i mw a I E> RARY OF THE UN IVLRSITY Of ILLINOIS 823 v.l 1^ ,f A \A A WINTER IS BUBlLlJf, VOL I. Digitized by the Inter'net Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/winterindublinde01sedl A WINTER IN DUBLIN: % CHARLES SEDLEY, Esq. Atithtr of The Barouche Driver^ Infdel Mother, Mask s/ IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. Those People, ^^ like ancient Medals, are kept apart ; and, " passing but feiv bands, preserve the Jirst sharpnesses ivhich ** the Jine hand of Nature has given them"— they are not " unpleasant to feel— hut, in return, the legend is so visible ; ** that, at the first lotk, you see -whose image and superscrif' " Hon they bear." SterNE. LONDON: ITinted by D. N. SHURY, Berwick Street, Soho, FOR J. F. HUGHES^ WIGMORE STREET^ CAVENDISH SQUARE. 1808, ^. i T9 i MR. SHERIFF PHILLIPS, ^ Sir, WHILE public approbation ap- , I predates the zeal with which you have ^entered into the laborious execution of (jlyour public duties; there are many J) private individuals who bear, towards 4 you, the humbler testimonials of your ^pri f^ private worth VOL I. I* VI DEDICATION. To your advice, friendship, and sup- port, I owe the earliest dawn of my success in business ; and embrace, with pleasure, the present occasion to express the respect and esteem with which I have the honor to be, Sir, Your obliged ind faithful Servant, THE PUBLISHER. 5* Wigmore Street, 24th Oct. 1807. PREFACE- THREE times have I, already, appeared before the town — ^ candidate for public favour: and, three times, have my labors been honored with a most ample share of distinguished pa- tronage. But, lest I should forget, that public APPROBATION is not, cxclusively, a A 2 VIU PREFACE, shield against the shafts of private ENMITY or of PARTIAL CRITICISM ; the Editor of a new-fangled Review has LIBERALLY Undertaken to remind me of this fact, by loading me with GROSS, PERSONAL, INSULT; nOt Only on account of what I have — but, of what I HAVE NOT — written. It is not my nature to be superior to reproof — insensible to praise — or deaf to admonition : but I will neither flatter nor bribe — fear nor brave — any lite- rary PORCUPINE, however he may lance the malevolent asperities of his PREFACE, IX quill, at me, in obedience to the scur- rility, moroseness, vulgarity, or igno- rance, of his own ruffian disposition. . I presented the " Barouche Driver and his Wife" to the town, as a de- scriptive effort of the follies of the day : and whatever may be its demerits as a work, the moral will, most undoubt- edly, entitle me to support from the rising generation ; whose beacon I am, in reflecting the quicksands of fashion- able dissipation. A 3 X PREFACE. And as novelty, always, excites a portion of curiosity, I make no doubt the FIRST number of this valuable Review v/ill find many readers ; in which event, I feel that I shall have to thank the learned Editors, for an enlarged sale of the VvTork they are pleased, so elaborately, to bedaub with censure. In return for which favor, 1 beg them to digest, and to apply, the following anecdote. " Diogenes, chancing to meet a pro- cession of magistrates attending a cri- minal, to execution, who had stolen a PREFACE. XI small phial from the public treasury, exclaimed — " Look at the great rogues exe- cuting a petty thief!" The higher circles of society, are, I believe, equally dissolute, through- out the POLISHED world — I, therefore, describe them with " all their imperfec- tions on their heads" — ^but, when I touch upon the national character of the Irish, I take infinite pleasure in do- ing justice to a people, who are — ^pro- verbially — industrious, hospitable, ge- Xll PREFACE. nerous, and brave : eager in confer- ring favors — grateful in receiving them : lively, affable, and courteous ; but gifted with a sensibility which- — though huiiest-Kearterl and unsuspi- cious — occasions them to be quick in their resentment, and obstinate in their revenge. Of their situation — politically consL- dered — I merely glance at evils that are not without remedy; shewing that, if we want their attachment, we should give them reason to love us — and, if we want them to fight our battles, we PREFACE. Xlll should give them something to fight for. \ No dominion can be secure, which is not founded in the hearts of the people ! In fulfilling these objects, I have striven to convey instruction, through the medium of a simple fable ; and, if the MERE novel reader should dislike any digressions, I may make, in illustration of the subject before me — I beg to premise, that these vo- lumes are meant to combine the utili VIV PREFACE. with the DULCi ; and not, solely, pre- pared for the amusement of those, who, with a hop, step, and jump, bound through a story — because it is a story — and then hurry back, to their Circu- lating Library, for something new. — My sketches are slight; but, I be- lieve, faithful — I submit them with respect and gratitude to the world at large. CHARLES SEDLEY. Ramsgate, Oet. 17^ 1807. 3I0TT0. A snow-white veil co- vered her blushing face— her large blue eye* were bent on earth— dignity flowed round her graceful steps — a shining tear fell, glittering, ©n her cheek: She appeared lovely as the mountain flower when the ruddy beams tf the rising sun gleam •n its dew-covered sides. OSSIAM, A WINTER IN BUBJLIJV. HER dressing-room was obscured by- green Venetians, and Eilen Perceval, in all the retired solemnity of sorrow, reposed her pale cheek upon her sno\\y arm. A gentle sweetness and trem- bling delicacy mingled with the linea- ments of affliction that clouded o'er her brow, and disclosed the memory of a VOL. I, B 2 A WINTER dreadful calamity, softening into chast- ened grief. A little week had, scarcely, passed since the full-plumed hearse had robbed her bosom of its best, its only joy! From earliest recollection, when the eloquent lisp of infancy first prattles forth each young desire, Ellen had been a stranger to a parent's tenderness, save in her maternal uncle, William Loftus, Esq : nor had the voice of friendship ever won upon her artless affections, ^ave from the mild and gentle accents IN DUBLIN. 3 of the amiable Mrs. Howard ; who had, for many years, been the humble com-, panion, rather than the housekeeper, of her departed relative. Mr. Loftus had glided, peaceably, through the voyage of life, until he reached his fifty -seventh year ; and then — at peace within, and at peace with all mankind, he yielded, almost without a sigh, to the mild approach of death. The ancestors of Mr. Loftus had, from time immemorial, transmitted from B 2 4 A WINTER father to son a well established factory ; but the late descendant, never having married, gave up his business to be at leisure to protect, in retirement, the orphan infancy of his darling little EUen. One other relative alone remained of this respectable family j and him Mr. ■ Loftus had never seen. He was the grandson of an elder bro- ther, whom a family quarrel, assisted by the ardency of speculation, had induced early in life to adventure to the West IN DUBLIN. ^ Indies ; where he, soon after, married and settled. Young Montague, the hero of our tale, was the issue of that brother's daughter, by Mr. Montague Burgoyne ; a gentleman highly gifted with all those insinuating powers for which his coun- trymen — the Irish — are so proverbially distinguished. Having survived a brother and sister, he was left, at the death of his parents, — then scarcely seventeen — as rich as a Nabob ; but the profusion, generosity^^ B 3 A WINTER and thouglitless philanthropy of the Creole, being grafted, in his soul, on the national extravagance of the Milesian, my readers may perhaps, anticipate, that the youthful career of our hero was like the effulgence of an artificial sun — brilliant while it lasted ; but soon ex- pended in the rapid ebullition of con- tending splendors. The privations of poverty, Montague bore as a deserved chastisement ; but his proud spirit w^as ill disposed to brook the insolence of unfeeling affluence ; he, therefore, cheerfully accepted a situation IN DUBLIN. 7 in an expedition destined for St. Do- mingo, where he was supposed to be at the time of his uncle's death. The retirement in which the old gen- tleman lived, as well as his constitutional habits, placed a bar to ail communica- tion between himself, and his spendthrift relative ; but as he was the only remain- ing male branch of the family, and as adversity was calculated to restore, to him, that reason of which prosperity ap- peared wholly to have deprived him, Mr. Loftus made a will in his favor, but to this effect : B 4 8 A WINTER To Mrs. Howard he bequeathed an annuity of one hundred pounds, in tes- timony of his regard. To each of his domestics, one year's wages ; and the remainder of his fortune, which, in bank stock, and landed estate, amounted to upwards of six thousand per annum, he gave to Montague Burgoyne and El- len Perceval, and to their joint heirs for ever. The conditions being, that they intermarried v/ithin the space of two years next ensuing his decease : And in the event of either party refusing to comply with such his will ; then and in that case, the whole of the aforesaid es- IN DUBLlNr y tate, real and personal, was given and bequeathed to the other party, and his or her heirs for ever. Of Ellen's parents the history is con- cise and affecting. Miss Loftus — ^many years the junior of her brother — became early in life the wife of Colonel Perceval, an officer in the East India Company's service ; who being re- called about eighteen months afterwards to his official duties, the little Ellen, only seven months old, was considered too young to encounter such a voyage, and B 5 10 A WINTER was left at home by a doating mother under the immediate protection of her brother. Having passed some years of meritp- rious service abroad, during which he was promKDted to the rank of General, Ellen's father was deputed to be the bearer of overland dispatches to the Ha- nourable Company. At this period, Mrs. Perceval was the mother of two otl^er girls and a boy; and fortune having sufficiently smiled on the services of the General, it was IN DUBLIN-* 11 his intention to retire on half pay. The whole family, therefore, as well as the whole of their property, began, under a strong escort, the perilous journey of the sandy deserts. Panting with the fond anticipation of returning to a child and brother, ten- derly beloved, Mrs. Perceval smiled at the terrors of her journey ; and the ca- valcade was within two days march of the scorching boundary, when they were suddenly attacked in their tents, at day-break, by a desperate horde of Arabian banditti. B 6 12 A WINTER The contest was short, and deci- sive, Superior numbers soon claimed the honor of the bloody conflict — when their chief, enamoured with the beau- ties of his fair captive, brutally advanced to clasp her to his breast ; but the un- happy General, still bleeding with his 'wounds, made a desperate effort to her rescue, and plunged his poniard in the villain's heart. With a lengthened groan, the dying Arab bit his native soil— 'the exasperated IN DUBLIN. 13 savages rushed forward on his fall ^ and father, mother, children, all, were vic- tuns to their ruthless vengeance ! Ellen was too young to feel the ex- tent of her loss, although she wept it with a childish simplicity ; and the cir- cumstances being thought too horrible for the contemplation of her infant mind, she was merely made acquainted with the loss she had sustained, by a fa- tality incident to foreign adventure. The peculiar calamities which marked the page of the foregoing history, and 14 A wmTE'k the unprotected situation of Ellen, form- ed^ as it were, a more impressive claim on the benevolent affections of her un- cle ; who treated her with a kindness, that could only have been equalled by the unaffected gratitude, and cordi2d love, of his amiable protegee. Deprived of this last resource, Ellen found herself, at the age of twenty, an alien to the world. It was true, a cer- tain path had been marked out for her pursuit ; yet it appeared to her not with- out its difficulties. IN DUBLIN. 15 The seclusion, more than want of sensibility, to which Ellen had been ac- customed, had, hitherto, shielded her bosom from the attacks of love 5 and, although she was not conscious of being romantic in her nature, still she attached to the disposal of her hand, the unre- served gift of her heart ; and trembled lest her unalterable union, with her cousin, might teem with future inquie- tudes. But it was a law imposed by her dear departed uncle, which no dread of per- 16 A WINTER. sonal inconvenience, or even sufferings, could have induced her to disobey. She had never seen Montague ; but she had often heard of his excesses : still his heart was uncorrupted by fashion- able principles. The extremities of want had never led him to the commission of a disho- nourable action : and the only favor Mr. Loftus had ever denied his daugh- ter — as he called her — was when he turned sternly from her, as she, in the agonies of despair, with bended knee IN DUBLIN. 17 and streaming eyes, jDesought him to release her cousin Montague from pri- son. But Mr. Loftus was firm — his virtues were not of that pliant nature which will admit direction : they were found- ed on the purest basis, and were only ex- erted in a noble cause. The appoint- ment, however, which Montague after- wards accepted, was clandestinely pro- cured him by this uncle ; and his credi- tors, who, he thought, in mercy released him from confinement, had previous.- 18 A WINTER ly, under strict charges of secrecy, re- ceived ten shillings in the pound. Not to dwell on scenes of melancholy, we will translate our heroine from Berkshire to Bolton Row ; whither she had moved, on a friendly visit to an old school-fellow, lately married to Mr. Wilmot, a gentleman of fortune : they kept their carriage, and moved in every respectable circle of polite life. Ellen, though introduced in all the pensive shade of sorrow, was not, na- turally, of a grave or a reserved disposi- IN DUBLIN. 19 tion. On the contrary, an almost per- petual smile, expressed the naivete and bewitching frankness of her character — she resembled the " blue-eyed maid, and " the white bosomed nymph of Erin," so celebrated by the bards of old. Softness, dehcacy, and candour, bor- rowed new attraction from her social manners. Her figure, when in motion, was dangerously interesting — graceful, yet agile — love, only, was wanting to give, if possible, an increased lustre to her dazzling beauty. Meanwhile, the executors havinsr 20 A WINTER written to Montague in St. Domingo, he replied, to our heroine, as follows. *' St. Marc, Aug. 17, 1197. " My dear Cousin, " Suffer me, I entreat, to condole with you on the loss you have sustained — You are too unfashionable, I am per- suaded, to be offended at my so doing — virtuous minds do not easily forget the deserved objects of their affections. " You will deem me equally ungallant, and insensible, when I tell you it is my intention to renounce all claim to my IN DUBLIN* 21 late uncle's will, as well as all pretension to the still richer gift he would have made me. " Nay, do not start ! — 'tis even so — and lest you may think me stupidly ro- mantic, I pray you to judge, ere you condemn, m.e. " At my father's death, I took leave of College, and giddily whirled up to town. Here, I soon found my minority allowance of eight hundred a year very inadequate to my expences, and there being little difficulty in raising money ^2 A WINTER from the convenient Israelites, I signed away a large portion of my fortune be- fore I came of age. " In a life of dissipation, when every folly is hailed as a coming pleasure, I made many friendships, that were dear to me, both male and female. '^ Need I add, all v^ere unblushing traitors to the cause, as soon as fortune fled me. " Too much sensibility, perhaps, serv- ed to embitter this disappointment, IN D.UBLIN. -23 which example ought to make us fami- liar with. Connnement gave new im- petus to my lacerated feelings, till I in- dulged, with increasing avidity, a gene- ral hatred towards my fellow creatures. " Under this impression — which I fondly cherish — would it be honourable, in me, to offer you a heart estranged from the common humanities of nature ? "*' No, beauteous Ellen ! enrich with your person and accomplishments some worthier pretender to your lovely hand. 24 A WINTJSR I am not a stranger to your worth — nor am I blind to my own demerits " May Heaven direct your choice ! " It is my intention to return home very shortly ; indeed, I have, already.^ appUed for leave. The little I have amassed, will clear ofF my debts, and procure me an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds a year; on which, I shall still eat. the bread of indepen- dence. " The world I shall shun ; but at your IN DUBLIN. 25 door I shall beg an early admittance at my return. Farewell ! Believe me to be. My dear Cousin, Your affectionate friend, M. BURGOYNE." The perusal of this letter, at first, fill- ed Ellen with surprise ; but that cold unfeeling sentiment soon yielded to a softer emotion. She read the letter again, and again — what sentiment ! . . . what delicacy ! . • VOL. L c 26 A WINTER how improperly did she appreciate the destiny that awaited her ! " Amiable youth 1*' — she murmured in soliloquy — " G, what a noble mind is *' here o'ertbrown /'* At first, a playfulness mingled with the involuntary recollecHons of this ma- gic letter; but Ellen suffered herself to dwell 50 often, and so sweetly, on the pleasing theme ; that, at length, a vi- sionary passion filled her bosom, and the yielding gentleness of her dispo- 2 IN nUBLIN. *J7 sition encouraged the clangorous in- truder. Imagination embodied this idol of her soul, whose benign looks pierced to her very heart's existence. She would sit, pensively, in tlic twi- light's interesting shade ; and, lo^c in the deUrium of seducing fancy, hang upon his smile — the dulcet melody of his voice would steal on her 'raptured car — her eye gazed enamoured with his manly beauty. 28 A WINTER At these moments, Ellen represented the Sappho divested of voluptuous lan- guor. . Her pure soul was unconscious of a thought that angels might not have lis- tened to. She W2is calm in the bosom of visionary transports— viewing, with- out partaking them : her mind, awak- ened to enthusiasm, was unchecked by the rigid rules of cold philosophy : her tongue, it is true, was silent; but a certain glow flushing her cheek, ebb'd and flow'd to the pulses of her agita- IN DUBLIN. 29 ted bosom, and every feature was elo- quent. This was the metamorphosis ,of pro- tean love — ^how changed 1 Lovely reader, let me conduct you, twelve months past, to the seat of Mr. Loftus, in Berkshire — behold the bloom- ing Ellen, leading her uncle through the gay parterre — her countenance breath- ing the animated touches of unsophisti- cated nature. Persuasion hung upon her balmy C 3 so A WINTER lips, and her softened voice gave interest? to every word she uttered. In sportive admiration she would mark the gaily blossomed flowret, distinguishing those most favoured with the rosy touches of her tapered finger* Her elastic gait — so free, so wild, so unrestrained— was grace personified ; and laughing joy beamed gaily in her sportive smile. Tliis flower-garden led to a ver- dant iawn sloping to a narrow trout- stream; IN DUBLIN. 31 Here, Ellen had fitted up a little sum- mer library, embosomed in a wilderness of sweets. The arbutus covered with fruit — the blooming moss rose — the creeping jes- samine — and the luxuriant myrtle — in part concealed the building from the view. In the pebbled front, the small antique casement was obscured with wreaths of pendent passion flowers, in luxuriant drapery : — a delicious perfume stole from the sweetly scented mignionette, c 4 32 A WINTER that mingled with the purple violet be- neath ; and the moss clad porch was supported by four small fluted pillars en- twined with the scarlet woodbine. At his Ellen's side, the good Mr. Lof- tus would sit, for hours, listening to the melody of her harp — the pathos of a fa- vorite author — or the smiling charms of her sportive conversation. These were halcyon days ! — Removed to London; Ellen, hitherto^ was a novice in the fashionable world ; JN DUBLIN. SS It was not the season to be in town ; but Mrs. Wilinot was compelled to be un- tonish, in consequence of her expected confinement. The green park was a favourite lounge with Ellen. She walked there, almost every morning, before breakfast: at first, with a book, which she fancied she m'ght indulge, in reading, beneath the shady trees that bound the canal ; but she was soon convinced of her error. Men of fashion, in London, are toa c 5 34 A WINTER. politely attentive to the ladies to allow them these solitary enjoyments — ^some impertinent puppy, or other, always drove her from the study, and she found it even unsafe to walk without the atteti- dance of her footman. Other leisure parts of the day were, chieflyy devoted to music, or to draw- ing ; and the Stranger in London did not even pant to see the shows. At length, while our heroine was pleasing herself with the anxiously ex- pected arxival of Montague Burgoyne, IN I>UBLIN. SS and laying little seljsh plans to restore him to society 5 the papers announced his capture on his passage from St. Do- mingo, with the melancholy addition of his having been shot, with others at the GonaiveS;, by order of Toussaint. This over\\'helming intelligence har- rowed every feeling in the bosom of the gentle Ellen — so melancholy a fate ! — to die by the brutal decree of a bar- barian, for no other crime than his color ! Poor Ellen ! how would shQ have felt, c 6 36 A WINTER. had she been aware of the dreadful si- milarity between hi$ fate, and that of her parents — but oftentimes^ " Ignorance is bliss /" It became, now, necessary that our heroine, should appeal to reason to arm her against self : gradually, the absurdi- ty of her sorrow mellowed into com- passion for her cousin's wayward fate ; till, at lengthy she taught herself to view the subject with that good sense, which had always g"uided herj on less romantic occasions. IN DUBLIN. S? The birth-day passed ; and now the fashionable world be2:an to usher in i5' the approach of winter. Ellen was delighted with the opera — the brilliancy of the circle filled her with admiration. At the attitudes of Parisot, the grace of Rose, the vigor of Didelot, the fasci- nation of HiJligsberg, she gazed with surprise — but, to the soul thrilling notes of Banti, her responsive feeUngs melted with congenial ecstacy. cS A WINTER It would appear, that the introduc- tion of Italian music into this country, had vitiated the national character, and transformed the rough Englishman into the effeminate Venetian. The strains of our bards of old, though, simple, were anim^ated : " The sprightly harp^s melodious voice, " arose from the strings of Ossian — the " soul melted a%vay in the sounds— for the " hearty like a stream, flowed, gently, azvay " in the son^," IN DUBLIN. 59 They recorded the customs, manners^ vh'tues, and heroism of the day. Traditionary poetry was adapted to music, and the most perfect harmony prevailed. Each verse was so connected with those which preceded or followed it, that if one line had been remem- bered in a stanza, it was almost impos- sible to forget the rest. The cadences flowed in so natural a gradation, and the words were so adapted to the com- mon turn of the voice, after it is raised to a certain key, that it was almost im- 40 A WINTER possible, from a similarity ojf sound, to substitute one word for anocher. Such ijoas harmony ! — but fashion is the god of gods, and lord of lords. Fashion commands the understanding to bow before a pandemonium of idols — and foreign fiddlers teach us how to hear, by tones — ^half tones — and caden- ces ; while the professor runs his skilful finger from G on the base to G in alt. The ear is thus drill^ into taste j and IN DUBLIN. 41 the senses taught, like war horses, to stand fire — when the full clangor of the orchestra bursts, suddenly, upon them. The simple * ballad is unknown j iiv- * It is most singular, that Banti possessed the secret of reaching the heart, almost as poTrerfully as Mrs. Siddons, and yet was deficient, altoge- ther, in science^ The compass of her Yoico was iwcet, flexible, and impressire ; and as the ladj was usually xm- SPiKED before she made her appearance, she wildly gave the rein to ber powersj which sport- 42 A WINTER somuch, that the lullaby of a fashionable nursery maid, closes, at every stanza, ^ith an Italian grace. And who composes the brilliant throng of diUetanti which fashionably cro^^d this fairy scene I Lords and ladies — matrons and misses — jews and gentiles — one half of whom ed, unchecked-, through the mazy changes of the most difficult passages, with an effect, daring and impressive beyond the aid of language to des- eribe. IN DUBLIN. 4^ do not understand the language of the pieces and the other half — have neither taste nor science: but fashion will become all wonder at the lengthened sostenuto — suffer with the colicky crO' fiiatique — inspire with the bold soprano — yield to the soft piano — brighten with the merry Allegro — mourn with th^ slow Adagio «-s^. ♦ And, at the superlative bravura-^ burst into noisy, rapturous, * clamors of applause ! * Mrs. Bland apd Mrs, Listen are tiis m'^J 44 A WINTER And now our heroine was ushered in-- to the stream of fashion, whose irresis- tible current bears all before it. At first, the novelty of parties was pleasing j but Ellen soon perceived the repetition of these galas to be nothing more than a round of insipid same- ness-— Every drawing room presented the cj^a^/e singers in England^ and cannot be too much applauded for their perseterance ia propriety. IN DUBLIN. 45 same faces ; and the confusion, glitter, and expence, was every where alike. This fashionable association, so mad- ly pursued by the hautontiades, might be tolerated if it were confined to the folly and profusion so eminently con- spicuous in the higher circles \ but when Vice reigns mistress of the revels. Mo- rality will call Satire to her aid, to scourge the miscreant from society. A fashionable London rout has been so often described, that I will not va- pour my fair readers, with a da capo of 46 A WINTER the strain; and the more so, as this work is most especially written for the entertainment of personages elegantly aufait on the subject. But as neither the Bishops, the Bow- Street officers, nor the Satirist have been able to expel the pharo table from houses of fashion ; — And, as neither the pride of birth, xho: pomp of office, nor the dignity of virtue, are protections against fashionable licen- tiousness — the unblushing gamesrer— male as well as female — votes admo-- IN DUBLIN. 47 nition t© be a bore, and pursues, uncea- singly, the unprincipled career. And why, unprincipled f Because there are titled swindlers, who laugh at cnir laws — privileged KNAVES, who rob the industrious trades- man to pay a debt of honor to a black- leg DEGRADED REPTILES, "whopurchase goods for the hammer, and revel, in all fashionable debaucheries, at the expense of honest families whom their depravity- has ruined ! 48 A WINTER Heaven-born privileges ! Grand boast of our constitution 1 To prove, however, that these high- born distinctions are not confined ta England, I pray the reader to con the -following emulative description of the NeapoHtan nobility, as givai by Kotze- bue, on his late travels. " The higher classes of Naples are the savages of Europe — they eat, drink, sleep — GAME ! " They neither have, nor want, any other occupation than the last. IN DUBLIN. 4§' *'The states, of Europe are over- thrown — ^they game not the less — " Pompeii comes forth from his grave — still they game — " The earth shakes— Vesuvius vomits forth itsflames~yetthe gammg table is not forsaken— "The splendid ruins ofPaestum, in the immediate vicmity of the city, are only known to strangers— the Neapoli- Uns being incessantly engaged in gam- ing— VOL. !• D 50 A WINTER *' Prince Rufando, descended from one of the proudest families of Naples, is keeper of the principal gaming house in the city : and many of the first nobi- lity follow his noble example. " *Thither all the great world hasten at the approach of evening. Strangers must be presented ; but that is merely form. The guest makes a slight incli- * As the iEnglish noblesse used to dHve^ after the Opera, t« Saint James's Square j and noiu do to every fashionable Square, or Street, in IjoU" 4on— pour $*amuser I IN DUBLIN. 51 nation to his host ; who, as slightly, re- turns it : but it is an invariable rule not to speak. " In other respects, it is like a cofFee room; with this exception, that you cannot procure refreshments at any rate. " A spacious ill-furnished room is the rendezvous of the rouge-et-noir and faro tables. An immense pile of chairs, heaped in a corner, are your assurance of the number of guests expected ; who, as they enter, rush towards the o;litter- B 2 LIBRARY --^ UNlVERSnY OF iLimo^ 52 A WINTER ing tables, and fix their gloating eyes on the golden hoard. " Scarcely a whisper is articulated ;— a louder key would be silenced by an universal groan from the company. *' Females of ^very age and class de- grade their sex and character by ming- ling with.this rapacious l>and. •' The princess N , for instance, is a professed gamester. Even divines and children game — the infant daugh- ter of the Marquis Berio, who is scarcely IN DUBLIN, 53 eight years of age, is a constant attend- ant at this fastime* " It is maintained, by some, that Prince Rufando ensures a yearly income of five thousand ducats, by this degrad- ing traffic — by others, it is limited to a daily pension of twelve ducats, for converting his palace into a gaming *house !" * M used to allow Mrs. S twenty guineas per night, for admitting his pharo table. D 3 54 A WINTER Turn not, fair reader, indignant from this scene — ** The gamblers of Saint James's Street differ as little from the gamblers of Naples, as the fashionable nude, in Kensington Gardens, differs from the FULL DRESSED Elegante in the ornament- ed alleys of the Thuilleries, or the illumi- nated arcades of the Palais Royal. I remember a celebrated beauty of high rank and accomplishment, who stood foremost as the fair monopolist of every personal indecency 5 and yet pre* IN DUBLIN. 55 served her reputation untainted by a sin- gle blast from slander. I would not, however, recommend the example to others* While in her teens, she appeared so transparently attired at court, that H — M — y with offended modesty, desired her ladyship to dress before she came again to the drawing room ; and, on her migration to Scotland, shortly after, she issued cards of invitation to a Sunday party in the following words : " Lady C C presents com- B 4 56 A WINTER " pliments to Mrs. D and desires " the honour of her company, on Sun- *^ day evening next, to a wicked ruhhev,'^ This was considered so great an insult to the ladies of Edinburgh, that even the elevated rank of the beautiful *oflF€nder * Her ladyship bestowed her fair hand on a Tery handsome youth, much her inferior, in Scot- land 'y and has since become a very domestic cha- racter. It is unfortunate, however, that one extreme usually produces another. Love omnipotent has jissimilated her ladyship's taste to that of her hus- IN DUBLIN. 3^ did not shield her from their yiblic re- sentment. When fashion, resolving to exile de- cency, protracted the entertainments of the Opera House to a shameful encroach- ment on the Sabbath day, the venal Ca- ricaturist ridiculed the Bench of Bi- shops, for resolving to oppose the en- croaching evil, with strokes of brilliant humour that rebuked severity j and although the performances have since band ; and the aefial sprite is transformed tntO' au iT\fl(Ued gourmande I D 5 S8 A WINTER. been limited to their hour, I do not find the sanctity of the day, otherwise, more respected by those who should give example to their inferiors. That a tradesman, nailed behind his counter all the week, should hail Sunday as a day of pastime, is reconcileable both to justice and the moral fitness of things. And how are his eagerly expected wishes gratified ? In a harmless stroll to Bagnigge Well% 1 IN DUBLIN. S9 pr White Conduit House : to Hamp- stead, or to Highgate Hills — his wife and children partake, and enhance, his enjoy- ment ; and, while they sip their holiday cup of tea, he smokes his pipe in free- dom and honest independance. " A contented mind" — says Sterne — ^ " is the best offering we can make to " our Creator." How beautifully does he enforce this sensiment, by grouping a pleasant fami- ly, from the grandfather, to his little prattling oflfspring, dancing after supper D 6 €© A WmTER on the green, in manifestation of their gratitude to Heaven, But where is the subKmity of thought or action, attributable to our higher cir- cles ? How do they manifest their gra- titude for the superior blessings they enjoy ? In an ambitious study to mock every divine ordinance, by making the com- mandment, on the Sabbath, tlie object of their ridicule ; and the day of Rest the especial season of their revelry* IN DUBLIN. 61 Lest any one should doubt this fact I will expose its source, and explain its progress. Education — nay, start not ! — for mo- dern education has been brought for- ward in a public court of justice, in ex^ tenuation of offences, proved to be the natural result of early principles, fashion- ably inculcated to the eradication of all morality* I readily anticipate the frown of in- dignation with which the female world will receive an opinion > thus boldly, adr 62 A WINTER vanced; but, however gallant my na- ture^ I shall not^ in this instance, sacrifice truth to politeness. I admit, that education is among the fashions of the day ; and, if expence be the criterion by which its morality is to be adjudged, the verdict wall be in fa- vour of prevalent accomplishments. Pray, what are prevalent accomplish- ments ? Not, simply, a total disregard of every useful branch of education — not IK DUBLIN. 65 an exclusive attention to those graceful nothings which are called the standard of female perfection — money always ex- cepted — not a sovereign disregard to the laws of humanity, decency, and mo- rality The evil still goes farther — Instead of religious principles, a fa-^ shionabie " infidel code" has crept into society, where it is become a che- rished guest, by the aid of whose des- tructive sophistry all human ties are dis- solved. 64f A WINTER The parent and the child — the hus- band and the wife — acknowledge no other bonds than those of mutual con- venience, and public opinion is become the God of universal idolatry. Public opinion I — ^the fanaticism that often estranges reason, and makes a, monster of its votaries. Of this fact, a most impressive in- stance is given in the following anec- dote. In the height of the French revolu- IN DUBLIN. 6S xion, a Mademoiselle Tkerouanne — pre- viously celebrated for her youth, extra- ordinary beauty, 2iXid. feminine attractions — actuated by this demon, headed a par- ty of sanguinary rabble, on the memo- rable 10th of August, displaying equal courage, presence of mind, and ferocity^ in her command. This lady, afterwards, became the in- timate friend of Counsellor Sheares— who since suffered in Ireland for his po- litics—and she received him in a bou- doir, adorned with a pike, a dagger, a 66 A WINTER broad sword, a case of pistols, and a bon- net rouge* At lenp;"h, enamoured with her beau- ty, and a thousand playful graces that would, at times, characterize her nature, he demanded her blood-stained hand in marriage. She replied — drawing a pistol from the wall — " One other word, on that sub' ^ ject, and you are a dead 7nan*^ External show is the supreme good, and dissipation the early lesson of youth. IN DUBLIN. 67 To lure a man of wealth into marriage ; to manage an intrigue with address ; or to achieve a divorce with eclat ; are among the enviable attributes of female proficiency. And as the ground work of reputa* tion, the grand maxim of earliest tuition is thus xmder stood : " There can be no wrong while ap- pearances are preserved." Hence the early induction to the gaming table^ private theatricals, and €8 A WINTER pic nic ^revelries : all scenes contrived to contaminate the innocent noviciate, and to facilitate the indulgence of every * Much may be done, behind the curtain, \yhen modesty permits little deviations^ from decorum, before it. For instance, hunt the slipper is a game, among adults, certainly pregnant with suscep- tibilities; and a flounced chemise, even when protected by the outwork of an India muslin petticoat, is no very strong rampart against the bombardments inseparable from this amuse- ment. IN DUBLIN, 69 sensuality among the more experienced sages of the age. Mothers and daughters are not only the jealous rivals of each other ; but are, often, known to entertain the same gal- lant — but while the humane * matron holds out a sanctuary to the fen^ale * In Paris, it is b}^ no means unusual to see written on a board, " Ribaud," or any othei* name — '^ Abortionaire." The arU are certainly in a state of great im- provement ! 70 A WINTER wanderer, with accommodations pro- portioned to her means, shame is no longer a draw-back on curiosity ; for, " Skilful amateurs can blush like virgin bridesr One of the first masters, necessary to a young lady entering on her teens, is the drill Serjeant ; the very nature of whose lessons familiarizes the opening mind to throw off all resemblance to the sensitive plant. This broad shouldered gentleman is IN DUBLIN. 71 succeeded by a black Hercules j who, ar- rayed in all the imposing externals of Rosa Matilda's turban'd Zofloya, teaches his lovely pupil to wanton to the tam- bourine, in the voluptuous movements of a figurante. Next follows the Signior Soprano, whose business it is to awaken the sen- sibilities of his pupil to the full concep- tion of harmony ^ which sentimental les- son, certainly, exposes the mind to a feeling of dangerous impressions, even when it does no more. 72 A WINTER The * botanist — the sculptor — ^the painter — the antiquarian— follow It is related by an officer of dragoons, who visited the museum at Geneva, that his conductress was a beautiful young girl of eighteen— himself, a sol- dier, not twenty. * The reader will remember Yorick's story of two unfortunate girls; the one, daughter to an accoucheur, the other, to a leather-breeches ma- ker — ^both of whom 5 though intuitively innocent, were sympathetic martyrs to their father'* pro* fessions. In bubliNo 73 His lovely guide led him through a variety of apartments, detailing every- thing that she could know with pro- priety^ till at length, they arrived at a closet, which she opened j but to which, she said, she could not accompany him. The traveller hastily perused the cu= riosities ; which consisted in statues, and paintings, of naked figures. " Did you employ any gallantry on an occasion so propitious — for I think you were without any witness to your VOL. I. ' » 74 A WINTER conduct ?'' — asked a brother officer, to whom, he afterwards related the cir- cumstance. " Oh" — he replied — " if you could, possibly, conceive how beautiful she looked in my eyes, when I returned ! how respectable ! — how touching ! — She blushed, a little, and was silent : She knew the room contained objects impro- per for the female eye : She/elt I should make my own conclusions — Yet, was her mind as pure as an angel's !'' This is a very good traveller's story ; IX DUBLIN. 15 let the Female Pic Nics decide on the possibility and probability — as well as the stupidity^ of the parties, in admiring art at the expense of nature. There are, also, schools for young women of fashion where carriages are sported for the accommodation of the guests, and splendid parties kept up to familiarize them witii the essentials of high life. From one of these hot beds, a young lady of family, lately, eloped with an under gardener 5 with whom, of course, e2 76 X WINTER she could not have had any previous ac- quaintance : but the habit of seeing his ruddy cheeks in passing the nursery ground, every morning, engendered on the prolific fancy of the well-educated Miss, certain extravagances of combina- tion ; which, extending to a nursery of a different description, she determined, like Eve— " To taste and die /*' How the wedding was managed I do not know, but as the bridegroom thought it would be decorous to give 2 IX DUBLIN. 77 his lovely bride a companion of her own sex throughout the day, he appointed Mrs. Parsley, a green grocer's wife, to the oiEce ; and the party, enlivened by two or three g€ntle?nen of his acquaint- ance, dined at a public-house a few miles from town, at one o'clock, and regaled the whole evening with pipes and tobacco, in a snug arbour in the garden. Such was the wedding-day of a no- bleman's daughter invested with an . in- dependant fortune, and the immediate £ 3 /8 A WINTER inheritrix of a peerage in her own ridit ! -Q- To resume the tale. Their rank in the world, and the claims of society, naturally led Mrs. Wil- mot and her fair friend to every place of fashionable resort ; but these amiable ladies had, also, their domestic enjoy- ments. Mrs. Wilmct had been brought up un- der the care of a widowed mother, who freely sacrificed the gew-gaw attractions IN DUBLIN. 79 \ of the great world, to devote herself to the cultivation of her daughter's mind : and her maternal anxieties v^ere reward- ed, by seeing that daughter, elegant without affectation— accomplished with- out depravity. Such was the female with whom our heroine was now an inmate. Ellen's virtuous education was, therefore, ra- ther improved by the example of her amiable friend, and the nursery afforded them a sweet recess from the noisy tu- mults of the fashionable world. E 4 80 A WINTER For Mrs. Wilmot loved her urchin— dearly loved him — she was his nurse : and joy, more b: i liant, flashed from hersnima ed countenance, as she fond- ly pressed the littL le2ch to her lovely bosom, than ever emanated from the sparkling Gyes of conscious beauty, when, evidently, the magnet of a crovi^ded drawing room. Nor was it whim, caprice, or senti mental sophistry — Such, as the danger- ous Rousseau once poured into every high-born female bosom, and with such ascendancy, that the lovely, blooming. IN DUBLIN. 81 and universally admired, Duchess of Featherhead, renounced all the glowing vanides of her heart, to become a * nurse to the beautiful Georgina ; and bartered the lattery of contending coxcombs, for the cherub-smile of her dimpled in- fant, Mr. Wilmot, too, was a family man ; and, as theirs had been a love- match — not according to its usual ac- * This iingular experiment was made on the present Lady M the supposed daughter o£ * certmn P 82 A WINTER ceptation -, but a union founded on mu- tual esteem — these domestic parties were, at once, chearful, rational, and in- structive. But the life of Ellen was not doomed to pass without other chequerings. Her beauty, her accomplishments, her for- tune, placed her in a point of view to excite much public notice — and admi- ration could not fail to follow. • Many were the flippant pretenders to her particular notice. Some, enslaved by her beauty — others, by her fortune : 1 IN DUBLIN. 83 but the elegance of a fashionable shrug, and the merits of a compliment dressed in fashionable slangs were equally unin- telligible to our heroine ; yet the smile of affability always rewarded their polite attention. Among the herd, however, most as- siduous in her train, was the honourable Colonel ColviUe of the guards j who, being the younger brother of an ancient family, had little more to recommend him than an handsome person, and his pay. E 6 84 A WINTER It was soon observable by the tabbies and scandal mongers, " that Miss Per- ceval, with all her affected prudery, could be pleased with a handsome fel- low's attention, as well as her neigh- bours." It is true, Miss Perceval was pleased with the Colonel's attentions, which equally evinced the scholar and the gen- tleman. — Not, indeed, with any vio- lence of attachment ; but with pure, pleasurable, emotions. Her deluded imagination had not quite expelled her visionary passion, and an involuntary^ IN DUBLIN. 85 tear would, sometimes, embalm the me- mory of her unfortunate cousin Monta- gue. At length, the Colonel, emboldened by rhe amiable distinction with which he found himself treated, requested an au- dience, and declared his passion Eik-n neither fainted, nor wept, on the occasion ; but with a pleasing mix- ture of dignity and affability, thus re^ plied : '^ I receive, Colonel Colville, the flat- 86 A WINTER tering offer you .nake me, as a proof of your regard, which does me iiiiinite ho- nour : nor will I deny how much I have been pleased with your society : but the question, you put, is of too much magnitude to be lightly answered. Your family must be consulted : and I have friends to w^hom my welfare is dear." The Colonel received these hopes with rapture — called her his better an- gel — his guardian spirit — and vowed that an eternity of gratitude could not repay his obligation — IN DUBLIN. 87 " As to my family" — he added — ** they will feel honoured by your pre- ference. They are apprised of my pas- sion, and approve it. My sister. Lady Louisa, is dying to be acquainted with you, and I am commissioned by her to solicit you to receive her as a sister." Ellen smiled, and expressed an earnest desire to have the honour of Lady Louisa's acquaintance. " But she willnot come" — said the Co- lonel, gaily, unless you suffer her to call you sister. Louisa is a self-willed little 88 A WINTER baggage, and declares she will not love you — except in her own w^ay." " Then I must defer the pleasure*' — replied our heroine — " you will excuse my lea\dng you. Colonel, I have an en- g:igement in my dressing-room." As she arose to retire, the Colonel, respectfully, advanced j and taking her beauteous, unresisting, hand, imprinted a blushing kiss. In the solitude of her chamber, Ellen sat down to ponder on the evejits of IN DUBLIN. S9 the last half hour ; and, although no vio- lent perturbations swelled her bosom, or enthusiasm crossed reflection, she re- peated, to herself, with approbation, the offer that had been made her. She viewed herself an orphan in the world, surrounded by no common temp- tations ; and although she did not en- tertain any doubt of her own conduct, she thought a virtuous woman's best safeguard was the protection of a hus- bands With this disposition, she began to 90 A WINTER address the dear and valued friend of her earliest youth, the venerable Mrs. Howard, exposing to her the critical state of her heart ; and confiding to her indulgence, the secret hopes, and subsequent pangs, that had alternately pursued her romantic passion for the hapless Montague. She concluded, beg- ging her personal advice. At three, the carriage had been or- dered ; and Ellen hurried from her wri- ting table to dress. When she joined Mrs. WiliiiOt, the latter received her IN DUBLIN. 91 with an arch smile, callii^.g her a sly girl " No indeed, my love — she replied — " it was my intention to have made you acquainted with every thing, that has passed, as we took our drive through the park — I have no concealment.'* " Every thing, Ellen r" — was the playful remark of Mrs. Wilmot. " Yes — ^IVIaria ! every thing. Is candour so unusual an attribute in ^2 A WINTER our sex that you should doubt my since- rity r' " You are serious, Ellen — I am badi« nante; but the carriage waits j and now for the discovery." To the explanation given by our he- roine, Mrs» Wilmot was particularly at- tentive; telling her, she suspected as much from the extraordinary embarrass- ment with which the Colonel had sa- luted her, as they crossed each other, in the passage, on his going away. And then, Vvith friendly solicitude, she en- IN DUBLIN. 93 quired of Ellon what her intentiong were. " Really, Maria, I am not prepared for the decision*'* " Well, then, Ellen, let me help a lame dog over the style. The Colonel, in the first place, is a very handsome man — but that I suppose I need not tell you" — with a smile of roguery* " Proceed." fying wind and weather, with a dry thatch, and a sound conscience to go to sleep upon : Och, jew^el, sure its not the best beds that make the best sleepers : for there's Kathleen and myself can from one to another, on a morning early, as a re- pellant to the noisome vapours of the bogs, at which men and women labor, indiscrimrnately, m cutting turf? This national hicnseancc is always offered with an averted look> to remove obligation. The Frenchman's was an act of courtesy. The Irishman's is an act of genuine phil.in*^ THROPT. IN DUBLIN. 157 sleep like two great big tops, and our bed is none of the softest, because why, we sleep on the ground, and have no bed at all, at all/' " Pity, my honest fellow, you should ever want one" — said our heroine, placing a guinea in his hand. *' Amen!" — said Lady Louisa, ad- ding another. Surprise and gratitude, in an una- dulterated mind, are eloquently dumb. . 13S A WINTER O'Callaghan could not speak, but, with the thread-bare skeve of his tu- nic, he wiped a dewy moisture from the corner of his eye — The ladies had, now, approached within sight cf their servants, who came to meet them. « Good bye, Mr. O'Callaghan." " May God and the Blessed Virgin bless you, and yours, as long as grass grows, and water runs I" IN DUBLIN. 159 Such was the grateful benediction of an " Irish savage /'* Shortly after this adventure, the Ge- neral and his party were invited to pass a week with Robert Gore, Esq. of Sea View, in the county of Wicklow — about seventeen miles distant from Dub- lin. Generous, vehement, and inconsi- derate, Mr. Gore is the prototype of his national character, and it may appear somewhat singular, to strangers, that 160 A WINTER Irish hospitality is perfectly free from ostentation — it proceeds from a cordial wish to communicate pleasure : the guest, therefore, instead of being harassed with ceremony, and fatigued with com- pliment, finds all the freedom of a hotel, \rithin a gentleman's country * house ; where, in short, every one does as he pleases. * This was the case with the late Duke of Bedford, at "VVoburn Abbey — but it forms a soli- tary instance in this country. IN DUBLIN. 161 For the amusement of his friends ; and, indeed, for that of the whole coun- ty ; Mr. Gore has always kept his pack of hounds — his horses — and his saili ng boats — the country on the one side, and the sea on the other, giving alter- nate variety to their pleasurable pur- suits. On the second day, an old Harper — as is the custom of the country — pre- sented himself, at Sea View, with a com- plimentary set of verses on the com- pany. • 162 A WINTER Curran, who happened to be of the party, meaning to quiz his countryman, requested he might be permitted to re- pay the bard in literary coin instead of a purse ; and did so. But the Harper, no way thrown ofFhis guard by this unusual recompence, composed the following * improvisatori on the back of the counsellor's coup- let. * A subscription was instantly made for the itinerant wit. IN DUBLIN. 163 " This the return, by Curran madCj " For a poor poet^s strain ! " Was he, for pleading, this way paid^ " He'd never plead again/^ The Irish are a nation of wits — prompt and poignant — whether from educatedjOr unsophisticated, minds : the only difference is, the garb it assumes. Dean Swift, whose wit could be very- broad, was of a churlish disposition; and, by his habitual moroseness, became the terror of all the young idlers about the streets. 164 A WIKTER Having, one day, vainly endeavoured to rout a ragged party engaged at mar- bles, he lost all patiei>ce, and advanced with his uplifted cane to chastise the offenders : upon which, a boy of ten years old — folding his arms, and assum- ing an air of bold defiance — retorted in the Dean's own words. *' *Getyou gone Hawhead and bloody hones / " Here is a boy, that don'i fear you." * Part of a nursery song composed by the Bean ; and thus, pertinently quoted, by the bey, with witty promptitude. IN DUBLIN. 165 The Dean loved wit too well not to forgive the boy and to reward him. Their next visit was to Mr, Grattan's beautiful seat Tinnahinch j which bor- ders the Dargle, on one side, nearly to its extent. All that has been said of Swiss sce- nery, or the lakes of Geneva, even by the most enthusiastic admirers of the beauties of nature, is scarcely adequate to a description of tliis fairy region. Perhaps the former may excel in subli- mity of objects; but nothing can surpass 166 A WINTER the scenery of the Dargle, in harmoniz- ing the wild and fantastic sports of na- ture. On one side, a magnificent peak adorned with a beautiful view of * Powerseourt, one of the finest seats * The seat of Lord Powerseourt, standing in a beautiful and extensive park, where holiday folks repair, for enjoyment, as they do, here, to Wind- sor Park ; but the Irish landlord provides every necessary utensil, &c. for the convenience of the humble visitants, who do him the honor to make themselves happy on his estate. IN DUBLIN. 167 in the kingdom—on the other, a deli- cious plain exhibiting the richest ver- dure grouped with forest trees — ^the whole, encircling an extensive lake — > now, smooth and unruffled — now, pant- ing with the light pressure of the even- ing, breeze — now glittering in a variety of prismatic colors, reflected by the last beams of the setting sun. Solitude, however, is removed from the interesting recesses of this lake, by a stupendous * waterfall ; which, rushing * Waterfalls abound in Ireland, and are among' 168 A WINTER from an immense height, forms a ro- mantic thunder on the astonished ear. Here, Mrs. ColviUe and Lady Louisa became acquainted with the gay, lovely, and interesting Lady Butler ; and the General being called, by his military du- ties, to a tour of his district, they ac- cepted her ladyship's most pressing in- vitations to pass the intervening time at her little ferme ornee, a few miles dis- tant. the objects eagerly visited by the curious tra- veller. iN DUBLIN* 139 Indeed, Lady Butler can never ask in vain : every Circean power is hers — and, like the goddess of that name, she makes fascination the handmaid ' to every voluptuous recreation of mind, of body, and of soul. With youth, w4t, beauty, all pecu-^ liarly her own, she became, at a very early age, the wife of my Lord Butler ; who, at the time, had just passed his twenty-first year. But how uncongenial was tiie match ! VOL, I. I 170 A \\1NTER His Lordship's first prospects, in life, held out so few allurements, that the necessity of education was not thought of; insomuch, that, at the age of twelve, he could not read ; nor did he know the use of shoes and stockings : but a sudden rot having pervaded the honourable family, seventeen interven- ing branches rapidly dropped off, when the wild Irish boy w^as trimmed up into a lordiing, and sent to Westminster school. On his return to Ireland, a match was settled between my Lord Wexford — a IN DUBLIN. 17 1 law lord, and his Lordship's guardian — and Miss Montgomery, his Lordship's niece ; the beautiful object of our pre- sent memoir. Her entree into life, under the irnme- diate auspices c£ Lady Wexford, and her bosom friend, Lady Donnybrook — both veterans in the school of dissipa- tion, though blooming in beauty— was marked by imitation ; and, with such consummate skill, that she soon emulated the proficiency of her ^7rri?;if?/>//i>6f(^ tutors*' * This triumvirate, of fashion, were allegori- I 2 172 A WINTER Beautiful trifler ! — hitherto hast thowi wantoned, safely, on the flowery paths of vice — unadmonished! unchastised!— - But, when the intoxication of the senses is over — when the illusion of the passions is vanished — how deplorable will the errors of love appear, to thy no longer deluded imagination ! It is the practice of the Parisian vo- cally called, '' Three Seven Shilling Pieces, or change for a Guinea," Elegant and descriptive compliment ! m DUBLIN. 173^ hiptuary, who sentimentally indulges the sensibilities of the heart, without viola- ting the laws of society^ to keep a petite maison^ in the suburbsj sacred " to love, AND TO MVgTSRY." On the appointed evening, Madame is afflicted with an excruciating head- ache, and retires : the porter closes her doors against the fashionable world, and the household is hushed in silence. At this propitious moment, the fille de chambre, habited as a smart laquais, escapes at the postern, and provides a I 3 174 A WINTER fiacre^ — Madame, in disguise, follows y and they reach the " Temple des dr- *' LICES.'' Madame s*habile d'une maniere la plus galante ; and her little Mercury attends to lead the panting lover to his eager wishes. Two covers are laid at the foot of a superb fauteuil — lights innumerable glitter round the room — and every im- passioned tournure of the person is re* fleeted by large mirrors. IN DUBLIN* 17^ Here the favored youth reposes, like a luxurious Eastern in the midst of his haram ; for, in France, the female liber- tine assum.es many characters : — enfant — — RAISONNABLE FOLATRE SENSI- BLE— And her successful artifices are re- warded by the new homage she re- ceives in each successive, and delusive, variety of form. Her ladyship's cottage appeared to have been constructed for the same wUs uses. I 4 176 AWIKTER Simply reared, in the gothic style, this sweet recess was approached, by an. antique colonnade, from a lawn ; whose mossy carpet was variegated with a frame work enclosing every scarce and aromatic shrub. Nothing could excetd the tasteful ar- rangement of the whole, except iny La- dy's boudoir ; which, in truth, appeared more the work of supernatural agency than that of mortal hands. The wails were pannelled in Indiaa paper with burnished borderings— an. m DtJBiiir. 17*7 Indian matting covered the floor : two recesses contained inimitable statues of the Antinous and the * Medicean Venus — Turkish ottomans, in scarlet and gold^.. * '' The Antinous is entirely naked — all its ** proportions are bigger than nature ; but the ** whole, taken together^ and the fineattitudeof '* the figure, carry such an expression of ease, ** elegance, and grace, as no words can des- " cribe. '* When I saw the Venus, I was 'rapt in won- ** der — and I could not help casting a thought '' back upon Antinous, They ought to be placed- " together — if marble could see and/tcZ, the se- ** paratioa might be prudent : if it could ogIj" } ^ 178 A WINTER. surrounded the room : a globular urn descended from the painted clouds, on the cieling, by gilt chains, and burned with the most odorous pastilles ; while its transparent contour described, in glowing colors, the amorous metamor- phosis of Jupiter. The several pannels gave projection to small slabs, of statua- ry marble with silvered railings ; on " see, it would certainly lose its coldness aod *' learn to fceW These opinions of L. IM. W. ^I. were perfect- ly uaderstocd by her ladyship, who could se£, F£Eb, and CONJECTURE ! IN DUBLIN. 179' which, the m'^st curious exotics bloomed in finely ornamented vases — the whole,, combining an effect that captivated the eye^ and enslaved the senses. A rookery gives perpetual twilight ta this apartment J and twilight gives inter- est to mystery — while the cawings of the feathered inhabitants resemble the distant rushings of a steep cascade, and remove the terrors of solitude. On approaching this seductive spot, our heroinie instinctively receded: it crea^ ted a momentary pulsation inimical to I 6 180 A WINTER modesty; and the painful oppression was accompanied with an involuntary blush. With Lady Louisa, the effect was still more dangerous — a burning heat gave violent agitations to her bosom — her heart beat wildly — and, for the mo- ment, she might have doubted its virgin purity. The former entered with reserve— the latter with rapture. But the play- ful fascinations of their beautilul hostess,, in part, restored them. IN DUBLm. tSl They reclined on the ottomans, — for the room was without chairs : a low In- dian cabinet stood near Mrs, Colville's elbow : She took out a volume superbly bound in red morocco — she opened the vellum leaves — " Le Sop ha ;" she took a second — " Contes de la Fontaifie:'* a glance sufficed — she feared to venture otf a third, and was silent. Lady Louisa's eyes, flashing with electric sparks from within , almost gloat* I'8£l A WINTER ed on the witcheries around her : — at length, " Good Heaven, my dear Lady But- ler, you are a perfect sorceress — I sup- pose, when without company, you work here, while my Lord reads tot you." " Indeed !" — replied her ladyship — *^ you would make a most unfashionable wife, my love, if such is, really^ your supposition. Husbands are plagues that must be kept at a distance — ^when I re» IN DUBLIN. 1&5 tire, here^ to indulge myself, I never ad- mit CARE of the party." There was an equivoque, in the last sentence, which lost none of its point for want of archness — The conversation, now, was confined to Lady Butler and Lady Louisa ; the latter, of whom, entered into the spirit of the scene, till her heated imagination dealt in 'vismiaries as dangerous as the realities of her experienced friend. Our heroine was amazed — abashed 184 A WINTER — she wished herself an hundred miles- ofF; but she must await the General'^ return. Retiring to dress, she recapitulated the evenements of the morning with no- small degree of inquietude — Lady But- ler was, certainly, a most bewitching creature ; but, as certainly, *a very im- proper confidante for a young woman^ either married or single. She, there- fore, resolved to leave the house as soon as the General returned, and even to hint, to him, her deUcate fears on the IK DUBLIN. 185. propriety of his sister's continued inti- macy with such a friend. At dinner, the party was increased hf two newly-arrived guesti. The hono- rable Mr. Ponsonby, and Sir GiflFard Pierrepoint — both, elegant in their man- ners, and singularly handsome in their persons. It is the custom, in Ireland, when- making parties^ to ask Mrs. A be- cause she will be delighted to meet Mr. B and so on : thus, the whole com- pany are paired with so much satisfac- 186 A WINTER. tion to each other, that individual joy creeps into a general gaiety ; like the solitary dish, at a Pic-Nic, growing into an ornamental supper. Indeed, the v/ish to afford pleasure to others, without embarassing self, is bet- ter understood, in this count-y, than elsewhere — the fatigues of an entertain- ment, in England, often making the mistress of the revels an object of com- miseration, instead of envy. I will exemplify the fact, by a story j which, howgver singular it may appear,. i . IN DUBLIN. 187 has been represented, to me, as true as gospel. A gentleman, and his groom, travel- ling, on horseback, through the North of Ireland, were overtaken by a storm ^ from the violence of which they shel- tered in a neighbouring cabin. While the hail pelted, unmercifully, on the thatched covering of the humble roof, the traveller entered into conver- sation with his host j and, naturally, inquired if any house was near where he might be accommodated for the night. 1S8 A WINTER " The devil a house, your honor, but one^ between this and Bally -bofey — for many 's the weary mile- — and there your honor's honor will be sure to get a hearty welcome, and a neat horse- whipping into the bargain.** " Horse-whipping ?^ — my honest fel- low : I don't understand your meaning.'* " Oh, never fear — your honor — I'll engage you'll understand the meaning before this time to-morrow." The singularity of these words excT- IN DUBLIN. 189 ted the curiosity of the traveller, who was a perfect stranger to the country ; and, by dint of inquiry, he understood that the remote situation of the house^ in question, often occasioned travellers to put the hospitality of the owner, Mr. Mahony, to the test j all of whom were received with every apparent kindness, and, invariably, treated with a sound horse-whipping at parting. In an hour's time, the atmosphere cleared, and the horsemen pursued the directions they had received, towards the horse-whipping seat of entertainment, 190 A WINTER With a scrutinizing eye, the traveller measured every look and action of his host; who, on the other hand, wel- comed him with the most unreserved and polished courtesy. Shortly after, a livery servant ap- peared with a bill of fare, which Mr. Mahony presented to his guest ; re- questing, he would order what he liked for supper. — The stranger, accordingly, named a dish, and the master named another — they continued to chat till supper time. IN DUBLIN. IQ! The frugal meal was cheerful — th^ port excellent — and the two gentlemen were so pleased with each other's com- pany, that they did not part 'till a very late hour. Morning came ; and, with it, the ex- pectation of a horse-whipping. The stranger neither wanted strength nor courage — his servant was of ap- proved fidelity—- and it was settled, be- tween them, to make a manly resistance to any insult that might be offered. 192 A WINTER Coming into the breakfast parlor, he found Mr. Mahony, in waiting, who re- ceived him with increased kindness ; and while they breakfasted, pressed him, with so much unfeigned sohcitation to continue his guest, some days longer, that the stranger, at length, exclaimed j- " Upon my soul, Mr. Mahony, I could pass my life with you ; but what is become of your horse-whipping ?" " My dear Sir,*' — replied he, laugh- ingly — *^ I will explain that mystery." m DUBLIN. 193 ^M am frequently called upon to re- ceive strangers, and take pleasure in the offices of benevolence ; but while I seek to gratify others^ I cannot bear to be a sufferer for my own good will. *^ A bill of fare, as last night, has al- ways been presented to my guests, wh6 have, constantly, given me the trouble to serve up a costly supper, because-they would not name what they liked- — and, for this trouble, I always chastised them. • " You are the only exception— we supped at our ease, and passed a rational VOL. I.- K 194 A WINTER evening— instead of a horse-whipping, suffer me to offer you my friendship." This explanation produced a hearty laugh, and the two friends spent a pleasant week together. In sending for Ponsonby and the Ba- ronet, Lady Butler knew that she should please herself; and, if she might judge the Platonics of her beautiful guests, by the mercury in her own thermometer, one, or both, of them might be likewise pleased — ^for so devoted was her Lady- ship to the art of making every body IN DUBLIN. 19'5 happy, that she would have forgiven a casual infidelity, even in her favorite Ponsonby. The business of the day was thus re- gulated. After breakfast, the gentlemen amu- sed themselves in practising, at a mark, with pistols ; while the ladies retired : at two o'clock, the whole party mounted a low jaunting car,* and drove away in * Or Irish vis-a-vis. The company sit, longi- tudinally, with their backs to each other. K 2 196 A WINTER search of adventures: in the evening, they strolled into the beautiful recesses of the neighbouring woods, pairing like turtle doves, and wilfully losing compa- ny in their mazy walk, Ponsonby and Lady Butler^ — Sir Gif-- fard and Lady Louisa — to Ellen Col- ville's share, his doughty Lordship was appropriated. An encreasing intimacy, too much like levity, was apparent in Lady Loui- sa's conduct 5 and our heroine, half jo- IN DUBLIN. 197 kingly, and half seriously, ventured to expostulate with her on the occasion. ^* Jealous ! by all the powers of c^pti- vatioii''— exclainied her Ladyship, with a theatric step and tone— '^ Oh, Pierre- point is the swf f test fellow ! — do you know what I have promised him, El- len ?'' " Indeed, my love, I do not ; but I am sure nothing improper." " That sure^ now, is so shly put in— it implies a doubt — but I will not be K 3 198 A WINTEK. huffed, Ellen," — pouting —'' and you are become, lately, so unlike yourself — so methodistical — there is no bearing you-:— so, that's poz/' " As long, my dear Lady Louisa, as your own good' sense applauds your actions, it would be impertinent in any one to suppose them faulty. Will you not tell me. what you have promised." " I don't know, Ellen " " Nay, my love, that very hesitation arraigns your prudence — ^surely, one gid- IN DUBLIN. 199 dy creature may be trusted with the secret of another — tell me, Louisa." " Well, then, Lady Butler means to get up a private play next winter, and I have promised to play Mrs. Sullen to Pierrepoint's Archer." " Indeed !. " I am not in leading strings, Mrs. Colville," — with which words, she left the room bridling, and flushed with displeasure. ■f K 4 ^200 A WINTER It is too true that our heroine's cha- racter had, lately, assumed a sombre cast very foreign to the natural gaiety of her temper. She did not find the world so full of attractions, as her fancy had taught her to expect. She caught htrself, often, moralizing on the eventful chan- ges of life, and the insuiEciency of mortal wisdom to guard against impending sor- rows, cloked in approaching smiles. Ellen Golville was, indeed, a young philosopher ! " How, cries the critic," a blooming IN DUBLIN. 201 bride, adored by a young and handsome husband, with wealth to command, " turn philosopher.— Impossible !" Alas ! what are youth, beauty, and riches, compared with intellectual en- joy m.ent ! They wither under the in- fluence of reason, when mutual attach- ment ceases to keep them in blossom ! The General was capricious — some- times author ative : while our heroine — - who had pictured, in her cousin Mont- ague, a being all teadsrnessj softness, and K. S- 202 ' A WINTER complacenGy — shuddered at the contrast her fate had realized. In this mood, her imagination would wander in pursuit of the ideal object so congenial to her own heart. — She found him winning— gentle — insinuating — One, who without degrading the dig- nity of man, could yield to the little fondnesses, and indulge the whims, of feminine weakness There was a want of delicacy, in the GeneraFs love, that ill accorded with El- IN DUBLIN. 205 en's feelings : his temper was quick — impetuous — overbearing. She saw she was not to be happy ; but she resolved to submit, with patient for- bearance, to that fate which was now incontrovertible. In reveries, thus fatal to her repose, she had began too freely to indulge ; till, trembling for Lady Louisa, she be- nevolently sacrificed the beloved vision of her soul, to an active interest in the preservation of that lovely girl — she, K6 204 A WINTER therefore, sought her, and they were soon reconciled. It was Monday, and a holiday — Lady Butler proposed that they should order an early family dinner; and drive, in the evening, to the Dargle, where they would see thousands of tradesmen with their wives and daughters, all spruced out in their best bibs and tuckers, gambolling at pleasure^ obedient to the impulse of the moment, the true sons and daughters of unperverted nature. " The Irish" — continued her ladyship. IN DUBLIN. 205 — " dance ivith all their heart ; and GUR JIG is particularly calculated for the full indulgence of this national trait., " When the aid harper begins to sweep his cords, or the piper breathes his first inspiring note, the summons is electric ; our national music, like the bite, of a tarantula, enfrenzies the par- ties : the spirit of rivalry is general and unabated: each dances as long as na- ture will sustain the exercise ; and, when one party retreats, the conqueror bows to another, who accepts the chaL 206 A WINTER lenge with alacrity ; and, having danced his, or her, partner breathless — bows to a third j and so on, till the festival closes/' The event justified the description given by her ladyship — and, for this evening, Ellen Colville reclined upon the arm of the elegant Ponsonby^ The environs of the Dargle were bespangled with finery, glittering in every color of the rainbow, as Green- wich Park is, at the annual fairs : but, IN DUBLIN, 207 here, dancing was the almost universal order of the day. It is not possible for an enthusiastic mind to look, with indifference, on this national sport ; which is chaste as it is impassioned — devoid of eastern vo- luptuousness ; yet glowing with ani- mated sentiment. The soul flies up to the eyes — and the inspired countenance beams with the mildest rapture. Ponsonby, perceiving the pleasure 208 A WINTER With which his fair protegee gazed on the happy throng, led her to a spot, to which his attention had been directed by the graceful movements of a young female dancer. " Observe,'' said he, " the unaffected ease of that delicate form, modestly bendino: to the exoressive variations of the dance — now drooping with lan- guor ! — now elated with joy ! • " Ellen gazed with transport — The maiden's eyes were black and sparkling with pleasure — her face exquisitely IX DUBLIN. 209 fair, and every feature intelligent : her form petite et pliaiite -^ she appeared to tread an air. " Among the ancients*' — gaid Mr* Ponsonby — " the song and the dance formed records in the state; and, at the present day, poetical fictions are personified by a corps de ballet at the Haymarket. Telemachus is shipwreck- ed on the island of Calypso ; or, the beautiful Daphne flies from the ena- mored God, and changes to a laurel, at the fiat of fashion : — all which ef- fect is produced by an assemblage of 210 A WINTER wonderful antics^ and hyperbolical grimace' ' but an Irish jig speaks from the heart to the heart ; and is perfectly understood. Our heroine was surprized at this re- mark j Mr. Ponsonby had appeared to her gay, lively, and frivolous — he, now, wore the more engaging charac- ter of an enlightened companion* Poor Ellen ! how little did she know the world — When she had seen Ponsonby sport- ive as a kitten, she was not aware m DUBLIN. 211 that he adapted his manner to his ob- ject ; and that the same rule instructed him in the way to please her. The emigrations from Ireland are, too frequently, composed of a set of men, who do not offer to the world, at large, any very seducing picture of the country that gave them birth ; but let the traveller, who is inquisitive as to the national character, visit the Irish- man of birth on his domain; and he will ever find the accomplished scholar united with the polished gentleman and the hospitable landlord. 21^ A WINTiSR Among their faults — for none are perfect — are the love of wine, pro- duced by the natural conviviaUty of their dispositions ^ and gallantry^ enia- iiating fi-om habk and ^onstitutione On both these points, '^Mr. Ponsonby was a true Irishman- Ellen presented to him a human be- ing, in the form of an angel : he read the correctness of her principles in the correctness of her manners : for he was skilled in all the intricacies of the hu- man heart, and knew when to retreat IN DUBLIN. 2{$ -—when to urge on to, victory: he, therefore^ attacked our heroine with the flattery to which she was most sus- ceptible. How stupidly all mankind mistake the servility of a Parasite, for flattery. Flattery is not confined to any set of actions^ or phrases : it is a delicate distinction, founded on a thorough knowledge of the human heart, by which, one object becomes endeared to another. 214 A WINTER It consists, in an assumed similarity of taste, which generates friendship in one sex, and love in the other : — It is, in short, the art of governing the follies, or propensities, of our friends : of discovering the secret springs of their actions : of compelling them to play to our hand at every game : of making them subservient to our de- signs, while we induce them to believe the contrary — Under this form, Ponsonby had been accustomed to insinuate, imperceptibly, IN DUBLIN. '215 into the very heartstrings of his de- voted victims : Ellen Colville was a new subject for his genius to work upon. The sun was, now, retreating to- wards the westward — an almost extin- guished glory, feebly, shot from its de- parting rays, tinging, with a rich glow, the surrounding scenery. " How beautiful" — said her compa- nion — " are the works of nature — how sublime ! — how infinitely beyond the impotency of mortality 1" 21G A WINTER Ellen contemplated the scene v/ith a philosophic eye — i— " And yet" — said she — " how blind are we to the charms of creation, and mad in our pursuit of superficial works of art ! Any new-fangled bauble, plan- ned by a fashionable workman, collects the wondering crowd j and fashionable approbation stamps celebrity on his la- bors—while the peaceful happy scene, before us, would raise no other emotion in their high-born minds, than that of ri- dicule." IN DUBLIK. * 21T *^ True" — replied Ponsonby — " Fa- shion will run after a dancing auto- maton, at Merlin's, or at Maillardet's, and make it the subject of conversation for a whole week 5 yet would look, without feellngy on the dances w^hich have so sweetly intereL«cd you this evening/' " I thought you were of high fashion^ Mr. Ponsonby; and yet you do not mock my foolish sensibility". smiling < " Mock YOU, Mrs. Colville ! — good 218 A WINTER heaven ! what must the man be, who could mock the most refined enjoy- ments of a vivid fancy, corrected by a virtuous mind r" The conversation was growing too intimate ; for it is certain, that a unidn of sentiment removes all barriers to the heart — Ellen felt a sudden check ; and giving a light turn to the conversation, desired they might seek their party. Reader, if thou art a casuist, explain to me, I pray thee, whence that sudden IN DUBLIN. 219 check arose ; which I have recorded in the precedmg sentence ? Silent ! Well, then, let me attempt the defi- nition. Our ideas are so immediately asso- ciated with our senses, that the ima- gery awakened by the one, owes all its magic to the other, " Philosophers" — says a celebrated German writer — " will tell you of the L 2 ^20 , A WINTER pleasures of the soul — the pleasures of the heart — the pleasures of virtue — *' Now all these — refine them as you will — are merely sensual pleasures, be- cause they owe their birth to the repre- sentation of the senses. " Why do we prefer Homer to a dry treatise on philosophy ? " Is it not, because his poetic fancy abounds in rich coloring which gives enchantment to his imagery? And IN DUBLIN. 221 shall we not^ prefer, at all times, plea- sure to pain ? " Who would not, rather, contem- plate a beautiful than disgusting object ? and whence arises the distinction i " From the senses ! — for virtue is alike beautiful — be the form whatever it may. " Tell me, then, what are the affec- tions of the heart, but sensual propen- sities ? l3 !222 A WINTER. " Both not the first emotion that oc • cupies the bosom of the blushing virgin, communicate a voluptuous glow to her whole system ? Does it not quicken the circulation of her blood — tremble in her every fibre — impart, to the whole machine, its exquisitely prevailing ar- dors ? " And do not — hope — pity — admi- ration — and all the other passions — produce a like effect ? " Who ever heard the tempest rage —beheld the impetuous waves dart all IN DUBLIN* 223 their vengeance 'gainst his vessePs side — and could maintain the conflict, un- cheared by hope ? " Who ivtr heard tha plaintive cry of helpless misery — -beheld the agonised mother weeping o'er her perishing in- fants — and could view the scene, un- moved by pity ? ** Who ever heard the valor of his country's heroes trumpeted abroad-— beheld them return amid the huzzas of applauding citizens — and could stand by, uninspired with admiration ? L 4 224 A WINTKR " If our most amiable emotions, then, are net voluptuous, why do they so feelingly affect the senses?" But they are voluptuous j and all / our passions owe enjoyment to the senses. Ponsonby perceived, with rapture, the ground he was gaining, but would not oppose the motion of his lovely companion. He was too wily to alarm her mind by any impetuosity of his own : the alarm was to comie from IX DUBLIN. 225 SELF, and the thing was evidently in train — they joined their friends. Cars, * noddies, and vulgar vehicles of every description vt^ere now in mo- tion to remove the lingering crowd. — - As our party still continued to stroll amid the bustle, a blind minstrel, with his bag-pipes under one arm, and his * A one-hon-e chaise that plies in stands like hackney coaches in London, It has a covered head, and a seat for the herculean driver imme- diately behind .the horse, and in front of the passenger. It does not convey any lively idea of the oiium sum dlgnitatc. L 5 226 A WINTER wife under the other — staggering with whiskey — halted at the sound of voices, and taking off his hat, said, with a scrape of his hind foot — " And may be your honor would be after ordering a poor piper to drink your honor's health — " " We are going to a wake, your honor*' — said the woaian — " and have not a rap between us, nor a toothful of comfort to keep out the cool night air—" IN DUBLIN. 22/ " Afvah, now, v.i 1 y u b h • e your- self, and bad luck to you" — replied the husband — " and not be after shewins: your manners to a gentleman — Och, honey 5 take my advice, I tell you — shut your potatoe trap; and let me speak to his honor/' " The whiskey bottle" — said Lady Butler—;-" seems to liave made you both orators. If you drink more, you will possibly lose your way." " Oh, let me alone for that, your honor — " whiskey — good luck to it — l6 228 A WINTER is meat, drink, washing, and lodging, to a poor man — it makes him forget when he is hungry, your honor, and keeps out the cold, in travelling, when he makes a feather-bed of the first dry ditch he tumbles into — '' There was rhetoric in this appeal, and a thousand blessings were ex- changed, by the piper and his wife, for the alms they received. A wake, in Ireland, is a scene of festivity and merriment, which collects, an immense assemblage of men and IN DUBLIN. 229 women, to ho\vl round the corpse of a deceas-2d neighbour, which is usually- laid out in some large barn, or other capacious building. Smoking and drinking is the amuse- ment of the night, heightened by story- telling of * ghosts and fairies — in which * Various are the incantations and ceremonies, 'ised by these superstitious people, to avert the powers of 'vvitchcraft ; such as taking the milk 'from one neighbour's cow, and adding it to an- other. An instance of this kind, has happened with- ii^ this fortnight J in which three persons were 230 A WINTER the lower Irish are imphcit believers — as well as by feats of rude bu^oonery, and boisterous mirth. These amusements, however, are subject to temporary interruptions frpm the nearest relatives of the deceased, who are stationed round the corpse^ and, at a signal given, the howl becomes shut np in a room with an oM enchantress, two of whom were suffocated by her spells; and the life of the thirU despaired of: the witch was, also, found in a dangerous way, but has been conimitted to prison. IN DUBLIN. 231 general for a few minutes — after which, the most extravagant, among them, who during this solemn chorus have torn their hair, and beat their breasts, will be foremost in joining the first rude provocation to returning merri- ment. On the following morning the Ge- neral returned, to the very great sa- tisfaction of his wife, who determined to press their departure on as early a day as propriety would admit; but the General was, himself, fond of a bot- tle of good claret, and was extremely 322 A WINTER pleased with ^ the party he had naet with. Patience ! Ponsonby, nov/, sought , opportuni- ties of being particular in his attentions to our heroine, but they had so little the appearance of premeditation, , and were so delicate, that she could not, in justice, complain. — On the contrary, she took pleasure in the conversation of a man of sense, which was not les- sened — as every female will believe — IN DUBLIN. 23S by his being the handsomest man sh« had ever seen,. , Could a guardian sylph have whis- pered into her ear, that Lady Butler had employed her favourite to remove the superiority of Mrs. Colville over herself, she would have been more re- served: but as it was, Ellen unaffect- edly expressed, in words . and actions, the pleasure she received in Ponsonby's society. At length, the hour of separation 234 A WINTER came — ^but it was a mere transfer : au- tumn was closing ; and they were soon to meet, again, in celebration of " ths gND OF THE FIRST VOtUME^ UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 3 0112 042027885 %T5; ..sia;. i|»xJ(^ "^^^^WL