Lady Morgan’s Memoirs
Sydney Owenson to Margaret Featherstone, 4 May 1801
Coleraine, May 4th, 1801.
Here I am, dearest Madam, safely and happily arrived on
the shores of the vast Atlantic, after a journey, tedious indeed, but amusing
from its novelty, and comparatively delightful from the unexpected circumstance
which attended it, namely, my father and Olivia meeting me sixty miles from Dublin. Just as I had given
Colonel Lindsey (who was extremely pleasant and
attentive,) warning not to be frightened at the sight of a withered duenna, he
saw me leap into the arms of a man six feet high and armed at all points for
conquest (for my father never travels without the apparatus of the toilet); he
looked as if he thought this the most extraordinary
duenna that ever waited to give a young lady convoy. I found these dear beings perfectly well, never looking
better, and my father at least ten years younger than when I parted with him.
After a survey of the beauties and ![]()
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curiosities natural and artificial of Ardmagh
(where we met) we proceeded to Coleraine. After a journey through a country in
some respects the wildest and most savage, nothing can appear more delightful
than the situation of this town, which is in the highest degree picturesque and
romantic I cannot say much for the town, less for the town’s people. They
are almost all traders; rich and industrious, honest and methodical; these are
not the result of my own experience or observation, but are taken from the
experience and observation of others. The military and their families form the
only society worth cultivating, and even for these there is not much to be
said. But you know that is a subject on which I am not easily pleased. Now for
matters more substantial: meat and bread are at Dublin prices; fish of the
finest and choicest kind almost for nothing; poultry very,
very cheap; and vegetables scarce altogether; notwithstanding being
reduced to one course, I contrive to live, and still
bear such visible testimonies of your good table as will
enable me to keep up a good appearance for a month at
least. And now, my dearest madam, having so long pestered you with myself, let
me speak a little of my kind friends in Dominic Street. Neither my restoration
to my family, my present happiness, nor the distance which divides us can
soften the regret I felt at parting from your good family, nor obliterate the
remembrance of the many happy hours I spent in it, or the kindness and
affection which I experienced from every member of it. Though my many
negligences and those faults inseparable from human na-![]()
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ture, must have frequently excited your disapprobation, yet the interest I
felt for you and my little friends was always unvariable, and always more than
I could or would express—and this interest
promises to exist when probably she who cherishes it will no longer live in
your remembrance. The benefits I derived from my residence with you were many,
but they never exceeded the gratitude they inspired, nor the sincere attachment
with which I remain,
My dear madam,
Your very sincere friend,
PS.—I must say a word to you, my dear little
girls, though but to tell you I dream of you every night; that I long to
hear from you, that I request you will coax mamma to
write to me, and remember me most affectionately to the boys. Olivia thanks mamma
a thousand times for her present, of which she has just made a handsome
cap. I am in hopes of getting a piano from Londonderry, which will save me
great expense in the carriage. You will have the goodness to mention this,
that I may not prevent him selling his.
Lady Olivia Clarke [née Owenson] (1785 c.-1845)
The younger sister of Lady Morgan who married Dublin physician Sir Arthur Clarke
(1778-1857) in 1808. She wrote songs and a play, and published in the
Metropolitan Magazine and
Athenaeum.
