“. . . . . On Sunday, after delaying till the latest
possible moment for the chance of passengers, we dropped down the river Dee.
The wind almost immediately failed us; I never saw so dead a calm; there was
not a heaving, a ripple, a wrinkle on the water; the ship, though she made some
way with the tide, was as still as a house, to our feelings. Had the wind
continued as when we embarked, eighteen hours would have blown us to Dublin. I
saw the sun set behind Anglesea; and the mountains of Carnarvonshire rose so
beautifully before us, that, though at sea, it was delightful. The sun-rise on
Monday was magnificent. Holyhead was then in sight, and in sight on the wrong
side it continued all day, while we tacked and retacked with a hard-hearted
wind. We got into Beaumaris Bay, and waited there for the midnight tide: it was
very quiet; even my stomach had not provocation enough, as yet, to be sick. In
the night we proceeded: about two o’clock a very heavy gale arose; it
blew great guns, as you would say; the vessel shipped water very fast, it came
pouring down into the cabin, and both pumps were at work,—the dismallest
thump, thump, I ever heard: this lasted about three hours. As soon as we were
clear of the Race of Holyhead the sea grew smoother, though the gale continued.
On Tuesday the morning was hazy, we could not see land, though it was not far
distant;
| Ætat. 27. | OF ROBERT SOUTHEY. | 165 |
“To my great satisfaction, we had in our company one of the most celebrated characters existing at this day; a man whose name is as widely known as that of any human being, except, perhaps, Bonaparte!
“He is not above five feet, but, notwithstanding his
figure, soon became the most important personage of the party.
‘Sir,’ said he, as soon as he set foot in the vessel,
‘I am a unique; I go any where, just as the whim takes me: this
morning, sir, I had no idea whatever of going to Dublin; I did not think of
it when I left home; my wife and family know nothing of the trip. I have
only one shirt with me besides what I have on; my nephew here, sir, has not
another shirt to his back: but money, sir, money,—anything may be had
at Dublin.’ Who the devil is this fellow? thought I. We talked of
rum,—he had just bought 100 puncheons, the weakest drop 15 above proof:
of the west of England,—out he pulls an Exeter newspaper from his pocket:
of bank paper,—his pocket-book was stuffed with notes, Scotch, Irish, and
English; and I really am obliged to him for some clues to dis-
| 166 | LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE | Ætat. 27. |
“Mr. Corry is out of town for two days, so I have not seen him. The probability is, Rickman tells me, that I shall return in about ten days: you shall have the first intelligence; at present I know no more of my future plans than that I am to dine to-day with the secretary of the Lord Lieutenant, and to look me out a lodging first.
“But you must hear all I have seen of Ireland. The
fifteen miles that we crossed are so destitute of trees, that I could only
account for it by a sort of instinctive dread of the gallows in the natives. I
find they have been cut down to make pikes. Cars, instead of carts or waggons;
women without hats, shoes, or stockings. One little town we passed, once
| Ætat. 27. | OF ROBERT SOUTHEY. | 167 |
“Edith, God bless you! I do not expect to be absent from you above a fortnight longer.
