An interesting notice of Lady Morgan’s old house at Drumcondra occurs in a letter from her brother-in-law, Sir Arthur Clarke.
José and I have just returned from taking a sketch of Drumcondra House, and inclose some flowers, out of your old garden, which is in great preservation. The house is now the post office, kept by a Mr. Heith, and his wife remembers two ladies some years ago calling to see the house;—one was Lady Morgan, and the other was Lady Clarke. José will send you the sketch when finished, and it will look beautiful. Tell little Syd. I received her letter this morning, and that I will write to her in a day or two.
| 538 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
I overheard two gentlemen in the United Service Club yesterday talking of your matinée. One said, he had often seen the Miss Owensons in Enniskillen, that he knew their father intimately, and that he was a handsome man; had the heart of a gentleman, the looks of a gentleman, and the manners of a gentleman; and that he also knew Dr. Burroughs, the author of The Night before Larry was Stretched.
A letter to Lady Morgan from her niece, Mrs. Inwood Jones, gives a description of the inauguration of Moore’s statue, about which Lady Morgan was much interested, and which she had been the first to suggest.
Your last letter was so beautifully written, that it put me quite out,
and I could not read it! It is too bad, after devoting the best part of my life to deciphering your dear old hieroglyphics, to
be at this time of day treated to a common place, plain hand writing, that any one can read. Well, let it pass; and now for my
news. The inauguration of Moore’s
statue was a curious sight; and I believe that in no town in Europe could there
have been another like it. Conceive a mob of, I should
think, six thousand persons,
| PASSING AWAY. | 539 |
| 540 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
The Lord Mayor said his petit mot with the richest of Irish brogues, and with a simplicity that brought us all down from Moore’s pedestal (where the great orators had left us) to the shop in Grafton Street. He created a deal of merriment amongst the mob, who encouraged him with sundry “Don’t be frightened, my boy,” and “spake out like a man.” When all this was over, and the statue uncovered, I could not help thinking that it was the least inspiring object I ever saw. It is almost grotesque, and might be any one else than little Moore. The crowd dispersed in perfect good humour. The tops of houses, the roofs of the Bank and College, and lamp posts, were all crowded with spectators. It was really a very curious scene, and I was glad to witness it. And now good bye, dear, for I am quite tired after the Powerscourt fête of fêtes, from which we did not get home till five o’clock this morning, of which I shall tell you in my next.
Lady Morgan sustained a great sorrow in the November of
this year. Sir Arthur Clarke, her friend and
brother, died in Dublin, of bronchitis, after a very short illness. To the last he was
active, alert, and genial. He had taken great interest in the progress of the “Odd Volume,” and in the preparation
for her Memoirs, which he had hoped to assist in arranging. He had been the best and truest
of her friends, and the most ardent of her admirers. His death was a great shock to
Lady Morgan, and she never ventured
| PASSING AWAY. | 541 |
Lady Morgan’s life passed on with an even tenor, she never allowed grief to appear, but when alone she was subject to great depression of heart. She endeavoured all the more to find pleasure in the comforts and society that surrounded her, although her new friends could not invest themselves with the charms of old times and early associations. There was nothing old or infirm about Lady Morgan, nor was there any decay of faculty or dimness of intelligence; her vitality seemed unquenchable. The preparation of the Odd Volume was an amusement to her. Early in the year 1858 she had an attack of bronchitis, but she threw it off. A note from Sir William Napier refers to this period of sickness:—
Having heard that you were ill I enquired, not at your
house, but of your friends, and was told that
| 542 | LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR. |
Believe me to be with most sincere wishes for your immediate restoration to health, your devoted servant in spirit; in flesh I cannot be any person’s servant,—at least I should be a very unprofitable one, being only fit for “Worms, brave Percy!” They, indeed, with respect to me, are like the young Irishman who proposed for a lady of fortune; and being asked what his fortune was, answered, that he has no actual one, but had great expectations—from the lady.
Later in this year, Lady Morgan had another and more severe attack of bronchitis, which was of longer duration than any of her previous illnesses, and gave rise to serious fears of a fatal termination. But she struggled through it, and recovered, to all appearance, her former health. Nothing could exceed the kindness and attention lavished upon her by her friends, nor the care and skill of Dr. Ferguson and Mr. Hunter. When she recovered sufficiently, she went to Sydenham a short time for change of air, and returned to London as bright as ever.
| PASSING AWAY. | 543 |
December 25, 1858, was Lady Morgan’s last birthday. She assembled a few of her old friends at dinner, and did the honours with all the verve and brilliancy of her brightest days. She told stories and anecdotes with delicate finesse and drollery; and after dinner she sang a comic song, because as she said, being written by a Church dignitary, it could be nothing but good words; so she sang “The Night before Larry was Stretched,” in a style that was inimitable. At her age, “many happy returns of the day” could not be looked for; but none of those then with her felt it too sanguine to look forward to at least “one cheer more;” but this Christmas-day proved to be the very last.
| ≪ PREV | NEXT ≫ |
