The reason I have not written to you for some days is that I have so much to say, and so much that I was afraid of saying, that I thought it better to say nothing at all; which “all,” I think, will surprise you—and for myself je n’en reviens pas!
Well, last Thursday, Mr. Fontaine enclosed me a note from a lady, Mrs. Featherstonehaugh, of Bracklin Castle, intimating her desire to have just such a charming young person as myself! as governess or companion to her two daughters; the eldest just returned from a great finishing school, Madame Lafarrelle’s, and the younger who has never left home.
Mrs. Featherstone was for a few days at
her mother’s, the Dowager Lady
Steele’s in Dominic Street, but anxious not to lose a
moment, and would send her
| 155 |
You know what a fine street Dominic Street is, and so close to my old school. Well, a handsome mansion, two servants at the door, my name taken, and I was ushered at once into a large and rather gloomy parlour, in the centre of which two ladies were sitting at a table. The one at the head of the table, a most remarkable figure both in person and costume, but who bore her ninety years with considerable confidence in her own dignity. She sat with her head thrown back, her little sharp eyes twinkling at me as I entered, and her mouth pursed up to the dimensions of a parish poor-box. She wore a fly-cap (of which I have taken the pattern), on her silver but frizzled hair,—her very fair face was drawn into small wrinkles, as though engraved with a needle over her delicate features, and when I tell you what I have since heard, that she was the rival and friend of the beautiful Lady Palmer, the belle of Lord Chesterfield’s court, and the subject of his pretty verses which you used to recite so often,—you will allow that she had every right to wrinkles and the remains of beauty.*
|
* The occasion was this:—At the court of Lord Chesterfield, when religious party spirit was symbolized in Ireland by the colours white or orange, as the wearer was Williamite or Jacobite, Lady Palmer, a reigning beauty and a Catholic, appeared at one of the drawing-rooms |
| 156 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
Seated near her at the same table, and writing, was a sweet, charming, good-humoured-looking lady, who got up to receive me in the most cordial manner, whilst two nice girls, the eldest already apparently in her teens, struggled to get me a chair, and then stationed themselves one each behind their mamma and grandmamma.
Mrs. Featherstone opened the conversation by telling me that she had been a pupil of Mr. Fontaine’s as her daughters were now, and that he was the best of human beings.
“That is nothing to the purpose!” said the old lady sharply, “Come to the point with this young person, as you know you have no time to lose;” and turning to me, she said, “You are very young to offer yourself for so important a situation.”
The two girls looked at me as much as to say, “Don’t mind grandmamma,” and Mrs. Featherstone added,—
“Dear mamma, now, you must leave Miss Owenson to me,” and then she said to me, “I assure you, my dear, I am much prepossessed in your favour by all that our good Fontaine has told me of you; and your being so merry and musical as he tells me you are, is
with an orange lily in her bosom. Lord Chesterfield, having kissed her fair check, took out his tablets and wrote the following stanza—
|
| 157 |
“But to begin,” interposed Lady Steele again, “What will this young person expect? she cannot offer herself as a regular governess, she is so very young.”
The girls winked at me and grimaced again.
“She shall first offer herself as my visitor at Bracklin Castle for the Christmas holidays,” said Mrs. Featherstone, kindly, “and then we shall see how we get on and suit each other, which I am sure we shall very well.”
The old lady said, knocking her hand on the table, “I never heard such nonsense in all my life!”
At this moment the footman came in to announce that the carriage was at the door, followed by a handsome jolly-looking woman, the lady’s maid, with Mrs. Featherstone’s cloak and bonnet.
Mrs. Featherstone said, “Come,
my dear, and I will set you down, and we will have a little talk by the
way, for I have an appointment which hurries me away at present.”
The two girls ran after us and said, “Do come to us, we shall be so happy
at Bracklin, and never mind grandmamma,—nobody does,” and with this
dutiful observation they shook hands cordially with me, and I drove off with my
bran new friend. What was amusing in all this was—that I never opened my
lips till I got into the carriage, when I thanked Mrs.
Featherstone for her kind reception, and accepted cordially her
invitation to Bracklin. In
| 158 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
As we went along I settled a few points relative to my journey to Bracklin; but I was dying to ask her if this Lady Steele was any relation to Sir Richard Steele of the Spectator, which was the thought uppermost in my mind all the time.
At last I did, and she said, “Oh, yes, my father, the late Sir Richard Steele of Hampstead, was second cousin to your Sir Richard; but being of the elder branch he succeeded to the estate, as his poorer cousin did to the wit of the family. My nephew, the present Sir Richard Steele, is now the representative of the family and the possessor of the property.”
“Well, it was finally arranged, I was to start for Bracklin on the following Monday (this was Friday) by the mail, which would take me as far as Kinigad, where the Featherstone carriage, horses and servants would meet me; but as the mail reached Kinigad at an awkward hour, I was not to leave that place till daylight. In short, I never met any one so kind as this dear lady.
Olivia and Molly heard all this with astonishment, but agreed that it was quite right; as did also Dr. Pellegrini, who came with Madame and carried us off to dinner.
The next morning I took my darling Olivia to Madame Dacier’s—
“Some natural tears we dropped, but wiped them soon,”
|
| 159 |
Molly came back with me to prepaid all my little arrangements, towards which we changed our last bank-note. And having next day received all details in a letter from Mrs. Featherstone from Bracklin, written the night she arrived, I accepted a farewell dinner and a little dance after, which Mr. Fontaine called a petit bal d’adieu for the night of my departure; he said, “the mail goes from the head of this street; it will blow its horn when it is ready for you, and we will all conduct you to your carriage.”
Well, papa, this was all very nice, for I wanted to be cheered, so I dressed myself in my school dancing dress, a muslin frock and pink silk stockings and shoes. Molly had my warm things to change in time for the mail.
Well, dear papa, we did not exactly mind our time, and the fatal result was—that I was dancing down “Money in both Pockets” with a very nice young man, Mr. Buck, the nephew to Miss Buck, when the horn blew at the end of the street! Oh, sir! if you knew the panic! All that could be done was for Molly to throw her warm cloak over me, with my own bonnet and my little bundle of things, so that I might dress when I got to Kinigad.
One of the young gentlemen snatched up my portmanteau, and so we all flew along the flags, which were frosted over, and got to the mail just as the guard lost patience and was mounting, so I was poked in and the door banged-to, and “my carriage” drove off like lightning down College Green, along the Quays, and then into some gloomy street I did not remember.
| 160 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
As for me, I was so addled, I did not know where I was. At last we drew up before some ponderous gates and a high wall.
A sentinel was pacing up and down with a lantern flashing on his arms, which reminded me of the castle of Otranto. The guard blew his horn, and the next minute I heard an awful shout and uproar, and singing and laughing, and the gates opened and there appeared a crowd of officers and gentlemen, who were shaking hands with one person, with “Good-bye, old boy, and let us hear from you soon,” and other phrases.
The coach door was opened, and the gentleman asked the guard, “Is there any one inside?”
And the guard answered, “Only an old lady, sir, as far as Kinigad!”
“Oh, by Jove!” said the gentleman, retreating. “I say, coachy, I’ll take a seat by you.” So the door slapped-to, up he mounted, and the horn blew, and we were off in a minute.
Oh-h, sir, it takes away my breath only to think of it now!
Well, we were soon out of Dublin; the moon rising over the beautiful Phœnix Park, the trees of which were hanging with frost and icicles; the Liffey glittering to the left, and lights glittering in the Viceregal Lodge as we passed it on the right.
If my heart had not been so heavy, this would have been
a scene I should have delighted in. And so we galloped on, changing horses only
once, when I was much struck with the interior of the stable, which was
| 161 |
Our next stage was Kinigad; but it was a very long one, and we did not arrive till three in the morning.
Such a picture as the inn was! The ostler, half-dressed, coming with the horses, and roaring for a waiter, or Caty, the chambermaid, to come down; and then the officer sprang down from the coach-box and came to rummage in the coach for his hat just as I was stepping out, assisted by the dirty ostler. I suppose the officer was struck with my pink silk shoe, for he laid hold of my foot, and pushing back the ostler, he said,
“What! let such a foot as that sink in the snow—never!” and he actually carried me in his arms into the kitchen, and placed me in an old arm chair before a roaring turf fire! and then, ordering the chambermaid and Mrs. Kearney (the landlady I suppose) “to get up and get tea, and everything for the young lady,” to which everybody answered,
“Yes, Major; to be sure, sir; everything your honour orders. Your gig, has been here, sir, this hour.”
In short, he seemed the commandant of the place.
He then came up to me and said,
“I had not the least idea who was in the carriage. The guard said it was an old lady; in short, you must let me make amends by offering my services in this wretched place. I hope you will command them now. I am quartered here, and know its few resources. You are not going further to-night, I suppose?”
| 162 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
I was dreadfully frightened and confused, but I answered,
“No, sir; not at present. I am expecting a carriage and servants to take me on to Mr. Featherstone’s of Bracklin.”
He took off his hat, made me a low bow, but seemed stunned with the information. He again called the landlady and said,
“I would prescribe some white wine negus, for you are chilled.”
The waiter now appeared, and said, that Mr. Featherstone’s carriage and servants had arrived an hour before; but had put up the horses and gone to lie down, as they would not proceed till after daylight. The chambermaid now came, and said she had a room prepared and a good fire up stairs. This was a great relief to me; but the young officer seemed to deplore it. He said he knew Mr. Featherstone, and would take the liberty of coming to inquire for me.
So I went to my smoky room; but on inquiring for my bundle and portmanteau, I found they had gone on in the Kinigad mail!
Fancy, dear papa, my dreadful situation! My whole stock in trade consisted of a white muslin frock, pink silk stockings, and pink silk shoes, with Molly’s warm cloak and an old bonnet!
Well, sir, you know I had nothing for it, so I took my
glass of hot white wine negus, threw myself on the bed, and was warmly covered
up by the fat chambermaid, who had neither shoes nor stockings on, and I fell
fast asleep; “but in that sleep what dreams!”
| 163 |
The dreary Irish road from Kinigad to the pretty village of Castledown Delvin—an appendage to the domain of the Earl of Westmeath—brought me to the approach of the pine-sheltered avenue of Bracklin, which pines, green and formal as they were, screened out the black bog behind them, where the wood of ages lay buried, from among which “the mere Irish” could never be taken by their Saxon invaders “when the leaves were on the trees!”
The approach to the domain was announced by a
civilized-looking lodge; large, beautiful iron gates, opened by a fairy child,
and all that lay within was cultivated and promising, leading to a large,
handsome mansion of white stone—two carriages were rolling before the
door, at which stood two footmen, who at once ushered me into a handsome
drawing-room, to a party of ladies, muffled in carriage dresses, who stood in a
circle round the fire. Pinched, cold, confused, and miserable, as you may
suppose, dear papa, I must have been—in my pink silk shoes and
stockings—I perceived that my appearance excited a general titter; but
dear Mrs. Featherstone and her girls
came to my relief, and welcomed me and kissed me; but Mr. Featherstone—a grave, stern-looking
man, who sat apart reading his newspaper—he just raised his eyes above
his glasses, and I read in his
| 164 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
Mrs. Featherstone inquired how I had come to travel in so light a dress; and so, dear papa, I thought I had better just tell the story as it happened—and so I did—from the little bal d’adieu, at dear old Fontaine’s, till I reached Bracklin gates, not forgetting the portmanteau and little bundle left behind. Well, you have no idea how it took! they screamed at the fun of my details, and I heard them mutter, “Dear little thing—poor little thing!” The two girls carried me off from them all, to my own rooms, the prettiest suite you ever saw—a study, a bedroom, and a bathroom—a roaring turf fire in the rooms, and an open piano and lots of books scattered about!
Betty Kenny, the old nurse—the “Molly” of the establishment—brought me in a bowl of laughing potatoes, and such fresh butter, and gave a hearty “much good may it do ye, miss;” and didn’t I tip her a word of Irish which delighted her. Pen, ink, and paper were brought me, and I was left to myself to rest and write to dear Olivia a line just to announce my arrival here, which was sent to the post for me.
The girls brought me, I believe, half their mamma’s and all their own wardrobe, to dress me out; and as they are all little, it answered very well. Well, sir, when I went down, the carriages and party had drawn off to spend two days at Sir Thomas Featherstone’s.
Our dinner party were mamma and the two young ladies,
two itinerant preceptors—Mr. O’Hanlon, a
| 165 |
Now I must just give you a picture of the room. A beautiful dining-room—spacious and lofty; a grand beaufet and sideboard; before it stood Mr. James Moran, the butler—the drollest fellow I ever met, as I will tell you, bye-and-bye—and two footmen.
The dinner, perfectly delicious!
Well, I was in great spirits; and Mrs. Featherstone drew out the two tutors, I
think on purpose. She made Mr. O’Hanlon—a most
coxcomical writing-master—tell me his story; how he was the prince of
nearly all he surveyed—if he had his rights, being descended from the
Princes O’Hanlon. Now, papa, you know if there is anything I am strong on it is Irish
song—thanks to you—especially “Emunch ach
Nuic,” (Ned o’the Hills) which song I sang for them
afterwards, by-the-bye, and did I not take his pride down a peg and get him
into such a passion! The servants laughed and stuffed their napkins down their
throats till they were almost suffocated. James Moran, the
butler, winking at the priest all the time, who enjoyed the joke more than any
one, except the dancing-master, his rival, who is a very clever man, I am told,
and teaches mathematics besides, and put me very much in mind of
Marcus Tully. Well, sir, we got so merry, that at last
Father Murphy proposed my health in this
fashion—which will make you smile. He stood up with his glass of port
wine in his hand, and first bowing to Mrs. Featherstone,
said, “With
| 166 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
Well, after dinner I sang them “Emunch ach Nuic,” and “Cruel Barbara Allen,” which had an immense effect.
After tea, James Moran announced that the piper had come from Castletown “to play in Miss Owenson,” upon which the girls immediately proposed a dance in the back hall; and when I told them I was a famous jig dancer, they were perfectly enraptured. So we set to; all the servants crowding round two open doors in the hall.
I, of course, danced with the “Professor,” and Prince O’Hanlon with Miss Featherstone, and Miss Margaret with the Rev. Mr. Beaufort. It is a pity we had no spectators beyond the domestics, for we all really danced beautifully; and, considering this was my first jig in company, I came off with flying colours, and so ends my first day in Bracklin. And I think, dear papa, you have no longer any reason to be uneasy at my position or angry with my determination, and so God bless you. I shall write to you now once a-week, loving you better and better every day,
