Who was my father? to whom in these few pages I have dedicated so much recollection.
My father was a Celtic Irishman, my mother was a Saxon; and “I had the good fortune,” as Paddy O’Carrol says, “to come over to Ireland to he borned.”
My father was—an actor! But he shall tell his own tale; or, rather, I will try to relate it as I heard it from his lips many a time and oft, sometimes spoken, sometimes sung.
My father devoted as much of his time to domestic enjoyment as his
profession and public life would admit of. In the course of my early and after years, it
was a source of infinite delight to me, to hear him narrate in broken episodes, traits and
incidents of his own story and of the times in which he lived, mingled with relations of
habits, customs and manners still existing in Ireland down to the close of the last
century. They were so impressive in their character and musical in their narration, that
they seized on my imagi-
MY FATHER. | 41 |
“St. Patrick was a gentleman and come of decent
people.”
Met. Hist. of St. Patrick.
|
“We were kin to the Braghlaglans, Callagans,
Connors and Brides alsoe.”—Irish
Song.
|
At the beginning of the last century many of the manners and customs and
national habits of Ireland in the middle ages still existed. The rustic amusements of the
gentry as well as of the peasantry, were of a character that enlisted some of the most
violent passions of Irish temperament; a dance begun in utmost jollity on the sod, often ended by laying one of the performers under it; and a duel was not rare that arose from some mere awkwardness in the
canonical performance of the rite of hands across and back again in a country dance. The
hurling matches in the provinces were the Olympic games of ould Ireland; the athletæ
of Connaught would challenge the rival hurlers of Munster. County against county, but more
frequently Bally against Bally came forth in
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Early in the last century, a celebrated hurling match took place in Connaught, sustained by the gentry, farmers and squirearchy of the neighbouring counties of Sligo and Rosscommon. All the chief gentry of the neighbourhood were present, the flower of Irish youth of both sexes. It was the custom to award to the victor of the field a ribbon to wear at his breast, or some other simple mark of distinction, presented by the Queen of Beauty of the day.
On this occasion, the Queen of Beauty was Sydney, the orphan grand-daughter of Sir Malby
Crofton; the victor of the day was Walter MacOwen,
Anglice Owenson,
a gentleman according to the genealogy of Connaught, but a farmer by actual position. He
was very handsome in person and tall in stature, and of noted prowess in all contests like
the present. The lady was a descendant of the house of Crofton, which
settled in Ireland in the days of Elizabeth. The
head of the family was made escheator-general of the province, by Sir Henry Sydney, who was the governor of Connaught. In
the partition of the lands and estates of the Irish, the “Escheator-general”
did not forget himself; he left at his death six brave sons to inherit six good estates;
the second of these sons settled at
MY FATHER. | 43 |
The fair Queen of Beauty who then graced Longford House was smitten with the grace and bravery of the young victor in the hurling match; she probably intimated, or at least allowed him to discover, that he had
“Wrestled well—and overthrown More than his enemies.” |
The young man was not “afraid to take his fortune up.” The result was, that shortly after the hurling match, there was what the people of the country called an “abduction,” and the Crofton family a “mésalliance never to be forgiven;” in matter-of-fact speech, they ran away by mutual consent, and were married beyond all power of protest or disapprobation of friends to separate them.
The young bride, with great good sense, entirely accepted her new position, and made the best of it.
She was an extremely clever woman, who discharged her duties in all respects as a farmer’s wife, and obtained in the condition of life to which she had descended, the respect and influence she was calculated to have won in her own sphere. But the marriage was none the less indiscreet, neither was it a happy one, for she had not, like Desdemona,
“beheld Othello’s visage in his mind.” |
Her husband seems to have been a jolly, racketting Irish boy; he was
frequently absent on all manner of rustic frolics, hurling matches, fairs and other
occa-
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She was a woman of genius, a poetess and musician; she cultivated her natural gifts, and found in art a resource against unavailing regret for the position in life which she had left, and it was her best preservative against disgust at her present surroundings. She was appreciated by her Irish neighbours, who love music and song; they gave her the sobriquet of Clasagh na Valla, or the “Harp of the Valley;” she was eminent for her skill as a performer on the Irish harp, and for her poems in the Irish tongue; so her life did not pass entirely without sympathy and recognition. She had one son, named Robert, who seemed to unite the most remarkable peculiarities of both his parents.
He resembled his father in stature and personal beauty, and he had the
artistic and poetical instincts of his mother; he had also a magnificent musical voice of
extraordinary compass. His mother devoted herself to giving him the best education in her
power; in this she had the good-natured assistance of the parish priest, who was an
ex-member of the Jesuits’ College of Liege, and occasionally, the Protestant
incumbent of the parish gave his aid. The young pupil of this combined instruction showed
his gratitude by impartially intoning Low Mass in the early Sabbath morning with
Father Mahony, and later in the day singing the New Version of
Sternhold and Hopkins in the parish church with his mother, who was a Protestant. In
MY FATHER. | 45 |
About that time a great sensation was caused in the neighbourhood by the arrival of a stranger bearing the name of Blake, who proceeded to take possession of the castle of the Blakes of Ardfry, after a long interregnum, as the lineal descendant of the original proprietors of the estate.* He had been brought up in foreign parts, and was the possessor of a large West Indian property in addition to his Irish estate. He was a man of great eccentricity, singular accomplishments, and an utter stranger to the habits and manners of the country in which he was called upon to succeed to an ancient property. Mr. Blake was struck with the originality of all he saw around him in Ireland. He was anxious also, as a landlord, to improve the condition of the peasantry on his estate, and to study their habits.
A Protestant himself, he, nevertheless, visited impartially both the Protestant and Catholic places of worship in the parish. One Sunday, when he attended High Mass, he was struck with the beauty of a young fresh voice which rose distinctly above all others. He
* The Blakes of Meulo were a branch of the ancient family of Ardfry. |
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“O come, loud anthems let us sing.” |
Mr. Blake was an eminent musician, fresh from the schools of Italy and Paris.
He soon made himself acquainted with the name, quality, and residence of the owners of the two voices, and the next day paid a visit in form to the persons who had so charmed and surprised him.
The manners and style of Clasagh na Valla convinced him that he was in the presence of a gentlewoman. Her husband was absent on one of his many frolics. It was new to Clasagh na Valla to have the society of one of her own class, and the motives of kindness which had brought Mr. Blake, although expressed with some coldness and formality, nevertheless worked upon her and warmed her to a degree of communicativeness which possibly surprised him. She told him her history, and ascribed the ruin of her husband’s family, and its present low estate, to the dishonesty of a member of Mr. Blake’s family in former times.
A Catholic, Mac Owen, had once entrusted some
landed property to a Protestant Blake. A Bill of Discovery was filed
by him against the owner, the ruin of the confiding Catholic ensued, and the traditional
memory of the wrong had become exaggerated in its progress until it had become the standing
griev-
MY FATHER. | 47 |
The parents consented. Clasagh na Valla was proud of the effect her eloquence had produced. She beheld her son already restored to the position in life which she believed to be his lawful birthright, out of which he had been defrauded by the accident of her having married below her station. The father consented; probably he was not able to stand against his wife’s eloquence; possibly he could not get leave to say a word against it, and possibly, too, he may have thought it a fine thing for his son “to get his own again” from a Blake; at all events, it is certain that with the consent of all parties Mr. Blake took young Owenson into his own house and made him his companion.
Mr. Blake was not a good person to whom to entrust
the destinies of a young man. He was an intellectual epicurean, profoundly selfish, and
prepared to
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Young Owenson resided with Mr. Blake so long as he continued on his Irish estates, but Mr. Blake soon grew weary of the monotony of this remote existence and of provincial pursuits—the improvement of his tenantry included.
After a few months he set out to go to London, where he had a house in
Russell Street. He stopped a few days en route in Dublin. Amongst
other reasons, he wished to furbish up and render presentable the young wild Irishman he
was about to introduce to his London acquaintance and friends. The Connaught suit of
genuine ratteen was exchanged for the fashionable costume of the day; his luxuriant black
locks—shaggy and picturesque—were transformed into the coiffure poudré and ailes de pigeon which had
succeeded the wigs of the preceding half-century. Thus dressed and disguised, he
accompanied Mr. Blake to the Theatre Royal, Crow
Street, to witness the performance of “Coriolanus,” by Mossop, the great tragedian of the age, whose father, a Protestant
clergy-
MY FATHER. | 49 |
This was the first theatre he had entered—the first dramatic performance he had ever witnessed—he was not ignorant of Shakespeare, for Shakespeare has at all times been more read and better understood, or rather felt, even in the remote provinces of Ireland, than in the country which has the glory of his birth. The drama was, at this epoch, in Ireland at the acme of its popularity and its influence. Dublin supplied London with its best actors and its best dramatists, and the Irish stage was, for a time, almost a fourth power in the state. Young Owenson was “not touched but rapt, not wakened but inspired.” From that moment the son of Clasagh na Valla had discovered his vocation, and, though in future years he worked it out under the influence of a far different temperament to that of his countryman Mossop, the impression and intention remained indestructible.
In a few days from this memorable night, Mr. Blake and his young protégé arrived in
London, at the comfortable mansion of the former in Great Russell Street. He lost not a
moment in seeking to render those abilities available, for which he had chosen his young
charge on so short an experience. Mr. Blake was well acquainted with
all that was most eminent in the musical society of London—professional and amateur,
of which his own house was
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MY FATHER. | 51 |
The rest of the young man’s time was devoted to the domestic régime of his protector; a good arithmetician, as most Irish lads are, he audited the Irish accounts, which were forwarded by Mr. Blake’s agent from the county of Galway; he took the foot of his dinner-table, having been systematically taught to carve by the old butler, a jealous and confidential servant, and, above all, he sung his delightful Irish melodies with their genuine Irish words, to the very bad accompaniment of Mr. Blake himself on the harpsichord, whose incompetent performance induced the young amateur to study counterpoint, and so accompany himself. Owenson had charge of the house in Russell Street in the absence of his protector on visits to the seats of his friends in the country, among whom was Lord Clare the protector of Goldsmith.
Mr. Blake only once visited his estates in Ireland
during the residence in his family of young Owenson,
whom he treated with a condescension too marked ever to be construed into familiarity; a
circumstance which often roused “the blood of the
Mirabels,” and occasioned a petulance of manner better becoming
a wild chief of the MacOwens in other times, than a dependent of the
Anglo-Norman gentleman of the present. Of all the advantages which that dependant enjoyed
from his position, the excellent male society occasionally assembled at Mr.
Blake’s table, was the most profitable and delightful; almost all the
literary men of the day were among his guests, and the Gerard
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MY FATHER. | 53 |
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During the absence of Mr. Blake
in Ireland, as was thought, Madame Weichsel
consented to “star it” for one night at Vauxhall. Young Owenson accompanied her thither. When she entered the
orchestra, it was discovered that the singer who was to take part in the duet of
“Fair Aurora” had not arrived. She insisted that
her companion should take his place, and her request was too seducing to his vanity to be
refused. He was in full dress; which was as indispensable then for Vauxhall as for the
opera. He was announced as an amateur who had kindly offered to take the place of the
original Arbaces, “who had been attacked by
sudden indisposition,” &c. “Fair Aurora”
was sung con amore, applauded and encored. Among the audience,
however, was one neither expected nor desired; it was Mr. Blake, who
had suddenly returned home unannounced, and finding the house deserted except by the old
major domo, who could give no account of the young viceroy who
had been left over him, except that he had dressed and gone to Vauxhall. Mr.
Blake, who followed his example, somewhat out of humour, arrived just as
Arbaces was finishing his duet! The
MY FATHER. | 55 |
Young Owenson had been more than
four years resident in London, and had benefitted considerably by the instructions which
Mr. Blake had liberally assisted him to acquire.
An accomplished musician, he had also derived much advantage from those lessons in
elocution, which young men, whether preparing for the stage or the pulpit, were then
taking, at an epoch when declamatory recitation was indispensable to success in the
sentimental comedies and high-flown tragedies of the day. The two cousins, putting their
Irish
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MY FATHER. | 57 |
“Sober, steadfast, and demure,” |
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