was 
 forfeited with his possessions ; but his 
 first and last defeat, though it madden- 
 ed*, did not subdue him. After wan- 
 dering, with a few faithful friends, 
 through the bo^s and mountains of 
 Munster, with nothing left but his 
 
 * O'Donnel (says the Irish Chronicle) grew 
 desperate and furious, after his defeat at Kinsale; 
 so that he wouldneither eat, nordrink, nor sleep, 
 for three days and three nights successively. 
 
 Annals of the Four Mastery.
 
 O'DONNEL. 35 
 
 life, his honour, and his sword, he es- 
 caped an ignominious death by flight 
 from his native land ; and (in the words 
 of the chronicle) sailed, " with his he- 
 roes for Spain/' The little vessel in 
 which he embarked anchored in the 
 port of Corunna, 1602,* under the 
 mouldering tower of Breogan,-f named 
 after the hero who was supposed to 
 have raised it, and from whom the first 
 conquerors of Ireland were descended. 
 The exile chief knelt and kissed the 
 earth, consecrated by the memory of his 
 progenitor, and hailed the tower of the 
 son of Alilesius, as a happy omen on 
 the arrival of his descendant in a strange 
 land. 
 
 FRAGMENT VIII. 
 
 The King of Spain received the Irish 
 chief as a sovereign prince, promised 
 
 * Historical. 
 
 t Aniyils of the Four Masters.
 
 36 O'DONNEL. 
 
 him redress, and established him in a 
 royal palace at Corunna. But the king 
 slumbered over his promise, though the 
 spirit of the chief slept not. Ireland, 
 the land of his affections, was the goal 
 of his hopes. Soon weary of his splen- 
 did dependence., he panted to behold 
 his country, his children, his wife : 
 his patience brooked not delay; he had 
 not been used to wait upon fortune, 
 but to command her. Though worn 
 out and exhausted by bodily and men- 
 tal anguish, he pursued the king to his 
 court at Valladolid, and within view 
 of the Moorish palace where the sove- 
 reign resided, the Irish chief died in 
 the armsof'his attendants.* His heart 
 was broken ; his gallant spirit fled for 
 ever in its last struggle for indepen- 
 dence : 
 
 " Peace to the soul of the hero." 
 * Annals of the Four Masters.
 
 O DONNEL. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ALL pride, however diversified its 
 features, is the mere offspring of human 
 weakness. In its best sense, perhaps, 
 it is but the mean which gives to vani- 
 ty the air of virtue ; in its worst, it is a 
 puerile veneration for the accidental 
 circumstances of life; a rigid exaction 
 of respect from others, for things or 
 qualities, independent of all will or 
 power inherent in ourselves. 
 
 The pride of the Irishman was im- 
 moderate. Still, however, it might 
 find its" apology, if not its justification, 
 in the circumstances of his life, and 
 the history of his family. The one 
 had been an incessant struggle between 
 a lofty spirit, and an untoward fortune; 
 the Otuer was a register of the deeds of 
 
 157267
 
 38 O'DONNEL. 
 
 chiefs, of the feats of heroes; inte,r- 
 woven in the history of his country, 
 sharing its glory, and participating in 
 its misfortunes. This high and inhe- 
 rent sentiment, nurtured rather than 
 weakened by physical sensibility, 
 sharpened rather than obliterated by 
 moral suffering, was now deeply 
 wounded, not in its most vulnerable, 
 but its least laudable point; not where 
 it was felt with most acuteriess, but 
 where it was sustained with least dig- 
 nity. Though one " out of suits with 
 life," he disdained complaint, he con- 
 temned pity, and shrunk from display- 
 ing his unhappy fortunes before those, 
 from whom he could not hope for sym- 
 pathy, nor have accepted relief. The 
 chances were now against him : he 
 was baited to his den; and what was 
 still worse, he had exposed a weakness 
 of feeling; he had deprived poverty of 
 that dignity, which could alone have 
 rendered it respectable.
 
 O'DOXNEL. 39 
 
 Blushing for the involuntary error o 
 mortified pride, and anxious to repair 
 it, he returned to his guests, just as 
 Lady Singleton had laid aside the little 
 historical fragment of his family me- 
 moirs; and with all the sterner feelings 
 of his nature, relaxed into the smooth 
 courtesy of high and polished refine- 
 ment, he apologized for his absence, 
 and excused it by the arrival of some 
 letters from the continent, in which he 
 was much interested, though they con- 
 tained no public news. Meantime the 
 ladies discovered that not only his 
 manner, but his appearance, was much 
 improved. He had changed the rude 
 habit of his wanderings, the thread- 
 bare jacket, which had shrouded his 
 gentility from Mr. Dexter's eyes and 
 observation, for a suit of deep mourn- 
 ing. With an excusable foppery, na- 
 tural to the soldier, he had also assum- 
 ed the order of Maria Theresa, and the 
 cross of St. Louis, both the badges of
 
 40 O'DONNEL. 
 
 distinguished military merit; and though 
 in his marked and intelligent counte- 
 nance a rnind was depicted which 
 
 *' O'er informed its tenement of clay," 
 
 yet the enchantment of a noble form 
 absorbed his spectators in the first 
 moment of his return, and left them no 
 leisure to reflect upon the moral supe- 
 riority, by which it was evidently ac- 
 companied and dignified. 
 
 As soon as he entered the room, he 
 informed Mr. Glentworth, that he had 
 procured a messenger from a neigh- 
 bouring cabin, to go to the town for 
 proper workmen, to refit the broken 
 vehicle; and begged to know if he had 
 any commands, of which the man 
 might be the bearer. 
 
 Lady Singleton, having suggested 
 the necessity of acquainting their fel- 
 low travellers with their situation and 
 misfortunes, wrote a note of three pages 
 to Mr. Dexter, made up of orders and
 
 O'DONNEL. 41 
 
 reproaches, interwoven parenthesis 
 within parenthesis. 
 
 " And now," said Colonel O*Don- 
 nel, assuming a cheerful face, " I shall 
 not importune you with apologies or 
 excuses: the master of a hut can only 
 offer the best his hut affords; and, to 
 confess the truth, mine contains but 
 one sleeping room, and an adjoining 
 closet with a camp bed; yet are there 
 five fair candidates for a complete re- 
 pose, after so much discomfort and 
 fatigue." 
 
 " And does this old sofa go for no- 
 thing?" said Lady Singleton. " Leave 
 it to me, Colonel. I remember travel- 
 ling in Germany with some men of 
 very high fashion, and we all were 
 obliged to sleep in one wretched apart- 
 ment upon mattrasses/* 
 
 Lady Singleton then went to look 
 at the rooms, and make arrangements 
 herself. On her return it was settled, 
 with much good humor, that the sofa
 
 45 O'DONNEL. 
 
 was to be wheeled into the bed-room, 
 and prepared by the old woman, to the 
 best of her ability, for the accommoda- 
 tion of the ladies; and that Mr. Glent- 
 worth should ttte-d tete with his host 
 in an arm chair. The party then sur- 
 rounded the tea-table, at which the go- 
 verness presided, and conversation cir- 
 culated with freedom and gaiety; for 
 the absence of the two vapid men of 
 fashion, and of the pert presumptuous 
 man of no fashion^ was a sensible relief 
 to the Irish host. 
 
 Surrounded by women thrown upon 
 his hospitality, and in communion with 
 a man, whose liberal and enlightened 
 mind assimilated with his own, O'Don- 
 nel gradually unfolded into confidence, 
 and brightened into cheerfulness. A 
 true Irishman warmly reflected upon 
 by the circumstances of society, his 
 spirits took their tone from his situa- 
 tion ; and his conversation, at once 
 amusing and desultory, was brilliant as
 
 O'DONNEL. 43 
 
 the eyes, from whence, perhaps, after 
 all, he chiefly drew his inspiration. 
 
 " But, Colonel O'Donnel," said 
 Lady Singleton, admiring some re- 
 mark he had made in unison with her 
 own opinion, " I cannot at all under- 
 stand how a man of your time of life, 
 professional rank, talents, and accom- 
 plishments, can choose to bury yourself 
 in this wild and solitary place." 
 
 O'Donnel bowed to the compliment, 
 and replied to the curiosity which had 
 given birth to it: " It is not, Madam, 
 exactly a matter of choice" 
 
 " Oh dear! then, I dare say your 
 history is quite a romance; pray in- 
 dulge us with a little biographical 
 sketch/' 
 
 " You do not, my dear, consider/' 
 said Mr. Glentworth, " that our short 
 acquaintance with Colonel O'Donnel 
 does not warrant this intrusion upon 
 his confidence, and that we are already 
 too much his debtors to.... J>
 
 44 ODONNEL. 
 
 " There is nothing/' interrupted 
 O'Donnel, " in my short life worthy 
 vour attention, nor has it even the 
 
 I 
 
 merit of singularity. It is an oft-told 
 tale, repeated in my family from gene- 
 ration to generation, for three hundred 
 years back." 
 
 " Any tale of which you are the 
 hero," said Lady Florence, with a 
 smile full of blandishment, " cannot 
 fail to interest us." 
 
 " Your Ladyship is very flattering," 
 he returned, slightly colouring, as he 
 met those soft eyes, which gave so 
 good a comment upon the text her lips 
 had expounded ; " but in this instance 
 I must believe with Rousseau, that, il 
 vaut mieux ojfenser les grandes dames* 
 que de les cnnuyer ; which inevitably 
 would be the case, if I became the hero 
 of my own story." 
 
 " You are quite mistaken," cried 
 Lady Singleton : " a story never can 
 ennuyer: we have already been enter-
 
 O'DONNEL. 4a 
 
 tained beyond every thing with a little 
 family romance of your's, put into our 
 hands by Me. Rory, called * O'Donnel 
 the Red:' pray, was he an ancestor of 
 your's, Colonel O'Donnel ?" 
 
 " My immediate ancestor, Madam," 
 he replied ; " a very brave and very 
 unfortunate man, who lived the Lord 
 of this region, and died with only this 
 sword to bequeath his posterity." 
 
 Mr. Glentworth made some just 
 observations on the causes which had 
 driven the chief of Tirconnel to the 
 measures he had adopted; and Lady 
 Florence said that Colonel O'Donnel 
 must be amazingly vain of being the 
 descendant of such a hero. 
 
 " No, Madam," he replied : " I 
 may say in this instance, as the old 
 Earl of Tyrone did, when his harper, 
 striking up a martial strain, sung the 
 heroic conduct of his ancestors: 'I 
 ambition not so much,' said he, ' to 
 derive honor from my ancestors, as to
 
 46 VDONNEL. 
 
 reflect back upon them the lustre they 
 have shed upon me/ I am however 
 justly proud of the character and vir- 
 tues of Hugh O'Donnel." 
 
 " I am astonished I never heard of 
 this O'Donnel," said Lady Singleton, 
 " for I am a pretty good historian." 
 
 " You will find his name mentioned 
 with honor," he returned., "in all the 
 histories of Ireland, whether traced by 
 her enemies or her friends.* But I 
 believe the most authentic, though the 
 simplest account of him, will be found 
 in the old national chronicle, called 
 the Annals of the Four Masters, from 
 which the pages you have read are ex- 
 tracted." 
 
 As he spoke, he took the volume 
 which lay on the desk, and running 
 over its pages, he said : " This is one 
 of our most curious chronicles extant. 
 The late master of this retreat, my 
 
 * See note at the end of the volume.
 
 O'DONNEL. 47 
 
 dearest friend and nearest kinsman, 
 was engaged in translating from it the 
 history of our family, when death clos- 
 ed his own. Here is a part of his 
 manuscript, which his own hands 
 placed among these pages/' 
 
 The stranger sighed deeply ; and 
 every one examined the book, and the 
 loose 1-aves it contained : they were a 
 rough draught of the fair copy from 
 which Lady Singleton had read the 
 little story of the chief. 
 
 " You must perceive," said their 
 host, " that what has been done by 
 my late venerable kinsman, has been 
 done carelessly, and is indeed rather a 
 loose abridgment, than a just transla- 
 tion ; exhibiting that want of connec- 
 tion, so frequently obvious in the last 
 efforts of declining intellect; when all 
 links of association hold feebly toge- 
 ther, when the mind only recovers 
 itself by starts, and imagination, if not 
 wholly extinguished, sends forth but
 
 4S O'DONNEL. 
 
 brief and sudden sparks from its decay- 
 ing fires, yet the author of these feeble 
 fragments, the original of that interest- 
 ing picture (pointing to the portrait 
 impannelled in the door) had once 
 nerve, spirit, and talents, adequate to 
 fill the highest station, to crown the 
 boldest enterprise. The Abbe O'Don- 
 nel distinguished himself in the diplo- 
 macy of Spain. His services, however, 
 less known than felt, were marked ra- 
 ther by their success than their re- 
 compense/' 
 
 " It is lamentable,'* said Mr. Glent- 
 worth, ** that talents, so rarely found, 
 should be employed in the service of 
 any country but their own.'* 
 
 " True," said O'Donnel, " it is in- 
 deed lamentable destructive to the 
 country, and fatal to the individual. 
 But to command the services of genius, 
 it must be unrestricted. It is the equal 
 right, the equal hope, shining on all 
 alike, which gives vigor to ability, and
 
 O'DONNEV. 49 
 
 a riglit direction to the vague impulses 
 of ambition. Sink the individual ia. 
 the scale of social consideration, with- 
 draw from him the uulnral motives, 
 which should give strength to resolu- 
 tion, and energy to action, and yoa 
 banish or degrade him: he remains at 
 
 w 
 
 home, alternating between the torpor 
 of disgraceful indolence, and the wit- 
 ness of sullen disaffection ; or he retires 
 to other countries, to offer those talents, 
 those energies to foreign states, for 
 which he finds no mart at home. Like 
 the liquid element, the hu:nan mind 
 flows cloudy and p fluted through 
 narrow and prescribed channels, and 
 derives its brilliancy, its purky, its 
 wholesomeness, and its utility, alone 
 from the freedom of its course, and the 
 agitation of its own natural and unre- 
 strained motions. 
 
 " To this alternative of idleness or 
 banishment, were the gentlemen of 
 Ireland reduced by ivligious disquali- 
 
 YOL. II. D
 
 30 O DONNEL. 
 
 fication, at the period when tlie ori- 
 ginal of that picture, a c com pan ted by 
 a younger brother, bid adieu to the 
 land of his fathers. The brothers 
 offered their services in causes with 
 which their feelings held no alliance. 
 The younger O'Donnel entered the 
 Austrian army, where so many of his 
 kinsmen had already distinguished 
 themselves. He rapidly attained the 
 rank of a general officer- lived in 
 honour, and died in glory. The elder 
 brother, with an early imbibed taste for 
 philosophical diplomacy, became an 
 efficient agent in the court of Madrid, 
 and expiated his illusion by his disap- 
 pointment. He found himself involved 
 in the narrow and illiberal views of a 
 crooked and intricate policy; and dis- 
 covered, too late, that the labours of an 
 unfortunate alien, received alternately 
 with a necessary confidence and a na- 
 tural distrust, are viewed with suspi- 
 cion, and rewarded with parsimony.
 
 O'DONNEL. 51 
 
 In a moment of this melancholy c.,n- 
 viction (his strong passions ever veer- 
 nig to extremes) he abandoned the 
 world, and threw himself into the 
 Abbey of La Trappe.* He was soon, 
 however, again sought for, because his 
 talents were soon missed; and the royal 
 entreaty and papal authority once more 
 dragged him on the scene of life, at th 
 moment he was found digging his own 
 grave. Yet when death, after a course 
 ef years, robbed him of the prince he 
 Served, he remained unrecompensed, 
 unprovided for ; advanced in life, and 
 care-worn in spirits. Then it was that 
 his affections (having completed the 
 ^circle of objects, which in turn .possess 
 the bosom, and mark the stages from 
 the cradle to the tomb) returned to the 
 goal from whence they started. His 
 country, his home, awakened his heart's 
 
 * Sco the account of Atbe Hussy hi Cumber. 
 land's -Lift. 
 
 D 2
 
 last warm impulsion; and the fond 
 desire, so common among the Irish, 
 that his eyes should be closed by the 
 hands of kindred affection, led him 
 back to that paternal roof, and to those 
 ties, whose images, time and absence 
 had rather strengthened than oblite- 
 rated from his remembrance, lie had 
 left an elder brother, the representative 
 of the faded honours and lessened for- 
 tunes of his family ; and to the sons of 
 this brother he looked forward for the 
 bright reflections of his own ardent 
 youth for the solace of his declining 
 years. He returned after thirty years 
 of exile; but found nor home, nor bro- 
 ther, nor brother's children/' 
 
 The stranger paused ; then, with 
 some emotion, and great rapidity, he 
 added : 
 
 " There was at the period to which 
 I allude a penal statute* in force, 
 
 * This law, which in the present age requires 
 not to be characterised by its appropriate ep'u
 
 ODONNEL. 53 
 
 which struck at once against the law 
 of God and man, and tore asunder the 
 holy bond, which forms the type of 
 every social institution the tie of 
 filial and parental love. By this law, 
 it was enacted, that the son of a Ca- 
 tholic parent, by conformity to the 
 established church, could legally pos- 
 sess himself of the property of his fa- 
 mi!/, and for ever alienate it (when so 
 gained) from the rightful heirs. A 
 crime thus sanctioned, did sometimes* 
 (not often) find its motive in the sordid 
 selfishness of human depravity. Oh! 
 
 thets, was enacted at a period when the worst 
 passions wore admitted to legislate for Ireland. 
 It has long since ceased to disgrace the Statute 
 Book; the abrogation of it being one among the 
 first remissions in the severity of our penal code. 
 The legislation of every country has had some 
 cause for blushing; and if we have fallen upon 
 happier times, let us pity rather than reproach 
 the errors of our ancestors; or rather let us for. 
 jet them for crer. 
 
 D 3
 
 .54 O'DONKTRL, 
 
 then many a blessed tie was rent 
 asundermany a grey head was bow- 
 ed with shame and sorrow to the grave. 
 The offence was neither solitary nor 
 unproductive. Brother raised his hand 
 
 against brother/' He paused again 
 
 in emotion and again continued : 
 
 " In a word, such teas the/ event which 
 hailed the Abbe's return to this coun- 
 try.. .The youngest of his two nephews 
 had abjured a faith which only intailed 
 misfortune; and reaping the fruits of 
 his apostacy by taking the letter of 
 the law, left his family and its natural 
 heir destitute. The injured brothers, 
 maddened with the double wrongs of 
 himself and his infant son, gave vent 
 to nature's bitterest indignation. The 
 brothers fought fratricide was added 
 to apostacy; and the guilty survivor, 
 not able to appear on the scene of hi& 
 crimes, left his country for eve. 
 
 " He who was thus at once bereaved 
 ef property and life was.. . my father L
 
 t/DONSEt, 5$ 
 
 ' The venerable exile, thus welcom- 
 ed to his native land, sought his last 
 asylum among these mountains; and, 
 with the poor remains of his hard earn- 
 ings, raised this shed, in a region over 
 which his ancestors had reigned, and 
 at no great distance from the rock, on 
 which, in ruder times, they were in- 
 augurated. Here, too, he watched 
 over the infancy and boyhood of his 
 orphan grand-nephew ; and gave up 
 the first sixteen years of his solitude 
 to my education. Thus, but for him, 
 I should have remained for ever * one 
 of the wild shrubs of the wilderness:'* 
 to his learning and science am 1 in- 
 debted for whatever information I pos- 
 sess ; to his taste I owe that cultiva- 
 tion of mind and love of letters, which 
 is now almost my only enjoyment. 
 
 " Having thus bestowed upon me all 
 that he had to give ; he sent me, as he 
 
 * See note at the end of the volume, 
 D 4
 
 36 O'DOSNKL. 
 
 himself had been sent, to earn an ho- 
 nourable subsistence in a foreign land. 
 After many years of absence, the pub- 
 lic events, which changed the face of 
 Europe, once more brought me back 
 to these solitudes. I returned with 
 that sword, which I had taken out with 
 Hie, my only property, and this ribbon^ 
 my only reward. I found my venera- 
 ble kinsman, with the extraordinary 
 energies of his character still unsubdu- 
 ed, approaching to a patriarchal age, 
 and still devoting his lingering faculties 
 to letters and to science. Permitted at 
 length to serve my king and country, I 
 again left the asylum of my early home, 
 and drew my sword with a joyful emo- 
 tion, suited to the cause in which I was 
 allowed to embark ; but on my return 
 from a short and fatal campaign in the 
 West Indies, circumstances of neces- 
 sity, as well as feelings of attachment, 
 drew me back to these solitudes; and 
 1 arrived lut in time to fulfil my: aged
 
 O'DONNEL. 67 
 
 kinsman's long-formed wish. He 
 died in my arms, and his eyes were clos- 
 ed by the hand of kindred affection." 
 
 The stranger ceased: he had been 
 listened to with attention; but there 
 were few among his auditors who had 
 directed their interest to the point 
 which naturally called for it. They 
 thought not of causes, though they 
 were moved by effects. Even the 
 matter of the relation struck them less 
 than the manner. It was the rapid 
 modulation of the speaker's voice; 
 the changeful expression of his coun- 
 tenance ; it was the warm effusion of 
 a soul prone to enthusiasm; it was 
 the language dictated in the energy 
 and emphasis of the heart, which 
 charmed their imagination, and held 
 attention captive. 
 
 Mr. G lent worth sighed and was si- 
 lent; Lady Florence fixed her full eyes 
 on the narrator's face; and Lady Sin- 
 gleton said : 
 
 D 5
 
 " I wish you would give me the 
 beads of this little story, Colonef- 
 O'Donnel. I know a klly who would 
 work it into a charming pathetic tale. 
 I am very glad those stupid penal laws 
 are at an end : I suppose they are all 
 long since repealed :" 
 
 " Not all," said O'Donnel. " It is 
 but just, however, to observe, that the 
 wisdom and policy of the present times- 
 have done much towards their total 
 abrogation ; and that great and noble 
 sacrifices have been made of ancient 
 prejudices and exclusive privilege, to 
 general benevolence and national pros- 
 perity. To these sacrifices I pay a 
 willing tribute of praise and gratitude J 
 for I do not agree with Fra Paolo,* 
 that mai alcuno si pretcnde obligate a 
 chi I'/tabbi fatlo giustitia. 1 acknow- 
 ledge the good that has been done, and 
 I look forward with patient expecta- 
 
 * On (he Venetian
 
 O'DONNEL. Si 
 
 tion for the final completion of this 
 great work of natural justice." 
 
 " We have already done so much/' 
 said Mr. Glentwoith, laughing, '* that 
 I suppose you think we may as well 
 throw you in the little that remains. 
 For myself," he added, more seriously, 
 " 1 have always felt an interest for this 
 country, for which, it has been truly 
 said, God has done so much and man so 
 little; and I have always lamented 
 those religious disqualifications, which, 
 in all countries and in all ages, have 
 equally produced evil to the rulers and 
 to the people. The penal statutes of 
 Queen Ann against her Catholic sub- 
 jects; and the revocation of the edict 
 of Nantz by Louis XIV. (the extermi- 
 nator of French Protestants,) are alike 
 in my opinion. Abhorrent from good 
 policy, as they are shocking to good 
 feeling; nor can any thing be imagined 
 more injurious to the cause of all reli- 
 gion, than thus to arm it with the au-
 
 CO O'DOXNEL. 
 
 thority of the law, and make it the 
 scourge of opinion. To 
 
 Employ the countenance and grace of Heaven^ 
 As a false favourite doth his prince's name 
 In deeds dishonourable, 
 
 Is surely the worst impiety/* 
 
 "Oh! then," said ODonnel, with 
 enthusiasm, " liberal and enlightened, 
 benevolent and temperate, as you ap- 
 pear, remain amongst us. Extend your 
 pacificating influence to the utmostr 
 verge of your sphere ; and encourage by 
 the success of your example, our other 
 great English landholders, who draw 
 their ample revenues from our plen- 
 teous soil, to visit, to know, and to 
 acknowledge us. Let them come with, 
 minds detached from every bias, which 
 can influence passion, or revive pre- 
 judice; let the hi corne unfettered by 
 office, unsuing for p-lace more prompt 
 do heal than to irritate, to sooth than, 
 to excjte. With such high examples- 
 ef conciliation, we should sleep ever.
 
 O'DONNEL. 61 
 
 memory of sufferings, which, whether 
 inevitable or unjust, are passed by, and 
 would, indeed, be forgotten^ were they 
 not industriously revived by many a 
 commemorating distinction ; for though 
 the tint of a flower, or the colour of a 
 ribbon, the echo of a song, or the tri- 
 umph of a toast, be but idle and pue- 
 rile causes of irritation ; yet upon 
 imaginations, too prone, perhaps, to 
 kindle ; upon hearts too prompt to 
 feel ; upon spirits, which, though 
 yielding to conciliation, are yet too apt 
 to swell against the appearance of in- 
 sult ; they must, and do, produce a 
 more than adequate effect ; and are 
 borne, perhaps, with less patience than 
 more serious grievances."* 
 
 * Lcs personnes, a qui la fortune n'est pas 
 trop favorable, sont je ne say comment plus 
 soup conneuses que les autres, et prennent tout 
 en mauvaise part. 
 
 Terence de Dacier. Les Adelphes.
 
 6* 
 
 The stranger paused abruptly : " I 
 fear/' he added, " you will think me 
 an enthusiast; I am nothing less: at 
 least I would not be one; but the little 
 circle in which I am now placed is not 
 calculated to chill reflection, or subdue 
 fervor. The imagination of an Irish- 
 man will kindle when his country i* 
 his eubject, and woman his auditor: 
 and an Irishman's heart will expand, 
 when an Englishman advocates the 
 cause of Ireland, symparhizfs in her 
 destiny, and acknowledges her merits." 
 
 O'Donnel, with that brilliant illumi- 
 nation of countenance, which caught 
 its fire from the soul, stretched mt his 
 hand to Mr. Glentworth, who shook 
 it with cordiality anc: emotion. 
 
 " I shall not," iie said, " Colonel 
 O'Donnel, love and admire this coun- 
 try less for having known one who 
 reflects so much honour upon it." 
 
 " I assure you, Col< nel O'Donnel," 
 observed Lady Singleton, " / like your
 
 ORMPWKL. 65 
 
 enthusiasm of all things; and I wish it 
 was ban-ton in London to be enthusi- 
 astic ; but it is not. I was rayself quite 
 an enthusiast when I was abroad. By 
 the bye, I wonder we never met. You 
 say you were for twelve years upon 
 the continent. " 
 
 " In the Austrian service, I sup- 
 pose, Sir?" said Mr. Glentworth. 
 
 " I served six years in the Austrian 
 
 */ 
 
 service/' he replied. " The name of 
 O'Donnel carried a certain influence 
 with it, from the fortunes of my kins- 
 men, one of whom, at the time I en- 
 tered the service, was Field-Marshal, 
 GovernoMjeneral of Transylvania f 
 aad Grand Croix of the military or- 
 der of St. Theresa.* My rapid promo- 
 tion followed of course - r and an act. 
 of boyish temerity was so far rewarded 
 beyood its merits, that I was made by 
 
 * This General O'Dtmnel was a great f*. 
 ?arito and friend of the Empress Queens.
 
 G4- O'DONNEL. 
 
 the imperial order, Lieutenant-Colonel 
 of the Emperor's Body Guards. But 
 this irregular promotion of a foreigner 
 over the heads of a national corps 
 was not suffered to pass unnoticed, 
 and the intruder had literally to fight 
 his way to the distinction, vainly la- 
 vished on him by the sovereign. Every 
 officer was anxious to prove my claim 
 on the point of his sword. After being 
 wounded in the sword arm, I declined 
 contesting the matter further. I felt 
 that these brave men were right;* 
 I felt too that I was a stranger ; and 
 with the folly of a hot-headed Irish- 
 man, I yielded to my first impression 
 of mortified pride, and took my leave 
 of the Court of Vienna, receiving this 
 order as a bouquet d'adieu, and a letter 
 of introduction from the Emperor to 
 his illustrious kinswoman, the beauti- 
 ful and unfortunate Maria Antoinette. 
 
 * See note at the end of the f%lutne.
 
 O'DONNEI. 63 
 
 Thus presented, I could not fail to suc- 
 ceed. In a few years service I had 
 risen to the rank of Colonel of Cui- 
 rassiers, when the French revolution 
 took place. 
 
 " A devotion to hereditary monarchy- 
 has always been attributed to the Irish 
 gentry, even by their enemies. To 
 this of old they owe their misfortunes ; 
 to this in the present times they may 
 look for the full restitution of their 
 rights. With an inconsiderably few 
 exceptions, the Irish gentlemen, whose 
 misfortunes had driven them into the 
 French service, were faithful and loyal 
 to the king they served, as they would 
 have been, if so permittted, to the na- 
 tural sovereign of their native realms, 
 The six regiments of Irish brigades 
 were, to a man, true to the cause of 
 royalty ; and after fighting well, and 
 suffering much, in the allied armies, 
 the officers repaired to their native land, 
 obtained leave to raise regiments^ sue-
 
 66 O'DONNEL, 
 
 ceeded in the attempt, and were per- 
 mitted to enroll themselves in the 
 British army, under their old designa- 
 tion of the Irish Brigades.* I had fol- 
 
 O 
 
 lowed the course of these brave men, 
 and when sinking under infirm health, 
 from two wounds, which had nearly 
 proved fatal, I was ordered to try my 
 native air. Obliged to leave the army 
 in Flanders, where I was serving as a 
 volunteer, 1 again, on my recovery, 
 joined the new-raised corps of a friend 
 and fellow-soldier; and too happy to 
 be employed in the service of England 
 against regicide France, I accepted a 
 majority in the ** regiment of Irish bri- 
 gades, and embarked for St. Domingo. 
 There, in a sanguinary and remorse- 
 less war, contending with the climate, 
 famine, and the sword, amidst royalists 
 and republicans, negroes and maroons, 
 I left many a gallant countryman and 
 
 * See note at the end of the volume*
 
 friend unburied on the burning snnds of 
 that pestiferous region ; and have re- 
 turned once more to these solitudes, 
 perhaps, as their last tenant used to 
 say, with little else to do than to dig 
 my own grave and die/' 
 
 This was uttered with a smile, but 
 it was a smile saddened by despon- 
 dency . 
 
 " You surely do not mean to give 
 up the service ?" asked Mr. Glent- 
 worth. 
 
 " The service, I fear," he replied, 
 41 means to give me up. 33 
 
 " Have you applied for, or bee 
 refused, your military rank ?" 
 
 " I have no interest in this country* 
 no kinsman high in the service; pnd 
 iny letters of nobility, which served me 
 abroad, would here be ridiculous. M 
 
 " Still you ought to have applied." 
 
 " I did apply, for a majority, a com- 
 pany, a lieutenancy :* I did not suc- 
 
 * See note at the cud of Uxe ?olame,
 
 63 O'DONNEL. 
 
 ceed, and I went no lower. My re- 
 lation, General O'Donnel, of the Spa- 
 nish service, has offered me a majo- 
 rity in his own regiment; but having 
 once fought in the cause of England,! 
 will never draw my sword against her. 
 But/' he added cheerfully, " though I 
 state facts, I do not complain of griev- 
 ances. I know not how I have been 
 induced to enter upon this tale of ego- 
 tism : it is in truth an ungracious sub- 
 ject to me, as it must be tiresome to 
 you." 
 
 He then gave a new turn to the con- 
 versation., by displaying some very fine 
 fossils, which he had himself collected; 
 and shortly afterwards the ladies retired 
 for the night.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE next morning Mr. Glentworth 
 and his host walked to the heath be- 
 fore the ladies had risen, and found 
 the workmen employed upon the car- 
 riage, which was by no means so much 
 injured as might have been supposed, 
 and which would be ready before noon 
 for use. 
 
 On their return to the cottage, the 
 ladies were at the breakfast table, and 
 Me. Rory (though he had relieved guard 
 on the carriage in the middle of the 
 night) brisk, and busied in attendance; 
 doing the honours by the griddle cake, 
 pledging himself for the freshness ot the 
 eggs, and eulogising Katty Mulloy's 
 elegant butter, which was in the churn 
 surely not one hour ago, my Lady.
 
 70 O'DONNEL. 
 
 When the salutations of the morn- 
 ing were mutually exchanged, Lady 
 Florence declared she had dreamed of 
 Irish chiefs and heroes the whole 
 night: the young ladies expressed 
 their pretty tears, to which the dash- 
 ing of the torrent had given birth every 
 time they awoke ; a'.id Lady Singleton 
 observed that she had never closed her 
 eyes all night, from the variety of 
 schemes and plans which were work- 
 ing in her brain, relative to a new mode 
 of legislation for Ireland ; to cultivat- 
 ing bogs, opening roads through moun- 
 tains, and raising a supplementary corps 
 in addition to the Ballynogue Legion, 
 of which she should make Colonel 
 O'Donnel the captain ; for though Mr. 
 Dexter was an excellent officer, owing 
 to some hints of her own, and a book 
 she had put into his hands (for he had 
 ojily got his commission in the Legion 
 since their acquaintance with him), 
 yet as he had ot seen foreign service,
 
 O'DONNEL. 71 
 
 Colonel O'Donnel would naturally be 
 of all possible advatage, and 
 
 Before she could finish the sentence, 
 the entrance of the hero of the BaUy- 
 noguc Legion put all her schemes to 
 flight; nor could Mr. Dexter's plead- 
 ing look, submissive bow, and con- 
 trite visage, save him from the lecture? 
 which her Ladyship had prepared for 
 his reception, whenever he should ap- 
 pear. 
 
 Mr. Dexter heard her out uninter- 
 ruptedly in silence, standing beside 
 her chair, with a countenance in which 
 he endeavoured to mingle an expres- 
 sion of grief and penitence, till she was 
 checked in her career by Mr, Glent- 
 worth's observing with a smile : 
 
 " Come, Lady Singleton, if you do 
 not intend imposing a fast as well as a 
 penance on Mr. Dexter, I think you 
 had belter defer for the present the 
 conclusion of this exordium and re- 
 proof, and suffer him to get some 
 breakfast."
 
 72 O'DONNKL. 
 
 Mr. Dexter now took the opportu- 
 nity of laying his misfortunes to the 
 tlarkness of the night and the intrica- 
 cies of the roads ; but confessed that 
 his crime, his only crime, was, in the 
 first instance, having neglected to avail 
 himself of her Ladyship's advice a 
 crime he had expiated by the most 
 miserable night he had ever passed ; 
 for though part of his sufferings were 
 abated by his knowledge of the safety 
 of his friends, conveyed by her Lady- 
 ship's note, yet her displeasure alone 
 was more than he was able to endure, 
 and he had the most horrible night- 
 mare in consequence that had ever 
 disturbed repose. 
 
 At this contrite speech, all Lady 
 Singleton's auger vanished, and Mr. 
 Dexter having received his pardon at 
 her hand in the form of a cup of tea, 
 resumed his natural pertness. Having 
 paid his compliments to Mr. Glent- 
 worth and the ladies, and given a fa-
 
 O'DONXEL. 75 
 
 railiar nod of recognition to Colonel 
 O'Donnel, he wriggled about the room, 
 threw his eyes from the earthen floor 
 to the old sword, and from the old 
 sword to the old pedigree : he then 
 .smiled, and smirked, and took his seat 
 at the table ; helped himself to the hot 
 cake^ recommended it to the Tadies, 
 to whom he handed it round, and re~ 
 plied to Lady Florence's inquiries for 
 Jier two friends; whom he assured her 
 Ladyship had got safe into the town, 
 about an hour after himself; and whom 
 "lie left in bed sleeping away their fa- 
 tigue ; while he had risen before day~ 
 Jight, had been the means of sending 
 
 ff * Q 
 
 ^ff the workmen at so early an hour, 
 and had only waited till the lazy Irish 
 hostess was up to give orders for their 
 reception ; as not exactly knowing the 
 State of the carriage, he was uncertain 
 how long they might remain at th 
 inn. 
 
 About an hour after breakfast, notice 
 
 VOL. II, -E
 
 74 O'DONNEL. 
 
 being given that the carriage was ready, 
 and the horses harnessed, the party 
 set out, accompanied by their host, 
 and walked to the opening on the 
 mountain ravine. After a few paces, 
 however, O'Donnel was obliged to re- 
 turn to the house for a tippet, which 
 Lady Florence, whom he escorted, had 
 forgocten, and left behind. As he was 
 proceeding to join the party, he was 
 met by Mr. Glentworth, who, taking 
 his arm, abruptly accrsted him. 
 
 " Colonel O'Donnel," he said, " I 
 am an Englishman : mine is not the 
 country of professions : it is not our 
 way to say more than we mean ; it is 
 perhaps our affectation to say even less. 
 When, therefore, I make you an offer 
 of service, I trust you will understand 
 me to the letter, that I mean what I 
 say. Interest, at the present moment, 
 
 I have none, but " he paused, and 
 
 raised his eyes furtively to O'DonnePs 
 face. A deep crimson burned on the
 
 O*DONNEL. 71 
 
 cheek of his host, and Mr. Glentvvorth 
 quickly added, "but should you ever 
 deem it possible, that I could in any 
 way be of use to you, I hope, I trust, 
 you will call on me. Under all circum- 
 stances 1 shall expect you will give me 
 an opportunity of discharging some 
 small part of the obligation I owe you, 
 by becoming my guest as soon, and as 
 often, as you can. We propose re* 
 turning to Ireland in two years ; and 
 pray believe me, that we shall not be 
 less interested to do so, from the hope 
 of enjoying more readily the pleasure 
 of your society: meantime, however, 
 we shall hold you in our remembrance, 
 as an expected guest at Glentworth 
 Hall, whenever it may answer your 
 convenience to afford us your com- 
 pany." 
 
 To this invitation, and to the offer 
 which preceded it, Colonel O'Donncl 
 had only time to make his acknow- 
 ledgments by a bow ; for Lady Singk- 
 E 2
 
 T6 O*DONKEt, 
 
 ton, catching the last words of Mr. 
 Glentworth, turned round and added: 
 
 " I beg leave, Colonel, to join my 
 request to Mr. Glentworth *s, that you 
 will give us the pleasure of your com- 
 pany in Derbyshire. As to London, 
 I say nothing, though 1 should be 
 happy to meet you any where; but 
 the fact is, for the short three months 
 one is in Town, one is so entrainv by 
 the set one lives in, so borne away in a 
 sort of turbitlon of engagements and 
 dissipations, that one sees nobody but 
 those one meets every night in the 
 rounds, 1 long, however, to shew you 
 our improvements at Glentworth Hall, 
 all made since my residence there, and 
 you must try and come over to us in 
 the dead time of the year, when one 
 can afford to be a little rational. 5 * 
 
 O'Donnel again bowed his thanks ; 
 and Mr. Dexter observed : 
 
 " If Glentworth Hall be any thing 
 superior to Ballynogue, it must be a
 
 77 
 
 Paradise of a place ; which, indeed, 
 being in England, it cannot fail to be. 1 * 
 
 " O, I hope you will judge for your- 
 self, as soon as possible, Mr. Dexter,'* 
 returned Lady Singleton. '* I trust 
 you will endeavour to make such 
 arrangements that you will be able to 
 follow us about Christmas." 
 
 As Mr. Dexter liked to hear this 
 invitation repeated as often as possibta 
 and had merely made his remark for 
 that purpose, he now bowed aird 
 smirked with great satisfaction, and 
 assured her he would sooner give up 
 his paltry situation altogether, than 
 fail in paying his respectful devoirs at 
 Glentworth Hall, in the Christmas 
 holydays ; for his place was no further 
 of value in his eyes than as it gave 
 him something to do. He hated loung- 
 ing about on any pretence, but if he did 
 forfeit his place to his feeling^ yet there 
 might be something as good on the 
 cards for him in store ; and the exer- 
 3
 
 75 O'DONNLL. 
 
 tion of a little interest might yet turn. 
 tip a lucky trump in his fevour." 
 
 As he concluded his speech, his 
 voice lowered ; and the last observa- 
 tion met Lady Singleton's ear only, 
 who replied : 
 
 " Well, I am sure you have my best 
 wishes at all events." 
 
 They had now reached the extre- 
 mity of the mountain. The party 
 placed in their carriage, and Mr. Dex- 
 ter on the favourite mare, which the 
 avant-courier had rode, they made their 
 acknowledgments and adieus to their 
 host, and drove off; while Me. Rory, 
 bowing and scraping behind his master, 
 took off his shoe., and flung it after the 
 carriage for luck-sake, crying: 
 
 " Well,. G.od speed them, and send 
 then) safe, I pray Jasus ; for if I never 
 see them again, nor any belonging to 
 them, they shall have my good word, 
 for they are the real sort : long life to. 
 them ! Amen/*
 
 79 
 
 Colonel O'Donriel, when he had 
 caught the last view of the carriage 
 turning the angle of the mountain^ 
 sighed, and returned towards his hut. 
 Of a sanguine and social disposition, 
 prompt to receive favourable preposses- 
 sions, and easily won upon by an ap- 
 pearance of confidence and kindness; 
 to part was, with him, under such feel- 
 ings, always to suffer. The persons 
 with whom he had become so acci- 
 dentally associated, and whose recent 
 intrusion had, in the firstflushof wound- 
 ed pride, given him much annoyance 3 
 though they were not on his level either 
 in feeling or intellect, were yet persons 
 of education and refinement, of el gant 
 habits of life, and of liberal modes of 
 thinking. Such was the society in 
 which he had hitherto lived, and from 
 such he was now utterly secluded. 
 There were many cogent reasons to 
 confine him within the boundary of 
 the rocks, which enveloped his retreat. 
 E 4
 
 The few persons at all within hjs read? 
 were of an inferior description ; and as 
 he had no mode of returning their ci- 
 vilities (if they had been inclined to 
 offer them), he scrupulously avoided 
 their society. Almost all the great 
 landholders for twenty miles round 
 were absentees; and to }he few who 
 had visited the country, since he had 
 taken up his residence in it, his exisU 
 ence was unknown. Thus condemned 
 by the elevation of his character, and 
 the poverty of his circumstances, to 
 abstain from all neighbourhood and 
 communion, he saw with something 
 of regret the departure of his polished 
 guests. Though in their two first in- 
 terviews he had endeavoured to escape 
 apy further intimacy with them, yet 
 during the few hours they had been 
 his guests, they had won upon his par- 
 tiality. The beauty and pointed atten- 
 tions of Lady Florence had awakened 
 ceFtaiu sensations., not quite strangers.
 
 0*DOXt. 81 
 
 to one, who had taken his course in the 
 lists of foreign gallantry. With Mr. 
 Glentworth's character he was infa- 
 tuated ; with Lady Singleton's he was 
 amused. The Miss Singletons and 
 their governess alone went for nothing. 
 The slight mortification, which the lat- 
 ter had given to his vanity, had died 
 away, and no succeeding brusqueriehad 
 tended to revive it ; for they had held 
 no further intercourse, than what the 
 morning's salutations had included. 
 
 Though O'Donnel had as much con- 
 fidence in Mr. Glentworth's sincerity 
 of profession, as so short an acquaint- 
 ance could warrant, he yet felt that he 
 never could have an opportunity of 
 putting it to the test. He had himself 
 confessed that he had no interest; his 
 kindness, therefore, could only exhibit 
 itself through a medium, at which he 
 thought Mr. G'.entworth had himself 
 glanced pecuniary benefaction ; and 
 from that proof of his friendship the 
 
 JS 5
 
 82 O'DONNEL. 
 
 spirit and feelings of the gentleman 
 alike revolted. The delicacy, however, 
 of the offer, and the kindness which 
 dictated it, were appreciated and felt; 
 and .O'Donnel's heart told him, that 
 in parting with his acquaintance he 
 was losing a friend. Influenced by 
 these emotions of regret, although he 
 thought his acquaintance with the 
 English tourists had ended among the 
 mountains of his own solitary retreat, 
 he was by no means prepared to learn 
 with indifference an event, with which 
 lie accidentally became acquainted, 
 about six weeks after their departure. 
 
 One morning, as he was arranging 
 some family papers, Ale. Rory, whom 
 he had sent to the post-house to in- 
 quire for some expected foreign let- 
 ters, entered the room, holding a torn 
 newspaper in his hand. He exclaimed 
 in a whining voice : 
 
 " Here is a pretty bit of news I 
 have for your Honor. Jasus preserve
 
 O'OONNEL. 83 
 
 us all, evermore, I pray Christ! Amen* 
 To think of the cratur that stood here 
 in this same room, brave and hearty, 
 little more nor a month ago, being dead 
 and buried ; and far from his place, 
 the sovvl ! And an undoubted gentle" 
 man he was, any way. And is'nt it 
 the best always goes first ? Sure it is: 
 and I'll engage it's long till that spal- 
 peeri) that wanted to do me out of my 
 dewotio?i, would be after taking himself 
 off. Well, pace be to him any how : and 
 troth, and I'd buy a mass for the rest of 
 hjs sowl with all the veins, so 1 would, 
 only that he would have no faith in it 
 himself, which is remarkable ; only 
 nobody's affair but his own : and any 
 way he shall have my prayers, for I 
 am entirely obliged to him for his ex- 
 traordinary kindness in regard of the 
 two golden guineas he gave me, going 
 away, long life to him! and troth, and 
 if it was the last farthing I had, I'll 
 change one of them to drink a glass to
 
 O DON N EL. 
 
 his memory, this blessed night, before 
 I close my eyes, so I will." 
 
 Colonel O'Donnel had frequently 
 ^sked, " What is the matter, Me. 
 Rory ? Who is dead ?" during this fu- 
 neral oration, which was pronounced 
 with great feeling and emphasis: for 
 though the lower Irish are strangely 
 careless of life, yet death is always to 
 them a subject of lamentation and mo- 
 ralizing, even when they are indifferent 
 to the party deceased^ 
 
 Before Me. Rory had got to the 
 peroration of his mourning eulogiurn r 
 his master had taken the newspaper 
 from his hand. It was the fragment 
 of an Edinburgh paper, nearly a month 
 old, and in the obituary column, Colo- 
 nel O'Donnel read as follows : 
 
 " At Berwick upon Tweed, died of 
 a three day& fever., Charles Frederick 
 Gientworth, Esq. of Glentworth Hall r 
 Derbyshire; twenty years member for 
 *****, in successive parliaments. IVlr-.
 
 O'DONNEL. S6 
 
 Glentworth's death was the result of a 
 severe and neglected cold, caught on 
 his unprosperous voyage across the 
 Channel, on his way from Donaghadee 
 to Port- Patrick. Mr. Glen t worth was 
 returning from visiting his Irish es- 
 tates, accompanied by his family, and 
 some persons of distinction, who had 
 joined his travelling party. He is suc- 
 ceeded in his large estates by his only 
 son, Charles Glentworth, Esq. of 
 Christ-church, Oxford. " 
 
 This melancholy and unexpected in- 
 telligence gave a natural shock to the 
 feelings of Colonel O'Donnel. Besides 
 a personal regret for the death of this 
 excellent and enlightened Englishman, 
 he felt as an honest man feels for the 
 loss of an honest man, in a world where 
 it is so difficult to fill up the place he 
 has vacated.
 
 86* O'DONWEL. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Two years sound but as n brief term 
 of time, as a point in the interminable 
 scale of eternity ; and even in the 
 short period of human life, they are 
 considered as trifling in anticipation, 
 and as nothing in regret. Yet, in that 
 " petty space," what events may there 
 not be crowded to frustrate the calcu- 
 lation of human probabilities! what 
 changes may there not be produced in 
 the condition of an individual, of an 
 empire! There is nothing, perhaps, 
 which reduces the importance of the 
 whole system of existing things so low 
 in the estimation of the philosopher, as 
 this rapidity of succession, which dis- 
 solves the most important combinations 
 of society, and gives to the circum- 
 stances of life, the fugitiveness of a 
 dream.
 
 87 
 
 Two years had soon elapsed from 
 the time at which the English tourists 
 bade farewell to their solitary host, on 
 the wild shores of Lough Swilly ; yet, 
 swift as its flight had been, it had been 
 productive of unlooked-for change to 
 all. To him alone, whom they had 
 left behind, in solitude and obscurity, 
 time had brought, in its course, no 
 alteration; with him it had moved on 
 in the slow and tiresome succession of 
 undeviating uniformity, unmarked but 
 by artificial notices; for, in him, no 
 consciousness of existence arose from 
 the testimony of new and successive 
 sensations. All was blank ; and season 
 follosved season in a cheerless series, 
 undistinguished by action, unvaried 
 by event, and unblessed by recipro- 
 cated feelings or social enjoyments. 
 The vigorous passions, the inherent 
 energy of O'Donnel, struggled hard 
 against the obvious torpor of his des- 
 tiny; his spirit, though overborne, was
 
 33 O'DONKEL. 
 
 not subdued ; tt brooded in silence 
 over the hopelessness of a life which 
 offered its possessor no portion but 
 obscurity and neglect. But, though 
 days and weeks of listlessness may be 
 endured ; yet, when year follows year, 
 and in its flight brings no hope, no 
 promise of alteration, the mind must 
 lose its elasticity, and assume a tone 
 proportioned to the trifling call which 
 is made upon it for exertion. By de- 
 grees, therefore, O'Donnel remitted 
 from his accustomed amusements, and 
 sullenly rejected those resources, which 
 in the first period of suffering had 
 cheated the heart of its anguish, and 
 spared the intellect the horror of con- 
 templating its own ruin. He now 
 ceased to find distraction or relief in 
 the researches of science, gave up his 
 wanderings and his books, and suffered 
 the principle of life to prey upon itself. 
 He had no longer a motive to excite 
 volition, nor impulse to rouse to ac-
 
 O'DOSNEL, 30 
 
 tion. Had there been difficulties to 
 vanquish, lie had wrestled with their 
 force; the contest would have shar- 
 pened his skill, and strengthened his 
 nerve ; but he had only to submit. 
 Poverty closed against him every road 
 to occupation and subsistence, such 
 as a gentleman and a soldier could pur* 
 sue : nor did any method present it- 
 self, by which he might hope to be 
 restored to the walks of enlightened 
 and refined society. In aR probabi- 
 lity, a few more years of inactivity 
 and neglect would have bowed his 
 high spirit to a melancholy acquies- 
 cence with his fate, had he not been 
 roused from his increasing lethargy by 
 an effort of petty and local oppression, 
 and by a sentiment of generous and 
 compassionate feeling. 
 
 In almost all the villages and little 
 towns of Ireland may be found a sort 
 of plebeian oligarchy, composed of 
 beings, whose sole distinction con-
 
 90 O'DONNEI. 
 
 sists in belonging accidentally f*o, what 
 Edmund Burke has happily called,* 
 " The Master Cast;" who feel and as- 
 sert a sort of constitutional superiority 
 over the less fortunate of their imme- 
 djate neighbourhood. At the head of 
 such a ruling faction, in the village 
 nearest to Colonel O'Donnel's retreat, 
 stood a Mr. Brian Costello, Attorney- 
 at-Law; a man who had raised him- 
 self from the lowest class of society, 
 by arts, which enable such men to at- 
 tain to a state of comparative affluence; 
 and who finally became agent of the 
 gentleman, in whose kitchen he had 
 often plied as a menial. Mr. Costello 
 had, upon speculation, purchased a 
 large tract of mountain, and obtained 
 a considerable portion of commonage 
 attached to it; he fead also become 
 master of some small but fertile farms, 
 
 * See Letter to Sir II. Languish, by the Right 
 Honourable Edmund Burke.
 
 O'DONNEL. 91 
 
 of which he had obtained perpetual 
 leases of his own employer, and which, 
 as is common in Ireland, he again let 
 out at premiums to tenants-at-will : 
 among these tenants was the late Abb6 
 O'DonneL The little sum of ready 
 money, of which he was master on his 
 arrival in Ireland, he had expended in 
 purchasing the romantic bite of his 
 cottage and small garden, and he took 
 of Mr. Costello a little farm in the 
 neighbourhood, from which he derived 
 the whole means of his subsistence. 
 
 As the Abbe led the life of a her- 
 mit, and was too much a cynic to in- 
 terest himself in the concerns of others, 
 he had lived in his retreat more feared 
 than known, and was suffered to re- 
 main unmolested. By some he was 
 deemed a saint, by others a wizzard, 
 and by many as little better than a 
 maniac. The high-spirited and im- 
 petuous boy, whom he had made the 
 companion of his solitude, felt the su-
 
 periority, which nature, birth, and ecfuV 
 cation had given him over the LITTLE 
 GRE.AT of his neighbourhood; and a 
 his youth and activity carried him in 
 more frequent contact with the vicin- 
 age, he took little care to disguise his 
 opinion of himself and them. But ta 
 the natives of the soil, the poor Irish 
 servitors, he was condescending and 
 gentle ; for he considered them as the 
 descendants of the brave peasantry who 
 had so often fotight the battles of his* 
 ancestors. Without losing sight of his 
 own dignity, he mingled in their sports, 
 and carried off many a prize of supe- 
 riority in their athletic exercises. 
 
 The impressions which he left be-' 
 hind him, when (yet a boy) he quit- 
 ted the country to enter into a foreign 
 service, were revived when he return, 
 ed in manhood ; and, though his pa- 
 ternal lands were situated in another 
 part of the country, the name of 
 O'Donnel was still loved and revered.
 
 O'DONNEL. 93 
 
 Sjn.ce his return, he had more than 
 once been the advocate of the unfor- 
 tunate, and the champion of the op- 
 pressed. Though a tenant-at-will for 
 the spot, which afforded him his sole 
 means of subsistence., to Mr. Brien 
 Costello, he had, in a feeling of in 
 dignation for violated justice, opposed 
 his power, in an instance, which too 
 often occurs, and too often is past over 
 in Ireland unnoticed and unstiginatized. 
 Costeiio had let some of his mountain 
 land to cotters, at a rent far beyond its 
 value ; and, to reconcile them to a 
 bargain closed under the pressure of 
 necessity, he had allowed them a cer- 
 tain portion of commonage: to the 
 cultivation of these wild spots, the 
 cotter had given the overplus of his 
 time and labour; but, when it began to 
 wear the air of cultivation, to repay 
 his industry, and assist him in paying 
 off a part of his exorbitant rent, the 
 landlord, contrary to all equity,
 
 <H ODONNEL. 
 
 and to his compact, inclosed the 
 ground, and deprived his tenant of the 
 only means, which could make his 
 bargain tolerable.* 
 
 An instance of thiskind had occurred 
 in the case of a poor man, to whose 
 door it brought ruin. After the man- 
 ner of the lower Irish, when they ap- 
 peal for relief in their necessities, he 
 had thrown himself on his knees at 
 O'Donnel's feet to supplicate his inter- 
 ference with his landlord. That he was 
 the brother-in-law of his own foster- 
 brother, Me. Rory, was not his faintest 
 
 * To causes such as these, Mr. Young, (he 
 learned and impartial English traveller, in his 
 Irish Tour, Vol. 2, attributes all the tumults 
 which so long disturbed the interior of Ireland, 
 and was committed by the cotters and lowest 
 classes of the people, under the name of" White 
 Boys :" they were chiefly Roman Catholics : 
 but the insurgents who appeared in Ulster, un. 
 der the names of " Steel Boys," " Oak Boys," 
 4< Peep of D*y Boys," were the manufacturing
 
 O'DOSNEL. 9J 
 
 claim to the service he demanded. 
 O'Donnel, much against his inclination, 
 condescended to intercede with Mr. 
 Costello ; to argue, to entreat; but 
 failed in every attempt : he then in- 
 formed this equitable landlord, in lan- 
 guage no way equivocal, of his opinion 
 of the whole transaction; and it requir- 
 ed no very acute powers of induction 
 on the part of Mr. Costello to draw from 
 the peroration of O'DonneFs speech, 
 that he believed him to be a rascal. So 
 satisfactorily to his own mind had he, 
 indeed, concluded upon this point of 
 the Colonel's creed, that he wanted 
 only the courage to call him out: he 
 did, however, what he thought safer, 
 
 Protestants and Dissenters of the north, and 
 their insurrection arose exclusively fronr. some 
 variations in (he manufacture, &c. but (hey 
 were all confounded in one ; and the causes so 
 '* instigating, were neither enquired into nor 
 known." See Young's Tour.
 
 
 96 O'DONNEL. 
 
 and quite as much to the purpose he 
 gave hi'm due notice to quit his farm,, 
 unless he chose to continue a tenant 
 at a rent somewhat more than doubJe 
 the possible product of the land. The 
 result was, that O'Donnel was eject- 
 ed, and left destitute of all means of 
 subsistence beyond the produce of a 
 scanty garden. There was, indeed, 
 other ground within his option to take 
 at a lower price; but it had much to cre- 
 ate, much to reclaim ; and O'Donnel* 
 full of spirited activity in other Jie Ids, 
 was no agriculturist, either in practice 
 or speculation : his sword lay idle in 
 its scabbard, and yet he knew not how 
 to " turn it into a plough-share." From 
 his early habits of life, he knew no- 
 thing of the less dignified, less refined, 
 modes of existence so necessary in 
 the common order of things, but so 
 little attainable by those* whose lives 
 have been a series of brilliant emotion 
 or whose characters can only be in-
 
 O'DONNEL. 97 
 
 fluenced by strong and powerful ex- 
 citements. With Want thus knocking 
 at his door, Charity still found an altar 
 beneath his roof: the day after Mr. 
 Costello had turned him out of his 
 farm, an aged female presented herself 
 to his notice^ claiming his assistance, 
 as her nearest surviving relation. Of 
 her person he had no recollection, 
 though he had seen eyes that resem- 
 bled the still bright and keen orbs, 
 which, imextmguished by time, still 
 sparkled in the stranger's head ; but, 
 when she mentioned her name, and 
 alluded to her story, he acknowledged 
 without hesitation the only sister of 
 his deceased kinsman. 
 
 It is not long since, a mesalliance in 
 an ancient Milesian family was deemed 
 no less degrading by the good gentry 
 of Ireland, than by the highest of the 
 French nobility; and they claimed the 
 jew distinctions left them with religi- 
 ous pertinacity. Honor O'Donnel, 
 
 VOL. II. F
 
 98 O'DONNEL. 
 
 once the beauty of her time and coun- 
 try, had made an unfortunate match, 
 and had been thrown for ever from 
 the bosom of her family : after a long 
 life of su tiering and misfortune, re- 
 duced to the last extremity of want, 
 of misery, and of age, she sought relief 
 from the only one of her kindred, who 
 had not yet rejected arid disowned her: 
 the/ last appeal she had made to family 
 compassion, was the Jirat which had 
 not been refused. O'Donnel con- 
 sidered her rights to the little posses- 
 sions of her late brother, as, at least, 
 equal to his own ; and her age and in- 
 digence as still more importunate than 
 his own misfortunes : he resigned, 
 therefore, to her, for her life, the cot- 
 tage and the garden, which was all he 
 conld claim as his: the one afforded 
 her the first home, of which she had 
 been mistress, since (forty years be- 
 fore) she had fled clandestinely from 
 that of her youth ; the other was suf-
 
 O'DOXNEL. J)9 
 
 ficient to siij)j)ly her few wants; and 
 the vigorous oid woman, \vho had 
 served her brother, was a fit attendant 
 for her years and infirmities. 
 
 For himself there now remained but 
 one step to take, but one effort to 
 make; and that was once more to seek 
 a foreign service. This was a step ab- 
 horrent to his feelings; for he fondly 
 hoped, that having once served his own 
 .king and country, he would never have 
 been driven to serve another: but it 
 was a step he reconciled to his prin- 
 ciples and loyalty ; for he resolved to 
 perish vvuh want, rather than raise an 
 arm against the banner of an empire, of 
 which he was a natural subject, and in 
 whose cause he had before been proud 
 to spill his best blood. 
 
 Austria was then in alliance with 
 England, and both were opposed to 
 France: his nearest kinsman and friend 
 was a general in the Austrian service, 
 and to him he wrote, ia the certainty
 
 100 O'DONNEL. 
 
 of receiving a commission in his own 
 regiment; desiring him to direct his 
 answer to the General Post-office, 
 London, where he hoped to he able to 
 meet it. Such, indeed, was his inten- 
 tion: to remain where he was, was 
 impossible; and even if there was a 
 chance of failing in his application to 
 General O'Donnel (which scarcely 
 could be, since he had pressed him to 
 accept a commission a few years be- 
 fore), he resolved on ce more to make 
 an effort for obtaining even an ensigncy 
 in the British service; and if all failed, 
 to go out as a volunteer, and subsist 
 on the pay of a private. 
 
 But the obstacle, which impeded 
 these speculations, moderate as they 
 were, was want of money, even to bear 
 the expences of his journey. He had 
 distant relations of his own name, both 
 in the south and in the west of Ireland, 
 who, though the original splendor of 
 their family greatness was " something
 
 O'DONNEL. 101 
 
 obscured," still enjoyed rank, opu- 
 lence, and high consideration; but he 
 shrunk from claiming the privileges of 
 poor relationship ; and from every 
 branch of the O'Donnel family, still 
 remaining in Ireland, he had carefully 
 concealed his situation and circum- 
 stances. His books, left him by his 
 uncle, were valuable, but few; and he 
 had obtained a due price for them from 
 a bookseller at Belfast, to whom he 
 had sent the catalogue; but the sum 
 he obtained did not make up the third 
 part of that, which was requisite to 
 defray the expences of his journey to 
 the continent, even without a servant, 
 with which he would be obliged to 
 dispense, though that servant was the 
 faithful and warm-hearted Me. Rory. 
 He had, besides his books, but tw*> 
 articles in the world, which he could 
 turn into money; and when they sug- 
 gested themselves to his mind, the 
 blood rushed from his heart to his face, 
 F 3
 
 ODOXXEL. 
 
 and again returned to its source with 
 an icy coldness : these articles were 
 the sword, which still hung suspended 
 over the chimney-piece, and a small 
 diamond ring. He was alone in the 
 parlour of the cottage, which he now no 
 k>nger considered his, when the neces- 
 sity of parting with these, to him, holy 
 relics^ suggested itself. > The ring was 
 suspended round his neck by a ribbon 
 He drew it forth and gazed on it: a 
 train of intimate associations arose in- 
 quick succession as he read the date 
 engraven on its " golden round ;" for 
 the ring was all that remained to him 
 of the earlier and most brilliant period 
 of his existence; when full of hope 
 and joy, his light and gallant spirit had 
 received no impression from time, but 
 such as love and glory gave; when 
 new to life, and flushed with passion, 
 he feared no change, and suspected no 
 illusion when alternately bound in 
 
 */ 
 
 the silken cords of pleasure, or braced
 
 O'DONNEL. 103 
 
 with the rude hardness of war, he 
 sprung from the couch of voluptuous- 
 ness, to rush into the field of combat, 
 and to carry with him, even into 
 scenes of warfare, that buoyancy of 
 spirit, which once distinguished the 
 gallant leaders of the Gallic armies, 
 and which lent to the rudeness of the 
 camp, the gaiety and grace of the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 He had won that little ring at a court 
 lottery at Versailles, when the loveliest 
 sovereign that ever received the affec- 
 tions of a devoted and loyal people, 
 distributed the prizes. From the hands 
 of Maria Antoinette he had received 
 the ring, on the night before he ac- 
 companied his regiment to the fields 
 of****. The ring was his talisman 
 he confided in its influence as the 
 pledge of his success ; and the dis- 
 tinction he obtained in that year's 
 campaign, procured him shortly after 
 the military rank, which rendered him. 
 F 4
 
 104 O'DONKKL. 
 
 the youngest colonel in the French 
 service. 
 
 The value of this trinket was incon- 
 siderable; but it was the bequest of a 
 beautiful woman, and an unfortunate 
 queen; and there was still enough of 
 the spirit of a Milesian cavalier in his 
 breast, to estimate the gem by the 
 standard of sentiment, and not by the 
 cold calculation of a lapidary. He 
 kissed and replaced it arose from the 
 table at which he sat walked towards 
 the chimney-piece, and fixed his eyes 
 on the sword of the hero, whose me- 
 mor he revered, of whose kindred he 
 was so proud, of whose character he 
 was enamoured. 
 
 With that sword the chief of O'Don- 
 nel had avenged his own wrongs, and 
 redressed those of his country. O'Don- 
 nel took down the sacred weapon- 
 sacred at least in his estimation, and 
 examined it with the scrutiny of one 
 who beheld it for the first time; but
 
 O'DONNEL. 105 
 
 it was, in fact, with the emotion of one 
 who feared he was looking on it for 
 the last. 
 
 The basket of the weapon was of 
 pure Irish gold, such as is frequently 
 found in various forms in the bogs of 
 Ireland ;* and he supposed from the 
 price obtained by his uncle for a golden 
 corslet, that its value could not be 
 under one hundred pounds. This was 
 a considerable sum to a man who had 
 scarcely a guinea, and he resolved on 
 the sacrifice of a relic, dear alike to 
 his pride and his affections ; yet as he 
 drew the blade from its scabbard, he 
 stooped his head so close to it, that 
 
 * The handles of swords of the ancient Irish 
 were frequently incrusted with gold, according 
 to O'Halloran, 1744. Some gold-handled swords 
 and golden gorgets were found in the bog of Cul- 
 len, in Tipperary, which is since called by the 
 country. people, " the Golden Bog." Several 
 golden corslets were also found in Kerry. 
 
 See CPIlalloran, and Smith's Kerry.
 
 106 C/DOXNEL. 
 
 it touched his lips, and a tear dropped 
 upon its rusted steel. He hastily 
 pushed it back into its sheath, and 
 with an unsteady hand, was endea- 
 vouring to replace it in its old station, 
 when Me. Rory entered the room. 
 His arms were laden with books, 
 which he was about to pack up to 
 send by a carrier to Belfast. He threw 
 them beside a box that was to contain 
 them, and kneeling down to pack 
 them, he turned up his eyes, and 
 perceived O'Donnel replacing his 
 sword. 
 
 " Will I give the lull of that a rub, 
 your Honor/' he said, " with M 
 shammy, for it's mighty dusty ?." 
 
 O'Donnel made no reply, but stood 
 with his arms folded, and his eyes 
 fixed, lost in thought. 
 
 " I wonder, your Honor/' continued 
 Me. Rory, going on with his employ- 
 ment, " 1 wonder if it be's true, what 
 tell from one of the followers of
 
 O'DONNEL. 107 
 
 the O'Connors, when I was keeping 
 nay station at Lough Dergh, this time 
 two years ; that the great O'CONNOR, 
 Don of Cloonalis, sould the fine an- 
 cient ould golden crown of the family, 
 which the Kings of Ireland $ his own, 
 kin, long life to them! used to wear in 
 the ould times, Sir.* The cratur ! 
 well, it was hard run with him before 
 he did that same, any how, I'll be 
 bound. And well it might, in troth, 
 in regard of his extraordinary hospita- 
 lities. Devil a one ever left the gate 
 
 * This affecting circumstance, which occurred 
 a few years ago, is so generally known, in Ire. 
 land at least, as to need no comment. Two gol- 
 den crowns also were found in the Bog of Cul- 
 len : the first, of chased work, and without a 
 cross, was purchased by the Cumerford family : 
 the secoud was bought by Mr. Kinshanlloe, a 
 jeweller in Limerick ; it weighed six ounces, and 
 when melted, had very little alloy. See Har 
 ris's Works, Vol. 2, and 0' llalforan's History 
 vf Antiquities of Ireland.
 
 lOS O'DONNEL. 
 
 of an O'Connor yet dry or fasting, and 
 signs* on them, God bless them : in 
 respect of selling the fine ancient ould 
 crown, the sowls \' } 
 
 " I am certainly not ruined by my 
 hospitality, Me. Rory," said O'Donnel, 
 starting from his reverie, and affecting 
 a tone of cheerful firmness ; " and yet 
 I must part with something I value 
 quite as- much as my kinsman O'Con- 
 nor did his crown." 
 
 " How is that, your Honor?" asked 
 Me. Rory, raising his head. 
 
 " The fact is, Me. Rory," returned 
 O'Donnel, in a hurried voice, " I can- 
 not go on here any longer, for many 
 reasons. I mean to pass over immedi- 
 ately to the continent, and to enter 
 the Austrian service. I shall have no 
 means to defray the expences of my 
 journey, but by raising money on this 
 
 * Signs on them : the sign or symptom of it 
 it apparent on them.
 
 O'DONNEL. 109 
 
 sword, and I wish you to take it with 
 you to-morrow to L. Derry, and to 
 dispose of it." 
 
 " Is it the sword, Colonel ?" 
 " Yes, yes," returned O'Donnel, 
 with humour, and annoyed hy the ex- 
 pression of Me. Rory's countenance. 
 
 " O, very well, Sir; surely I will ; 
 that is, I'd rather nat, if your Honor 
 plases, for a raison I have quit the 
 place! to be sure, your Honor, why 
 would'nt we quit; what use is there 
 staying, when we hav'nt as much 
 ground we can call our own, as we 
 could lay the track of our foot in, in 
 regard of that dirty spalpeen, Torney 
 Costeilo, bad. luck to him; it's little 
 the likes of his mother's son, ever 
 thought heM see the day that he'd 
 turn one of the great O'Donnels out 
 of their own real and undoubted land's, 
 and within view of their own rock,* 
 
 * The rock of Inauguration.
 
 1 10 O'DONNEF,. 
 
 as I may say, barring the mountains of 
 Kilmacrennan, that's between us and 
 it ; but he's come of a bad breed, any 
 how ; the scum of the earth but as to 
 parting with the sword, your Honor, 
 it's what I'll never consint to, while 1 
 breathe the breath of life : for what 
 would you part with her. Sir? Is it 
 the great O'Donnel Bal-dearg's sword 
 you'd be after selling in the face of the 
 whole country : would'nt it be a burn- 
 ing shame, that they should have it to 
 say ; and what would the family in 
 County Leitrim say to it,* and the 
 family of New Port, and the family in 
 County Waterford ? and what would 
 yourself say, Colonel., if ye heard of 
 the gold rings being sould that were 
 found on your great ancestor's fin- 
 gers, -f near Ballyshanny, that your 
 
 * Where the different branched of the O'Don. 
 net family have their seats. 
 
 t See note at the end of the yolnme.
 
 O'DONNEL. Ill' 
 
 third cousin, once removed, wears to 
 this day in Spain, that's if he is in it; 
 or if you heard of your own cousin- 
 german in France, selling the blessed 
 and holy Cathach which was be* 
 queathed to the family by the greatest 
 of saints, Columb-kill/'* 
 
 " it is no matter, Me. Rory," said 
 O'Donnel in a decided tone, <<r what 
 any one thinks; the sword I must and 
 will part with ; nor is that the most 
 difficult effort I shall have to make, 
 for I must part with what I prize still 
 more than the sword/' 
 
 O'Donnel sighed deeply. 
 
 tf And what's that, your Honor ?' 
 asked Me. Rory, in a subdued voice, 
 sighing in his turn, and putting in and 
 taking out the books, as if thoughtless 
 of his occupation. *' Is it Bran, the 
 baste, in respect of the trifle of mis- 
 
 * See note at the end of the ruluine.
 
 1 1'J O DON N EL. 
 
 chief he does, betimes, among the 
 neighbours' cattle ? Sure, if they'd let 
 the hound alone, he would never ax 
 to trouble them; but they worry the 
 life out of him, fairly, so they do; 
 that's the gassoons, Sir.'' 
 
 " No," returned O'Donnel, with a 
 forced smile; " I don't mean to sell 
 Bran, but 1 fear 1 must part with one 
 quite as faithful, and much more va- 
 lued." 
 
 O'Donnel paused fora moment, and 
 then with an effort at firmness, yet 
 with a tremulous motion of the under 
 lip, he added : 
 
 " In a \vord, I must part with YOU, 
 Me. Rory." 
 
 The books dropped from Me. Rory's 
 hold, and still remaining on his knees, 
 he clasped his hands, and with a look 
 of grief, almost amounting to despair, 
 but in a tone at once supplicating and 
 determined, he replied : 
 
 " Oh ! no, Colonel Sir, if you plase,
 
 ODONNEL. 113 
 
 you will nat part with me! For what, 
 Sir? for why would you part with me? 
 Sure if I have offended you, Colonel, 
 dear, I ax your pardon now, on my 
 two bended knees take my life, Sir 
 is'nt ityourown ? Who saved it for me 
 in the wars, when I fought cheek by 
 jowl with you, Sir?---on1y yourself, 
 Colonel: troth you did, and for why 
 would you part with me, P/iaidrig 31 c. 
 Rory, if it was only in regard of being 
 your own foster-brother, who took the 
 same mother's milk with you, and who 
 was a hurler* with you, when we were 
 gassoons together, playing among the 
 mountains? And would'nt 1 have fol- 
 lowed you to foreign parts, when we 
 were grown up fine slips of lads, only 
 
 * The hurling matches were frequently played, 
 even within a few years back, by the youth of 
 two counties opposed to each other, and fre- 
 quently led on by young men of birth and for. 
 tune.
 
 114 O'DONNEL. 
 
 the mother that bore me left her dying 
 curse on me, if I deserted my fine an- 
 cient ould father, until God had taken 
 him; which he did'nt till five years ago, 
 come Lamas ; and for all that, did'nt I 
 go into foreign parts to see you, Sir, 
 and brought you the present of tb? 
 finest mare that ever was strode, fol- 
 lowing you through the world wide, into 
 Germany, without knowing a word of 
 any foreign language, good or bad, but 
 my own, and I never came ACRASS you, 
 till I saw you go to mass in your ele- 
 gant regimentals, with the King and 
 Queen, and all the Royal Family,* 
 long life to them; and when you came 
 back here after the troubles, Colonel, 
 did'nt I list with you in the brigade, 
 and follow you to the wars, Sir? and 
 from that blessed moment to this, 
 hav'nt I been your true and faithful 
 
 -* See note at the end of th volume.
 
 O'DONSEL. 115 
 
 servant; and why shouldn't I, Colonel? 
 what abler boy in the Barony could you 
 get to serve you ? ante I your Honor's 
 ovvn age, thirty-four last Holy-eve, and 
 your ovvn Honor's height, six feet ? and 
 if I don't answer you, Sir, shew me the 
 Jad that will, Colonel, to say nothing 
 of fosterage/* 
 
 During this appeal, in which one as- 
 sociation had arisen rapidly out of ano- 
 ther in the mind of the affectionate and 
 devoted Me. Rory, his master vainly 
 endeavoured to interrupt him, to raise 
 him from his supplicant posture, and 
 before he had concluded, which he did 
 with tears in his eyes, he vainly endea- 
 voured to recover back his own firm- 
 ness, which the looks, even more than 
 the words of Me. Rory, had put wholly 
 to flight. 
 
 " No, your Honor, "" said Me. Rory, 
 when Colonel O'Donnel stretched out 
 his hand to raise him, " 1 have made a
 
 116 O'DOXNEL. 
 
 vow to myself, never* to rise off my 
 bended It nets, which is as good as being 
 book sworn > until it's what your Honor 
 recalls your words, arid says, " Phai- 
 drig Me. Rory, I'll never part with you, 
 as long as you can be of the laste use in 
 life to me, Phaidrig;" and for why 
 should you, Colonel ?" 
 
 " Because, Me. Rory,'' returned his 
 master, with a mixture of kindness and 
 irritation in his voice and manner, 
 " because I can no longer either repay 
 your services, or maintain you ; for 1 
 am a man of desperate fortunes. I am 
 about to seek the means of supporting 
 life in a foreign land, by my sword ; nor 
 can I think of rewarding your generous 
 
 * A very old Irish custom. When the cele- 
 brated Earl of Tyrone went to demand assist, 
 ance from the King of Spain, he made a TOW, 
 not to rise from his knees till his request was 
 granted.
 
 O'DONNEL. 117 
 
 attachment so ill, as to take advantage 
 ofy our disinterestedness, and involve 
 you in my uncertain destiny, my cer- 
 tain difficulties. But should any thing 
 like independence ever again be mine, 
 my friend, believe that you shall share 
 it, aye, to the last farthing, Me. 
 Rory." 
 
 " Shall I, Sir ?" said Me. Rory, start- 
 ing on his feet with a look of wildness ; 
 and then pausing for a moment, he ran 
 out of the room : returning, however, 
 almost immediately, and emptying the 
 contents of an old "worsted stocking on 
 the table, he cried : 
 
 "There are four of the ten gold pieces 
 your Honor gav<_ me for a keepsake, 
 when 1 brought you the mare to foreign 
 parts. There is the Jive pound wo/ethc fine 
 ancient ould Abbe left me by will, and 
 there is the silver gill watch which ould 
 Thady Dogherty, my father's ould cro- 
 ney, left me with his dying breath; and 
 you know right well, Sir, that when I
 
 113 O'DOXNEL, 
 
 offered you this same to help to pay 
 
 the fine for the/r/,* to that thief of a 
 
 Costello, you would'nt intirely oblige 
 
 me by taking it; and now you see, it 
 
 will maintain and keep me, till we land 
 
 in foreign parts, when your Honor 
 
 will be a great General, and myself a 
 
 Corplar, I'll be bound, for your sake, 
 
 Sir; so you see, Colonel, Fli be no 
 
 trouble in life to you, and never ax you 
 
 for bit or sup. only your old coats ; and 
 
 now, Sir, there is no delay in the 
 
 world, only to pack up the porlmanffe, 
 
 and quit the place, which is to the fore 
 
 for your Honor, whenever God takes 
 
 the fine ancient ould gentlewoman, 
 
 your grand-aunt, Mrs. Honor Kelly, to 
 
 himself." 
 
 As the attachment and resolution of 
 Me. Rory were now equally and evi- 
 
 * A similar fact of an Irish old servant was 
 related to me a few years back, by the Rt. Hon. 
 Lady E. li r.
 
 O'DOXNEL. 119 
 
 clently firm and unvanquishable, and 
 as his master was well assured that he 
 would follow him at all risks, if he was 
 not permitted to accompany him, Co- 
 lonel O'Donnel, unconsciously pleased 
 to shelter his own inclinations under 
 his servant's, replied: 
 
 " Well, Me. Rory, be it so, if you 
 are willing, for my sake, to encounter 
 hardships without the hope of recom- 
 pense : if you are satisfied to take the 
 wages of kindness and confidence in- 
 stead of : " He paused in some 
 emotion, and unable to proceed, he 
 smiled benevolently, and held out his 
 hand to his now happy servant; but 
 Me. Rory, bowing down to the ground, 
 retreated respectfully, deeming himself 
 unworthy the high honour tendered to 
 him, and with a cry, that something re- 
 sembled the funeral ullulation of his 
 own country, he rushed out of the 
 room.
 
 120 
 
 Within the space of a few clays, 
 O'Donnel received the money for the 
 books he had sent to Belfast. ; perfected 
 a deed, by which he put his kinswoman 
 in possession of the cottage during her 
 life ; had a case placed over the pic- 
 ture of the Abbe O'Donnel, which he 
 commended to her care ; and math: 
 the few arrangements necessary for 
 nis journey to Dublin ; where he 
 meant to dispose of the basket of his 
 sword, to a liberal purchaser of such 
 articles, and from whence he meant to 
 sail for England. 
 
 On the evening previous to his de- 
 parture, as he was wandering- thought- 
 fully at sun-set along a ridge of rocks 
 which hung above the ravine lead- 
 ing to his cottage, he perceived a man 
 on horseback riding beneath, and stop- 
 ping at the cottage-door. He saw Me. 
 Rory receive a paper from his hand 
 and point to himself. The man threw
 
 O'DONXEL. 121 
 
 his eyes upon the heights where he 
 stood, and suddenly gallopped away. 
 Before O'Donnel had reached the glen 
 by the most rapid descent, the echo of 
 the horses' feet had died into silence. 
 Me. Rory advanced towards him with 
 a letter, or rather a small packet. 
 
 " Here is a letter for your Honor,' 
 said Me. Rory. " God send it may 
 bring good news. I tould the young 
 man that brought it, that he'd have his 
 answer in a minute, if he'd step in and 
 take an air of the fire, and give his 
 baste a breathing time; for troth th* 
 animal smoked like the kitchen chim- 
 ney." 
 
 While Me. Rory was speaking, his 
 master was employed in breaking open 
 cover after cover : one blank envelope 
 succeeded another ; and he began to 
 think that all was a blank, and that 
 the whole was some stupid practical 
 joke, when he at last came to the let- 
 ter thus carefully inclosed, and found 
 
 VOL. II. G
 
 125 O'DONNEL. 
 
 within its folds two English bank bills 
 of a thousand pounds a ch. The letter 
 only contained two lines, which alluded 
 to the inclosure: they ran as follows- 
 
 " Use it freely, for it is your own; 
 Use it discretely, for it is a woman's 
 
 gift." 
 
 Me. Rory stood watching the rapid 
 changes in his master's countenance, as 
 he cast his eyts from the bills to the 
 letter, from the letter to the bills, and 
 alternately examined the seal and the 
 direction; the former was simply the 
 impression of a dial plate, the motto, 
 
 " CIJETO FUOR-COMMOTO DENTRO." 
 
 On the letter there was no post-mark 
 BO post-town; it was simply superscrib- 
 ed to Lieutenant-Colonel O'Donnel. 
 
 " I am afraid no good comes of that 
 letter, your Honor," said Me. Hory, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Would it be possible to overtake 
 the messenger?'*
 
 tS*DONNEL. 
 
 ct Ol it would, Sir," said Me Rory, 
 eagerly ; " that is, your Honor, it 
 would nat; but moral \y impossible in 
 respect of his being at th* other side of 
 the mountain by this Jack o'the Ian- 
 thorn was nothing to the lad, in regard 
 of his being mighty quick. 
 
 " Are you Colonel O'Donnel's ser- 
 vant ?' says he. 
 
 " I am, Sir,' fays /, * in lieu of a 
 better.' 
 
 " Is he at home,' says he. 
 
 " Yes he is,' says /, ' as you may 
 see;* and I pointed to your Honor on 
 them rocks, with the sun setting like 
 a glory on you. With that he says no 
 more, but gives me the letter, and 
 claps spurs and away with him, though 
 1 kept calling to him to come back for 
 the answer ; but sure I'll go to the 
 village and inquire for him, your 
 Honor, for he must bait there any 
 bow, Sir." 
 
 " Pray do then, Me. Rory," said 
 C 2
 
 124 O*DONNEL. 
 
 O'Donnel, with his eyes fixed on the 
 letter. 
 
 ' O, I will, your Honor; I'll be 
 there in a whiff", though 1 would'nt 
 know the fellow's face again, in re- 
 spect of never seeing it, for his hat 
 was flapped so in his eyes, Sir, and his 
 surtout was wrapped round him ; but 
 I'll go, your Honor, and look for him." 
 
 Still he lingered with an expression 
 of countenance that O'Donnel happily 
 construed, and he observed : 
 
 " You may set your heart at rest, 
 Me. Rory : there are no bad news. 
 This letter is from a friend ; but I 
 wish much to return an answer ; so 
 much, that I will walk to the village 
 myself, and inquire for the messenger." 
 And he proceeded on with , a rapid step. 
 
 " Well, God be praised, Sir ; for I 
 had mighty ugly dreams last night ; 
 and thought I saw the ancient ould 
 Abbe, sitting on the Rock of Kilma- 
 erennaii, bidding us good bye, which
 
 O'DONNEL. 125 
 
 is as much as to say we shall never 
 tread this ground again any way, and 
 Mary says the bracket hin never roosted 
 the whole night long, only flitting 
 about: well, she's a wonderful bird." 
 
 During these observations, Mc.Rory 
 was walking after his master, and hav- 
 ing opened the little gate for him at 
 the end of the glen, he took out his 
 beads and prayed his way back, ob- 
 serving at every decade, " Well, that 
 letter must mean something good or 
 bad, any how, to say nothing of the 
 dream, which was remarkable." 
 
 Colonel O'Donnel returned late to 
 the cottage, and much heated by the 
 rapidity with which he had walked ; 
 but all inquiry was fruitless. No per- 
 son to answer the description of the 
 messenger had been seen in the vil- 
 lage, or had stopt to refresh himself or 
 his horse at the public-house. 
 
 He remained, therefore, lost in 
 amazement at an event so extraordi- 
 c 3
 
 136 O'DONKEL. 
 
 nary, so unexpected, so mysterious. 
 The number of envelopes, which he 
 had to undo, were intended probably 
 to give the messenger time to escape; 
 for there could be no other clue to dis- 
 covery. Who then was this invisible 
 and guardian angel, who thus secretly 
 and unostentatiously administered to 
 his wants. It was evidently a woman, 
 as it was asserted to be ; it was a wo- 
 man's hand, a woman's pretty seal and 
 device, and the act, at once delicate in 
 its conduct, as prodigal in its nature, 
 was a woman's; but what woman? 
 His thoughts suddenly reverted to the 
 nghsh tourists. They wandered for 
 a moment to Lady Singleton. No- 
 thing could be less like her, than the 
 mystery with which so liberal a bene- 
 faction was conferred ; they fixed on 
 Lady Florence. She was nobly born 
 might be noble-minded, and perhaps 
 imprudently generous. Two years 
 were a long space to elapse without
 
 O'DONXEL. 127 
 
 .' 
 
 testifying this liberal interest in his fa- 
 vour, which now fell like a thunder- 
 bolt on him; but if it was not her, it 
 was utterly impossible to fix on any 
 other. Her eye and her smile still 
 lived in his memory; for since he had 
 beheld her, no eye so bright, no smile 
 so bland, had met his view to efface 
 their influence. Every man is vain, 
 where woman is in question, and 
 though O'Donnel was as little so, as 
 most men, yet the play of Lady Flo- 
 rence's vanity had been so successively 
 directed against his own, that even at 
 this remote period it influenced his 
 conjectures, and he remained almost 
 convinced that she was his invisible 
 benefactress. The person entrusted 
 with the commission was well ac- 
 quainted with the intricacies of the 
 mountain roads, and the scite of his 
 retreat; and the Admiral's domestics 
 knew the country well. 
 
 He sealed up the bills, and placed 
 G4
 
 128 O'DOKNEL. 
 
 them in a letter-case, till on his arrival 
 in London he should have an oppor- 
 tunity of returning them to the prodi- 
 gal donor; resolved that no want, no 
 misfortune should ever induce him to 
 touch a shilling of a bounty, which, 
 coming as it did, he would have deem- 
 ed it nothing short of infamy to touch. 
 Few women were so situated as to be 
 able to make such donations, even 
 when the object sanctioned the libera- 
 lity : a married woman could scarcely 
 do it without the knowledge of her 
 husband, still Jess probably with his 
 permission ^ but from any woman, 
 under any circumstances, he would 
 have shrunk from receiving pecuniary 
 assistance: the very idea wounded the 
 finest feelings of his nature, humbled 
 his pride, and revolted his principle. 
 With respect to his worldly circum- 
 stances, this princely gift, therefore, 
 went for nothing; but it interested 
 and perplexed him, and kept his spirits
 
 o 'DONNE L. . 129 
 
 buoyant, which would else have sunk, 
 as he again saw himself on the point 
 of quitting the shades of his youth, 
 thrown destitute on the world, with a 
 mode of existence to seek at four-and- 
 thirty. Where now were the hopes 
 that misled, the illusions that dazzled, 
 the motives that impelled, and the 
 fresh unworn imagination that threw 
 its brilliant hah over all? Time and 
 experience had damped or dispelled 
 them, and he was now undeceived 
 without being insensible; he felt not 
 less deeply, but less promptly; and 
 expected nothing, for he had been dis- 
 appointed in every thing. 
 
 The poor and the peasantry of his- 
 neighbourhood, who heard of his in- 
 tended departure, crowded the avenue 
 of his dwelling on the morning of his 
 journey, and followed the chaise that 
 carried him to the town where he was 
 to take the mail. While Me. Rory, 
 who would not be prevailed to go in- 
 a*
 
 0'DONNEL. 
 
 side, sat on ' the portmanteau behincf, 
 shaking hands with some, waving his 
 hat to others, bidding farewell, and 
 giving a tear or a prayer to all; while 
 Bran, with his old collar newly fur- 
 bished up for the occasion by his friend 
 Me. Rory, followed th.e carriage, and 
 shared the adieus and good wishes of 
 the affectionate crowd.
 
 O'DONNEL. 131 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN Dublin, Colonel O'Donnel re- 
 ceived the full value for the basket of 
 his sword, carefully preserving the 
 blade till better times might enable 
 him to remount it; and the day after 
 his arrival in the capital of his country, 
 he sailed for Holyhead, in the Dublin 
 Packet, in the hope of making ac- 
 quaintance with its popular com. 
 mander, of whose urbanity and atten- 
 tions Mr. Glentworth and his party 
 had spoken much and gratefully.* 
 
 Pursuing their route to London by 
 the mail, the Irish travellers reached 
 the metropolis of England in less than 
 
 * It is unnecessary {o mention Captain Sk r.
 
 132 O'DONNEL. 
 
 two days; and Me. Rory having disco- 
 vered a countryman in one of the 
 waiters, at the house where the coach 
 stopt, procured through his recommen. 
 dation, lodgings more adequate to the 
 pecuniary resources of his master, than 
 to his spirit or rank. But Me. Rory, 
 who loved change, and loved travelling, 
 and who was in high spirits, declared 
 the place was nate and dune, but the 
 floor mighty slippery, though no ways 
 damp, but quite the contrary, which 
 was remarkable. 
 
 The morning after his arrival, 
 O'Donnel's first intention was to seek 
 out the residence of Lady Florence 
 Grandville. He had no interest in. 
 renewing his acquaintance with any 
 other of his quondam guests; for 
 with the exception of him, who was no 
 more, he considered them as mere 
 people of the world, disciples of that 
 doctrine whose wisdom is to make the 
 most of the present. In the memory
 
 O* BONN EL. 133 
 
 of such he well knew absentees have no 
 place: the few who contribute to their 
 immediate amusement, or supply their 
 actual want, make up to them the whole 
 sum of society ; and even those few, 
 adopted rather than chosen, tolerated 
 oftener rather than preferred, occupy 
 attention but for the existing moment ; 
 and then, as chance or interest decides, 
 pass on, like the little circle which pre- 
 ceded them, to make room for others, 
 who in succession amuse, and are for- 
 gotten like themselves. O'Donnel 
 knew enough of life to feel that with 
 suck persons a permanent connection 
 was not to be expected ; and that for- 
 tune, rank, and consideration, could 
 alone give body to a floating preposses- 
 sion, ordurability tofugitiveesteem. Too 
 proud to seek, where he was certain he 
 should not be sought, he confined his 
 researches in the Red Book to the resi- 
 dence of Commodore Grand vilje ; upon 
 this point, however, he obtained DO in-
 
 134 O'DONNEL. 
 
 formation from its pages. The house 
 pf his brother, Earl Grandville, he found 
 was in Portraan-Square, and thither he 
 directed his steps. As he was proceed- 
 ing along Bond-Street, he heard his 
 name loudly pronounced, and turn- 
 ing round, perceived a footman run- 
 ning after him, and still calling him by 
 his name. He stopped, till the man, 
 bustling through the crowd, could 
 come up to him and deliver his mes- 
 sage ; which was, that his lady, Lady 
 Singleton, begged to speak with him. 
 
 O'Donnel followed the man, and 
 perceived Lady Singleton's head 
 stretched out of her carriage window, 
 at a considerable distance. " Colonel 
 O'Donnel," she exclaimed, as he ap- 
 proached, " I am quite rejoiced to meet 
 you here. How long have you been 
 in town ? Why did you not call on 
 me? Do you know 1 have sent you 
 three letters successively, these three 
 last days, begging you would come
 
 o'DOiNNEL. 135 
 
 over as quickly as possible/' " Indeed, 1 ' 
 said O'Donnel, involuntarily grati- 
 fied by the unexpected cordiality of her 
 manner, and astonished at the nature of 
 her communication ; " three letters to 
 me, Madam !" " I have a great deal to 
 say to you," she continued eagerly. 
 " Here, John, open the door. Pray 
 come into my carriage, Colonel, for a 
 few minutes/' 
 
 O'Donnel prepared to obey ; but the 
 thing was impossible. The vis-a-vis 
 was so heaped up with books, papers, 
 parchments, pattern, new music, and 
 old china, that not only O'Donnel 
 could not get in," but a quantity of the 
 light freighting fell out. " What a 
 bore!" said Lady Singleton. " Take 
 care, John, of that piece of silk ; pick 
 up Davy's Researches. There is Lady 
 Llanberis's ferme-ornee entirely spoiled 
 -Oh heavens ! the Dresden cup ! and 
 poor Winter's M.S. ballet !" 
 
 O'Donnel and the footman had by
 
 136 O'DONNEL. 
 
 degrees reinstated all these valuable 
 and incongruous articles; and her 
 Ladyship, satisfied of their safety, again 
 addressed the former, with an air of 
 confidence and mystery. " 1 must see 
 yon," she said, " immediately. I have 
 something to communicate which can- 
 not fail to gratify and interest you. 
 There is a person extremely anxious 
 about you, a distinguished person.*' 
 
 " About me !" interrupted O'Donnel, 
 eagerly, hoping that he had come at the 
 clue of his mysterious benefaction, 
 " I can tell you nothing now/' she 
 continued ; " for here is the shopman 
 with my lace. 1 am, as- usual, ac- 
 cablce with business. But will you 
 dine with me to-day in Baker-Street? 
 No, not to-day. By the bye, we all 
 meet this evening at my brother's to 
 sign the marriage articles. To-morrow 
 then but to-morrow Horatia is to be 
 married. However, you may breakfast 
 with me to-morrow before the fuss-
 
 O'DOSXEL. 137 
 
 begins : we don't go to St. George's till 
 eleven." O'Donnel accepted the invi- 
 tation, and the next moment, perceiving 
 her Ladyship deep in all the treasures 
 of Mecklin and Valenciennes, he made 
 his bow, and retired from the carriage* 
 resolved to postpone his enquiries after 
 Lady Florence, till he heard more of 
 the distinguished person who was so 
 deeply interested for him. Aware, 
 however, of the inconsequence of Lady 
 Singleton's character, he resolved not 
 to entrust her with a confidence which 
 she had not the delicacy to estimate. 
 It was not his own secret, but that of 
 another which he held in keeping ; and 
 Lady Singleton was perhaps the last 
 person in the world to whom such a 
 trust should be confided. He remem- 
 bered " the discretion" recommended, 
 and felt no inclination to swerve from 
 the counsel. 
 
 The next morning he was punctual 
 to his appointment, and found ,her
 
 13S O'DONNEL. 
 
 Ladyship in her dressing-room, as he 
 had found her in her carriage, encom- 
 passed by ail the insignia of the bust* 
 ling office which she had assigned to 
 herself in the world. Lady Singleton 
 was no longer the personage she had 
 been : she was no longer upheld by 
 the influence of twenty thousand per 
 annum, by the respectability of her late 
 inestimable husband, nor by what in 
 London tells more than all, the size and 
 situation of her house. She had lost her 
 hotel with its court, and porte-cocher, 
 and lived in a comparatively small house 
 in Baker-Street. Her character had 
 also undergone some modification, as 
 well as her state. Her self-importance 
 was diminished. But though in her- 
 self she had very limited materials to 
 work upon, her wonted restlessness and 
 inherent tendency to dictation still 
 found vent, and was officiously busied 
 for others. She made good matches; 
 broke off bad ones ; directed the fetes
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 she could no longer give, and made lists 
 for assemblies she could no longer 
 hold. Still preserving the ban odenr of 
 her former fash ion, she was consulted as 
 counsel, or accepted as umpire, in 
 contests between those rival follies 
 which so often wage mutual and un- 
 relenting war amongst the great. She 
 was the oracle likewise of all those who 
 were not, could not, and yet would be 
 great; and was assiduously cultivated 
 by the noiiveaux nobles and the nouwnux 
 riches. She gave the tasteful direction 
 of fashion to the innumerable fopperies 
 in which new-gotten wealth sports 
 away the burthen of its superfluity. 
 There was one person, however, to 
 whom she was at this moment exclu- 
 sively devoted, whose rank, fashion, 
 and opulence, gave consequence to 
 the connection, and whose character 
 and pursuits afforded ample materials 
 for her " strenuous idleness" to act
 
 140 O'DONKEL. 
 
 upon. This person was Adelaide, 
 CouBtessof Llanberis. 
 
 ** Well, Colonel,'* said Lady Single- 
 ton, extending her hand to him as he 
 entered; " here you find me, as usual, 
 sur le grand trotloir, in the service of 
 my friends. You do not know that I 
 have been your proneuse en litre since 
 we parted : I have indeed, and to some 
 purpose too. I have not forgotten 
 L'amc Paladin, as Lady Florence used 
 to call you." 
 
 " Where is Lady Florence ?" eageriy 
 interrupted O'Donnel. 
 
 " Oh, poor Lady Florence I you 
 have not heard then ? However, you 
 have no loss: she could be of no use 
 to you in London. They had a 
 wretched twopenny house, and lived 
 entirely among their own knot. The 
 Grandvilles are poor as poor can be. 
 Still, however, she was good ton; but 
 there is an end of her. She had twins
 
 O'DONNEL. 141 
 
 Only think of Lady Florence having 
 twins ! She lost her health after a bad 
 confinement, and with if her beauty 
 and you know she had nothing else- 
 she is ordered to the Madeiras, as her 
 last hope, where the Admiral (for he is 
 how an admiral) is stationed. There 
 they have been these twelve months, 
 and there they are likely to remain, as 
 my daughter Vandaleur tells me, who 
 heard from her friend Lady Florence 
 last week." 
 
 " Your daughter Vandaleur !" re- 
 peated O'Donnel, endeavouring to re- 
 collect, the members of the group, of 
 whom few had made any great impres- 
 sion upon his memory. 
 
 " Then you did not hear that my 
 daughter Caroline had married Mr. 
 Vandaleur ? You know he could not 
 really follow his friend Lady Florence 
 to the Madeiras ; not that he is less 
 devoted. But exclusively of the ne-
 
 142 O* DONS EL. 
 
 cessity of observing the decencies, it 
 could not be expected that a man 
 whose habits are made up to London 
 life would expatriate himself out of 
 sentiment. An rente, he lived in the 
 same set with my family, and you 
 know men like to marry in their own 
 set; and so ce/a va sans dire! It 
 is a good match, but not so good as 
 Horatio's, which i call my match; for 
 Mr. Henshaw is one of the most rising 
 
 <& 
 
 young men of the day, and heir to the 
 richest commoner in England. Of 
 course, you read his maiden speech. 
 I have had every thing my own way, 
 from the bridal veil to the jointure. 
 Indeed, I had no one to act for me ; for 
 a melancholy change hns taken place 
 in my family and circumstances since 
 I saw you, Colonel O'Donnel, which 
 of course you heard.*' 
 
 She paused and sighed, and after a 
 silence of some minutes, which O'Don-
 
 O'DOXNEL. 143 
 
 nel, absorbed in feelings of unaffected 
 regret, did not interrupt, she again re- 
 sumed : 
 
 " My step-son is gone to the Greek 
 Islands wit|i Lord Boston, the son of 
 mv most particular friend ; but apropos, 
 of this friend, for we have not a moment 
 to lose. There is, as I mentioned to you, 
 a very distinguished person, very much 
 interested for you indeed : and not to 
 faire valoir my little services, 1 must 
 confess it was / who first mentioned 
 you to her; and that, too, in a manner 
 calculated to make the impressions she 
 had received in your favour lasting ; for 
 Je connois ma femme ! She expects you 
 at her villa, to which she has particu- 
 larly invited you. Her invitation is 
 now on its way to Lough S willy ; but 
 it shall be repeated immediately, in 
 due form, as I shall write this day to 
 inform her of your arrival in London. 
 I should not be so anxious to bring 
 about this acquaintance, but that I
 
 144 O'DONNEL. 
 
 know, in the end, you will be both 
 mutually obliged to me. She has a 
 powerful interest, great influence ; and 
 whatever may be your views (for I sup- 
 pose you have done nothing yet), she 
 cannot fail to forward them, if her 
 j>revention\n your favour continues; and 
 this will depend on yourself. Your ta- 
 lents and accomplishments are just the 
 sort of thing to catch her. Indeed, from 
 my description of you, and all that 
 sort of thing, she is already quite eprise^ 
 on ne le peut plus. I promised her, 
 when I thought yon in Ireland, that 
 you would come over, and spend the 
 Christmas holidays at her " palais 
 cTAlcine^fov such her villa literally is. 
 Now that you are here, there can be no 
 question about it, for you are not 
 aware how much she is your friend." 
 
 " And who, Madam," said O'Don- 
 nel, at last getting an opportunity to 
 ask the question, as her Ladyship 
 paused for breath, " who is this un-
 
 O'DONNEL. 145 
 
 known, but propitious deity? Under 
 what name is she to be invoked and 
 thanked ?" 
 
 " Why, the person in question/* 
 said Lady Singleton, importantly, " is 
 no other, than Adelaide, Countess of 
 Llanberis, Baroness Boston of Llanberis 
 in Wales, and of Boston Hall in So- 
 mersetshire ; an heiress in her own 
 right, at the head of a Welsh prin- 
 cipality, and an English estate, which 
 would make the territory of a German 
 prince. She holds five boroughs in 
 her hands ; is mistress of one of the 
 largest hotels in London, and one of 
 the most delightful villas in Surry : 
 add to this, that she is supreme bon- 
 ton, a widow in the prime of life, with an 
 only son, not yet of age, and that nothing 
 can exceed her societies in London, 
 except her Christmas and Easter parties 
 at Longlands. There you are sure to 
 find whatever is most recherche. I must 
 tell you, also, that Lady Llanberis is 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 146 O'DONNEL. 
 
 quite in our way., .not the least Eng- 
 lish. She is a Welshwoman, with 
 strong feelings and great animation of 
 character; and, as we would say in 
 Trance, toute petitlante. She married, 
 unhappily, at eighteen, was a widow 
 at twenty, and has maintained her 
 enviable independence for seventeen 
 years, refusing the best matches in 
 England,.. But I must be off; there 
 are the carriages drawn up. I am 
 obliged to accompany the bridal party 
 to Shropshire, to Henshaw's uncle's; 
 but I shall certainly meet you at Long- 
 lands in less than ten days; for you 
 must go immediately, if you mean to 
 go at all. Meantime leave me your 
 address, for I shall enclose you the 
 Countess's invitation the moment I 
 hear from her. 1 am now sending her 
 off a packet of music and china, and 
 shall have an answer by express to- 
 morrow ; for she has as many expresses 
 on the road as your Irish secretaries.
 
 O'DONNEL. 147 
 
 Remember Longlands is near the town 
 
 O'Donnel gave his card of address 
 for a cofFeo-house in the neighbourhood 
 of his obscure lodging ; and Lady Siu- 
 ^gleton, without affording him time or 
 opportunity for reply or observation, 
 rung for her woman, and bade him a 
 friendly good-by ; adding that all this 
 time her daughters were waiting for 
 her in the bride's dressing-room. 
 
 The character, which Lady Singleton 
 had given O'Donnel of Lady Llanberis, 
 appeared to him romantic, as was her 
 predilection in his favour, which evi- 
 dently arose out of Lady Singleton's 
 exaggerated descriptions ; and now tho- 
 roughly convinced that Lady Florence, 
 poor and absent, could not be his un- 
 known benefactress, his suspicions 
 turned upon this " distinguished per- 
 son," whose immense wealth, caprice, 
 expresses., and above all., sending six
 
 H8 O'DONNEL. 
 
 hundred miles to ask a stranger, un- 
 seen, unknown, to become an inmate 
 of her family, seemed to warrant any 
 unlikelihood, imagination could sug- 
 gest; for he deemed it next to impos- 
 sible, that he could have been invited 
 to come such a distance, for any thing 
 but his own benefit and advantage ; and 
 he had nearly decided on accepting an 
 invitation, which, as he could not ex- 
 pect an answer from Germany for a fort- 
 night to come, would at least involve 
 him in no difficulty, or lead to any incon- 
 venience ; but which would enable 
 him to verify or disprove his doubts, 
 and perhaps become the means of dis- 
 charging an obligation, by which he was 
 still resolved not to benefit. The length 
 of his visit would of course be deter- 
 mined by circumstances; but as he 
 paid it with reluctance, he calculated 
 upon its being short. To one in his 
 tone of mind and spirits, it could not
 
 O'DONNEL. 149 
 
 fail to be wearisome and oppresssive. 
 The next evening he received the fol- 
 
 O 
 
 lowing letter from Lady Singleton. 
 
 Dear Colonel, 
 
 I enclose Lady Llanberis's answer 
 and invitation. You will perceive our 
 Countess is quite tele monte about 
 you. 
 
 Your's, 
 a la hate et au revoir, 
 
 C. SINGLETON. 
 
 Letters inclosed. 
 To the Lady Viscountess Singleto*. 
 
 My dear Lady S. 
 
 The arrival of our hero is really quite 
 too good, too lucky an event. My se- 
 cret is, however, I hope quite safe. At 
 all events send him off without a mo- 
 ment's delay. I want to have him here 
 H 3
 
 before the house fills, that we may un- 
 derstand each other a little. Dispatch 
 him, then, immediately, I beg I COM- 
 MAND ! 
 
 Adieu, 
 ADELAIDE LLAXBEIUS. 
 
 CAED. 
 
 The Countess of Llanberis request* 
 the honour of Colonel O'Donnel's com- 
 pany, during the holidays, at Long- 
 lands. 
 
 Dee. 20fh> 
 
 O'Donnel had scarcely run his eye 
 o-ver these notes and card, when he 
 wrote and dispatched the following 
 bjller. 
 
 To the Laclif Viscountess Singleton. 
 
 Dear Madam, 
 J beg earnestly to know whether I
 
 O'DOKKCL. 151 
 
 m concerned in the "secret" alluded 
 to by the Countess of Llanberis; en- 
 treating your Ladyship to suspend your 
 judgment on the seeming impertinence 
 of a curiosity, whrch is, however, jus- 
 tified by the feeling, out of which it 
 arises. 
 
 I am, dear Madam, 
 
 Your Ladyship's most obliged, 
 
 and obedient servant, 
 
 O'DONKSI.* 
 London, Dec. 20th. 
 
 In return to this note, he received t 
 little twisted paper, containing the fol- 
 lowing answer. 
 
 Mais quelfe bevue f to send you 
 Lady L's letter. The fact is, I scarce- 
 ly read it ; but you ought not to have 
 seen it. 1 entreat that you will not no- 
 tice the secret, when you see the Coun- 
 tess. She will take her own time for 
 H 4
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 explaining herself to you; suffice it to 
 say, she did not ask you from Ireland 
 for NOTHING. She has views in your 
 favour, which but I cannot tell you 
 more without telling all. Only think 
 of Mr. Henshaw forgetting the ring, 
 and no one minding it till the ceremony 
 was half over I Lady Llanberis will ex- 
 pect you withont delay: pray don't 
 disappoint her. She has the best heart 
 in the world ; but she is not used to 
 disappointments. 
 
 Adieu, dear Sir. 
 
 C. S. 
 
 These notes fully justified O'Don- 
 nel's suspicion. It was this " best 
 heart in the world," to which he was 
 known only by his misfortunes, that 
 he stood so largely indebted; and with 
 something of the reluctance with which 
 pride owns itself indebted^ and with 
 something of the eagerness with which
 
 O DONNEL. 
 
 self-love longs to behold the person 
 who has done the honours by its feel- 
 ings, he resolved to set off the next 
 day for Longlands. When there, he 
 determined to abide by Lady Single- 
 ton's advice, and suffer the generous 
 delicacy of his unknown benefactress 
 to take its own time for explanation- 
 He thought it natural she should wish 
 to know the object of her beneficence, 
 and felt uncomfortable at the difficulty, 
 which must arise in rejecting a gift, 
 bestowed with such confidence in its 
 acceptance. There was one term, 
 however, he did not like in Lady 
 Llanberis's note: it was the term, 
 * our hero" He had all the suscepti- 
 bility to ridicule which men feel who 
 have lived in the great world, and 
 know its influence. What exaggerat- 
 ed descriptions could Lady Singleton 
 have made in his character, to obtain 
 him what was in his own opinion so 
 u 5
 
 I O DONNEL. 
 
 ridiculous a sobriquet. He trembled, 
 lest, when forced upon the irksome-^ 
 ness of speaking of himself, he had let 
 fall some idle word, out of which the 
 busy fancy of his auditress had woven a 
 tale of wonder. Conjecture, however, 
 was idle. " Time and the hour" would 
 unravel all. Having first, therefore, 
 expended more upon the equipment 
 of Me. Rory, than his circumstances 
 could afford, and committed Bran to* 
 the care of his landlord (who con- 
 sented to take him en pension till his 
 master's return), O'Donnel and his 
 servant set off in a hack chaise for 
 Longlands. 
 
 This magnificent villa was but fifteen 
 miles from London. Although every 
 object was involved in one hue, by a 
 deep snow which had fallen on the 
 preceding night, still it appeared an 
 highly ornamented spot. It was near 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, when
 
 O DOJTNEL. \5S 
 
 he arrived ; and he was evidently not 
 the first guest, for his humble chaise 
 was for some time prevented from 
 drawing up to the door, till a carriage, 
 which had arrived a few minutes be- 
 fore, was unloaded.
 
 156 O'DONNEL, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHEN the carriage, which had pre- 
 ceded O'Donnel's, had driven from 
 under the porte-cocher, the folding 
 doors were shut; for the porter sup- 
 posed that the hack chaise, which fol- 
 lowed, contained some of the servants, 
 and would drive to the offices. Though 
 several servants appeared at the win- 
 dows of the anti-rooms on either side 
 the hall, yet the porter, when apprized 
 of his mistake, had rung his bell re- 
 peatedly, before any footman or groom 
 of the chambers appeared to receive a 
 guest, who approached in so humble a 
 vehicle. 
 
 The appearance of Me. Rory, who 
 was the first to leave the chaise, and 
 who stood gazing with astonishment at
 
 O'DQNNEL. 157 
 
 the splendour of the hall, was not much 
 calculated to do away the impression, 
 which the shabbinessof their equipage 
 had made. With the little sum which 
 O'Donnel had spared him, he had pur- 
 chased a tawdry livery of some long- 
 past sheriffalty, which was so much 
 too small for its gigantic wearer, as to 
 suspend his arms at a considerable dis- 
 tance from his sides. 
 
 O'Donnel had not perceived the 
 outre appearance of his man, until he 
 had taken off his great coat in the hall ; 
 but mortifying as it was, the circum- 
 stance was then irremediable. 
 
 Me. Rory's strange figure instantly 
 excited a titter amongst the servants, 
 which the distinguished air and ap- 
 pearance of his master as instantly sup- 
 pressed. O'Donnel gave in his name, 
 which Me. Rory (though previously 
 instructed) had forgotten to do; and 
 leaving his servant in the hands of the 
 footman, was ushered by a groom of
 
 153 O'DONNEL. 
 
 the chambers through a suite of roorm 
 to the saloon, which terminated the 
 range. It was a room of great dimen- 
 sions and magnificence. The servant 
 announced him in a low voice, and 
 O'Donnel walked to the head of the 
 apartment, which he perceived was 
 already occupied.' 
 
 On two loungers, at either side of 
 one of the fire-places, sat, or rather re- 
 clined, two gentlemen, evidently but 
 just arrived. The one with his hand 
 in his waistcoat pocket, and his eyes 
 half-closed, leaned back upon a pile 
 of cushions; the other, a little more 
 upright in his posture, though not less 
 torpid in his air, sat in motionless con- 
 templation of the seal of his own 
 watch To O'Donnel's slight bow, 
 they returned an almost imperceptible 
 inclination of the head; and though 
 he remained standing for nearly ten 
 minutes at the fire, they neither moved 
 nor spoke.
 
 O'DONNEL. 159 
 
 O'Donnel, to relieve the awkward- 
 ness of his situation, then walked to 
 another fire-place, and taking down a 
 volume of Voltaire's plays, which lay 
 upon the chimney-piece, soon lost 
 sight of his silent and unsocial compa- 
 nions, in the sufferings of " Merope." 
 
 A silent quarter of an hour had thus 
 elapsed, when the gentleman of the 
 seal, addressing the other in a low 
 voice, said : 
 
 " Charles, did you observe any thing 
 near the third mile-stone ?" 
 
 " A man hanging from a tree ?" asked 
 Charles, in the same tone and key. 
 
 The interrogator nodded assent, and 
 Charles nodded an affirmative. Ano- 
 ther ten minutes of silence ensued; 
 and it is impossible to say how much 
 longer it might have lasted, but for 
 the interruption of sounds of distant 
 laughter, which, though they made 
 O'Donnel start and turn round, effect-
 
 160 O'DONNKL. 
 
 ed no change of position in either of 
 the silent gentlemen. 
 
 A scarlet curtain was now suddenly 
 drawn aside by a little page in a fan- 
 tastic dress, who came from behind it, 
 and held back a glass door, which dis- 
 closed a beautiful conservatory, " re- 
 dolent of spring," amidst the snows of 
 December. Along this conservatory 
 glided a group on the very tiptoe of 
 high spirits, preceded by one who ap- 
 peared to be the leader of the party in 
 the most literal sense of the word. It 
 was a woman, who seemed to have just 
 touched on that period of life, ou I'on 
 nest plus jolie, mais ou fon est encore 
 belle. Her figure was distinguished, 
 her air decided ; and there was in her 
 countenance and laugh (for she was 
 still laughing when she entered the 
 saloon) an exuberance of spirits, be- 
 yond what habitual cheerfulness, or 
 even casual gaiety, bestows.
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 Without observing O'Donnel, who 
 stood parallel with the door of the 
 conservatory, she advanced to the gen- 
 tlemen at the head of the room, and 
 giving her hand to the knight of the 
 seal, who but half rose to meet her, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Good Heavens, Duke ! who would 
 have thought of finding you here? Why 
 this is really too good ! I did not expect 
 you these ten days. Lord Charles^ 
 you never wiote me a syllable of this." 
 As she spoke, she put her hand into 
 that of the other silent gentleman, with 
 a little air of intelligence, which spoke 
 much more than her address to him 
 conveyed. 
 
 " I thought," she continued, " you 
 could not possibly get off that Lady 
 Loton's invitation, and her plays, and 
 all the rest of her set-out.*' 
 
 " It was not easy/' said Lord 
 Charles ; " but my brother at last de-
 
 O'DOXXEL, 
 
 cided upon not going to her, and earner 
 to you by preference." 
 
 * This is all de mieux en mieux" 
 said Lady Llanberis (for she it was), 
 with the most lively satisfaction in her 
 countenance. " People imagine it is 
 easy to get good society in their villas; 
 it happens to be just the contrary, espe- 
 cially good men; and this, perhaps, 
 Lady Loton will find, notwithstanding' 
 her French plays but, oh ! I wish 
 you had come a little sooner : we have 
 been really quite amuaed this morn- 
 ing." While her Ladyship went on, 
 the rest of the party, who knew the 
 Duke and Lord Charles, made their 
 bows and nods ; and those who did not 
 know them, grouped round the fire. 
 " We are just returned from \\\? ferine 
 ornee," she continued, " where we 
 had quite a scena between my Scotch 
 steward and Mr. Dexter. You must 
 know Mr. Dexter, Duke; he has ask-
 
 O'DONNEL. 163 
 
 ed me far a letter of introduction to 
 your Grace, which I mean to give 
 him. You will like him' most amaz- 
 ingly, I promise you : he was intro- 
 duced to me by Lady Singleton. He 
 is passionately fond of agricultural 
 pursuits, and brought me a letter from 
 her to permit him to visit my ferme 
 ornee : well, he wanted to try a mode 
 of fattening turkeys here, which h 
 has effected with great success at the 
 late Mr. Glentworth's place in Ireland; 
 and which is by cramming them with 
 pebbles. We all went with him to be 
 present at the experiment, and out of 
 two turkeys, only one was choaked. 
 But so bored a person as poor Me. Far- 
 lane ! he stood by, absolutely writhing 
 in agony for the fate of his turkeys, tilt 
 unable any longer to suppress his emo-. 
 tion, he burst out in such a tirade of 
 Scotch invective ! oh ! he is worth any 
 thing! his accent alone is worth his
 
 164 O'DONNEL. 
 
 wages; nothing can be more ridicu- 
 lously entertaining. I shall certainly 
 raise his salary next year, and then* 
 Mr. Dexter by the bye, Miss Car- 
 lisle, what has become of Mr. Dex- 
 ter?" 
 
 " Why, don't you remember," re- 
 plied the young lady, laughing, " that 
 you sent him for some sort of patent 
 cork, he recommended for shuttle- 
 cocks : he will be frozen to death, poor 
 man, on the top of that horrible stage, 
 Lady Llanberis." 
 
 " Poor man ! so he will/' returned 
 Lady Llanberis : " but it was his own 
 fault; he was in such a hurry to de- 
 liver his letter of introduction to Lord 
 N. which I gave him ; for he wants 
 something in the Treasury, I don't 
 know what ; and when the Treasury 
 is in question, Lord N. is the person 
 beyond every one. but, good hea- 
 vens!" exclaimed her Ladyship, in a
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 tone of amazement, to Lord Charles : 
 " who is that very magnificent looking 
 person, at the lower fire-place ?" 
 
 " Don't know at all," replied Lord 
 Charles, coldly. 
 
 " Not know ! Was he here before 
 you ?" 
 
 " I rather think not/' 
 
 ' And was he not announced ; and 
 did not you hear his name ?" 
 
 " Not exactly. I believe it was a 
 Major something, or a Colonel some- 
 body Major O'Flaherty, perhaps ; for 
 it was an O, and sounded Irish." 
 
 " O'Donnel ?" said her Ladyship, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Possibly," replied his Lordship, 
 languidly, and sunk again on his 
 cushions ; while Lady Llanberis bound- 
 ed forward to welcome her unknown 
 guest. With equal ease, though not 
 equal eagerness, Colonel O'Donnel 
 advanced to meet her Ladyship. 
 
 " I am afraid/' he said, with a smile,
 
 166 O'DONNEL. 
 
 *' that I am reduced to the awkward 
 necessity of announcing myself to the 
 Countess of Llanberis." 
 
 *' No, no," she interrupted: " there 
 is no necessity. You are," she added, 
 throwing her eyes rapidly over him, 
 " you are not to be mistaken, Colonel 
 O'Donnel." 
 
 O'Donnel bowed, and her Ladyship 
 seating herself on a sofa near the fire- 
 place where he stood, motioned to him 
 to take a seat beside her, and began a 
 conversation with him with all the ease 
 of familiar acquaintance. The group 
 at the other fire-place raised their eye- 
 glasses, directed their glances to the 
 stranger, and, after a few vague en- 
 quiries of " who is he?" " does any 
 one know him ?" they turned away 
 their eyes, and resumed the topics of 
 conversation, which their curiosity 
 about the stranger had for a moment 
 interrupted. 
 
 Meantime, Lady Llanberis had run
 
 O'DONNEL. 167 
 
 over a variety of subjects with astonish- 
 ing rapidity, which Colonel O'Donnel 
 endeavoured to follow, without being 
 able to join ; she asked several ques- 
 tions about his romantic retreat in Ire- 
 land; talked of Milesian chiefs and 
 heroes ; of the Emperor of Germany 
 and the late Queen of France ; of Irish 
 mountains and foreign courts ; of Vol- 
 taire's little theatre at Jferney, and the 
 wonderful bridge of Carrick-a-rede ; 
 of her obligations to Lady Singleton 
 for presenting so desirable an acquisi- 
 tion to her circle of friends, and of his 
 kindness in so readily accepting her 
 invitation. She then, failing to pre- 
 vail on him to take some refreshment 
 in the adjoining coffee-room, proposed 
 that they should walk on the terrace, 
 which skirted the back of the house, 
 from whence the view at suti-set was 
 splendidly fine ; and rung for her page 
 to bring her snow shoes. 
 
 " 1 know/' she continued, " you
 
 168 O'DONNEL. 
 
 are a worshipper of the picturesque :- I 
 hear there is nothing so beautiful as 
 your descriptions; and I expect, after 
 having seen Longlands with you, that 
 I shall have a much better opinion of 
 it; for, I am told, you give interest 
 to the most trifling object by your 
 mode of detailing it; but, as Lady- 
 Si ngleton says, that is a gift from 
 Heaven. I really long, Colonel O'Don- 
 nel, to hear some of your beautiful 
 Irish stories. I love stories beyond 
 every thing, and I hear you are a 
 raconteur of the very first order." To 
 all this, her guest had only an oppor- 
 tunity to bow or smile, yet, pleased 
 with an empressement so flatteringly in 
 his favour, struck by the seeming fresh- 
 ness of a character, which seemed but 
 too romantic for the circumstances of 
 its owner, he forgave the incoherence, 
 the whim, and idle curiosity, which 
 accompanied them. While her Ladj 7 - 
 ship was still talking, in expectation of
 
 O'DONNEL. 169 
 
 the snow shoes, a gentleman advanced 
 from the group at the further end of 
 the room, and in passing her, threw a 
 Jine, rather than a gentlemanlike figure, 
 into the most extraordinary pantomi- 
 mic contortions. 
 
 Lady Llanberis burst into an immo- 
 derate fit of laughing : " Go, Mon Arle- 
 quin" she cried : " you are too ridicu- 
 lous/' Mon Arlequin now twisted 
 his head upon his shoulders, with a ce- 
 lerity of rotation not inferior to that of 
 Grimaldi himself; and, affecting to 
 make a vaulting leap, jumped through 
 the door, and disappeared. Lady Llan- 
 beris observed, still laughing: " I sup- 
 pose you know who that is, Colonel 
 O'Donnel?" 
 
 "No, indeed, Madam/' saidO'Don- 
 nel, unable also to repress a laugh : 
 " I have not that pleasure." 
 
 " Indeed ! I thought every body 
 knew him; why that is the celebrated 
 green parrot.'* 
 
 TOL. II. I
 
 170 O'DONNEL. 
 
 O'Dormel opened his eyes. 
 
 "Yes," continued her Ladyship, 
 seriously : " that is the famous Mr. 
 Frederick Carlisle, who made the for- 
 tune of my masquerade, and of his 
 own reputation, last winter, in the 
 character of a green parrot. Nobody 
 had ever heard of the Carlisles: they 
 were complete mauvaise ton, or rather 
 no ton at all ; till Lady Singleton, who 
 picks up all sorts of odd people, met 
 them at a Lady Mayoress's assembly, 
 where the two Mr. and three Miss 
 Carlisles made the whole frais of the 
 night. The Mr. Carlisles did a num- 
 ber of comical tricks, and danced a 
 pas de deux upon stilts, and Miss Car- 
 lisle turned a wax candle into a city 
 procession, making such astonish- 
 ing likenesses of the Mayor and She- 
 riffs in a few minutes, that models 
 were taken from them the next day, I 
 am told, by Bacon. Then, the other 
 Misses waltzed and sung glees with
 
 0*DONNEL. 
 
 their brother; and, in short, there was 
 nothing so good, as Lady Singleton 
 told me ; so I had them all at my mas- 
 querade ; the girls played, sung, and 
 danced, as Savoyards; Mr. Carlisle 
 went first as an Hessian boot ; and then 
 imitated a knife-grinder's wheel, till 
 all the tedh in the room were on an 
 edge ; but Mr. Frederick Carlisle com- 
 pletely carried the night. Since that, 
 the whole family are quito recherche; 
 they make every thing go off well; 
 and if they refused to come to me, I 
 should certainly shut up my house. 
 There is a tiresc-me old mother, who 
 always insists upon being asked with 
 them, and that is a bore; but it is al- 
 ways the case, whenever you pick up 
 Bg-e/s, or something amazingly amus- 
 ing, you are sure to have the clog of a 
 vulgar father, or'a quizzical mother, or 
 something of that sort ; but the fact is, 
 every thing has its price, and if one 
 I 2
 
 172 O'DONNEL. 
 
 must be amused, one must/pay for it, 
 that's all." 
 
 As her Ladyship concluded this 
 speech, a tall, pale, shadowy looking 
 young man, with his mouth and eyea 
 puckered into a look of thoughtfulness, 
 and a pair of black-rimmed spectacles 
 raised above his eye-brows, entered the 
 room, and laid at Lady Llanberis's feet a 
 large book, bound in green velvet, ap- 
 plying to the act, the worn-out French 
 anecdote of the court wit to his queen : 
 " JL'uni-vers est a vos pieds."* 
 
 " Is that your own, Mr. Mussen?' 
 asked her Ladyship: " it is very pretty. 
 Well, have you written quantities of 
 pretty things in my album?" turning 
 over the leaves carelessly. 
 
 " No, Madam," he replied, with 
 an air of pedantry : " Queen Mab hath 
 
 * A bad French pun the queen was sitting 
 the edge of a bozvlingr green ; uni.verd.
 
 0*DONNEt. 173 
 
 not been with me ; the muses have turn- 
 ed jilts; Pegasus become restive; and 
 the waters of Helicon muddy as a 
 London fountain." 
 
 " O, by the bye, Mr. Mussen," said 
 her Ladyship, yawning: " do repeat 
 your impromptu on Frederick Carlisle, 
 for Colonel O'Donnel. r Colonel, I 
 beg to present Mr. Mussen to you." 
 The gentlemen bowed. 
 
 " Pray excuse me, Lady Llanberis. 
 I never could repeat from memory any 
 thing 1 either said or wrote ; besides, 
 it was severe, and I wish the thing to 
 be forgotten." 
 
 '* Not at all," said Lady Llanberis> 
 yawning again with an increasing lan- 
 guor, as if she had exhausted her vita- 
 lity: " you know he likes to be talk* 
 ed of, well or ill. I have been just 
 telling Colonel O'Donnel, what an 
 amazingly clever person he is. Don't 
 vou think so, Mr. Mussen ?" 
 
 p 
 
 " Why, Mr. Frederick Carlisle has 
 13
 
 J?4 O'DOMS-EL. 
 
 his talent, Madam," replied Mr. Mas- 
 sen : "he has what GALL names the 
 Organ of Pantomime in great per- 
 fection." 
 
 " Organ of Pantomime I" repeated 
 Lady LI.au.ber is, reviving by the force 
 of her own laugh : " oh, how good ! 
 I must read Gall ; you must write to 
 town for me for Gall, Mr. Mussen; 
 you must indeed ; is he a poet ?" 
 
 " On the contrary, Madam, he is a 
 German physiologist. I believe his 
 system is the most ingenious thing in 
 the world, and I think we have now 
 pretty substantial grounds for believing 
 that there is an organ in the brain, for 
 every affection of the mind, for every 
 act of volition, from the whipping of 
 a top to the writing of epic." 
 
 u I must have that book by return 
 of post, Mr. Mussen,; 1 must, indeed. 
 Sit down immediately and write for a 
 set; nay, you may as well write for 
 two or three sets, one for each
 
 175 
 
 rooms those are just the kind of 
 books one should have lying about, 
 they are so very amusing. 5 * 
 
 " I will obey your Ladyship this 
 mctment," returned Mr k Mussen ; " but 
 I must first give this little volume of 
 Rousseau to Lady Mary Savill, which 
 sh&beg-ged me to bring her." 
 
 " Well, there she is at the other fire- 
 place," said Lady Llanberis ; and as he 
 moved avvuy, she observed : " That is 
 an amazingly tiresome young man. At 
 first I thought him amusing enough, 
 but he hangs so on hands after a little. 
 He is a portegee of Lady Mary Savili's, 
 who is at the head of all the bas-bleus 
 in town. There, that is Lady Mary, 
 that lady netting, who looks so triste, 
 but who has no reason in the world for 
 it, only that she likes a little misery. 
 The Dowager Duchess of JBelmont, a 
 great friend of mine, and out and out 
 the most brilliant person I ever knew, 
 says Lady Mary always puts her in 
 I 4
 
 176 O DONNEL. 
 
 mind of the French actress, Du-meS- 
 nil's speech: 'Ah! c'etoit des beaux 
 jours ; J'etois bien malheureuse alors.' 
 However, Lady Mary is a very clever 
 person, and nearly connected with the 
 present Duke of Belmont, whom I be- 
 lieve you found here on your arrival, 
 with his brother, Lord Charles Savill ; 
 and, as I happen to live particularly 
 with that family, she is often with me : 
 but come, I'll present you to them 
 all." 
 
 Lady Llanberis then arose and led 
 the way, accompanied by her new 
 guest, and followed by the dwarf page 
 and the snow shoes. 
 
 Colonel O'Donnel was now intro- 
 duced in form to the Duke of Belmont 
 and Lord Charles SaviJl, General and 
 Lady Mary Savill, Mrs. Carlisle, her 
 eldest son, and three daughters, a Sir 
 Gilbert Curzon, and a Mr Augustine 
 Wharton: the latter gentleman was so 
 -like, and yet so unlike. Lord Charles
 
 O'DONNEL. 177 
 
 Savill, that it was quite a puzzle to 
 discover where the similitude or the 
 dissimilitude existed. He was younger 
 by some years, and yet he had his 
 Lordship's air of languid gravity and 
 cold reserve ; he was lower by a foot, 
 and yet he had his Lordship's dignified 
 elevation of carriage ; while his dress, 
 even to the fold of his cravat, was a 
 JaC'Simile of Lord Charles's. He was, 
 however, no relation to the House of 
 Savill: he was merely Lord Charles's 
 double t whom he considered as the 
 mirror of fashion, the standard of bon 
 ton, 
 
 " The glass, indeed, in which each noble youth 
 Should dress himself." 
 
 As soon as Lord Charles left the 
 room, which he did almost immedi- 
 ately on being presented to O'Donnel, 
 this "shadow of a shade" arose also 
 from his pile of cushions, and with the
 
 178 O'DOKNEE. 
 
 self-same step and stride, followed his' 
 prototype. After the bow of introduc- 
 tion was over, the group fell into their 
 previous positions. Old Mrs. Carlisle 
 was trying to keep the Duke awake, 
 by an enumeration of her daughters' 
 accomplishments, and the pains she 
 had taken with their education. Lady 
 Mary sat netting a purse in hair,, 
 while Mr, Miissen read to her in a low 
 murmur the Pygmalion of Rousseaiu 
 She threw her eye, however, occasion,, 
 ally on the General, who sat flirting with 
 the eldest Miss Carlisle, who, as well 
 as ber sisters, was giving the attention 
 of her eyes to Colonel O ; 'Donnel: and 
 
 * y> 
 
 Sir Gilbert Curzon was playing tetotnm 
 by himself, at a spider table, and "win- 
 ning every game with an exclamation 
 of triumph of" Well done, egad! A> 
 for all" every turn. 
 
 Lady Llanberis, who was beginning 
 to yawn,, suddenly roused on perceiv.-
 
 O'DONNEL. 179 
 
 ing the book which Colonel O'Donhei 
 had inadvertently carried with him 
 from the other chimney-piece. 
 
 " What have you gotten there?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " I have just opened the Merope" 
 he replied. 
 
 " Voltaire'sM<eroj0e/"said Lady Llan- 
 beris, with the most pleasurable surprize 
 marked in her countenance. " You 
 admire then Voltaire's tragedies ?" 
 
 "Some, of them: at least, I infi- 
 nitely prefer him as a dramatist to any 
 other French writer, as being less cold, 
 less declamatory, and*-^" 
 
 " You do," interrupted Lady Llan- 
 beris, smiling: " how very extraordi- 
 nary!*' 
 
 " I am afraid then," said O'Donnel, 
 tf my preference is not sanctioned by 
 your Ladyship's opinion." 
 
 "On the contrary; 1 quite idolize 
 the tragedies of Voltaire ; there is no- 
 thing like them. Now pray, Colonel
 
 ISO O'DONNEL. 
 
 O'Donnel, tell me which of his pieces 
 you prefer. 
 
 " It is so long since I looked over 
 any of them, Madam, that I am at a loss 
 how to offer an opinion ; but as well 
 as I recollect, I preferred Mahomet 
 for its strength, and Merope for its 
 situntions: but by far the finest acting 
 play of all is, what the French called 
 la Tragedie Chretienne, Zaire" 
 
 " Zaire!" repeated Lady Llanberis, 
 in a tone of extacy ; " you really pre- 
 fer Zaire ? Good heavens, how extra- 
 ordinary!'* 
 
 All her Ladyship's first brilliant flow 
 of spirits now returned. 
 
 " Colonel, get me a chair, and an- 
 other for yourself and let us talk over 
 this subject. How very odd !" 
 
 O'Donnel obeyed, wondering in 
 what the oddity of his opinion consist- 
 ed, which evidently had her approba- 
 tion ; yet extremely reluctant to renew 
 a conversation which he conceived
 
 O'DONNEL. 181 
 
 would lead to the common places of 
 verbal criticism, upon works and sub- 
 jects long worn out, * which he consi- 
 dered as the very worst taste, and fit 
 only for the insipid discussions of blue 
 stocking ladies and literary young 
 gentlemen. 
 
 " So," said Lady Lianberis, seating 
 herself, and drawing the chair she in- 
 tended for O'Donnel close to her own, 
 and towards the fire-guard " so you 
 prefer Zaire, Colonel O'Donnel." 
 
 fi Not perhaps critically/' said 
 O'Donnel, " but sentimentally, or 
 rather by association. Many years are 
 gone by since I saw it acted at Paris. 
 I was then at an age to be pleased with 
 every thing, and most of all with such 
 high wrought struggles between feel- 
 ing and principle, love and religion, as 
 are exhibited in the tender character of 
 Zaire, i was enchanted with the over- 
 strained sentiment of 
 " Je me Qroirois hai d'etre airne foiblementj"
 
 182 O'DONNEL. 
 
 and looked down upon every thing less 
 energetic than 
 
 " Je vcux avec EXCES vous aimer et vous plaire." 
 
 " A note for your Ladyship, )y inter- 
 rupted a groom of the chambers. 
 
 " Go on, Colonel O'Donnel," said 
 Lady Lianberis, taking the note off 
 the salver, and twisting it in her fingers, 
 while her countenance, lighted up by 
 the most brilliant animation, exhibited 
 the varied expressions of amazement, 
 triumph, and satisfaction. 
 
 " No, Madam," aid O'Donnel, 
 laughing. tf I believe I have just 
 stopped where I ought. 5 ' 
 
 " On the contrary, you have no 
 idea how interesting, how peculiarly 
 delightful " 
 
 The page now advanced and said : 
 
 " Your Ladyship's snow shoes/' 
 
 " Snow shees!" she replied angrily. 
 " I don't want snow shoes, I am frozen ; 
 take them away and bring the fur
 
 O'DONNEL. 185 
 
 basket. So, Colonel, La tend re Zaire 
 is your favourite, and le grand Oros- 
 
 mane " 
 
 " The footman waits for your Lady- 
 ship's answer to the note," said the 
 man. 
 
 " What footman ? Whose note ?" 
 said Lady Llanberis. *' There never 
 were such tiresome servants! I have 
 no note." 
 
 " Dear/' said Miss Carlisle; " you 
 have torn it to pieces, Lady Llanberis." 
 " Well then, why will people send 
 their notes so tnal apropos." 
 " Who is it from, Saundcrs ?" 
 " from the Lodge, my Lady ; from 
 Mrs. St. Leger." 
 
 " Oh, I thought so," said LadyLlan- 
 beris; " that woman has such a rage 
 for note writing. Well, say I am busy, 
 I am engaged. I'll send an answer; 
 there, go." 
 
 The servant retired. 
 
 " 1 thought," said Lady Mary, who
 
 184 O'DONNEL. 
 
 had advanced upon hearing the last 
 quotation from Voltaire: " I thought 
 Mrs. St. Leger was a great favourite ; 
 you talked of nothing else last winter." 
 
 " Yes, last winter, Lady Mary; but 
 one cannot really go on admiring and 
 talking of the same person, winter after 
 winter; besides, all that sort of thing 
 depends upon the set you live in. In 
 the winter, and in the country, Mrs. 
 Leger was all very well, but when I 
 returned to town in the spring, it was 
 quite another thing. It is impossible 
 to get at any one in London. You 
 know my affection for my aunt Sel- 
 bourne ; it amounts to a positive pas- 
 sion ; yet though we live within two 
 streets, I never could contrive to see 
 her during the whole of last season. 
 She lives among a description of per- 
 sons, with whom it is impossible to 
 get on." 
 
 " I know very little of Mrs. St. 
 Leger," said Lady Mary, " but I think
 
 O'JDQ.VNEL. 18-5 
 
 -her interesting. She is very unhappy/' 
 added Lady Mary with a sigh, " in her 
 married life, and this vein of sadness 
 runs through all her tales: there is an 
 exquisite pathos in all she writes: do 
 you not think so, Mr. Mussen ?'" 
 
 Mr. Mussen, who never spoke but 
 " in quaint and courtly phrase," and 
 who, though but a blockhead by nature, 
 was a coxcomb and a pedant by assum- 
 tion, was marshalling his critical forces 
 for an answer, when Lady Llanberis 
 exclaimed in her usual quick way : 
 
 " I think her still a very charming 
 writer, Lady Mary, if you mean that ; 
 and I have indeed a very high opinion 
 of her taste and discrimination. Last 
 winter, when I was so low, at the time 
 of your sister-in-law's death, Duke, 
 poor Lady Charles, t was going to give 
 up the world, and { entrusted Mrs. St. 
 Leger to make out a list of particular 
 friends for me, with whom I meant to 
 live exclusively * 1 left it all to her ; but
 
 IS6 o'DONNELr 
 
 you know I did return to the world* 
 and the list went for nothing. However, 
 I'll ask her here. Lady Mary, if you 
 like; she only lives at the end of the 
 park. Stay, my page shall write to 
 her." 
 
 She beckoned to the page, a French 
 lad of the most diminitive size, with a 
 face, in spite of ugliness, full of intel- 
 ligence. He was now holding the fur 
 basket, as he before held the snow shoes- 
 
 " Mon nain," said her Ladyship* 
 tf va-t-en m'ecrire le plus joli billet du 
 monde a Mad. St. Leger, et pries la 
 de nous dormer sa societe." 
 
 The dwarf, with a familiar grin, flew 
 to obey her orders, and to write " le 
 plus jcdi billet du monde," upon any 
 subject it pleased Heaven. 
 
 " Oh, stay, mon uain, don't trouble 
 yourself. Lady Mary, we will walk to 
 her cottage some day and ask her. 
 She likes people of fashion to visit her 
 cottage. There, Florio, you may go.
 
 O'DONNEL. 187 
 
 Did you ever see such a little monster" 
 she continued, looking after him with 
 a smile of admiration: " he is such a 
 treasure. I have been teized to death 
 with pages : they would all grow so tali, 
 and just as one has broken them m." 
 
 " I think, however," said the Ge- 
 neral, " your La'ship has nothing to 
 tear from the aspiring views of that 
 young gentleman, nor Mrs. St. Leger 
 from the charms of her correspon- 
 dent." 
 
 " Is Mrs. St. Leger," asked the 
 Duke, gradually rousing from his 
 stupor by the excitement of reiterated 
 pinches of snuff 4 ' is Mrs. St. Leger 
 the woman that writes the books ?" 
 
 ""Yes," said Lady Mary: "your 
 Grace must have read her Tales of 
 Sorrow, her Tears of Sensibility^ and 
 Luxury of Woe?' 
 
 " No," replied his Grace r " I make 
 it a rule never to read any thing which 
 can affect me.. I dare say she is a very
 
 188 O'DONNEL. 
 
 larmoyante personage. Lady Llanberis, 
 an'tshe?" 
 
 " On the contrary, she is extremely 
 amusing, and tells very good stories. I 
 think you will like her of all things, 
 Duke/' 
 
 f Does she tell as good stories as the 
 Duchess?" asked Mr. Carlisle. 
 
 " Good heavens ! no ; there is no- 
 thing, there never was nor could be any 
 thing like the Duchess." 
 
 " Of course you mean THE Duchess 
 par excellence? 3 said the General ; " the 
 Duchess Dowager of Belmont." 
 Lady Mary and Mr. Mussen sneered. 
 " To be sure," said Lady Llanberis, 
 ' there iv no such creature. I intended 
 to surprize you all, but truth must out: 
 she comes here to-day." 
 
 A pretty general exclamation of 
 pleasure followed this intelligence. 
 Mr. Carlisle spoke of her in raptures, 
 and his sister said she was a talented 
 creature. Lady Mary and her tall thin
 
 O'DONNEL, 189 
 
 sentimental looking friend were silent, 
 and exchanged looks. 
 
 " I wonder she is not arrived," said 
 Lady Llanbens impatiently : " pray, 
 General, step into the anti-room, and 
 send one of the grooms of the cham- 
 bers to the porter, to know if any of 
 her people are come.'* 
 
 At that moment a servant entered, 
 and uttered something in a low voice 
 to Lady Llanberis, who returned : 
 
 " Oh, very well : I'll go directly.'* 
 She then in a half whisper said to the 
 Duke; u Lord Charles is in my dress- 
 ing-room ; will you join us ?" 
 
 The Duke nodded his head. Lady 
 Llanberis then left the room, and the 
 circle broke up. 
 
 O'Donnel, happy to be released, and 
 more fatigued than amused by all that 
 had passed, retired to the apartment 
 prepared for him, under the guidance 
 of one of the servants ; and then throw- 
 ing himself into a chaiM-longue, he
 
 190 O'DOXXEL. 
 
 endeavoured to form some opinion of 
 Lady Llanberis's character, from the 
 little he had seen of her. He well 
 knew that it was the natural tendency 
 of power, in whatever form it came, to 
 swell the human heart ; but its effects 
 in her seemed only to have unbridled 
 the jmagination. It was difficult to 
 form an estimate of her character on 
 so short an acquaintance, but she ap- 
 peared to him to be a person possessing 
 great natural vivacity; feelingquickly, 
 acting promptly, and deciding inconsi- 
 derately. Her approbation of such a 
 character as Mr. Dexter, and other 
 little instances of false judgment and 
 idle whim, he considered as vices 
 common to her class, when undis- 
 tinguished by natural superiority of 
 character or education ; they were 
 rather generic than individual, and 
 were by no means incompatiMe with 
 that generous prodigality which had 
 lavished its bounty on a stranger at the
 
 O'DONNEL. 191 
 
 mere representation of another. Her 
 enthusiasm about Voltaire he did not 
 at all understand, neither did he enter 
 into her regret for the loss of Lady 
 Charles Savill, when by Lord Charles's 
 summons to her dressing-room,, he ap- 
 peared to be her favoured lover: but 
 least of all did he understand her in- 
 viting himself, at a distance of six hun- 
 dred miles, to her house, after having 
 already done so much in his favour. 
 What further benefit did this warm- 
 hearted and prodigal woman mean to 
 confer upon one, who had no claims 
 upon the generous interest which she 
 took in his fate? If she had interest 
 to restore him to his rank in the En- 
 glish service, it would be romantic 
 folly, little short of madness, to decline 
 it; but her money, her pecuniary be- 
 nefaction on that subject he had no 
 second opinion, and he resolved on 
 carrying her letter and its contents, 
 which he had brought from London,
 
 192 O DONNEL. 
 
 always about with him, for the purpose 
 of being always ready to return it, 
 whenever the wished-for opportunity 
 should occur.
 
 O^DONNEL. 193 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Ix addition to those who already 
 had made their appearance in the sa- 
 loon, a few strangers took their place 
 at the dinner-table, at which conversa- 
 tion circulated languidly, in murmurs 
 neither general nor audible, save only 
 on the part of Lady Llanberis : who 
 talked chiefly to her Maitre d'Hotel, 
 as he stood behind her chair, in terms 
 of reproof or approbation of the several 
 dishes which decked the table. The 
 Duke, who sat On her right hand, and 
 Lord Charles, who was on her left, 
 commended or disapproved, as their 
 opinions dictated. Before the second 
 course was removed, the sound of car- 
 riage wheels passing the dining-room 
 window caught Lady Llanberis's ear. 
 
 VOL. II. K
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 " It is the Duchess/' she said, drop- 
 ping her knife and fork ; and she im- 
 mediately sent one of the servants to 
 know if it was, indeed, this ardently 
 expected guest. The man returned 
 with answer, that it was the French 
 cook, going to town for the opera. 
 
 " How tiresome!'* said Lady Llan- 
 beris : " poor Le Maitre's passion for 
 the opera amounts absolutely to folly. 
 Do you know, he might have had 
 double the wages he gets from me, if 
 he would have engaged with the Irish 
 Lord-Lieutenant; but there is no opera 
 at Dublin, and he refused. But I 
 wonder what can detain the Duchess." 
 
 " I did not know you expected this 
 new passion of your's," said Lord 
 Charles, peevishly. 
 
 " Who the Dowager? To be sure, 
 you are quite right : she is my passion, 
 I confess ; there is nobody so amusing, 
 nobody so brilliant. Is it not so, 
 Duke ?"
 
 O'DONNEL. 195 
 
 " She is very out of the way, I 
 think; very eccentric. Don't you, 
 Charles?" 
 
 " Eccentric enough," returned Lord 
 Charles, with an equivocal smile, be- 
 tween superciliousness and irony,which 
 was immediately repeated by the ser- 
 vile muscles of Mr. Wharton. 
 
 " A little too eccentric," said Lady 
 Mary, with a contemptuous laugh, 
 which was re-echoed by Mr. Mussen. 
 Every symptom of irritation now ex- 
 hibited itself on the countenance of 
 Lady Llanberis, and her delightful 
 smile was instantly overshadowed. 
 She struggled a little with her peccant 
 humour, and then "with a laugh, more 
 in anger than in gaiety, she said : 
 
 " Oh ! you are jealous of her, Lady 
 Mary ; you know you are." 
 
 "Who, I, Lady Llanberis?" said 
 Lady Mary, colouring deeply " of 
 her? of such a person as that?" 
 K 2
 
 196 O'DONNEL. 
 
 The General threw a fearful look at 
 bis wife, and affected to laugh. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, you know you are," 
 said Lady Llanberis, gaily: and now 
 quite composed by the discomposure of 
 her guest: " You know that it happens 
 to be just now the fashion to admire such 
 a person as that, and the General }l 
 
 " Lesgens, lesgens," said the Duke, 
 looking round at the servants; and 
 Lady Llanberis, with difficulty sub- 
 mitting to the prudent caution, added : 
 *' Well, I have done; but you may all 
 say as. you will: you men, at least, 
 cither are, or must be in love with her. 
 She will be a personage with you all, 
 yet, I promise you that.' 5 
 
 " Elle feat, lefitt, ou le doit etre, I 
 suppose," said O'Dormel. 
 
 " Exactly," said Lady Llanberis, 
 " Colonel O'Donnel, I'll take wine 
 with you. Saunders, go to the por- 
 ter, and enquire if any of the Duchess 
 of Belmont's people are come. By the
 
 O*DONNEL. 197 
 
 bye, Duke, I hear she has retained all 
 your uncle's old establishment." 
 
 " Very possibly/' returned the Duke. 
 *' We are not particularly interested in 
 her arrangements," said Lord Charles, 
 dryly. 
 
 The conversation was now changed 
 by Sir Gilbert's giving an account of a 
 riot at the opera, which every body 
 had read in the " Morning Post," and 
 before the servant had returned, the 
 object of his enquiry was, for the pre- 
 sent at least, forgotten. 
 
 When the ladies rose from the table, 
 the noble hostess appointed Lord 
 Charles to do the honours, and as 
 she passed O'Donnel, who stood up 
 to open the door, she said, with a 
 gracious smile : 
 
 " I shall tell the Duchess of your 
 prophetic quotation, you may depend 
 upon it." 
 
 The gentlemen sat but a short time 
 after the ladies ; and though O'Donnel 
 K 3
 
 198 O'DONNEL. 
 
 took no part in the conversation, which 
 was at once cold, feeble, and desultory, 
 he was happy to be released from a si- 
 tuation, in which, in every sense, he 
 found himself a stranger. Accustomed 
 to foreign manners, he disliked a mode 
 of society which excluded that sex 
 upon which the variety and contrast, 
 \vhich gives charms to all society de- 
 pends. With woman there is always 
 some point of sympathy to be found ; 
 but men, holding together in accidental 
 societies, chiefly by general discussions, 
 are repelled rather than attracted, by 
 the display of opinion, which, from 
 the varieties of habits, interest, and 
 education, seldom tends to agreement. 
 What, therefore, such conversations 
 gain in strength they lose in enjoy- 
 ment, even at the time when social 
 pleasure is, or ought to be, the sole ob- 
 ject of pursuit. With women, on the 
 contrary, conversation rarely dwells 
 upon abstractions; feelings the most
 
 O'DONNEL. 199 
 
 gracious naturally arise, and insensibly 
 animate the speakers, by an almost im- 
 perceptible play of the passions, impart- 
 ing to discussion a charm, rather felt, 
 perhaps, in its operation, than under- 
 stood in its cause. 
 
 O'Donnel loved in the sex that heart 
 which never lays by, that imagination 
 which never reposes, and even that 
 little vein of honest coquetry, which 
 exists more or less in all, from the de- 
 sire, almost innate in woman, of pleas- 
 ing, and being pleased. AB far as he 
 could judge, he would not have chosen 
 his friend, still less his mistress, from 
 the circle he was going to join ; but, 
 after all., they were women ; and the 
 first view of their light draperies, as he 
 entered the drawing-room, gave a cheer- 
 ing impulse to his spirits, which the 
 coldness and insipidity of the party, he 
 had left, had sunk to their lowest ebb. 
 
 Notwithstanding the little severities 
 which had passed between Lady Llan- 
 K 4
 
 200 
 
 beris and Lady Mary Savill, he found 
 them amicably seated over a chess 
 board ; Lady Mary very philosophi- 
 cally sustaining a compleat defeat ; 
 Lady Llanberis in all the wildest in- 
 toxication -of conquest. It was impos- 
 sible to conceive spirits more raised, by 
 a cause more trivial. Lady Mary re- 
 fused to play any more ; Lady Llan- 
 beris had declared she would play all 
 night, and that all amusements in lite 
 world were reduced to nothing, when 
 placed in comparison with chess. 
 
 " Come then, Colonel O'Donnel," 
 she added, on his making some obser- 
 vation on her excellent play, " you 
 shall convince me I am the best player 
 in the world ; for I dare say you are 
 the next best, and I mean to beat 
 
 you." 
 
 fc I hope your Ladyship will pardon 
 my firm resolution to disappoint you, 3 * 
 said O'Donnel, taking Lady Mary's. 
 
 seat..
 
 O'DONNEL. 501 
 
 ** I have an hereditary right to be a 
 good player: there was even a tenure 
 in my family held upon a game of 
 chess,* the moves of which are only 
 made once in a century/' 
 
 " Oh, charming ! delightful !" said 
 Lady Llanberis, arranging her men with 
 the greatest eagerness. lt I expect every 
 thing from this game. Now, do your 
 worst ; and do not act as Mr. Dexter 
 does, play like an angel, till the game 
 is nearly ended, and then let me win 
 it, one cannot tell how. Not but I 
 should infallibly beat him, at all events, 
 but one would like a little play for it/' 
 
 " Mr. Dexter, perhaps,*' saidO'Don- 
 nel, " is like Voltaire's protege, who 
 made it a point to let the philosopher 
 beat him at chess; for chess, like the 
 tooth-ache, is too much for even philo- 
 sophy itself. I mean Pere Adam> who, 
 
 * See Miss Brook's relics of Irish poetry.
 
 202 O'DONNEL. 
 
 however, was not le premier des hom- 
 ines" 
 
 " Who ? Mr. Dexter," said Lady 
 Llanberis, making her first move. 
 
 " I was speaking of Le Pere Adam/' 
 said O'Donnel drily. 
 
 The game went on now with great 
 spirit on the part of Lady Llanberis, 
 who exclaimed from time to time, 
 " There is no such game., nothing like 
 it. I shall certainly introduce chess- 
 parties, regular chess-parties., in Lon- 
 don there, check again ! you may as 
 well give over, Colonel ; you are 
 beaten, or next to it; you are, you 
 may depend on it." 
 
 O'Donnel was indeed playing with 
 great carelessness; in the first instance, 
 because he at once perceived her Lady- 
 ship's play was without plan or system, 
 and might be overtaken, whenever he 
 pleased ; in the next, because while 
 her Ladyship thought him pondering 
 over a move, his attention, for the last
 
 O'DONNEL. 203 
 
 five minutes, had been wholly ingrossed 
 by another object. 
 
 It was fixed upon a person, a lady, 
 who, unannounced and unperceived, 
 had entered by the folding-doors at the 
 extremity of the room, and gliding up 
 to the further end, was received by a 
 burst of pleasure, which marked her a 
 most desirable acquisition to the group, 
 now closely circled round her. In the 
 mere act of thus passing up the room, 
 there was nothing the manner was 
 every thing. It was that playful, steal- 
 ing motion, at once childish and dra- 
 matic ; it was the finger pressed upon 
 the lip to solicit silence, from the only 
 person in the circle whose eye observed 
 her : it was that light, noiseless step, 
 " a tatons" which became an ac- 
 complice in her attempt at surprising 
 the unwary; it was, in a word, that 
 mixture of fern "mine grace and infantine 
 playfulness, which, charming in a child,
 
 5204 O'DONNEL. 
 
 would have made the fortune of an acr- 
 tress. 
 
 Of the face of this welcome intruder 
 O'Donriel could not judge, for he had 
 but a transient view of her profile, as 
 she emerged from behind a screen at 
 the back of Lady Llanberis's chair. 
 The figure, however, was rather pic- 
 turesque than fine, and seemed to bor- 
 row itschief charm from the attitude and 
 motion into which it was thrown. A 
 travelling Polish dress announced the 
 stranger to be a fresh arrival. A sable 
 cap, held a little forward in the right 
 hand, left a head still more sable ex- 
 posed to view. 
 
 " Allons, Colonel," said Lady Llan- 
 beris, impatientforhis move, while me- 
 ditating her own. " Your hereditary 
 talent is deserting you fast. I perceive 
 we are playing this game, as if it were 
 for the tenure you mentioned/* 
 
 " May 1 beg to ask your Ladyship,' 9
 
 O'DONNEL, 205 
 
 saidO'Donnel, making a careless move, 
 " who is that Lady who has just en- 
 tered?" 
 
 " Lady ! what lady ? there ! check 
 again that? that is the Duchess mi- 
 serable, miserable ! Is that your best 
 play ? Let me see the Duchess of 
 What are you dreaming about ? the 
 Duchess of Belmont." 
 
 " The lady you have so ardently 
 expected. The veni, vidi, vici lady ?'* 
 asked O'Donnel, in a tone of astonish" 
 inent. 
 
 "Yes, the same; there... so much for 
 your Bishop/' continued Lady Llan- 
 beris, wholly occupied by her game, and 
 indifferent to all the ladies in the world. 
 
 O'Donnel, a little amused, and a 
 good deal surprized, naw gave himself 
 up to his game, took piece after piece, 
 beat his fair antagonist from right to 
 left, recovered his ground, and in spite 
 of the increasing irritability and peevish, 
 exclamations of Lady Llanberis, had
 
 206 O'DONNEL. 
 
 nearly brought the game to an issue, 
 when Miss Carlisle, running up to the 
 table, said : 
 
 "Oh! Lady L. you are loosing every 
 
 thing ; the Duchess never was in such 
 
 force; she has been overturned, got 
 
 into a public-house for shelter, and has 
 
 made such a story out of it !" 
 
 Repeated laughter at the head of the 
 room attested the veracity of this ac- 
 count; and Lady Llanberis, reduced 
 to the last extremity, with only a piece 
 and two pawns remaining, and now 
 as much annoyed as before she had 
 been elated ; out of temper, and out of 
 patience, arose from her seat : 
 
 " There/' said she, " take the game, 
 Colonel ; it is not worth holding out," 
 and a way she flew with a newly awaken- 
 ed enthusiasm, while O'Donnel cried 
 after her, laughing, "La dame prend la 
 dame;" and convinced that Mr. Dexter 
 and le bon Pere Adam were very sensi- 
 ble men, pushed away the board, threw
 
 O'DONNEL. 207 
 
 himself upon a sofa near it, and con- 
 templated the party at the further end 
 of the room. 
 
 The Duchess was carelessly seated 
 on the arm of a sofa ; Lady Llanberis 
 reclined on a tabouret at her feet ; 
 every body else stood in a circle ; and 
 though he could not hear what her 
 Grace was saying, he perceived she 
 spoke with great animation of gesture, 
 and was listened to with great at- 
 tention and applause. 
 
 Satisfied with this view, O'DonnePs 
 thoughts turned on himself, and the 
 contrast of his own actual state with 
 the brighter destiny of these children 
 of fortune and prosperity. Exiled by 
 necessity, almost proscribed by restric- 
 tion, without a home, without a friend, 
 without even means of subsistence, 
 beyond the hoped-for reward of ser- 
 vices, yet to be performed in a cause 
 unanimated by patriotism, in which no 
 feeling was interested, no ambition
 
 208 O'DONNEL. 
 
 roused. He knew that he had no 
 place in the society upon which he 
 now looked, but that which whim had 
 accorded, or eharity bestowed. He 
 knew the place to which his birth, his 
 talents, and character, entitled him : 
 but did others acknowledge the claim 
 which he could so proudly have sup- 
 ported, had he been put to the test? Oh 
 no ! the poor, the disfranchized Irish- 
 man, the disbanded officer, in vain 
 sought to support his flagging spirits 
 with dreams of what had been. True, 
 he was descended from the powerful 
 and the great; allied to warriors and 
 chiefs; the blood of princes ran in his 
 veins ; the spirit of the soldier and the 
 gentleman guided his actions. It mat- 
 tered not. What was, was fell. Poor, 
 unknown, without rank, without con- 
 sideration ; without even those arts by 
 which the sordid rise, without acqui- 
 escence or toleration for that weakness 
 and vanity, which reward the hypocrisy,
 
 ODONNEF,. 
 
 of which itself is the dupe, he felt more 
 than ever the desolation of his fate ; and 
 lie regretted more than ever that he had 
 been led into a society, from which he 
 could expect neither similitude, sym- 
 pathy, nor coincidence ; and whose 
 brilliancy served only to cast a browner 
 shadow over the darkness of his own 
 contrasted misfortunes. 
 
 He now wished he had intrusted his 
 secret to Lady Singleton, and remained 
 in the humble obscurity so suited to 
 his circumstances. The wish, how- 
 ever, was vain ; and he was still turn- 
 ing in his thoughts how he should lead 
 Lady Llanberis to the subject which 
 had placed him in this disagreeable 
 situation, when aecidentally turning 
 his eyes towards her, he perceived tier's* 
 fixed on him, as if he were at that 
 moment the subject of her conversa- 
 tion with the Duchess. They had 
 both withdrawn from the circle which 
 Uad now broken up : some were at
 
 210 O'DONNEL. 
 
 cards, others gone to the music-room, 
 and some to the billiard-table. O'Don- 
 nel was upon the point of retreating to 
 avoid this scrutiny ; for the Duchess 
 also seemed to direct her glance upon 
 h?m ; and her he wished particularly to 
 avoid. All that had been said, for or 
 against her, had alike disposed him 
 neither to admire nor approve. To her 
 partizans she seemed rather to be an 
 object of caprice than of esteem ; to her 
 opponents, and they were members of 
 her own family, she was rather a sub- 
 ject of contempt than dislike. These 
 inferences, indeed, he felt were hastily 
 drawn, from the very little he had 
 heard of her ; but whether just or false, 
 he had no inclination to be known to a 
 woman, whose rank and fashion pro- 
 mised only those light and tinsel qua- 
 lities, with which his own morbid feel- 
 ings and sickly view of things would so 
 ill accord. 
 
 In the very act, however, of rising
 
 O'DONNEL. 2H 
 
 to depart from their gaze, the two la- 
 dies advanced towards him, arm in 
 arm ; but, contrary to his expectation, 
 and much to his satisfaction, they passed 
 him by, and left the room together. 
 He had now a full and close view of 
 the Duchess's face. He was satisfied 
 that that face was not unknown to him; 
 and notwithstanding the seeming zm- 
 possibilitt/, he was almost persuaded, 
 almost certain, that the Duchess Dow- 
 ager of Belmont, and the sullen, blunt 
 Governess of Lady Singleton, were one 
 and the same person. He resumed his seat 
 in the most profound astonishment, 
 still bordering on incredulity. He en- 
 deavoured to revive in his mind the 
 faint impressions, made by a person, in 
 whom he had seen nothing to admire, 
 and who had excited no further interest 
 than was natural to feel for one, who 
 had expressed an anxiety for his safety, 
 and perhaps eventually had preserved
 
 212 O DONNEt. 
 
 his life. But if the Duchess of Bel- 
 mont and MissO'Halloran were indeed 
 the same, which still he doubted, he 
 was ready to ascribe to the acquisi- 
 tion of rank, power, and fortune, more 
 than he had ever before attributed to 
 their influence. If it were Miss 
 O'Halloran, how could Lady Singleton 
 have remained silent on the wonderful 
 metamorphosis of her daughters' go- 
 verness: even the bustle of the wedding, 
 and her eagerness in Lady Llanberis's 
 service, did not satisfactorily account 
 for the omission. Miss O'Hallorari 
 too a wit! Her slightest observation* 
 " irrige en bon-mot.*' It was almost 
 impossible. 
 
 While he was still lost in thought 
 upon this miraculous, but still doubted 
 transformation, Lady Llanberis return*- 
 ed to the room, and seated herself byhim. 
 
 " By the bye,'* she said, ' f Colonel 
 O'Donnel, I qnite forgot that you must
 
 O DONKEL. 213 
 
 naturally have seen the Duchess of 
 Beltnont, when she was with Lady 
 Singleton in Ireland." 
 
 O'Donnel, now confirmed in his 
 suspicions, replied laughing : " And I 
 dare say, Madam, her Grace has for- 
 gotten the circumstance also/' 
 
 " No, no, indeed she has not, I as- 
 sure you ; and she meant to have pre- 
 sented herself to you ; but her stock of 
 spirits were quite run out, between her 
 break-down on the road, and her little 
 exertions since her arrival ; for she has 
 really been quite charming. 1 must get 
 her to repeat to you her adventure at 
 the Cabaret. Now, however, she is 
 ijuite abattue. But so it is ; we are all 
 the slaves of nerves and spirits.'' 
 
 " And situation'' added O'Donnel, 
 amused at the idea of Miss O'Hallo- 
 ran's nervousness, whose image he had 
 now before him, as he had seen her 
 standing in her little red riding-hood 
 on the shores of Glenarm.
 
 O DONNEL. 
 
 " And of situation f" returned Lady 
 Llanberis. " The Duchess will not 
 come down again to-night, and I am 
 going to sup with her in my dressing- 
 room. There is certainly nobody like 
 her. I have all my life preferred that 
 sort of persons,, who come from nobody 
 knows where; they are so much more 
 amusing than people of fashion, who 
 are nothing else but people of fashion. 
 The persons, of all others, I should have 
 preferred knowing, were the first Ca- 
 tharine of Russia, the Polly Peachum 
 Duchess of J3olton t and the tub-woman* 
 who became grandmother to Queen 
 Anne. Now the Duchess of Belmont, 
 besides being one of this class, which 
 is an immense thing in itself, is really a 
 most extraordinary person, and has all 
 sorts of talents : like yourself, she has 
 the gift de raconter in great perfection ; 
 makes a good story out of nothing at 
 all ; and mimics in a manner which is 
 nothing short of miraculous. Then
 
 O'DONNEL. 215 
 
 you know her voice alone would faire 
 fortune : that sort of a brogue which 
 some of you Irish have, so soft and so 
 caressante ; the " ah ! do," and the 
 " ah! don't;" besides her laugh is 
 quite charming. Jt was her laugh 
 which first won the old Duke's heart, 
 as she sat at the foot of her father's 
 easel a mere child. But you know her 
 story, I suppose.'* 
 
 " Not one word of it," said O'Don- 
 nel, now much amused, and not a little 
 interested at her Ladyship's enumera- 
 tion of the charms of her favourite 
 friend. " But I am sure," he added, 
 " I could not hea* it more to the 
 Duchess's advantage, than from one, 
 so favourably disposed towards the 
 subject as your Ladyship."
 
 216 J DONNELc 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " O! 1 assure you, Colonel, it is quite 
 a little romance, and I wanted Mrs. St. 
 Leger to make something of it, but 
 she does not think the Duchess has 
 the least of the heroine about her ; for 
 in fact she is riot sentimental. How- 
 ever, 1 don't think the Duchess of 
 Bolton's story any thing like so extra- 
 ordinary; for, after all, there is nothing 
 so very surprizing fn a duke's marrying 
 n actress. Actresses are so verv am us- 
 
 */ 
 
 ing, and have so many green-room 
 anecdotes. Well, then, for our he- 
 roine: Her father was an Irish artist, 
 who went to study in Italy, O* Hallo- 
 ran; a man who lived very celebrated, 
 and died very poor. I arn told he had 
 all sorts of talents, wrote as well as he
 
 O'DONNEL. 217 
 
 painted, and was extremely eccentric 
 in all his modes of thinking; in a word, 
 just a person to catch the late Duke of 
 Behnont, who resided<at Florence when 
 O'Halloran came to settle there. Every 
 body knows the Duke's character 
 gtne by the forms and decencies of Eng- 
 lish society; loving every country bet- 
 ter than his own ; a virtuoso, a roue, a 
 very profligate and very agreeable crea- 
 ture. Well, he lived in Florence, en 
 Prince^ and was constantly surrounded 
 by needy geniuses. At the head of 
 these was O'Halloran. The Duke could 
 not exist without him : and he made 
 him his companion, without .being 
 either his patron or friend. O'Hallo- 
 ran's evenings were all passed in dissi- 
 pation at his palace, arid the Duke's 
 mornings in virtu, at the pairitei's 
 easel. The Duke came there at first 
 for the sake of the father, and at last 
 for the sake of the daughter, though 
 old enough to be her grandpapa; for he 
 VOL. ii. L
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 was quite a second Marshal Richelieu; 
 there never was such another supera- 
 nuated debauche. Well, this daughter 
 she had all the talents, and almost 
 all the eccentricity of her father; living 
 entirely among clever men, and left to 
 educate herself, as it pleased Heaven. 
 She was at once the most naive and 
 clever little creature in the world. 
 When the Duke first discovered her at 
 the foot of her father's easel, she was a 
 mere child, but amazingly droll and 
 out of the way, and quite a thing to 
 captivate the worn-out taste of a man, 
 who was blase sur tout; so he began to 
 try the effect of his sexagenary charms 
 on the heart of the naive Lololte (for 
 that was her father's nom de caresse for 
 her), and Lolotte, as she has since told 
 me, was charmed with the old beau's 
 wit, humour, and pleasantry ; for all 
 that he had. But to come to the ca- 
 tastrophe : after trifling at O'Hallo- 
 ran's easel for two or three years,
 
 O'DONNEL. . 3 IS 
 
 where the daughter used to assist in 
 filling up parts of the father's pictures, 
 the enamoured Duke found an oppor- 
 tunity of making his little proposal, 
 and of offering her a carte-blanche, and 
 a separate establishment, that should 
 rival his old Duchess's, who was play- 
 ing away the remnant of her life over 
 a card-table in Bath. Lolotle neither 
 took this offer en heroine^ nor in good 
 part; for neither won nor irritated, it 
 only made her laugh, ready to die; 
 and she gave the old Duke some good 
 advice, which, if he had taken, she 
 would not now have been Duchess of 
 Belmont, But he did not take it. More 
 in love than ever, from the obstacles 
 lie encountered, he persevered, he per- 
 secuted, he prayed, he threatened; and 
 Lolotte was reduced to the necessity 
 of confessing all to her father, from 
 whom she had hitherto concealed it, 
 from motives of solicitude and tender- 
 ness ; for she had a sort of adoration 
 L 2
 
 520 O DONNEL. 
 
 for this eccentric father, which was 
 quite extraordinary. 
 
 " Well, this Irish Apelles, a mere 
 redhot O 'Trigger in points of honour, 
 and all that sort of feeling, turned the 
 old enamorato out of his work-room, 
 made a most frightful escUmdre of the 
 whole affair, and drew so ridiculous a 
 caricature of the Duke, as a Silenus 
 pursuing a nymph, that the Duke left 
 Florence and returned to England; and 
 in a year or two after, O'Hallorim died 
 in great distress, leaving his daughter 
 quite unprovided for. Her talents, 
 however, could not fail to insure her 
 subsistence, and she entered into the 
 family of Sir Harry Hewson (then En- 
 voy at Florence), as governess to his 
 daughter. .1 am afraid she rather quiz- 
 zed poor Lady Hewson, who happens 
 to be irresistibly ridiculous; for they 
 sent her off the moment she had done 
 with their daughter, though quite des- 
 titute, in England; and she then fell to
 
 O'DONNEL. 221 
 
 the share of Lady Singleton, with whom 
 I dare say she was uncomfortable 
 enough ; for though Lady Singleton is 
 an excellent and well-meaning woman, 
 and happens at this moment to be the 
 most in my confidence, of any one 
 whatever, yet her liltle weakness (and 
 who is without their little weakness), is 
 to be the PERSONAGE in every thing; 
 the beginning and end of all: so poor 
 Lolotte's naivete, and acuteness, and 
 talents, went for nothing; and she was 
 thrown twenty fathoms deep into the 
 shade. Mr. Glentworth, who was a 
 most worthy man '' 
 
 " He was, indeed, '* interrupted 
 O'Donnel, emphatically, " a most su- 
 perior man." 
 
 " Well, Colonel, this excellent Mr. 
 Glentworth did much to soften the 
 situation of the little gouvernante ; and 
 when he died, she would remain no 
 longer in the family. Hating the 
 line of life altogether, she began once 
 L 3
 
 O'DOK.NEL. 
 
 more to cultivate her talents for paint- 
 ing, and set up as a portrait painter. 
 Meantime the old Duke had lost his- 
 old Duchess, and for want of something 
 else to do, placed himself at the head 
 of the English cognoscenti, to whom 
 he was the law and the prophet: for 
 having given up originals, he now de- 
 voted his time exclusively to pictures, 
 and was seen poking his head into 
 every exhibition in London. In one 
 
 tf 
 
 of these he discovered a pendant to an 
 unfinished picture of O'Halloran^, 
 which he had in his collection, and 
 which he greatly prized. lie learned 
 from the ciceroni of the place, that the 
 picture had been partly done byO'Hal- 
 loran, and finished by his daughter, 
 who was then painting in London. 
 This was quite a sensation for the old 
 Duke. He purchased the picture, and 
 sent to the fair artist to know if she 
 would finish the companion to it, 
 which he had in his gallery, offering a
 
 O'DONNEL. 223 
 
 liberal sum for the price of her labour, 
 Lolotte was too poor to refuse the offer, 
 too prudent to feel any other sentiment 
 than pity for the old disappointed Da- 
 mon, and too devoted to her father's 
 fame and memory, to suffer his work 
 to fall into the hands of persons, who 
 knew nothing of his peculiar style, or 
 prima intenzione ; she consented to 
 finish the picture, and before it was 
 finished, she was, Duchess of Belmont. 
 
 *' Well, the event made a great noise 
 for a week or ten days ; and then the 
 Duchess of Belmont went on, toute 
 comme une autre. The Duke, however, 
 had been a valetudinarian for some 
 years, and she was little more than his 
 nurse during the few months which he 
 lived after their marriage ; and either 
 to vex his nephews, whom he hated, 
 as men sometimes will hate their heirs, 
 or to reward her attention to him,, he 
 left her every thing he possessed - 
 intailed. She got through her widow-
 
 224 O'DONNEL, 
 
 hood with great decency ; that is, she 
 kept out of the bustle of last spring, 
 and only saw a select society at home : 
 but she is amazingly the fashion, and 
 will be followed next season beyond 
 every thing. She only threw off her 
 weeds yesterday ; and, according to a 
 promise, made me long since, she has 
 given me the premices of her gay co- 
 lours and intentions to-day. Besides, 
 however, being extremely glad to have 
 the pleasure of her company, I was 
 .anxious she should meet the Savill 
 party, who have all rather set their faces 
 against her; the Duke, because Lord 
 Charles has a prejudice against her; and 
 Lady Mary, because her noble blood 
 rises against the plebeian alliance (for 
 she is doubly connected with the Sa- 
 vills, in her own person and by mar- 
 riage); but the true secret of her Lady- 
 ship's aversion is, that the Duchess has 
 more wit than herself, though perhaps 
 less reading; and still more, that the 
 General is the least in the world in love
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 with the Duchess; which, to do his 
 liberal feelings justice, he is with 
 whatever comes out last in the season. 
 Now this is a kind of folly that I make 
 a point to set my face against ; for, as 
 the Duchess says, * When a woman 
 completely jinds a man out, to go on 
 jealous by lustrums, from five, to ten, 
 to fifteen, to twenty years, O then she 
 should meet no quarter, for she de- 
 serves none/ However, 1 think I am 
 pretty certain I shall bring Lord Charles 
 over to the Duchess's side, though he 
 is now the most inveterate ; and then 
 all the rest will follow of course, for 
 he is the leader' 1 
 
 *' And pray, Madam," said Colonel 
 O'Donnel, extremely amused with this 
 brief chronicle of her Grace's history, 
 " how does the Duchess wear her new 
 honours? Do they already cling grace- 
 fully to her, " without the aid of use?" 
 
 *' O 1 very fair indeed/' said Lady 
 Llauberis ; " a little odd now and then, 
 L 5
 
 226 O'DONNEL. 
 
 and upon some occasions shews up a 
 want of tact ; perhaps on the whole is 
 not quite pose enough for a woman of 
 fashion ; but all that will come in time, 
 and the \vorstofit is that it ;w7/come, 
 and then she will be as dull and quiet 
 as if she was born a Duchess, and not 
 the least amusing/' 
 
 " And how did Lady Singleton 
 take this extraordinary event?" asked 
 O'Donnei. 
 
 *' Why she was bored to death by it ; 
 first, because she did not intriguer the 
 thing herself; next, because the Du- 
 chess takes precedence of her; and 
 above all, because she never discovered,, 
 during their acquaintance, that Miss- 
 O'Halloran was any thing but a Becky. 
 Indeed, she persists still in throwing 
 out some hints that the Duchess is the 
 least in the world bite; and that peo- 
 ple will find it out, sooner or later. 
 Meantime she affects to patronize her ; 
 treats her with great condescension,
 
 (/DON N EL. 227 
 
 gives her a hint what to do, or say in 
 great societies, and tells people they 
 must assist her in bringing forward her 
 parvenu Duchess, her good Lolotte, who 
 conducted herself with the most per- 
 fect propriety, when she was governess 
 to her daughters, though fit for any 
 thing but a governess, poor thing." 
 
 " Well, I confess," said O'Donnel, 
 " I was almost as deficient in penetra- 
 tion with respect to her Grace's merits 
 as Lady Singleton, during the short 
 time I was accidentally thrown into 
 her society. " 
 
 " Very true/' said Lady Llanberis: 
 " she was with Lady Singleton in Ire- 
 land, when they had that delightful ad- 
 venture in the mountains, and disco- 
 vered your romantic retreat. You can- 
 not imagine how struck she was when 
 she saw you here. I am sure it brought 
 her former uncomfortable situation to 
 her mind." 
 
 " I am sorry," he returned, "I
 
 ODOSNEL. 
 
 should form a link in a chain of such 
 melancholy association/' 
 
 " It is quite over," said the Coun- 
 tess, " and we have been laughing this 
 hour back at Lady Mary. But pray 
 tell me, what vou thought of the fu- 
 
 / O 
 
 ture Duchess when she was Lady 
 S 's governess? Did you not think 
 her pretty ?" 
 
 " Scarcely," returned O'Donnel. " I 
 thought her a Goody-tvvo-Shoes look- 
 ing person; for her figure, which was 
 not a Sylph's, though the old Duke's 
 might have been a Silenus, awed very 
 little to her dress ; and her face was so 
 concealed by her deep bonnet, that I 
 did not get a very perfect view of it. 
 However, she was a true Isis, worthy 
 the mysterious motto of ' I am what I 
 am/ and reserving the elevation of her 
 mystic veil for no hand but her own." 
 
 Here the entrance of the supper trays 
 reminded Lady Llanberis of her assig- 
 nation in the dressing-room, and she
 
 O'DONNEI. 229 
 
 arose to go, when, with a sudden re- 
 collection, she turned back, and said to 
 O'Donnel: 
 
 " Colonel O'Donnel, I have a great 
 deal to say to you, that relates only to 
 yourself: will you walk with me in the 
 grounds to-morrow, after breakfast, and 
 I will endeavour to keep myself disen- 
 gaged ?" 
 
 O'Donnel, on the very tiptoe of ex- 
 pectation by this speech, bowed his 
 acceptance of the flattering proposal. 
 
 . *' But," continued the Countess, 
 " tell me how long you can assure me 
 the pleasure of your company re- 
 member, the longer the better. I 
 have a particular reason for wishing 
 that you will allow me to reckon on 
 vou for three weeks, or a month at 
 
 / 
 
 least. Come," she continued, observ- 
 ing his hesitation, and with a smile full 
 of irresistible persuasion, " you must, 
 you shall, promise me. I have some 
 views in your favour which cannot be
 
 230 O'DONNEL. 
 
 realized before that time. Consider, 
 three weeks what are three weeks ? 
 three minutes" 
 
 " Passed here/' returned O'Donnel, 
 bowing: " but out of Alcinas Palace 
 three weeks will go into the common 
 account of time, and when duty calls 
 for the reckoning " 
 
 " Why then send her to me/' she 
 replied, laughingly, " and I will settle 
 with her; so remember, for three weeks 
 at least, the gates of Alcina's Palace are 
 shut on you/* 
 
 And she glided gaily away, leaving 
 O'Donnel charmed with her kind and 
 cordial manner., and more than ever 
 convinced that this powerful, thought- 
 less, and heart-whole woman, was in- 
 deed his concealed benefactress.
 
 O'DONNEL. 231 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE next morning Colonel O'Don- 
 nel descended to breakfast, hoping to 
 find his noble hostess, and to get 
 an opportunity of reminding her of 
 the promised walk ; but a few only of 
 the party were assembled, and the 
 Countess was not among the number. 
 Adjoining the breakfast-room was a 
 kind of bar, where breakfast was pre- 
 pared and served according to orders ; 
 and among the trays sent to different 
 dressing-rooms, he perceived that one 
 was carried by the Countess's page, 
 and the other was sent to the Duchess 
 of Belmont. Giving up all hope, there- 
 fore, of seeing Lady Llanberis for some 
 time, O'Donnel breakfasted ; and after 
 a little conversation with General Sa- 
 yill, a good-humoured gentlemanly
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 man, whose manners retained a tinge 
 of the vieille-cour, he went to the book 
 room, and had employed himself more 
 than an hour in looking over some po- 
 litical pamphlets, when he caught the 
 sound of Lady Llanberis's shrill clear 
 voice in the adjoining billiard-room. 
 
 To the billiard-room he immediately 
 went, and found the whole party as- 
 sembled. Lady Llanberis either did 
 not notice his entrance, or was too 
 much engrossed to mark that she did, 
 for she was deeply, exclusively, engag- 
 ed in taking a lesson in billiards from 
 General Savill. All energy, all eager- 
 ness, her life seemed staked on the 
 game, which Lord Charles, her op- 
 ponent, was playing with the utmost 
 languor and listlessnessj smiling at 
 her ardour, -and amused by her anxiety; 
 while every ball she pocketted was not 
 only applauded loudly by herself, but 
 followed by the echo of brava! from 
 nearly all the rest of the company,
 
 O'DOXNEL. 233 
 
 The simple Sir Gilbert, who was play- 
 ing cup and ball, betted desperately on 
 her side against Mr. Carlisle ; while, 
 apart from the group assembled round 
 the billiard-table, his listless length 
 stretched on a Grecian scroll, and a 
 book half open in his hand, lay the 
 Duke of Belmont, talking, or rather 
 listening to his Dowager aunt, who sat 
 a little in advance before him, on a lour 
 tabouret, drawing viewless figures on the 
 carpet with the end of a billiard mace. 
 
 By the gradual brightening of his 
 countenance, the Duke seemed to yield 
 himself up to the pleasantry of her 
 conversation ; for she was talking with 
 much animation, and he was Listening 
 with a smiling attention. There was 
 in the look, position, and gesture of 
 this metamorphosised person, such an 
 alternation of gaiety and thoughtful- 
 ness, of deep reverie and spirited viva- 
 city, that O'Donnel in vain sought for 
 the former " Goody-two-Shoes," in
 
 554 O'DONNEL. 
 
 the Sybil, the Pythoness, that now fas- 
 cinated his gaze. He could understand 
 that her figure, which was round and 
 picquante, but not of the sylphid 
 slightness on. which drapery could be 
 disposed with advantage, hat! lost by 
 being clumsily muffled; and that her 
 well-turned head had gained, by the 
 absence of the dowdy bonnet, which 
 had also shaded her fine eyes ; yet still 
 he found it difficult, even with the 
 most scrupulous examination, to trace 
 the unattractive Miss O'Halloran in 
 the attractive Duchess of Belmont. 
 
 Her eyes and her smile were singu- 
 larly fine. Her eyes when thrown down 
 (their large dilated orbs starting beyond 
 the full and heavy lid, and gleaming 
 through their long dark lashes) had a 
 melancholy wildness in their expres- 
 sion, too often the character of over- 
 wrought genius, or high-wound sensi- 
 bility; when suddenly thrown up- 
 wards, there was a flashing brightness
 
 'DONNE!,. 230 
 
 in their expression, which marked a 
 great rapidity and quickness of thought 
 and of feeling; when fixed on vacancy, 
 they had all the stupor of Miss O'Hal- 
 loran's heavy look. Her smile, play- 
 fully brilliant, was at times too acute 
 to be contemplated without exciting a 
 fear of the spirit, from whence it drew 
 its arch intelligence. But her coun- 
 tenance, when at rest, exhibited no 
 expression to give assurance of such 
 .a mind as beamed in her eye, or ani- 
 mated her smile. 
 
 The science of physiognomy, as it 
 bore merely upon structure, O'Donnel 
 considered as the dream of imagination; 
 but though he did not think a nose 
 could indicate passion, or a mouth ex- 
 press genius, by their form alone, he 
 yet had confidence in those external 
 indices of the moral character, which 
 may be sought in the play and change 
 of countenance. 
 
 He was therefore struck by the
 
 236 O'DONNEL. 
 
 variety and transition of expression, 
 which flitted across the face, he now 
 contemplated ; and though he could 
 still trace there Miss O'llallorau's fea- 
 tures, yet he was puzzled to guess, 
 what magic had lent them the soul by 
 which they were now animated. Was 
 it love ? was it vanity ? was it the in- 
 fluence of rank, fortune, and fashion, 
 and conscious power, and high consi- 
 deration ? or was it all acting, all " false 
 seeming ?" But in this case., which was 
 the actress ; the governess, or the Du- 
 chess ; or was there some third charac- 
 ter, superior to both, which assumed 
 and discarded either, according to the 
 circumstances and exigency of the 
 moment? From Lady Llanberis's de- 
 scription of her, he drew no opinion, 
 for it all came to this that she amused 
 her but so did Mr. Dexter. 
 
 While he was thus endeavouring to 
 get at the character, here " wrapt up iu 
 countenance," the Duchess suddenly
 
 O'DONNEL. 237 
 
 turned round her head, and met (at 
 least he thought she met] his eyes ; but 
 she averted her head so quickly, that 
 it left the matter doubtful, whether she 
 really did, or did not see him. In a 
 few minutes aftervvards she looked at 
 him and bowed slightly. O'Donnel, 
 however, thought this bow, together 
 with her conversation the last night 
 with Lady Llanberis, authorized, or 
 rather called on him to advance and 
 pay his respects ; and yet with the 
 timidity of pride, always apprehensive 
 of self-commitment, he was slowly and 
 
 t/ 
 
 even reluctantly approaching her, when 
 he observed her conversing so earnestly 
 with the Duke, that he conceived his 
 addressing her now would be nothing 
 short of intrusion ; and he stood near 
 the tabouret on which she sat, iportified 
 that lie had advanced so far, and medi- 
 tating a retreat, when he was suddenly 
 transfixed to the spot by the unex- 
 pected appearance of Me. Ror.y's head
 
 235 (/DONNE!,. 
 
 thrust through the folding doors of the 
 room ; who, with a brogue more than 
 usually broad, cried out: 
 
 " Is the master here?'* 
 
 This extraordinary head, voice, and 
 inquiry, attracted an instantaneous and 
 universal attention, and was followed 
 by a general burst of laughter. 
 
 " I ax pardon/' humbly cried Me. 
 Rory, as he advanced beyond the door, 
 and took off his hat ; " but Td just be 
 glad to spake a word to the master, if 
 he's in the place," 
 
 " Who is your master, Pat?" asked 
 Mr. Carlisle, holding his sides. 
 
 " The Colonel is, your Honour; Co- 
 lonel O'Donriel," returned Me, Rory, 
 with his eyes following a billiard ball 
 that was rolling now unheeded into 
 one of the pockets. 
 
 O'Donnel, mortified, irritated, and 
 annoyed, beyond all endurance, and 
 unprepared by previous feelings to 
 stand the brunt of the scene, which he
 
 O* BONN EL. 239 
 
 guessed, would naturally ensue, was 
 shrinking back on the first impulse 
 of his feelings towards the shelter of 
 a large screen, behind which a door 
 stood half open, when he was arrested 
 by a hand, a voice, and the words, 
 " courage, or you are lost." It was 
 the same hand, the same voice, which 
 had arrested his steps at Carrick-a-redc. 
 All this had passed with the rapidity of 
 lightning; and Me. Rory having now 
 caught a sight of his master, coolly 
 shut the door by which he had enter- 
 ed, and advancing with his hat and 
 shilelagh in one hand, and dragging the 
 other along the rirn of the billiard-table, 
 he addressed O'Donnel with: 
 
 " I just made bould to step in, Co- 
 lonel, to be after mintioning to your 
 Honour, that " 
 
 " I will speak to you in the anti- 
 room," said O'Donnel, with a smiling 
 composure, which did honour to the 
 Duchess's inspiration; and motioned
 
 240 O'DONNEL. 
 
 to Me. Rory to leave the apartment ; 
 who turned back, crying: 
 
 " O, very well, Sir ; that will do 
 every bit as well." 
 
 " No, no, pray, Colonel, speak to 
 him here," said Lady Llanberis, throw- 
 ing down her billiard cue in the middle 
 of the game, which had so deeply en- 
 grossed her a moment before. " I dare 
 say this is a most entertaining person : if 
 you have nothing particular to say to 
 him, Colonel O'Donnel, pray let him 
 speak to you here." 
 
 Me. Rory turned round, and made 
 her a low bow, which, whether hu- 
 morous or not, had all the effect of 
 being so, on the risible muscles of his 
 spectators. 
 
 O'Donnel threw round a quick glance 
 to observe if among the men one smile 
 was transferred from the servant to the 
 master, with a feeling at the moment, 
 which would have rendered it a desi- 
 rable event, to have had some excuse
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 to fight them all round. To him, how- 
 ever, no smile, no eye was directed. 
 Me. Rory was the lion of the moment, 
 and occupied a place, which heroes, 
 orators, actors, jugglers, ministers, and 
 dancing-dogs, had ail in succession oc- 
 cupied before. The interest which his 
 appearance and his brogue had excited, 
 was considerably increased by his bow, 
 and when Lady Llanberis repeated, 
 " He \s,Idare say, a particularly amus- 
 ing person, and I beg he may not be 
 sent away," he replied, with another 
 bow, more profound than the former, 
 
 " I am entirely obliged to you, Ma- 
 dam, for your civility ; troth, lam; and 
 I humbly ax pardon of the quality for 
 making so bould as to come in among 
 them ; but I just stepped in to tell the 
 master, I must quit the place; for I 
 would'nt stay in it, great as it is, if 
 they made me Provost of Belfast, in 
 regard of lite uncommon affronts put 
 upon me, Madam." 
 
 VOL. II. M
 
 212 O'DONNEL. 
 
 " Indeed !" said Lady Llanberis, 
 " then pray inform me who has offend- 
 ed you, for I am the person to apply 
 to, you may depend on it." 
 
 " Oh ! no, Madam, if you plase, I 
 will not ; for if I turned informer, I'd 
 be the first of my family, kin, kind, or 
 relation, that ever turned that same, any 
 how ; but axing your Ladyship's par- 
 don, humbly, might I inquire if you are 
 the mistress, Madam ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Lady Llanberis, 
 joining the now subdued but still ge- 
 neral laugh ; ** I am the only mistress 
 here." 
 
 ic Why then, troth, a beautiful fine 
 lady you are, God bless you, and long 
 may you reign, 1 pray God. And a 
 poor set of craturs you have under you, 
 anyhow, as ever broke the bread of life ; 
 and many a great house 1 was in, 
 though never none as great as this, 
 barring Dublin College, and the Castle- 
 yard ; and devil of the likes of such
 
 243 
 
 servants as these I ever seed, in regard 
 of being 1 no wise agreeable, but remark- 
 ably the contrary ; and so with your 
 Honour's lave, Sir, I'd rather quit thfe 
 place intirely,and keep with Bran, the 
 J>aste, 'till your Honour comes back to 
 us God bless you," 
 
 " No, no,'' said Lady Llanberis, ear- 
 nestly, " you must net go, by any 
 means. I incite you to stay here, and I 
 insist on knowing in what manner you 
 have been offended." 
 
 " No offence in life, my Lady," re- 
 turned Me. llory, bowing low, " only 
 that 1 have got the worst of usage, 
 from the monu-iit 1 crassed the threshold 
 to this blessed hour, as I may say : for 
 sure, Madam, 1 had'nt stepped out of 
 the TV Ckay, and just put my foot in 
 the entry, when I sees them all sneering 
 and jogging each other; and when the 
 master was shewed into the parlour, 
 did'nt they gather round me, as if I 
 M 2
 
 S44 O'DONNEL. 
 
 was one of the seven wonders ? and 
 kept axing me what outlandish gentle- 
 man I was ; and where I kept when I 
 was at home : but myself did'nt care to be 
 answeringthem, in respect of not know- 
 ing the ways of the place; only I saw 
 the craturs had no manners at all at all: 
 and so 1 took up the portmantle to the 
 master's room, and laid his things out 
 for a change, and then I thought I'd 
 just step down to the kitchen and take 
 an air of the ftre ; and so away I goes 
 down this lobby, and up that lobby, 
 and crasses this entry, and passes that, 
 until I comes to the kitchen, sure 
 enough ; and an elegant fine kitchen it 
 is, any way ; and the greatest of pimty 
 there is in it, surely : I don't know, 
 my Lady, did you ever see the Col- 
 lege kitchen ? well, troth, I would'nt 
 know this same from it, if I was blind- 
 fold but I had'nt gone, the length 
 of myseJf, Madam, in it, when a gar-
 
 O'DONNEL. 245 
 
 of a lad comes up to me, in a 
 chine white apron, and says he to me : 
 ' This here place is no place for you, 
 iny good feller, and so you must not 
 stay here no longer." 
 
 A general laugh at Me. Rory's at- 
 tempted imitation of the English ac- 
 cent, and Cockney dialect, now inter** 
 rupted the narration ; and O'Donnel 
 still fearing to share the ridicule of the 
 moment, half angry, and yet almost 
 amused, was again tempted to put an 
 end to the absurd scene, when the eye 
 of the Duchess fixed him, and her up- 
 lifted finger, raised in token of com- 
 mand, operated like a spell on his fa- 
 culties. He smiled, and remained mo- 
 tionless. 
 
 Meantime Me. Rory, elated by the 
 attention he commanded, and the ap- 
 plause he received, joined heartily in 
 
 * " Garlagh." Base-born ; a term of con- 
 tempt. 
 
 M 3
 
 546 O'DONSET,. 
 
 the laugh he supposed he had raised 
 against the cook's apprentice ; and to 
 Mr. Carlisle's assurance that nothing 
 fould be better than his imitation, he 
 replied : 
 
 " Why then, troth, Sir, if we had'nt 
 better English nor that, at the other side 
 of the Shannon, our schoolmeasters 
 ought to be indited" 
 
 " But go on," cried Lady Llanberis, 
 impatiently. " Pray^ Mr. Carlisle, 
 don't interrupt him. He is quite as 
 good as Irish Johnslone Well, Sir?" 
 
 " Well, my Lady ' Slay here no 
 longer,' says he: them were his words: 
 but I thought him entirely bcnathe me ; 
 and I kept on, never minding,, only 
 looking at a bit of a coley,* that was 
 running round, and round, in a wheel, 
 by the hob, as if the devil was after 
 th' animal: Gad pardon me for saying 
 so ! when a leprighaunf of a cmtur, in 
 
 * Coley. The general name for a little 
 d,oe. t Sec uete end of (he vohinjc.
 
 O'DONNEL. 347 
 
 a white night-cap, who was standing 
 in a kind of a sort of a pulpit, jabbering 
 for all the world like a monkey on the 
 top of a shevv-box, keeps crying to me, 
 4 Vat you vant here ? de kitchen be no 
 place for de servant.' Is it the kitchen 
 no place for sarvauts ?' says I, looking 
 up at him : ' O, be aisy, MounseerJ 
 says I :' Is it to the parlour you'd have 
 us go ?' * Get you gone ; go, go,' 
 says he, for all the world as if I was a 
 dog. ' Well, see here, Mounseer/ says 
 1- clinching niy crdutvi* at him but 
 somehow the heart sunk within me. 
 Not but I could have crush'd the poor 
 cratur between my finger and thumb ; 
 but of a sudden I got such an all- 
 overness upon me, you would'nt give a 
 halfpenny for me, my Lady ; for I 
 thought of my own poor old country, 
 where the kitchen door was never shut 
 in the stranger's face yet, and where 
 
 * Fist. 
 M 4
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 the best potatoe in the pot, and the 
 best seat at the hob, was no'ver denied 
 him : and so, Madam, I turn'd quietly 
 away, not choosing, just for pride 
 sake, to iet them see that the eyes of 
 roe were as full as the heart and 
 troth, and that was full enough.* I 
 quit the place sad and sorrowful, 
 Ochone J" 
 
 " Poor mart!" cried Lady Llanberis, 
 with a voice and countenance of unaf- 
 fected sympathy, * Poor man ! Well, 
 and where did you go to ?" 
 
 " Well, my Lady, so I went groping 
 about in the passage, for it was begin- 
 ning to get dark ; and finding an ele- 
 gant fine fire in a room off my right, I 
 turns in, and seeing it was quite impty, 
 in regard of nobody being in it, I sates. 
 myself at the fire ; and the head being 
 heavy, and the heart full, 1 fell asleep, 
 and would'nt have waken'd till th y end 
 of time, only for the hunger, and the 
 smell of the mate; for when 1 opened
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 my eyes, my Lady, it was just all as 
 one as if the faries had done it, Madam, 
 for an uncommon fine supper there 
 was, surely, spread before me, and re- 
 markable handsome to be sure I thought 
 it of them. But, Madam, before I had 
 helped myself to a cut of mutton and a 
 potatoe, out there comes from behind a 
 sort of skreen. the very MORAL of that 
 same near the master there, as elegant 
 a party of quality as any here to the 
 fore ; and devil of such laughing and 
 giggling ever 1 heard ; only one of the 
 gentlemen snatches the knife out of 
 
 my hand, and bids me QUIT ' For/ 
 
 says he, ' though this is awasllygood 
 joke, my goo4 s /#er j yet you must go; 
 for the leedies and gentlemen of the 
 Steward's room don't admit livery sar- 
 vants to their table. Here/ says he, 
 calling to a gassoon who stood grin- 
 ning at the buffet, ' Thomas, shew 
 this here person to the hall.' e For 
 what should he shew me to the hall,
 
 250 
 
 Sir?' says T. Was'nt I and my 
 master ax'd here, to put over the 
 Christmas?' f There is no use in ar- 
 gufying/ said the gentleman : * you 
 cawnt stay here, n>y good man ; and if 
 yon are not willing to go out of this 
 here door, I shall take the liberty of 
 sending you out of that there vlnder* 
 * You will,' says I. ' I will, 'port 
 my word,*" says he. c Well, well',' says 
 I, ' it's a folly to- talk any more ; but 
 it's my real and undoubted opinion, 
 that ihere is not a bone in your ugly 
 carcase, but ought to be broken fairly ; 
 and I, Phaidrig Me. Rory, am just the 
 boy to do it ; and, in regard of sending 
 me out of the window, dear, only let 
 me see the gentleman among ye'z that 
 says he'd be the man to attempt that 
 same, and I'll engage I'll lay my mark 
 on him, which he would carry to his 
 grave, if he lived these thousand years. 
 Upon that, Madam, the leedies and the 
 fayuiales sets up a thousand murthers ;
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 and ' take away the frightful Irishman,* 
 sajs they: O, how frightful we are!" 
 added Me. Rory, with an arch smile 
 of self-complacency, and throwing his 
 eyes from his own figure to his mas- 
 ter's ; while a general laugh followed 
 the observation and the look. Lady 
 Llanberis alone did not join the merri- 
 ment of the moment, but exclaimed 
 with earnestness: 
 
 u I really see nothing to laugh at: 
 this poor man has been extremely ill- 
 used, and I shall not let the business 
 lie here. Go on, Me. Rory. Me* 
 Rory is your name, you say ?'* 
 
 " O, it is, my Lady, in lieu of a 
 better, Madam ; so, without more to 
 do, rny Lady, seeing I did'nt lave a 
 word in their mouth that's in the 
 gentlemen's, I takes up my caubeen* 
 
 * Caubeen an old hat.
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 and I quits the place intirely, not care- 
 ing to have any thing more to say to 
 the likes of them ;. and the gassoon,. 
 who was standing still at the buffet, 
 kept running after me, and he ups and 
 he tells me that the Icedies and gentle- 
 men bates the quality fairly, iji respect 
 of being mighty high and conceited ; 
 and he told me the sarvants' hall was 
 the place/or me, and that the bell had 
 rung for the footmens' supper, and the 
 rest of the under sarvants; and he 
 shews me into the place very civilly. 
 And so I went in, and I made them a 
 mannerly bow, as /thought, and says I,. 
 ' much good may dnye'z,' for they were 
 ating ; upon which they sets up a 
 laugh, hut I drew a chair, and was 
 going to trouble the fat gentlewoman at 
 the head of the table for the taste taste 
 in life of any thing was going, when 
 a yonng man, all powdered and scent- 
 ed, with every stripe of gold on his,
 
 O'DONNEL. 253 
 
 cape the breadth of my hand, steps 
 up to me, and says lie: * In what 
 capacity do you sarve ?' ' In every ca- 
 pacity in lite,' says I. ' You do,' 
 says he. * O, I do,' says I, ' surely.' 
 ' Then you look after your master's 
 horses,' says he. ' Is it himself you'd 
 have look after them,' says I ; and I 
 made him that same answer for&raison 
 I had. ' Why then/ said he, ' you 
 must go to the out-offices, for the out- 
 door sarvants doesn't ate in the hall, for 
 we wote the smell of the stable a bore.' 
 4 Ye'z may wote it what ye'z plase,* 
 says I, ' Agrah ! but the devil bore 
 me, if I move a foot out of this till I 
 finishes my bit; and the first man 
 among ye'z that lays a finger on me, 
 (barring it's a fay male) by the crass I'll 
 not lave a whole bone in his skin ;' 
 with that, my Lady, they all set up a 
 laugh you might hear from this to 
 Houth) for they were hearty sowls as I
 
 9.54 O DONNEL. 
 
 found after, and I ate my supper m 
 pace, and never tould nothing to no- 
 body of what had happened that is 
 to his Honor the Colonel, thinking 
 there was no use in complaining, as he 
 was a stranger in it himself, long life 
 to him ! But this morning, my Lady, 
 the master of the hotel, as they call him* 
 comes to me, and tells me all as one as 
 that I must not take my mails in the 
 servants* hall, in respect of the head 
 footman having tould him I was only 
 an out-door sarvant, so seeing the un- 
 common affronts that was put upon 
 me, I thought 1 would just get lave 
 of his Honor to quit the place intirely ; 
 though it's little I guessed it would 
 come to that this morning ; for no later 
 nor last night you would think they ne- 
 ver could make enough of me in the 
 sarvants' hall ; for when the heart of 
 me begun to warm after supper, I sung 
 them a real good ould Irish planxty,
 
 O'DONNEL. 255 
 
 and I danced the step that cost my mo- 
 ther the dollar, for the young FAY- 
 MALES, who were far more agreeable 
 in my mind than the leedies in the 
 steward's room ; they took to me 
 greatly, the craturs !" 
 
 By an instantaneous transition of 
 feeling, Lady Llanberis's countenance 
 changed from an expression of pity to 
 a look of the most vivacious eagerness, 
 
 c ' Then, Me. Rory/' she said, " you 
 must sing the Irish planxty for us this 
 moment, and dance the step that cost 
 your mother the dollar: but first you 
 must have some refreshment. Sir Gil- 
 bert, do go into the anti-room and or- 
 der some Madeira and water here, and 
 now let us make a little room. Mr. 
 Carlisle, you understand these things; 
 pray make a clearance. General, do> 
 put aside that skreen. My dear Duke, 
 gather up your eternal legs; so now 
 we are all attention. O ! here is the 
 wine and water; and now, Me. Rory,
 
 256 O'DONNEL. 
 
 you shall drink to my health, and then 
 we'll have the song first and the dance 
 after, for I long to see an Irish jig. 
 It is not for me/' she said to the 
 maitre d'hotel, who approached with 
 a salver with wine and water: " it is 
 for that person/' pointing to Me. Rory. 
 
 The maitre d'hotel, without the least 
 symptom either of surprize or mortifi- 
 cation, from the service imposed on 
 him, poured out some Madeira* and 
 was about to add the water, when Me. 
 Rory checked his hand, crying, 
 
 " O ! no, Sir, many thanks to you, 
 Pd rather the wine : I'm no wise parr 
 ticular' 
 
 And bowing humbly to Lady Llan- 
 beris, he said : 
 
 " Here's long life to your Ladyship, 
 and long may you reign, and may the 
 sun that rises on you every morning 
 find you happier than the day before, 
 though you live for a thousand years, 
 and that you may, I pray God, amen/*
 
 J DON 7 NEL. 
 
 Then bowing to the rest of the com- 
 pany, he drank off his wine. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, Me. 
 Rory/' cried Lady Llanberis: l< and 
 now come, we must have the song. I 
 dare say it is out and out a better thing 
 than one hears on the stage come, 
 Me. Rory, begin." 
 
 Me. Rory did not immediately obey, 
 in spite of her Ladyship's impatience., 
 or that testified by the rest of the com- 
 pany. He stood in the centre of the 
 circle, moulding his hat and twirling 
 his stick in every possible way, still in 
 the midst of his triumph and exalta- 
 tion of spirits, directing his looks to his 
 master, with an expression of shyness 
 and apprehension. 
 
 '* Certainly/' said O'Donnel, nod- 
 ding his head to him, and knowing op- 
 position was now vain : " Certainly, 
 Me. Rory, obey any commands her 
 Ladyship may please to honour you 
 with."
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 " Tliank you, Colonel," said Lady 
 Llanberis, advancing and offering him 
 her hand. " I must say I am very for- 
 tunate to have made the pleasure of 
 your acquaintance, and your Irish ser- 
 vant is by much the most amusing per- 
 son I ever met with in his way; and now 
 we are all attention, Me. Rory." 
 
 " I'll just humor the tune a little, 
 my Lady," said Me. Rory, imitating 
 the movements of a piper on his stick, 
 and running over a sort of wild pie* 
 lude with his voice, abruptly pausing 
 to ask, 
 
 " I don't know, my Lady, .if ever 
 you heard a bit of a planxty, called 
 Plae Raca na Rttarc; or O'Rorkes No- 
 ble Feast?"* 
 
 " Never, never, 1 * said Lady Llan- 
 beris, impatiently. 
 
 4f Well, it goes mighty well, Madam. 
 
 * See note end of the volume*
 
 O'DONNEL. 259 
 
 1*11 just give it to you in frisk first, my 
 Ladv." 
 
 v 
 
 "In Irish by all means," returned 
 Lady Llanberis, eagerly. 
 
 Me. Rory then began one of the 
 most spirited compositions, which the 
 genius of his countryman, Carolan, 
 has produced ; and to the tones of a 
 deep clear voice he added such extra- 
 ordinary rapidity of articulation, and 
 such an. inimitable humor of co_unt.e 
 nance and manner, as to excite not 
 only a general applause, but almost as 
 general a sympathy, as if the language 
 in which he sung had been understood 
 by his auditors; and, amidst their bra- 
 vos and bravissimos, he concluded his. 
 song with a scrape and a bow* 
 
 " And now, my Lady/' he said* 
 " would you like to have that same in 
 English." 
 
 " Not now, not now, thank you, 
 Me. Rory/' cried Lady Llanberis, 
 yawning. " Come, this has all been.
 
 260 O'DONNEL. 
 
 very good, indeed, and will do very 
 well for the present; so we will not 
 detain you any longer, thank you, 
 thank you." 
 
 Me. Rory, evidently amazed by this 
 unexpected dismissal, with a look of 
 mortification proportioned to his pre- 
 vious exhilaration, hastily snatched up 
 his hat, and was hurrying out of the 
 room with a hasty bow_, when the 
 Duchess, springing forward, took Lady 
 Llanberis's hand, and with a counte- 
 nance, whose archness and irony gave 
 great effect to the mock vehemence 
 and affected gravity of her manner, 
 she exclaimed, 
 
 " O, Lady Llanberis, is it thus you 
 protect merit in distress? Is it thus 
 you dismiss from your presence the 
 liberal contributor to your morning 
 amusements the admirable Creighton 
 of the day? Is it like your usual, libe- 
 rality and justice to send him from 
 your presence with all his talents un-
 
 ODONNEL. 
 
 rewarded, and all his wrongs unre- 
 dressed ?" 
 
 " Certainly not, Duchess,'* return- 
 ed Lady Llanberis, evidently worked 
 on by her Grace's appeal: * f Certainly 
 
 not; but "what can be done? How- 
 
 i 
 
 ever, ring the bell, General. Mr. Mus- 
 sen, pray call back Me. Rory, and 
 send for the maitre d'hotel ; and I will 
 at least try what is to be done. Come 
 in, Me. Rory." 
 
 And a moment- after, the maitre 
 d'hotel appeared. 
 
 " O, Saunders, I wish to mention to 
 you, that I think you and the rest of 
 the people in the steward's room have 
 behaved most particularly ill to a very 
 respectable and a very amusing man." 
 
 Saunders bowed low, but made no 
 answer. 
 
 " And I really do not chuse to have 
 any person whatever made uncomfort- 
 able in my house, and least of all such 
 a person as Colonel O'Donnel's ser-
 
 ODONNE-L. 
 
 vant, whom you have all, I find, used 
 most scandalously." 
 
 ft Beg pardon, my Lady," bowed 
 Mr. Saunders, submissively: ''but it 
 would be against the rules, and against 
 your Lidyship's own orders, to ad- 
 mit a livery servant into the steward's 
 room upon any pretence whatever, my 
 Lady." 
 
 " Yes, my orders ! but I am not 
 talking of my orders, Mr. Saunders; 
 and 1 must say, that 1 have no idea of 
 such airs ^ the upper servants some- 
 times give themselves; they are quite 
 too ridiculous, particularly in tjie in- 
 stance of the person in question, who 
 happens to be much more amusing 
 than all my establishment put together, 
 and much more clever in every sense. 
 He has a pretty opinion of you all, I 
 can tell you, and has shewn you all up 
 completely; besides, Mr. Saunders, 
 1 chuse to be obeyed, and not argued 
 with."
 
 O'DONNEL. 263 
 
 Mr. Sau rulers bowed again more ob- 
 sequiously than before. 
 
 *' And 1 desire that Colonel O'Don- 
 nel's servant may be most particularly 
 attended to, and made as comfortable 
 as possible ; and since the Ladies in 
 the stewards room find him such a 
 frightful Irishman, and are too fine to 
 admit the Colonel's servant to their 
 particular society, he shall dine with 
 my pag-e, and 1 desire a cover may be 
 laid in Florio's room for him to-day. 
 
 " Certainly, my Lady/' 
 
 " And but stay; send the butler 
 to me in the anti-room : I will give 
 orders myself, and then there can be 
 no mistake." 
 
 And she hurried away, followed By 
 the maitre d'hotel, bowing and scrap, 
 ing, and by Me. Rory crying at every 
 step : 
 
 " I'm intirely obliged to you, my 
 Lady; don't trouble yourself, Madam." 
 
 A few general observations on Me.
 
 264 O'DONNEL. 
 
 Rory, a few questions relative to his 
 character, asked of O'Donnel, and an 
 attempted imitation of his brogue and 
 manner by Mr. Carlisle, exhausted the 
 subject, and the party broke up, dis- 
 persing different ways after the different 
 pursuits, by which they might contrive 
 to fill up the time till dinner. The 
 Duchess was the first to leave the room, 
 which she did, humming a waltz, and 
 taking no further notice of OVDonriel, 
 who remained in the billiard-room the 
 last of the party. 
 
 This conduct rather astonished than 
 displeased him. He thought it extra- 
 ordinary that a woman, who had as- 
 sumed a command over him, which 
 should belong only to the privilege of 
 intimacy, or the empire of affection, 
 should leave him without assigning any 
 further mark of notice or recognition ; 
 yet he felt that he would not much re- 
 gret if this digressive sort of acquaint- 
 ance were to drop here, since it was
 
 26s 
 
 associated in his mind less with plea- 
 sure than with mortification : for in the 
 only two instances in which, at the dis- 
 tance of two years, they had held any 
 intercourse, she had assumed an air of 
 protection over him so imposing, that 
 it almost convinced himself he stood 
 in need of it. 
 
 The lime-piece over the billiard-room 
 fire-place now struck two. There 
 was still time for the promised walk 
 with Lady Llanberis, in which he 
 trusted an opportunity would be af- 
 fording him of returning her munificent 
 gift, by her leading, herself, to the sub- 
 ject. He was crossing the book-room 
 te seek her page, when he perceived 
 the Duchess standing before a book- 
 cases holding a heavy volume, which 
 flropt on the ground, as she started from 
 the sudden clapping of the door, which 
 had slipped out of O'Donnel's hand. 
 He apologized for the abruptness of 
 his entrance, and picked up the book, 
 
 VOL. II. N
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 pausing for a moment in the hope of 
 finding something to say ; not, how- 
 ever, particularly desiring it, but be- 
 lieving that it would be expected ; yet 
 when he raised his eyes there was 
 such an extraordinary expression of 
 demureness in her countenance, that 
 instead of encouraging, it confounded 
 him. They both silently stood hold- 
 ing the ponderous volume between 
 them for near a minute, when the Du- 
 chess letting go her hold, he placed it 
 on a reading-desk which stood near, 
 and asked if he could be of any further 
 use to her. 
 
 *' Perhaps," she said, " you can save 
 me the trouble of looking through this 
 voluminous German dictionary for half 
 a dozen words that have puzzled me 
 in reading Schiller's Mary Queen of 
 Scots/' 
 
 And she presented him a slip of 
 paper, on which the German words 
 were written.
 
 267 
 
 O'Donnel wrote down the transla- 
 tion opposite to them with his pencil, 
 observing as he wrote, 
 
 " It is so longs: since I have had an 
 
 O 
 
 opportunity of speaking German, that 
 I almost forget the language." 
 
 " Have you not been abroad," she 
 asked, " since I had last the pleasure 
 of seeing you on the shores of Lough 
 Swilly?" 
 
 " No, Madam, I have since then 
 been leading a life, as it were, by stealth; 
 and had not an unexpected necessity 
 led me to England, I believe I should 
 have srrown to the rocks on which vour 
 
 
 
 Grace left me, and 
 
 " Forgot myself to stone," 
 
 or turned parasite to the only tree that 
 shaded my hut, and been confounded 
 in the end with other vegetating things 
 identified with its trunk." 
 
 "Then I hope," said the Duchess, 
 K 3
 
 268 O'DONNEL. 
 
 " you have left none of your parasitical 
 properties behind you, for you will find 
 them of much more use here, than in 
 the wilds of Lough Swilly." 
 
 <f I hope, Madam," said O'Donnel, 
 
 quickly, and interring more from her 
 
 smile than her words, " that your 
 
 Grace speaks more for the sake of the 
 
 Jig-tire, than in belief of the fact." 
 
 " O ! as to belief,'' she returned 
 carelessly, " 1 believe nothing and deny 
 nothing ; to doubt is my creed, and not 
 to wonder my motto/' 
 
 " This is the true doctrine of scep- 
 ticism, indeed,'' said O'Donnel. 
 
 " And the only doctrine that can be 
 applied to all the paradoxes., incongrui- 
 ties, chances, changes, and follies of 
 life,'' she replied gaily. 
 
 " And did you never profess any 
 other, Madam ?" he asked with earnest- 
 ness, endeavouring to read through her 
 eves the secret cf her character.
 
 O'DONNEL. 969 
 
 " I at least did not profess any other 
 when I first saw you on the rocks of 
 Glenarm." 
 
 " Indeed! 1 ' 
 
 " It is quite true; I believe I was 
 the only one of the party, on which I 
 HUNG i must not say to which I 
 belonged, who were not amazed to 
 find a man of the world playing the 
 part of a hermit, nor am I now surpris- 
 ed to see the hermit playing the part 
 of the man of the world, nor the Phi- 
 losopher of the Mountains quitting his 
 beloved ' Savagery of Nature/ to 
 launch on the summer seas of pleasure> 
 and obsequiously foflow in the wake 
 of dijirst-rate woman of fashion." 
 
 O'Donnel, at once amazed and 
 amused, yet scarcely knowing how 
 to receive the irony couched under 
 this vein of raillery, endeavoured to 
 take her on her own tone, and re- 
 plied : 
 
 " You are quite mistaken, Madam ; 
 N 3
 
 270 O'DONNEL. 
 
 I do not belong to the service to which 
 your Grace alludes ; I am again indeed 
 put out to sea but I am but a solitary 
 skiff, blown for a moment into the 
 halcyon track, where I now float, by 
 the elements of which 1 am the sport." 
 
 " A solitary skiff!" repeated the 
 Duchess, with her sybil smile and 
 shake of the head. " A privateer, you 
 mean, Colonel, furnished with letters 
 of marque, sails crowded, colours fly- 
 ing, and in full chase of a prize. But," 
 she added pointedly, " learn from an 
 experienced mariner, that there blow 
 no trade winds here; and though the 
 * dew dropping south' breathe to-day, 
 the shrill north-east may come and 
 send you adrift to-morrow /' 
 
 With these warning words, emphati- 
 cally pronounced, she was leaving the 
 room, when suddenly turning back, she 
 added : 
 
 " O ! by the bye, ought I to apolo- 
 gize to you, or you offer aeknowledg-
 
 O'DONNEL. 271 
 
 
 
 ments to me, for my interference in the 
 billiard-room ? But the fact is, I acted, 
 as Lady Singleton would say, ' enfemme 
 qui connoit son monde.' Had you betray- 
 ed your annoyance at Me. Rory's ab- 
 rupt appearance, you would have given 
 the Mr. Carlisles a subject for mimicry, 
 and the rest of the party no favourable 
 impression of your tact; as it was, WE 
 have the laugh on OUR side, for you 
 know, * I too am an Athenian.' Mc 
 Rory had, as I guessed he would, l un 
 grand succes,' and you had the amusing 
 spectacle of seeing bon-ton frivolity 
 exhibited in all its idleness and vacuity, 
 without being in the least involved in 
 the absurdities of your servant, who, 
 after all, was far from being the mos"t 
 ridiculous personage in the scene/' 
 
 O'Donnel thought his acknowledg- 
 ments were now so directly called for, 
 that he was about to make them, but 
 the Duchess, throwing up the sash of a 
 window, near which she stood, told the 
 K 4
 
 272 O* DOWN EL. 
 
 Miss Carlisles, who were walking: 
 with all the beaux under it, that she 
 would join them in a minute, as soon 
 as she could wrap herself up; and flew 
 out of the room to execute the inten- 
 tion ; to seek a party, which, the mo- 
 ment before, had been the object of 
 her derision ; leaving O'Donnel over- 
 whelmed in astonishment at all she 
 had said,, all she had looked, and all 
 she had hinted at. 
 
 '* What an extraordinary creature!" 
 he mentally observed ; " how kindly 
 she has acted by me, and yet how 
 lightly she seems to think of me ; still 
 tendering me her protection, suspecting 
 my weakness, and exhibiting her own 
 strength ! To what can her mysterious 
 words allude; or meaning nothing, does 
 she speak in point, and talk in metaphor, 
 merely to shew off her wit, and sink 
 the memory of Miss O'iialloran's dull- 
 ness, in the vivacity bf her Grace of 
 Belmont? Brilliant she is ; acute she
 
 O'DONNEL. 273 
 
 may be; and cold and vain she must 
 be: for with discernment to detect, and 
 talent to deride folly, she yet evidently 
 courts its suffrages, administers to its 
 vanities, and has eagerly fled to join a 
 group, who was the moment before the 
 object of her sarcasm and ridicule. But 
 enough of her: in a few days this par- 
 ven&e Duchess will be to me what the 
 blunt governess was before, a thing to 
 hang upon the memory, rather than Hue 
 in the recollection." 
 
 O'Donnel then pursued his original 
 intention, and sent a servant to Lady 
 Llanberis to know if she should have 
 the honour of attending her in her 
 walk; but the man brought back an 
 answer from her page that his Lady had 
 driven out in her garden-chair, attend- 
 ed by the Duke and Lord Charles, and 
 would not be home till dressing-time. 
 O'Donnel, therefore, gave up all chance 
 of eclaircissement for that day; nor was 
 the evening more propitious to his
 
 ODONXEL, 
 
 views, for the Countess's whole atten- 
 tion was devoted to the Mr. Carlisles, 
 who struck up a sort of Ombres Chi' 
 noises, in which they were themselves 
 to be the sole actors behind the illu- 
 minated sheet. The Miss Carlisle^ 
 accompanied the spectacle on the harp 
 and piano-forte, and Mr. Mussen was 
 to recite Collins's Ode on the Passions 
 between the acts. Lady Llanberis was 
 amazingly delighted, until she began to 
 be amazingly weary; and before Mr, 
 Mussen had finished, and love 
 
 *' Shook thousand odours from his dewy wing," 
 
 she cried out with a stifled yawn, 
 
 '' Come, that's very well that wilt 
 do; and now let us have in supper; 
 and then, Mr. Frederick Carlisle, you 
 shall sing the " Poor old Woman of 
 Eighty/' and send us all laughing to 
 bed ; for," with another stifled yawn, 
 " I have been so amused, that I am 
 tired to death."
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE following day, being Sunday, 
 and a very fine day, was devoted to 
 the health of the souls and bodies of 
 the guests of Longlands. Lady Llan- 
 beris, who rather piqued herself upon 
 being religious, from time to time, was 
 now in one of her pious crisises, from 
 an accidental glance into the Me- 
 thodist's Magazine, which her maid 
 was tearing up for papilotes, white she 
 dressed ; her Ladyship therefore in- 
 sisted on every one accompanying her 
 to church, except Colonel O'Donnel, 
 to whom she sent word that there was 
 a chapel within a few miles of Long- 
 lands. When church was over, the 
 party drove to Lord B/s seat, to look
 
 ODONNH.C. 
 
 at an aviary, which the Countess irr~ 
 tended as the model of one at Long- 
 lands ; and they only got back -in time 
 to dress for dinner. 
 
 O'Donnel spent the day alone, read- 
 ing, writing, and wandering about the 
 grounds. In the course of his ramble 
 he came to an unfinished building in a 
 dark fir grove, about a mile and a half 
 distant from the house, and so encom- 
 passed by trees and underwood, that 
 it was almost impossible to get at it. 
 He at last, however r made his way to 
 a gate, which seemed the entrance; 
 but above its arch was written in large 
 letters, 
 
 No admission here. 
 
 O'Donnel drew back from the pro- 
 hibited and mysterious edifice, and in- 
 quired of a man whom he met in his. 
 way back, what that building was. 
 
 The man replied, that though he was
 
 O'DONNEL. 277 
 
 one of the workmen employed, he did 
 not know what was intended by it; 
 that it was a secret between her Lady- 
 ship and the master builder ;. that the 
 Countess was not pleased when any 
 body made inquiries about it; and that 
 he believed not one of the quality in 
 the great house knew a word about it; 
 but for his part, he suspected it was 
 intended for a chapel or a meeting- 
 house; for they were putting up 
 benches and pews, though as yet he 
 saw no sign of a pulpit. 
 
 O'Donnel supposed his conjecture 
 was right, and resolved not to mention 
 his accidental discovery to the fair 
 foundress of this secluded temple. Not 
 a little amused with this new trait in 
 the variegated character of his whimsi- 
 cal and prodigal hostess, he returned 
 to the house, just as the empty car- 
 riages of the church party were driving 
 from the hall door. 
 
 A few of the neighbouring gentry
 
 278 O'DONNEL. 
 
 enlarged the dinner party; the spirits 
 of Lady Llanberis always increased 
 with the number of her guests ; and 
 they were now in their fullest flow, 
 when towards the end of the first 
 course they received a sudden check' 
 by perceiving that the Duchess was 
 not at table. Every term of wonder 
 
 w 
 
 and astonishment was exhausted on 
 the subject of this event by her Lady- 
 ship; and servant after servant was 
 dispatched with messages of inquiry to 
 her Grace, before the first envoy could 
 possibly return with an answer. 
 
 " When she desired to return after 
 church/' continued Lady Llanberis, 
 " I thought it was because she hates 
 going to see sights. 1 have seen her 
 once or twice sit upon the steps of a 
 skew-house^ and quiz all those who 
 went any further; but this looks as 
 if she was ill, or " 
 
 Here the return of all the messengers 
 in a body cut short the Countess's
 
 O'DONNEL. 279 
 
 doubts and conjectures, which at all 
 times she preferred to certainties and 
 convictions. A groom of the cham- 
 bers informed her Ladyship that the 
 Duchess was very well, but that she 
 had ordered a chicken in her dressing- 
 room, and was so much engaged with a 
 book, that she begged to be excused 
 dining below. 
 
 Although it was a mere chance whe- 
 ther Lady Llanberis had, or had not, 
 remarked the absence of her whimsical 
 guest; yet having observed it, and at a 
 moment when she wanted one of the 
 Duchess's "droll stories," to bear out 
 the exuberant flow of her own high 
 spirits, she now found the cause as- 
 signed for absence inadequate to the 
 disappointment it created ; and all dis- 
 appointments being of equal importance 
 in the eyes of Lady Llanberis, as all 
 crimes were of equal enormity in the 
 opinion of the stoics, she now gave way 
 to the iafluenceof a sullen ill-humour,
 
 280 O'DONNEL. 
 
 which dimmed the lustre of her smile, 
 and hung like a stormy cloud on her 
 contracted brow. 
 
 " Engaged in a book ! humph !'* 
 she repeated two or three times; while 
 Lord Charles smiled triumphantly, and 
 Lady Mary, with a supercilious smile, 
 repeated : 
 
 u L* amiable capricieuse /" 
 " Well, that is just what she is," said 
 Lady Llanberis, her countenance sud- 
 denly brightening into animation, and 
 roused by Lady Mary's ironical attack 
 on her absent friend : for with one whom 
 s/tepleased tohold up, she did notchoose 
 another should find fault; glad, too, to 
 have an opportunity of venting her acri- 
 monious feelings, she continued : 
 
 " L'amiable capricieuse is a very 
 fit name for her ; and I must say I 
 prefer her little whims to the eternal 
 sameness of some people's good sens*e 
 and dull uniformity, a thousand tjmes 
 over. Go, Willis, go to her Grace.
 
 O DONNEL. SRI 
 
 with my love, and that I am sorry we 
 have not the pleasure of her company, 
 but that she is quite right to do the 
 thing she likes 'best: and, Willis, re- 
 quest the Duchess to let me know 
 what book she is reading." 
 
 The man obeyed, and her Ladyship 
 continued: " I dare say it is something 
 very new or very amusing, or she would 
 not be so empressee about it. I would 
 rather take a book of her recommen- 
 dation than anyone's else whatever ; 
 she hits upon such very odd things." 
 
 Mr. Mussen observed, with the air of 
 a man who had taken too much pains 
 with the phrase and matter of his 
 speech to doubt its success : 
 
 " The Duchess is indeed very 
 unique in all her views of things. She 
 may be likened to one of those meteoric 
 bodies, bright but eccentric, whose 
 course it is so difficult to follow, and 
 whose aphelion it is scarcely possible 
 to guess at.'*
 
 282 O'DONNKL. 
 
 " Is not Mr. Mussen very eloquent?" 
 asked Lady Mary, in a whisper, of La- 
 dy Llanberis. 
 
 " I don't think so at all," returned 
 the Countess, abruptly. 
 
 " You diet think so once," returned 
 Lady Mary, in a lone of pique. 
 
 " Yes, once, Lady Mary, perhaps ; 
 but one cannot really go on thinking 
 the same thing for ever." 
 
 Here Willis returned, and laid a slip 
 of paper before his lady, who read aloud 
 " Le Pere Pascal." 
 
 Every body present, who knew any 
 thing of the author or the reader, 
 smiled : Mr. Mussen ironically, be- 
 cause Lady Mary smiled ironically ; 
 and Mr. Wharton sneered maliciously 
 as double to Lord diaries. 
 
 " Le Pere Pascal is not exactly th 
 book I should expect to find in hej 
 Grace's hands/' said Lady Mary. 
 
 " O, you mistake her, quite then, 
 returned Lady Llanberis, " for though
 
 O'DONNEL. 283 
 
 1 understand her father, like the late 
 poor Duke, was a very free-thinking, 
 unhappy man, yet she is extremely pro- 
 per on such subjects, and her devoting 
 Sunday to Pascal is not at all unlike 
 her. By the bye, I must get her to or- 
 der me down some copies of Pascal : 
 one should always have such books in 
 the way ; but since good Dr. Sandford, 
 my son's late tutor, and now an Irish 
 bishop, left us, we have been sadly off 
 in these particulars. Apropos, Mr. 
 Mussen, 1 hope you did not order that 
 stupid work upon " organs," you were 
 mentioning : if you did, pray recall 
 your orders. There is no use in throw- 
 ing away money upon such stuff, when 
 one has not a Pascal in the house. In- 
 deed, while I think of it, I'll send to the 
 Duchess to make a memorandum of it. 
 Willis, bring me a bit of note-paper." 
 
 While she wrote her request with a 
 pencil, Mr. Mussen kept assuring her
 
 284 O'DONNEL. 
 
 that her change of opinion was unfor- 
 tunately too late, for that three copies 
 of" Gall" were on thereat. Meantime 
 her Ladyship, wholely intent on her 
 note, heard him not, and wrote during 
 nearly the whole of the second course ; 
 she then twisted up the paper in curi- 
 ous folds, and dispatched it. Mr. Mus- 
 sen, admiring the ingenuity with which 
 the paper was twisted, entered on a 
 discussion on note and letter folding; 
 observing, that he was engaged in a 
 poem called the " Billet," which 
 brought down the history of note and 
 letter-writing from the davs of Cicero 
 
 m 
 
 to those of Miss Elizabeth Carter; in 
 which he gave not only specimens of 
 the various styles of celebrated epis- 
 tolary writers, but fac-similies of all 
 the modes of folding letters ; with an 
 historical treatise on stationery, the 
 introduction of note - paper, device 
 borders, French mottos, &c. &c. &c.
 
 O'DONNEL. 28.5 
 
 The Countess was delighted with his 
 plan; begged he would put her down in 
 his subscription list for twenty copies; 
 and no less charmed with a concetto he 
 hit off for the head of notes of mere 
 compliments of inquiry, she requested 
 he would order ten or a dozen reams. 
 " Observe, Mr. Mussen,"she repeated, 
 " I do not say quires, butreams; quan- 
 tities of reams/' 
 
 During the whole of these discus- 
 sions, O'Donnel had preserved an un- 
 broken silence ; involuntarily medita- 
 ting on the character of the whimsical 
 Duchess, who had either from genuine 
 inconsequence, or affected eccentricity, 
 made herself the subject of malignant 
 animadversion and ridiculous conjec- 
 tures. The sullen, subdued, unobtru- 
 sive Miss O'Halloran would oppose 
 herself in his mind to this " scorner of 
 opinion;" but whether the vain ambi- 
 tion of singularity lay at the bottom of 
 all this; or whether, understanding the
 
 236 O'DONNEL. 
 
 characters among which she was in- 
 volved, she was merely " fooling them 
 up to their bent/' he was unable to 
 decide. 
 
 When the gentlemen adjourned to 
 the drawing-room, they found the ladies 
 all thickly grouped round one of the 
 fire-places, and, not as usual, broken 
 into little sets, or parted into tete-d-tetcs. 
 The tie which connected them was an 
 argument which had been carried on 
 for some time between Lady Mary Su- 
 vill and the Duchess of Belmont. 
 Lady Llanberis stood leaning on Lady 
 Mary's arm, with a countenance ex- 
 pressing the most vehement interest in 
 the subject of discussion ; animating 
 the cold sententious delivery of her 
 orator, by her own rapid exclamations 
 of " Certainly unquestionably you 
 are quite right that is not to be re- 
 futed," &c. while the Duchess stood 
 leaning against the chimney-piece, 
 like one " wondering with a stupid face
 
 O'DONNEL. 2S7 
 
 of praise," and making a droll con- 
 trast by the niaise look of Miss O'Hal- 
 loran, which she had assumed, to the 
 impetuosity of Lady Llanberis's coun- 
 tenance, and the frigid superciliousness 
 of Lady Mary's looks. The argument, 
 however, was nearly brought to an is- 
 sue, when O'Donnel and some of the 
 gentlemen approached the group. The 
 Duchess seemed to have sustained a 
 defeat, and Xady Maay was triumph- 
 antly winding up her argument with 
 
 " And now, having backed my opi- 
 nion of Pascal by Dr. Johnson's, I pre- 
 sume your Grace will give up your's : 
 except,' 1 added her Ladyship, with an 
 ironical laugh, " you appeal from Dr. 
 Johnson.'* 
 
 " I appeal !" exclaimed her Grace, 
 coming forward with an air of evident- 
 ly mock earnestness, " FROM Dr. John- 
 son!"' 
 
 " A nd FROM Dr. Johnson to WHOM ?" 
 asked Lady Llanbcris, with great vehe- 
 mence. " 1 like the idea of appealing
 
 238 O'DONXEL. 
 
 from Dr. Johnson to any one. I like 
 indeed the idea of people setting them- 
 selves up in opposition to the greatest 
 writer of he ag e, or of any age, or any 
 country." 
 
 " The greatest moralist of any age, 
 undoubtedly," added Lady Mary, "and 
 therefore the properest umpire upon 
 the present question." 
 
 " Unquestionably," nodded Mr. 
 Mussen. 
 
 " And a man," said Lady Mary, 
 " who, in piety and ardour of devotion, 
 was not even second to Pascal him- 
 self." 
 
 " Exactly/' said Lady Llanberis, 
 vehemently. 
 
 " And who," continued Mr. Mus- 
 sen, " had he entered the church, 
 would have merited a mitre; and had 
 he been called to the bar, might have 
 obtained the s^als.'* 
 
 " Beyond a doubt," echoed Lady 
 Llanberis. 
 
 " Pie lamented hims Jf that he was
 
 DONNET,. 
 
 not in parliament," continued Mr. 
 Mussen : " for he was aware that he 
 would have made a great legislator : 
 he was, all in all, a great, a truly great 
 man/' 
 
 " As far from a great man as I am at 
 this moment/' said the Duchess, laying 
 her finger on Mr. Mussen's sleeve, to 
 identify her proximity. 
 
 " Duchess, what can you mean by 
 this?" asked Lady Llanberis, almost in 
 a passion : " How can so young a wo-i 
 man set up her own opinion against 
 the opinion of the world, at least of 
 the wisest part of it ?'* 
 
 " On the contrary," said the Du- 
 chess, coolly, and endeavouring to light 
 a pastille on the chimney-piece, " I am 
 agreeing WITH the wisest people in the 
 world your Ladyship and Lady Mary 
 Saville ; who disagree with poor dear 
 Dr. Johnson in every single point you 
 have alluded to in politics, morals, 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 290 O'DONNEL. 
 
 manners and religion ; particularly 
 Lady Mary." 
 
 At this observation, the two pro- 
 voked ladies laughed violently, joined 
 by Mr. Mussen, who cried :- 
 
 "O, very good, 5 pon honour!" 
 
 While Lady Mary said : 
 
 *' Oh, we beg of your Grace to ex- 
 plain to us this discordance, which your 
 sagacity has discovered ; for until your 
 superior penetration found to the con- 
 trary, I conceived myself to have been 
 a mere devotee to Dr. Johnson." 
 
 " No," said the Duchess, with gra- 
 vity, " you are a mere heretic, Lady 
 Mary ; and think, and believe, and act 
 in direct opposition to the Johnsonian 
 creed in every single article of faith." 
 
 " To begin with one, if you please," 
 said Lady Mary, throwing round a sar- 
 castic look at the circle, who seemed 
 much amused by a discussion carried 
 on in a manner so very unequal.
 
 C^BONNEL, 
 
 * f Come," added Lady Llanberis, 
 <c to begin with one, as Lady Mary says : 
 morals, for instance." 
 
 *' There the difference is the most 
 striking," returned the Duchess. 
 " What made a part of the Doctor's 
 moral system, would have been deemed 
 
 */ 
 
 by Lady Mary, very justly, downright 
 libertinism. For what can her Ladyship 
 think of a man, who asserts that * it 
 is not natural for man and woman to 
 live together in the married state?* 
 and that * a husband's itifidelity is no- 
 thing ?* You will, I believe, find it 
 at page seventy-one, in the third vo- 
 Jume of his Life, Lady Mary; and 
 who, moreover, often observed to his 
 own she-elephant ' my dear, women 
 should not trouble themselves about 
 infidelity in their husbands !' Now I 
 appeal FROM Doctor Johnson ; and to 
 you, Lady Mary : if the General made 
 
 * Life of Johnson, yol. 3, page 7U 
 
 o 2
 
 292 O'DONNEL. 
 
 such an observation to your Ladyship, 
 would you either call, or think him tht 
 great moralist?*' 
 
 Every body smiled, and Lady Mary 
 tossed her haughty head and flirted her 
 fan. " Then," continued the Duchess, 
 " then, Lady Mary, what must a wo- 
 man of your feeling, who wrote the 
 pathetic little poem of " My Infant' 3 
 in answer to the other pathetic little 
 poem of "My Mother," think of the 
 cold selfishness of a man, who declares 
 he never could have liked a child of his 
 own, and never wished to have one ? 
 Then, for his manners, which come in 
 under the head of minor morals, what 
 an inelegant, what an anti-sentimental 
 brute giving ( the reply churlish,' 
 here ' the countercheck quarrelsome 
 there and * the lie direct* everywhere 
 eating with the disgusting voracity 
 of a famished wolf, and moving with 
 the awkward gate of an half-taught 
 bear !"
 
 O'DONKEL. 
 
 " That is all too true, I am afraid," 
 said Lady Llanberis, loosening Lady 
 Mary's arm, and leaning on the Du- 
 chess's. 
 
 " Then, my dear Lady Llanberis, 
 may I not appeal from Doctor Johnson 
 to you on the subject of. religion, you, 
 who have given an opinion so just of 
 the true piety of Pascal ? Conceive a 
 man so childishly credulous, as to be- 
 lieve he heard his mother crying, at a 
 hundred miles distance, so ' Sam, 
 Sam, Sam !'' 
 
 Lady Llanberis could contain her- 
 self no longer : " Go on,'' she cried, 
 bursting into a fit of laughter, in which 
 indeed she was generally joined ; for 
 the Duchess's imitation of an old wo- 
 -man's voice was inimitable. 
 
 14 And for no motive on earth/' 
 continued the Duchess, gravely, "but 
 to scare poor Sam out of his life. Then, 
 conceive him drawing away one of his 
 HOOFS from the threshold of the door, 
 o 3
 
 because it was unlucky to come with 
 the left foot foremost; turning his tea- 
 cup in a particular way, to read his for- 
 tune ; summing up the evidence of an 
 old woman's witchcraft ; and making 
 a serious inquiry into the merits and 
 veracity of the Cock-lane ghost !" 
 
 " Brava ! brava !'*" exclaimed Lady 
 JLlanberis, setting the example of ano- 
 ther general laugh, which,, with great 
 good will, was generally followed ; for 
 the comic humour of the Duchess's 
 countenance, gesture r and mariner, 
 were perfectly dramatic, 
 
 '* And now, Lady Mary/* added 
 Lady Llanberis, tc what have you to 
 say to all this ?" 
 
 " Oh,'* said Lady Mary, coldly, "1 
 beg to decline the subject altogether ; 
 for the defence of Doctor Johnson by 
 one lady, would be quite as ridiculous 
 as the attack by another. I must, 
 however, just beg to say, that though 
 her Grace's, statement be amusing, to
 
 O'DONNEL. 295 
 
 those who are not nice upon that point, 
 yet it is partial and unfair ; and that 
 many things she has quoted against 
 him were not his serious opinion. I 
 believe it is well knowu, that Doctor 
 Johnson often * talked for victory* as 
 he has indeed himself confessed." 
 
 " O, the rogue !" exclaimed the 
 Duchess, archly, " there is another sim- 
 ple sin in him.' And so he has been 
 playing with us all this while; and we 
 have erected his sallies into maxims, 
 proverbs, and aphorisms ! Well, now, 
 who would have thought that an in- 
 genuous mind would have supported 
 so many false positions, in so serious 
 and so solemn a manner, that one 
 would never suspect they were not his 
 real sentiments ? And so, after all, he 
 perhaps did not believe in ghosts, nor 
 hear the voice of his good old mother 
 at a hundred miles distance ; and all 
 these buggy-boos were conjured up to 
 o 4
 
 596 O'DONNEL. 
 
 frighten the second-sighted imagination 
 of poor devoted Bozzy." 
 
 " As I do not understand Irish persi- 
 flage," said Lady Mary, haughtily, 
 " 1 shall leave your Grace to amuse 
 with it those who may. 5 ' 
 
 " But you confess before you go/' 
 observed the Duchess, playfully get- 
 ting before her, " that Doctor Johnson 
 and your Ladyship differ in all serious 
 points, for that is all I want to esta- 
 blish." 
 
 Lady Mary stalked away, Mr. Mus- 
 sen stalked after her, and Lady Llan- 
 beris cried, with a yawn, " Come, 
 this has all been very good indeed ; and 
 now let us have some music. Where 
 are the Carlisles ? They have promised 
 me Handel's ' Hail-stone Chorus/ I 
 always like to begin music on a Sun- 
 day evening with Handel. Come, 
 Mr. Carlisle, sound the tocsin for the 
 music-room/ 1 Mr. Carlisle, snatch-
 
 O'DONKEL. ?97 
 
 ing up a tambourin, beat a muster, 
 and was followed by the party ; three 
 persons only remaining behind the 
 Duchess, and OH either side of her, the 
 Duke and Colonel O'Donnel. 
 
 " Do you know, Duchess," said the 
 Duke, " that you have been amazingly 
 entertaining to-night you have in- 
 deed." 
 
 " Then your Grace was amused by 
 my Irish persiflage?" asked the Du- 
 chess, laughing. 
 
 . -" Very much indeed: it was ex* 
 tremely fair, 1 like your brogue of 
 all things. You don't really mean to 
 get rid of it, and speak like every body 
 else, I hope. You must not indeed lose 
 the pretty brogue/* 
 
 " No/' said the Duchess, " since 
 your Grace approves it, 1 will cherish 
 it, and for your sake ' spare the glori- 
 ous fault" 
 
 The Duke bowed slightly, and look- 
 ed pleased ; and Lord Charles, coming 
 O 6
 
 up to him, took his arm, affecting to* 
 have something particular to tell him r 
 and led him away. 
 
 ft Aye/' said the Duchess, shaking 
 her head after them, te carry him off, a* 
 you may now, vi et armis, I will have 
 him yet on my side. 
 
 " You must know," she said, turn- 
 ing to O'Donnel, " that, in spite of a 
 family prejudice, existing against me 
 in the Savill family, the Duke has all 
 the inclination in the world to take me, 
 as a sort of occasional elixir, or a kind 
 of chasse-cajfe ; and that Lord Charles 
 does not chuse I should administer to 
 his noble, good-natured, indolent bro- 
 ther, in any way ; who, if he were only 
 a little lightened of the embarrassment 
 of rank, riches-, and bun-ton, would 
 be a most exellent person/' 
 
 *' If the Duke takes your Grace for 
 a chasse ennui," said O'Donnel, " he 
 certainly understands the properties of 
 his specific; at least, your conversation
 
 O'DONKEL. 299 
 
 had that effect on my spirits to-night. 
 It has 'ascended me into the brain,' and 
 driven thence all the foolish, dull, and 
 crudy vapours which did environ it y when 
 1 left the dining-room/' 
 
 " No, no," said the Duchess ; " my 
 nostrum does not apply to you ; and I 
 dare say you deem it mere quackery; 
 but it takes here amazingly. The fact 
 is, bon-ton does stand indebted to me 
 now and then for a sensation. My at- 
 tack upon Doctor Johnson was merely 
 a pinch of cephalic, thrown at random, 
 to keep all alive." 
 
 " No more ? M asked O'Donnel. 
 
 She paused for a moment, and then 
 added : " Why, yes, a little more, I am 
 afraid. I was not sorry to have an 
 opportunity of entering the lists against 
 Lady Mary Savill, upon any point. 
 She is one of those women, who, affect- 
 ing a high tone of sentiment and 
 feeling, have all the littleness of mind 
 which belongs to the most vulgar illi-
 
 300 O'DONNEL. 
 
 berality. Since I have come into her 
 family, she has treated me with a con- 
 tumelious severity, partly from the 
 prejudice of family pride, but chiefly 
 because I do not flatter her pretension 
 to talents, nor join the herd of depen- 
 ding dunces, who feign to take her opi- 
 nion for their law. Besides, in a gene- 
 ral sense, 1 hate bigotry and dislike 
 dogma, whatever form they take ; and 
 the bigotry of blue-stocking doctrines, 
 or the dogma of bon-ton literature, are 
 of all things the most tiresome, because 
 both go by prevention, and have all the 
 moroseness, without the enthusiasm, 
 of zeal unfounded in examination or be- 
 lief. Now the bus blues of Lady Mary 
 Savill are not ' celestial blue;' they 
 are indigo. She is at the head of a set 
 of witless literati, who have for their 
 coporate maxim, 
 
 u Nul n'aurade 1'esprithors nous et wosamis," 
 .who, the moment you open your lips,
 
 O'DONNEL. 301 
 
 knock you down with Doctor John." 
 son ; and before you are able to rise 
 from the overthrow, beat you again 
 over the head with Mrs. Elizabeth 
 Carter : I therefore avoid the blow, as 
 they do in Ireland, by giving it first. 
 The truth is, your smatterers in litera- 
 ture, whether bon-ton or mauvais ton, 
 dearly love a good stout overbearing 
 dogmatist, who pins them down with 
 an opinion, as they do others with an 
 authority. This is the Pope for their 
 church, and this is the Pope from 
 whose infallibility I appealed, when you 
 joined our little conclave. I daresay 
 you were surprised at my temerity/' 
 
 "A little surprized by your courage,'* 
 returned O'Donnel, " and a good deal 
 amused by the ingenuity of your attack. 
 There were, however, some serious 
 truths in the positions you so sportingly 
 advanced. All is, as the old proven- 
 cal maxim has it, heur et malheur, even 
 in literature; and Johnson owes much
 
 302 O'DONNEL. 
 
 of his celebrity to the critical hour in 
 which his writings appeared. The in- 
 ventor of a new style, at a moment 
 favourable to any strong peculiarity of 
 composition, he gave the air of novelty 
 to opinions long established ; and added 
 authority and weight to others, which 
 ought long ago to have been exploded. 
 Although he has made no positive 
 addition to the stock of human science, 
 discovered no fact, invented no hypo- 
 thesis, nor demonstrated any verity, he 
 has acquired an influence over society, 
 greater perhaps than either Locke or 
 Newton at present enjoy ; and by en- 
 tangling the public mind in the net- 
 work of his sophistry, he has more than 
 assisted in checking its progress during 
 the last half century, and has given to 
 the age in which he lived its peculiar 
 character. With conceptions as cir- 
 cumscribed as his learning was exten- 
 sive, he brought the whole weight of 
 iiis erudition to support the grossest
 
 305 
 
 superstition, and the most abject noti- 
 ons of temporal government. Enter- 
 taining no very profound respect for 
 truth, he was content to bully, where 
 he felt he could not convince. 
 
 He scorned those common wares to trade in, 
 Reas'ning, convincing, and persuading, 
 But made each sentence current pass, 
 With puppy, coxcomb, scoundrel, ass. 
 
 CHURCHILL. 
 
 " While thus he silenced the timid, 
 the groanings of his religious terrors 
 were mistaken by the good for piety ; 
 and his old Stuart doctrines of divine 
 rigfot (cast by a pension, at the feet of 
 his legitimate sovereign) passed current 
 with the loyal for affection to the king* 
 and devotion to the state. But per- 
 haps I speak under the influence of 
 prejudice : for I cannot readily approve 
 the writer, and still less the man, who 
 has profaned the sacred names of Rus- 
 sel and of Sydney, with epithets of
 
 304 O'DONNEL. 
 
 vulgar virulence and coarse opprobrium. 
 Nor, perhaps/' he added, smiling, " will 
 your Grace forgive me, for thus hang- 
 ing the clog of my dull comment upon 
 the soul and spirit of your text." 
 
 " If you mean to apologize for talking 
 sense to me/* she returned., " spare 
 yourself the trouble : it is at least gra- 
 cious for its novelty.'* 
 
 A silence fora minute ensued. The 
 Duchess seemed to have fallen into a 
 reverie ; her eyes were fixed to the 
 ground, with their look of melancholy 
 wildness; and the gaiety of her coun- 
 tenance fled. She appeared to have 
 retired within herself; and some 
 thought of latent regret seemed to 
 revive amidst the associations of her 
 playful mind, and hang its cloud upon 
 the lustre of her susceptible spirits. 
 
 O'Donnel fixed his eyes on her face, 
 wondering at its rapid change of ex- 
 pression. " What an extraordinary 
 mind ! " he mentally observed
 
 O'DONNEL. 305 
 
 " what an extraordinary countenance ! 
 Does any heart accompany all this ? 
 or is all acuteness and vivacity, vanity 
 and exhibition ?" 
 
 Almost as he asked himself the 
 question, her eyes abruptly met his ; 
 she as suddenly averted them, and 
 accompanied with her voice the sym- 
 phony of an air which was playing in 
 the adjoining room. " Had we not,*' 
 she said, " better join the musicians?" 
 and immediately she moved forward. 
 Q'Donnel followed, and saw her the 
 next moment the centre of a group, 
 composed of the foolish and the vain, 
 the dissipated and the dull. Miss Car- 
 lisle had just finished a fine bravura of 
 Winter's, well executed and well ac- 
 companied, when Lady Llanberis ap- 
 proached the Duchess, and kneeling on 
 a cushion before her, said, " I come 
 with a petition. I know you do not 
 sing out of your own house, but you 
 must not, cannot refuse me."
 
 506 O'DONNEL. 
 
 " We vote this petition frivolous and 
 vexatious,"* returned the Duchess in 
 parliamentary language : . but after 
 much solicitation and much refusing, 
 she suffered herself to be prevailed on, 
 and was led to the instrument by 
 General Savill. O'Donnel followed 
 the group, who encircled her, mentally 
 enquiring if this was the same person, 
 to whose acute observations he had 
 listened before, with so much plea- 
 sure. 
 
 The subject next in debate was, 
 what she should sing an Irish melody* 
 or a Savoyard ballad. She ended the 
 long-agitated question herself. " Come/* 
 said she, " 1 will sing you a little 
 French romance, which you will all 
 like, I answer for it." 
 
 " Oh, I adore French romances,'* 
 exclaimed Lady Llanberis. 
 
 " It is composed/' said the Duchess, 
 gravely, " on three notes; on three^ 
 notes only."
 
 O'DONNEL. $07 
 
 " How wonderful \' } was echoed from 
 every side: " three notes ! only think 
 of that !" 
 
 "And it is played upon two instru- 
 ments" continued her Grace, drawing 
 the harp close to the piano-forte. 
 
 *' Charming! -charming!" was the 
 general exclamation. " Two instru- 
 ments! how odd !" 
 
 " To add to the interest, it is com- 
 posed, words and music, by Jean Jacques 
 Rousseau!"* 
 
 " Good heavens! Duchess, will you 
 ever begin? 1 ' exclaimed Lady Llanberi* 
 with vehement impatience. 
 
 The Duchess threw her right hand 
 over the strings of the harp, with the 
 left touched the keys of the piano- 
 forte, and thus accompanied with a 
 common chord, an air as simple as its* 
 
 * Perhaps Rousseau's little romance, beginning 
 
 u Que le jour me dure," 
 which is composed on three notes.
 
 308 O'DONNEL. 
 
 three notes could make it. It was 
 scarcely possible to judge of her voice, 
 she sung in so suppressed a tone; and 
 it was impossible not to accuse her of 
 affectation, from the peculiar look she 
 threw into her eyes and countenance. 
 A rapturous applause followed the 
 indifferent execution of this indifferent 
 composition; " Brava,bravissima/' re- 
 sounded on every side, and an " encore/' 
 was called. 
 
 " No, no," said the Duchess, " I 
 never repeat myself in any possible 
 way ; but I will sing you an Irish 
 howl, if you will." 
 
 tl By all means," cried Lady Llanbe- 
 ris: " an Irish howl ! how odd !" 
 
 The Duchess now drew the harp 
 towards her, and swept with a light and 
 brilliant finger a characteristic prelude 
 over its chords. She chose a very fine, 
 and very ancient Irish melody, but 
 having gone through the first part in a 
 manner totally different from her'former
 
 O'DONNEL. 309 
 
 style of singing, she rose from the in- 
 strument, and, either through weari- 
 ness or caprice, refused to finish it. 
 As the whim of this proceeding was at 
 least worth the rest of the song-, it 
 only rendered her more popular than 
 ever with Lady Llanberis, who went 
 on exclaiming, " What a delightful 
 creature! there is nobody so amusing. 
 It is all envy and prejudice, endeavour- 
 ing to cry her down ; and she is quite 
 right about Doctor Johnson the tire- 
 some man with his hoof and his tea* 
 
 99 
 
 cup. 
 
 The Miss Carlisles and their bro- 
 thers now began an old canon at the 
 request of their mother, who went 
 about canvassing applause for her mu- 
 sical offspring, crying herself, while 
 she affected to beat time, " a charming 
 strain !" 
 
 O'Donnel had left the apartment 
 before the Duchess had risen from her 
 harp. He was alone, walking up
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 down the drawing-room, when she 
 entered it in search of her ridicule. 
 
 <c Alone, Colonel !" she said : " has 
 our music banished you ?" 
 
 44 Your's, Madam, has had that ef- 
 fect/' he returned smiling. 
 
 " Indeed!" 
 
 Yes, indeed." 
 
 " You resemble then a very illus- 
 
 V 
 
 trious countryman of our's,* who, 
 though an enthusiast in Italian music, 
 would not suffer an Irish air to be sung 
 in his hearing; for I perceive you did 
 not leave the room till 1 had begun my 
 Irish howl. You do not like Irish 
 music I presume.'* 
 
 " I do not like the influence which 
 Irish music holds over me/' he replied, 
 " in spite of my reason, and against 
 my will." 
 
 " You would then resist any influ- 
 
 * The late venerable and respected chymist 
 and philosopher, Mr. Kirwan.
 
 O'DONNEL. Sil- 
 
 ence," she said archly," which milita- 
 ted against your reason ?" 
 
 " At least I would try. I do not 
 say I should succeed: indeed, from the 
 experiment of your Grace's song, I feel 
 I should sometimes fail." 
 
 te This is very gallant," she replied, 
 seating herself upon a couch, against 
 the back of which O'Donnel leaned. 
 
 " It is very true, however; and to 
 qualify a little what your Grace calls 
 my gallantry, I will confess that your 
 French song pleased me as little, as 
 your Irish air pleased me too muck. 
 You surely forgot the advice of your 
 author, so peculiarly applicable to his 
 own simple compositions: // nefaut, 
 pour chanter la romance, quune voix 
 juste et nette, qui prononce bien, et qui 
 cliante simplemcnt" 
 
 " That may do foryou and Rousseau, 
 Colonel O'Donnel, but I sung for my 
 audience ; and your simple style would
 
 O'DONNEL. 
 
 stand but a poor chance against my 
 little mignauderie. What did you 
 think of my face when I sung? I al- 
 ways make a pretty face upon those 
 occasions. You cannot think how it 
 tells. Nobody sees that I call up the 
 same look for all sorts of sentiments, 
 from Nina pazza, to the Blue Bells of 
 Scotland. I make the face, and they 
 all cry ' how interesting she looks 
 when she sings!* The truth is, the 
 world loves a little acting; and, as 
 Queen Elizabeth said of the ritual, she 
 was making for her prayer-loving 
 subjects, * they shall get enough of 
 it." 
 
 O'Donnel laughed, and returned, 
 tf Since your Grace encourages my 
 frankness by your own, I do confess I 
 perceived you were endeavouring to 
 look delightfully with all your might ; 
 and where you made no such effort, I 
 thought you succeeded better. There
 
 0*DOXNEL. 313 
 
 have been periods in Irish story, when 
 the policy of a foreign ruler should have 
 prohibited the singing of such a song 
 with such a countenance." 
 
 At that moment Lady Llariberis en- 
 tered the room. " Oh, Duchess!" 
 she exclaimed ; but perceiving O'Don- 
 nel leaning over the back of her Grace's 
 seat, she suddenly stopped ; and then, 
 added, with pointed coldness : " I beg 
 pardon ; I did not know your Grace 
 was so particularly engaged ;" and im- 
 mediately flounced out of the room. 
 
 " How extraordinary!" said the 
 Duchess, rising in some confusion. 
 " What can she mean ? Pray follow 
 her, Colonel." 
 
 " To what purpose ?" asked O'Don- 
 nel, surprised at Lady Llanberis's 
 manner, but still more at the emotion 
 of the Duchess, whom he believed 
 beyond the possibility of being moved 
 by any thing. 
 
 VOL. II. P
 
 314 O'DONNEL. 
 
 " Then / will follow her," she said, 
 and flew into the music-room, while 
 O'Donnel, taking a book, retired to 
 his own.
 
 NOTE S. 
 
 Coma. Page 12. The ancient Irish armies had 
 horns, a kind of domestic trumpet, in every batta- 
 lion, with notes peculiar to the different battalions, 
 for the more precise knowledge of the duty re- 
 quired of each. But the Irish Coma was not de- 
 voted alone to martial purposes ; meadh was fre- 
 quently quaffed out of them, as the Danish hunters 
 do their beverage at this day, and the English did 
 thcir's in the time of Chaucer. 
 
 See Walker's Irish Bards. 
 
 James sat by the fire-side, with double beard, 
 And drinketb of his buglet-horn the wine. 
 
 franklin's Tale, Vol. 2, p. 809. 
 
 Page 14, 28. Ilugue O'Donnel un des plus 
 puissans Princrs d'Irelande, apres O'Niel, quoique 
 il fut encor jcun par rapport a son age, ayant a 
 peine vingt ans, il etoit encor mure par rapport a 
 sa prudence, et ses autres Tirtus, etant arrive dans
 
 316 KOTES. 
 
 leTirconnel, son Pcrc avance deja en age, lui ccda 
 tout son droit, et il fiit, roconnu d'un voix unanime 
 et conronne Prince deTirconticI par O'Phrile qui 
 etoit le ministre ordinaire de cette ceremonie. 
 
 JJistoire d'Irelande, par L? Abbe Me. Groghan. 
 
 Page 46. The [rish, under all their grievances, 
 appealed, from time to time, to the English sove- 
 reigns, against those sent to rule them, " whose eon. 
 duct," as the Lord Deputy Mountjoy expressed it, 
 " was sufficient to drive the best and quietest states 
 into confusion,"* and whose oppressions were 
 merely exercised for the purpose of multiplying for- 
 feitures. The soTcreign, though he could not al- 
 ways afford them redress, never denied them sym- 
 pathy and compassion. Henry the Third personally 
 interested himself in their favour ; and Elizabeth, 
 when she read an account of their sufferii gs, in one 
 of their own pathetic remonstrances, burst into 
 tears, and said to Lord Burlei-h : u It may be said 
 of me, as of Tiberius by Bato, It is you who are 
 to blame, who have committed your flock, not to 
 shepherds, but to wolves." 
 
 James the First, in most instances, shewed favour- 
 able dispositions towards Ireland ; and Charles the 
 
 * Lord Mountjoy's Letter. Pecat. Hibern. Sab. Linem.
 
 NOTES. 317 
 
 First, in 1628, gave his royal word to the Com. 
 mons of Ireland, that he would put a stop to the 
 inquiry into defective titles, a sort of rapine com. 
 mitted by his deputies in Ireland, on the property 
 of the natives ; but he was daringly opposed in the 
 fulfilment of this promise by the Lord Deputy Wcnt- 
 worth, who carried his point in the House of Com- 
 mons. During the rebellion of 1641, the Puritans 
 were at the head of Irish affairs. It is a singular 
 circumstance that a letter was found in the study of 
 Doctor Borlase (the then law-justice) after his 
 death, written by the king, to inform him of the 
 intended insurrection, and calling upon him to 
 crush it in its infancy. Unfortunately this letter 
 was neither attended to nor revealed : and the king 
 himself was afterwards accused of being the insti- 
 gator of the rebellion ; for Sir Phelim O'Neil was 
 promised his pardon, if he would confess that he 
 held his commission from " Charles Stewart," as his 
 judges, on his trial, called their king. 
 
 See the Duke of Ormond 's papers in " Historical Collec- 
 tions, by the Rev. Dr. ffeilson, an eminent Protestant 
 Divine, and an impartial Historian. 
 
 Page 55. The words of the celebrated Charles 
 
 O'Connor of Ballinagar, and applied to himself. 
 
 Although he afterwards became so distinguished as 
 
 the author of many beautiful tracts, and as a man 
 
 p 2
 
 313 NOTES. 
 
 of science, he was of necessity, from the nature of 
 the times, educated by stealth, and, like O'Donnel, 
 by a man who had once lived in courts, been dis. 
 tinguishcd by princes, and who in his old age found 
 no refuge from misfortune but in the solitudes of 
 rocks, morasses, aud mountains. Such was 
 O'Roark, Bishop of Killala, and uncle and precep- 
 tor to O'Connor. After having lived in the Im- 
 perial Court as Secretary to a Prince, love of coun- 
 try brought him back to Ireland, when the Penal 
 Statutes were in full force. Though protected by 
 letters from the English Sovereign to the leading 
 nobility in Ireland, nothing could save him from 
 persecution : he wandered for years among the 
 wilds and bogs of the Joyce Country : he at last 
 found refuge in the solitudes of Ballynagar, and 
 being a man of great learning and science, devoted 
 himself to the education of his nephew. Carolan, 
 the famous Irish bard, was sometimes present at 
 their studies, and the following anecdote is no bad 
 picture of the times it relates to. 
 
 " Nor would the good Bishop allow him (his 
 nephew) fo neglect the study of the Irish language. 
 One day, when he had succeeded very happily in de- 
 fcribing to a friend in Vienna the miseries of the 
 old Irish, a task pointed out to him by the Bishop, 
 he told him he would never more write in Irish y 
 since he had succeeded so well in English, 
 
 " No,' said the Bishop, * what you have once
 
 NOTES. 319 
 
 learned, you must never forget; and you must not 
 go to rest till you have translated the Miserere into 
 Irish.' He complied, and his translation was supe- 
 rior to Bedel's. Carolan^ who was present when it 
 was read by the Bishop in a solemn, affecting voice, 
 burst into tears, and seizing his harp, in a fit of 
 rapturous affection for the family of Ballinagar, 
 swept along the strings in a sudden fit of inspiration 
 his 4 Donagh-Cahilloig ;' singing extempore the fall 
 of the Milesian race, the hospitality of the old 
 O'Connor^ and his greatness of soul, who, in the 
 midst of crosses and calamities, harboured THAT 
 VERY NIGHT IN HIS HOUSE a crowd of reduced gen- 
 tlemen, and had hired a number of harpers to strike 
 up a solemn concert at midnight mass ; for it was 
 Christmaseve." 
 
 See the Life of Charles O'Connor, of Ballinagar, Esq. 
 
 M. It. I. A. 
 
 Page 64, 66, 67. / felt that these brave men 
 were right. 
 
 This incident .is taken from some biographical 
 anecdotes of the famous Count O'Rourke, which 
 are here subjoined extracted from a periodical 
 publication. 
 
 COUNT O'ROURKE. 
 
 This very remarkable gentleman was born at a 
 village near the ancient castle and extensive forest 
 p 4
 
 320 NOTES. 
 
 of Woodford, in the county of Leitrim, and pro. 
 Tince of Connaught, which was_the residence of his 
 royal ancestors. He acquired a knowledge of the 
 language, accent, and manners of his native coun- 
 try, so fixed and rooted, that though he had lived 
 ever since his twenty. fifih year abroad, he yet pre- 
 served the broad dialect, and the peculiar style of 
 Ireland. In his twenty. fifth year he came to Lon. 
 don, where he remained upwards of five years, ex- 
 periencing many disappointments. He embarked 
 in several pursuits, but ultimately fixed on the mi. 
 litary profession, as the best suited to his genius 
 and disposition. In the first troop of horse.guards 
 he received the rudiments of arms, but, being a Ro- 
 man Catholic, he was forced to resign. He then 
 vent to France, and presented to the king, at Ver. 
 sallies, a petition, specifying his princely origin, and 
 praying for a regiment. In consequence of which, 
 in the year 1758, he was made a captain of the 
 Royal Scotch in that service. It is well known 
 how difficult a matter it is for a foreigner to get 
 advanced in that jealous and national corps. As 
 few instances of irregular promotions had been 
 known in the brigade, the lieutenants were all, to a 
 man, hurt at the appointment ; and being resolved 
 to contest the matter with him, it was decided at the 
 point of the sword; and the Count, in the space of 
 a few days, fought four duels, in which he gained 
 great reputation, not more by his gallantry in th
 
 NOTES. 521 
 
 , than by honourably confessing, that he thought 
 it an injury to the national regiment that a foreigner 
 should be thrust upon them. He therefore gave 
 up his commission, informing the grand monarch, 
 that it was a dear purchase to fight for it everyday. 
 At this time he formed an intimate acquaintance 
 with the Polish ambassador and his lady. A soldier 
 of fortune is a soldier for the ladies. It was 
 through life the plan and ambition of the Count, to 
 connect gallantry with enterprize, and pay as much 
 regard to the eyes of beauty, as to the standard of 
 his commander. The beau monde of Paris declared 
 him to be the cicisbeo of the ambassador's lady, 
 through whose interest he was introduced to king 
 Stanislaus, from whom he received the promise of 
 an honourable appointment; but having too much 
 activity in his nature to wait in idleness for the slow 
 performance of a royal promise, he went to Russia, 
 with strong recommendations from France to the 
 court of Petersburgh, which, being then engaged in, 
 a war with Prussia, was the scene for adventure 
 and fame. He was appointed first major of horse 
 cuirassiers, in the regiment of body guards; and, ia 
 the course of the war, he distinguished himself 
 greatly, and, in particular, by storming the city of 
 Berlin, which he laid under contribution. At the 
 end of that war, he was invited by the great Frede- 
 rick to come and see him at his court. He vra 
 p 5
 
 322 NOTES. 
 
 advised not to go, as the soldiery bad committed se. 
 Teral of the outrages, which are but too frequent 
 in the heat of conquest ; but the Count laid, that 
 the man who was a brave enemy, could not be a 
 dangerous friend ; and he went to Berlin, where he 
 was most graciously received by the Prussian mo. 
 narch. In a conversation between them, Frederick 
 asked him how he could entertain the ambitious 
 hope of succeeding in an attempt against Berlin ? 
 The Count replied, in one of those gasconades 
 which are pardonable in a knight errant, that if he 
 had been ordered byhis commanding officer to storm 
 the heights of Heaven, he would have made the at- 
 tempt. The Count now returned to France, with 
 certificates of his gallant conduct, from Peter the 
 Third, Prince General VVolkonskoy, and General 
 de Souvorow. On his return, he was appointed by 
 King Stanislaus one of his chamberlains, which ap. 
 pointment took place in 1764. In the year 1770, 
 he was appointed by the French king, a colonel of 
 horse, and was enrolled among the nobility of 
 France : and in the year 1774, he was honoured 
 with the order of St. Louis. 
 
 At the commencement of the American war, he 
 came over to England, declaring, now that his own 
 country wanted his arm, he would not fight under 
 a foreign banner. He brought with him all his cer- 
 tificates, titles, and recommendations : and, among
 
 NOTES. 323 
 
 others, one from the King of France to his present 
 Majesty. He was introduced by his friend, the 
 late Lord Cunningham, to Lords North and Stor- 
 mont, and was introduced by Lord Stormont to the 
 King at St. James's. He proposed to Lord North 
 to raise three regiments of Roman Catholics in his 
 native country, to be employed against the Ame- 
 ricans, provided they would give him the commission 
 of Colonel Commandant; but his offer was rejected. 
 He proposed to them to quell the riots in the year 
 1780, at the head of the Irish chairmen ; but all 
 his offers were treated contemptuously ; in conse- 
 quence of which, he distributed his genealogy, and 
 along with it all the certificates and honours which 
 he received during his residence abroad. He pre- 
 served all the dignity of a prince, and, by many 
 anecdotes, shewed how much he disdained the up- 
 start families, as he called them, of England* 
 
 Page 110. The Bishop of Derry being at dinner 
 one day, an Irish harper came in, and sung an old 
 ode to the harp, the substance of which was, that 
 in such a place, pointing to the very spot near 
 Ballyshannon, a man of gigantic figure lay buried, 
 and that over his breast and back were plates of
 
 324 NOTES. 
 
 pure gold, and on his fingers rings of the same : 
 the place was so minutely described, that two of 
 the company were tempted to examine into it, and 
 did accordingly find two pieces of pure gold. 
 
 See the Bishop of London's edition of Cambden, p. 1411. 
 
 Page 1 1 1. This curious and most ancient family 
 relic is a silver box lined with brass: the top is 
 gilt, and set with large pieces of crystal, and other 
 stones of various shapes. It is divided into three 
 compartments; the centre represents Saint Coliunb 
 sitting in his Cathedra; that on his right, a Bishop, 
 and that on his left, is a representation of the Cru- 
 cifixion, attended by the two Marys. The border 
 on the top and bottom consists of lions and griffins, 
 and the sides are oak leaves. On the left is a silver 
 censor, suspended from a chain of the same metal, 
 and it has been evidently used as a portable altar^ 
 or pix. At the foot of the saint's figure is a setting, 
 with a piece of glass covering; some small bits of 
 red cloth, supposed to be a relic of the saint's gar- 
 ment. It is by no means of contemptible work- 
 manship : within is contained a wooden box, and 
 in it is a manuscript on vellum, which is supposed, 
 and with reason, to have been the property of
 
 NOTES. 325 
 
 Saint Columb.kill, who was of this family, and the 
 patron saint and apostle of the Highlands of Scot- 
 land, and founder of the monastery now bearing 
 his name, Hy Colum-Cille and which was the 
 usual place of sepulture for the Kings of Scotland. 
 
 In the year 1723 this box was in the possession of 
 Daniel O'Donnel, a Colonel in the service of His 
 Most Christian Majesty, who, to preserve it from 
 decay, it being much injured by time, caused a 
 new case to be made round its sides, which has 
 made it very strong, and effectually answered the 
 intended purpose. Round the bottom he placed 
 this inscription : " James the Third, King of Great 
 Britain, being in exile, Daniel O'Donnel, a Colo, 
 nel in the service of His Most Christian Majesty, 
 repaired the silver work, which time had worn 
 away from this hereditary relic of St. Columb, 
 called Caah, in the year of Salvation, 1723.*" 
 
 Round the bottom of the original was an ancient 
 inscription, apparently in the Irish character, but 
 so much injured and defaced, as to be illegible. 
 Sir Capel Molyneux, Bart, who married Margaret, 
 the daughter of the late, and sister of the present 
 
 * Jacobo tertio M. Bi. rege exulante, Daniel O'Donnel 
 Xtianisbimo imperatori prefectus rei bellies, hujusce hereti- 
 darii sui, Columbani pignoris, vulgo caah dicti, argentuia 
 vetubtate consumptum restauravit. An. Salutis, 1723.
 
 326 NOTES. 
 
 Sir Neil O'Donnel, being in France during the 
 short peace of 1802, heard that the last of the 
 O'Donnels of France, to whom this relic had de- 
 scended, had, by his will, left it to O'Donnel of 
 Newport, in the County of Mayo, made inquiry 
 into the matter; and having ascertained it to be 
 fact, applied to the person in whose care it had been, 
 deposited, on behalf of the late Sir Neale O'Don. 
 iii-l ; and having obtained it, brought it with him 
 to Ireland, and delivered it safely to Sir Nealc, in, 
 whose custody it remained till his death. 
 
 Page 114. This incident may appear to o'erstep 
 the modesty of probability, but it actually occurred 
 some years back in the family of the late Wogan 
 Brown, Esq. of Castle Brown, Kildare. 
 
 Mr. Brown, who was in Germany, wrote to 
 have some fine English horses, which were in his 
 own stables at Castle Brown, sent over to him. 
 The Irish groom who attended them, and who was 
 known in the family by the name of Ned Byrne, 
 proposed taking them "over to his master, though 
 he had never been a dozen miles from Castle Brown 
 in his life : this was at last agreed to, and Mr. 
 frown's agent in London had orders to provide 
 him when he arrived there with an interpreter and
 
 NOTES. 327 
 
 guide (o accompany him ; but on hearing the im- 
 mense sum this person was to receive, he would not 
 hear of his master being put to such an expence, and 
 " engaged he would deliver the bastes safe into his 
 master's own hands." When expostulated with, 
 and the distance represented to him, he replied : 
 
 44 Why, sure, an't [ come to the world's end al- 
 ready ?" meaning London : " devil a much further 
 I can go, any how." He set off, therefore, for Vi- 
 enna, with the " bastes ;" reached it perfectly safe, 
 and on his arrival, found his master had gone to 
 Florence. As Italy or Germany were quite equal 
 to Ned Byrne, he set forth again on his travels. 
 As he passed through some garrison town on the 
 frontiers of Germany, Colonel Count Dalton hap. 
 pened to be looking out of a window, and offered 
 to lay a wager with some German officers, that that 
 was an Irish groom riding by. On addressing Ned 
 in English, he found he was servant to his friend 
 Mr. Brown. Much amused with his adventures, he 
 gave him several letters to the post-masters on the 
 route, to facilitate his Italian journey; every one 
 of which Ned delivered to his master, unopened, 
 M'hen he reached Florence. " What use was there 
 in them, your Honour ?" he observed : " sure, whaj 
 better could 1 </o, then / done.'''' Ned returned, 
 extremely delighted with his travels, to Castle 
 Brown, without having understood a word of any 
 language he had heard, from the time he left Eng-
 
 NOTES. 
 
 land. A few years afterwards, Mr. Brown sent 
 over some horses from Ireland to his brother, the" 
 present General Brown, Aid.de -Camp to the King 
 of Saxony. General Brown was then at the Court 
 of Dresden, where Ned Byrne had an opportunity 
 of seeing several of his fair countrywomen, who 
 were in attendance on the Electress. His account 
 of his short residence at Dresden, was, on his re- 
 turn, extremely amusing. ** And there was tha 
 Giniral in his elegint regimintals going to prayer $ 
 with the Royal Family; and there was Countesi. 
 O'Kelly, and Countess O'Callagan, mighty glad to 
 see me, and no wise proud : troth, not a bit of 
 pride among them." 
 
 For this little anecdote of " Ned Byrne's tra- 
 vels," I am indebted to General Brown himself, 
 who had the goodness to repeat it to me a fevr 
 hours before the writing of this note. 
 
 Page 246. Lcpreghaun. It would be extremely 
 difficult to class this supernatural agent, who hold 
 a distinguished place in the Irish " Faerie." Hi 
 appearance, however, is supposed to be that of a 
 shrivelled little old man, whose presence marks a 
 spot where hidden treasures He concealed, which 
 were buried there in " the troubles." He is, there- 
 fore, generally seen in lone and dismal places, out
 
 NOTES. 329 
 
 of (he common haunts of man ; and though the 
 night-wanderer may endeavour to mark the place 
 where he beheld the guardian of the treasures 
 perched, yet when he returns in the morning with 
 proper implements to turn up the earth, the thistle, 
 stone, or branch, he had placed as a mark, i? so 
 multiplied, that it is no longer a distinction, and 
 the disappointments occasioned by the malignity of 
 the little Lepreghaun render him a very unpopu- 
 lar fairy. His name is never applied but as a term 
 of contempt. 
 
 Page 258. Plaeraca na Ruarca, or O'Rourkc's 
 noble feast, was composed by Carolan, the first of 
 the Irish bards, and translated most humourously, 
 or rather versifiedin English, by Dean Swift. The 
 story on which it is founded makes a part of a tra- 
 dition sometime back current in the County of 
 Leitrim, where the ruins of the Castle of the 
 O'Rtiarcs, most romantically situated, still moifi- 
 der, on a precipitous rock, which frowns over a 
 rapid river, near Mannor- Hamilton. The sub- 
 stance of the tradition is as follows : O'llourke, 
 the chief of Brefny, a brave and powerful person, 
 was invited by Queen Elizabeth to London, though 
 under the displeasure of the Lord President Bing- 
 hara. The Queen made him warm professions of
 
 330 NOTES. 
 
 honours and service, intending by this invitation to 
 lead him into a kind of exile, in order to secure 
 his obedience. O'Ronrke confided, and obeyed 
 her summons ; but, before his departure, he assem- 
 bled his vassals and friends in the great hall of his 
 castle, and entertained them with all the splendor 
 of the times. (Such was the parting feast which 
 gave rise to the soug of the bard in after-days.) Ou 
 the arrival of the Irish chief in Whitehall, the 
 Queen was ready to receive him. The elegant sym- 
 metry of his person, and his noble aspect, struck 
 Her Majesty, and he was-soon ranked amongst her 
 choicest favourites. One night a person tapped at 
 his door, and was admitted it was a woman. The 
 visit continued to be repeated, and the visitant to 
 retire before day-light. The Chief's curiosity be- 
 came urgent : he pressed the mysterious lady to re- 
 veal herself, but she refused : a straggling moon, 
 beam, however, discovered to him a ring that glit- 
 tered on her finger: he examined it unobserved by 
 the wearer. The next day he saw it upon the 
 Queen's finger at Court, and had the imprudence to 
 hint his suspicion to Her Majesty. His fatal cu- 
 riosity (adds the tradition) was punished with se- 
 cret death he was assassinated that night. 
 
 See Walker's Irish Banh> 
 
 The catastrophe of this provincial tale is poetical, 
 but happens not to be historical. O'Rourke
 
 NOTES. 331 
 
 was publicly executed in London. The crime of 
 which he was accused, was, having received under 
 his roof some shipwrecked Spaniards. His son 
 took up arms to avenge his father's death, and the 
 spoliation of his own property by the Lord Presi- 
 dent, and joined " O'Donnel the Red," in those 
 contests in which General Clifford was killed. 
 
 END OF VOL. II. 
 
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