Read Ebook: Manners: A Novel Vol 3 by Panache Madame

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Ad?la?de Paro?t faite-expr?s pour charmer; Et mieux que le galant Ovide, Ses yeux enseignent l'art d'aimer Ad?la?de.

D'Ad?la?de Ah! que l'empire semble doux! Qu'on me donne un nouvel Alcide, Je gage qu'il file aux genoux D'Ad?la?de.

D'Ad?la?de Fuyez le dangereux accueil: Tous les enchantemens d'Armide Sont moins ? craindre qu'un coup d'oeil D'Ad?la?de.

D'Ad?la?de Quand l'Amour eut form? les traits, Ma fois, dit-il, la cour de Gnide N'a rien de pareil aux attraits D'Ad?la?de.

Ad?la?de, Lui dit-il, ne nous quittons pas: Je suis aveugle, sois mon guide; Je suivrai partout pas ? pas Ad?la?de.

TRANSLATION.

Than Adelaide No softer thraldom could we meet: Alcides' self would think it sweet, To spin his task out at the feet Of Adelaide.

From Adelaide And all her dang'rous beauties fly;-- Armida's charms and witchery Were far less fatal than the eye Of Adelaide.

Of Adelaide When Cupid first the features fram'd, "In Cnidus' court," he loud proclaim'd, "Not one for beauty shall be fam'd Like Adelaide."

"O Adelaide!" The sightless boy enraptur'd cried, "Alas, I'm blind! Be thou my guide; From henceforth I'll ne'er leave the side Of Adelaide."

When this singular specimen of the fine arts was first displayed to the partial eyes of Melicent's parents, it met with no small admiration from them. A showy frame was bought, in which it was hung up over the chimney-piece of their usual sitting-room, and the fond mother gazed at it from morning till night. When Colonel Desmond returned from abroad, this was the first object, that, after showing her nine healthy, handsome children, she directed his attention to. He did not then express all the horror he felt at the contrast it afforded; but in about six months' negociation with considerable difficulty accomplished its being safely deposited in his port-folio.

Qu'Ad?la?de Met d'ame et de gout dans son chant! Aux accens de sa voix timide Chacun dit rien n'est si touchant, Qu'Ad?la?de!

oeMARMONTELoe.

As soon as the gentlemen returned to the drawing room, and tea was over, the mistress of the house proposed music.

The Desmonds, in general, were considerable proficients in this delightful art; and a trio for the violin, flute, and piano forte, was charmingly played by Melicent, and her father, and uncle. Though the former failed so lamentably in drawing, she had a fine genius for music, which was made the most of by constant practice; it was the only thing her father had ever studied, and in it he had acquired considerable knowledge, whilst her uncle had gained, in Germany, a fine style of playing on the violin; and to their instructions she was more indebted for her excellence, than to those of Mr. Ingham, who taught her the mere mechanical part of the science, and even that very imperfectly. As soon as, according to the rules of etiquette, the young lady of the house had made a commencement, her guests were in turn requested to display their talents. Colonel Desmond had whispered about that Adelaide sung enchantingly; and there was a general impatience expressed to hear her, which she, in her usual unaffected manner, consented to gratify.

The sigh of her heart was sincere, When blushing she whisper'd her love, A sound of delight in my ear; Her voice was the voice of a dove. Ah! who could from Phillida fly? Yet I sought other nymphs of the vale, Forgot her sweet blush and her sigh! Forgot that I told her my tale.

In sorrow I wish'd to return, And the tale of my passion renew; Go, Shepherd, she answer'd with scorn, False Shepherd, for ever adieu! For thee no more tears will I shed, From thee to fair Friendship I go; The bird by a wound that has bled, Is happy to fly from its foe.

Jeunes beaut?s qui venez dans ces lieux, Fouler d'un pied l?ger l'herbe tendre et fleurie, Comme vous je connus les plaisirs de la vie, Vos f?tes, vos transports, et vos aimables jeux. L'Amour ber?oit mon coeur de ses douces chim?res, Et l'Hymen me flattoit du destin le plus beau, Un instant d?truisit ces erreurs mensong?res, Que me reste-t-il? Le tombeau!

oeLEVIZACoe.

When Adelaide returned to Ballinamoyle, she thought of the day she had spent at Bogberry Hall with the most lively pleasure; the unrefined good-natured gaiety of its inmates had seized her with so strong a grasp, that it had dragged her along with the general current of mirth, and, leading her thoughts out of their ordinary course, had, with no unwelcome violence, broken the chain of their painful associations. Her eye had early been accustomed to the animation of foreign countenances and gestures; and as she had only been acquainted with English manners in a very retired country place, it is perhaps not surprising, that she should have felt chilled by their apparent monotony, and abashed by the half-reproving look she sometimes met with; when, pausing for an instant to consider what she had done wrong, she found she had, in the earnestness of conversation, raised her hand and arm full six inches from her side, where it was arrested in its graceful action, and remanded by the blushing offender to its former quiescent station. But censure was not even thus avoided, for in the very effort to please, she had committed a second error, by moving that beautiful brow, which expressed every feeling of her heart; and her dismay, at perceiving her observer still unsatisfied, produced some other involuntary gesture still more reprehensible than the first.

She now therefore saw the Irishmen change from one leg to another, flourish their arms, rattle their watch chains, and swing their chairs, without the horror so elegant a female was bound to experience on beholding such ungraceful motions, for which no sanctioning precedent could be produced at St. James's. And she even granted absolution to the varying expression of the women's countenances, which sometimes bordered on grimace; and extended it to their voices, running through half the gamut in the changes of the most decided brogue that ever offended ears polite.

"When the soft tear stole silently down from the eye, Take no note of its course, nor detect the slow sigh;"

The second evening after their return from Bogberry Hall, Mr. O'Sullivan's guests were assembled at tea, when they heard the sound of music in the open air; and looking out, saw a gay groupe of young men and women dressed in their best, two fiddlers playing merrily before them, one of the party carrying a pole, on which were tied small hoops covered with garlands of flowers, intermixed with finery of various sorts, and gloves cut out in white and coloured papers; after them followed the elder members of their families, and, lastly, a crowd of children. The Miss Webberlys saw, with surprise, that not one of the females of the assembly had hat or bonnet. All the young women, except the queen of the garland, wore white round caps, ornamented with some gay riband; some had open gowns of a brilliant calico, others of white linen, with a stuff petticoat, blue, yellow, red, or green, according to the fancy of the wearer; white aprons, handkerchiefs, and stockings, completed their attire. Their showy dress, rosy complexions, and animated countenances, had altogether a most lively effect.

The dress of the old women was rather different. It consisted of a white mob cap, with a black silk handkerchief brought over the crown, crossed under the chin, and tied behind; a calico gown, with a large and gaudy pattern; and, in addition to the handkerchief and apron, a white dimity bed-gown, with short sleeves, and the skirt reaching half way to their knees; with a bright scarlet cloak hanging on one arm. All the men who were not dancers wore a great coat, of the peculiar frieze of their country. In the dress of the young men there was nothing remarkable, except that each had on a showy waistcoat, or silk handkerchief, to make him look as smart as his sweetheart in her gay gown and petticoat.

Adelaide was delightedly viewing the joyous scene, when she suddenly heard Colonel Desmond's voice returning Mrs. O'Sullivan's salutation, "It's midsummer's eve," said he, addressing her, "and I could not resist coming to witness your surprise at the curious customs observed here on this night." "I should think Miss Wildenheim wouldn't be such a fool as to go trapesing out on the damp grass with such a set of vagabonds," said Mr. Webberly, who was himself confined to the sofa. Colonel Desmond's attention was too much engrossed by the sweet smiles and tones, with which Adelaide thanked him for his kind recollection of her, to notice the morose look which accompanied this observation; and he acknowledged the speaker no otherwise than by a distant bow, as the fair object of his solicitude left the room to join the rest of the party at the hall door. The crowd had by this time ranged themselves in a semicircle, in the centre of which stood the king and queen of the garland, the former carrying the pole. The rustic queen was the handsomest young girl of the country--

"Health in her motion, the wild grace Of Pleasure speaking in her face."

Her head was crowned with a chaplet of flowers, whilst her long hair, which is highly prized in Ireland as a part of female beauty, flowed in profusion down her back, and its raven hue contrasted well with her snow-white linen gown. A sky-blue petticoat appeared under her apron in front, and from her girdle hung a wreath of flowers, forming a festoon of varied tints. The temporary king was the best dancer, wrestler, and cudgel-player, and the "tightest and clanest boy in all Ballinamoyle town land." On the right stood the fiddlers, playing Plansety O'Sullivan. When the venerable possessor of this name came forward to welcome the crowd, the united strength of all their lungs sent forth a heart-felt wish of "Long life to his honour, and God bless him, hurra! hurra!" There is perhaps nothing more overcoming than the voice of a rejoicing multitude. The old man felt the present and the past, as he thought how his beloved Rose was hailed on such anniversaries; and whilst he made his bows of acknowledgement, the tear stood on his aged cheek. When silence was proclaimed, the village schoolmaster stepped forward, and presented him with a song he had written on his honour, and which "Brian Murdoch would make bould for to sing." Brian began with an "Och--" half a second in duration, and then proceeded as follows:--

In Connaught, my deer, Did you walk far and neer, At a poor man's requist, His honour's the best Of all in the land, of all in the land! When poverty's near, He ne'er turns a dafe ear, But is free wid his store, Gives kind words galliore, Wid a bountiful hand, a bountiful hand! Och!--Wheresomdiver he goes A blessing there flows, Like a beam of the sun Or the soft shining moon, The joy of our heart, the joy of our heart! Then long may he rain Widout sorrow or pane, And in Heaven be blist, When he takes his last rist, Tho' we to the heart rue the day he depart!

The intention of this composition was certainly better than the metre; but for once a poet did not flatter, for Mr. O'Sullivan exercised all the benevolence of his kind heart, in making his tenants happy; and they would in return, to use their own expression, have "gone through fire and water at the dead hour of the night, to sarve his honour. They had a good right to lay the hair of their head in under his feet."

Brian's performance was applauded and encored, and when it was over, there was a little murmur amongst the crowd as if to settle the next act. "Which is her?" asked the king of the garland. "Why, that beautiful lady to be sure, talking to the fat madam in the lavender blossom dress, with the borders all figured out in white," replied an ancient matron, who had been one of the first assembly at Ballinamoyle. The young man now walked up to Adelaide, and with a bow down to the ground, begged the honour of dancing with her; and she, perceiving it was a national custom, instantly complied; and hearing from Captain Cormac, who handed her to the spot she was to dance on, that the figure of the jig she was expected to perform, was that of a minuet danced quick, she went through it with a spirit and grace, that were unalloyed by any airs of exalted languor.

In the mean time the merry rustics performed Quaker minuets, which consist of a mixture of quick and slow movements, a sort of strathspey called petticoatties, and some well executed handkerchief dances, the figures of which are of the same kind as the shawl-dances of the opera, and admit six or eight at pleasure. It is surprising with what a degree of natural dexterity and vivacity the lower Irish dance: Adelaide thought, "If Horace had been an Irishman, he would not have described the dancing of the Nymphs and Graces in the spiritless manner he has done:--

"Jam Cytherea choros ducit Venus, imminente Lun?, Junct?que Nymphis Grati? decentes, Alterno terram quatiunt pede."

But profiting by Mrs. Temple's hint, she never now said any thing that might lead to the supposition of her being a "learned lady;" at the same time, she heartily joined in the praises, which even Mrs. O'Sullivan and her daughters bestowed on the groupe before them. "It is not all pure nature, however," said Colonel Desmond; "itinerant dancing-masters go about the country, and there is no lad or lass so poor, that once in their lives, at least, can't afford half a crown for the benefit of their education in this particular. They all gather together in some waste building, or on the level turf; and the scenes that take place in these assemblies are ludicrous beyond description. It is said, that one of our Connaught Vestrises found it necessary, to tie a straw rope about the right leg of his pupils, calling it suggar, and the other gad; and that he used to sing this rhyme to a tune that marks the time inimitably, beating it all the time with his foot: only conceive the bodily and mental labour of such a task!

"'Out with your suggar, my girl, Right fal la fal la di dy, Then the gad you must twirl, Right fal la, &c. Shuffle your suggar and gad, Right fal la, &c. Then you must set to the lad, Right fal la, &c.'

"It is not surprising," continued he, "that some such contrivance should sometimes be necessary on our Irish mountains, when the Scripture informs us, that a hundred and twenty thousand Ninevese could not discern between their right hand and their left." Adelaide was much entertained by this allusion. And here let us advise those, who regret any accidental coldness that may have arisen with a friend, if they have drollery enough in their composition, to make him or her laugh by all means. It is the surest way in the world to restore familiarity of manner; for we cannot look suddenly cross at the person, who has, in spite of our best endeavours at sullenness, excited the unwilling smile. Those who are "too dull for a wit, too grave for a joker," may try the pathetic; and if they can draw forth sympathetic tears at any horrible story, it will answer the purpose nearly as well, though our experience certainly inclines to the former method.

Whilst the smile yet played on Adelaide's countenance, old Dennis walked up to her, and said, with a look where pleasure and regret strove for preeminence, "Faith, Miss dear, when I see your teeth as white as the water-lily, and your eyes dancing like the sunbeams on the lake, ye mind me of Miss Rose; you're the sauciest lady I've seen since she parted us, when she was in her fifteenth! The sweetest Rose was she in all Ireland, and the like will ne'er bloom again in Ballinamoyle." Adelaide graciously received the old man's compliment; and her eyes filled with tears, as she said to Colonel Desmond, "How much I feel interested for this Rose! She must have been most amiable, to be so long loved and remembered by these grateful people." "She was indeed," replied he, "one of those beings, that would lead a fanciful imagination to suppose, they had nearly arrived at perfection in some pre-existent state, and had been sent on earth, for a short space, to complete their probation, and show what a superior nature might be, even clogged with our corporeal infirmities. Mr. O'Sullivan never breathes his daughter's name, nor is it ever mentioned before him, except by nurse, whom it is impossible to restrain. His life has passed away so monotonously, that it seems but as yesterday since he lost her, and she now rises again forcibly to the remembrance of the elder inhabitants of this neighbourhood, from the circumstance of Caroline O'Sullivan being brought, as it were, to take her place; which, I assure you, they consider as a sort of sacrilegious usurpation, and feel no small indignation at her having been born in England. Poor Rose! hers was a fatal marriage!--But this is not a fit time to sadden you with the details of her melancholy story."

The party, when tired of admiring the admirable night scene the surrounding country presented, retired to the house; and by this time the rustic assembly had repaired to an empty barn, where they danced till sunrise, and then went out to make hay.

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave.

oeCYMBELINE.oe

They therefore so plagued and prejudiced their weak mother, that she was as much out of humour as themselves. She and Miss Fitzcarril almost quarrelled, though the one was nearly as anxious to court the cousin, as the other to win the son; and the ridiculous pride of ancestry in the spinster kept pace with the narrow-minded pride of riches in the matron. Mrs. O'Sullivan and her amiable children vented all their ill humour on their servants, who, in revenge, quarrelled with the domestics of the house, and expressed their own and their superiors' contempt of every person and thing they saw, without reserve. All this Miss Fitzcarril was mean enough to suffer to be repeated to her with those additional charges scandal-mongers are certain to lay on their retail goods; and she came sometimes full primed with rage from the kitchen, ready to discharge her fire-arms in the parlour, which would not unfrequently have happened, had not Adelaide dexterously managed to unload the offensive weapon.

Miss Fitzcarril found the amenity of her manners as invariable as the benignity of her heart. She would, boiling with passion, confide to her friendly ear some tale of horror she had been told by nurse, or the cook, the housemaid, or Black Frank himself; and always heard, in return, some extenuation of the offence, or expression of sorrow that purchased its forgiveness.

"La sagesse est sublime, on le dit, mais, h?las! Tous ses admirateurs souvent ne l'aiment gu?re; Et sans vous nous ne saurions pas, Combien la sagesse peut plaire."

Adelaide, curtsying her thanks for Mr. Dermoody's flattering application of the lines he had repeated, was alleging some trifling excuse for retiring, when Mr. O'Sullivan came into the room to make his daily request, that she would join him and Caroline in a saunter round the garden, where he went every morning with them to gather the nicest fruit it contained for his two favourites.

Vous ?tes belle, et votre soeur est belle, Entre vous deux tout choix seroit bien doux, L'Amour ?toit blond, comme vous, Mais il aimoit une brune, comme elle.

oeBERNIS.oe

Whilst these scenes passed in Ireland, Lady Eltondale and Miss Seymour arrived at Cheltenham. At first, Selina's delight at breathing once more the pure air of the country made her almost wonder at the pleasure she had so lately found in the feverish amusements of London. Her step was still more elastic, as she trod the beautiful meadows that lay along the banks of the Chelt; and when, mounted on her favourite mare, she extended her rides to the surrounding hills, she seemed to regain a fresh existence.

The picturesque beauties of Dodswell, the magnificent panorama of Lackington Hill, the curious remains of Sudeley castle, all were in time explored and admired by Selina; and often did she prefer a solitary walk amongst the sheltered lanes of Alstone, to accompanying Lady Eltondale to the morning mall, where crowds assembled at the Wells ostensibly in search of health, but really in pursuit of pleasure. In one of these morning walks, as she rested under the shadow of a gigantic oak, while the fresh breeze played on her glowing cheek, and the song of earliest birds alone interrupted the general silence, her thoughts involuntarily turned to those days which had glided by in similar scenes, when she used to bound like the fawns she chased through the park at Deane, or with more measured steps, though not less buoyant spirits, attended her father, as in his Bath chair he took his morning exercise on the broad smooth terrace, that stretched along the south front of the venerable mansion. The whole scene rose to her mind's eye, and she saw, in imagination, the lawns, the fields, the gardens, in which she had spent so many happy hours, and which were

"Once the calm scene of many a simple sport, When nature pleas'd, for life itself was new, And the heart promis'd what the fancy drew."

She dwelt with a melancholy pleasure on the recollection of all the beloved companions of her earlier years, and sighed to think, that those moments of innocent delights would never again return to her. From this painfully pleasing reverie she was roused by the crying of a child, and the sound of an angry voice, exclaiming in a harsh key, "Hold your tongue, you little devil--ban't I going as fast as I can?" It seemed as if manual correction followed this expostulation, as the infant's cries were redoubled, and Selina heard its little voice, saying in a plaintive tone, "Mammy, mammy, me be a-hungry, me be tired." At that moment a turn in the road presented the speakers to her view, and she beheld a young woman, in whose pallid cheeks disease and wretchedness struggled for preeminence. A few coarse black locks strayed from under a cap, which might once have been white, but now in dirt and yellowness rivalled the complexion of the wearer, whilst it served to contrast a gaudy riband, by which it was encircled; a ragged, coloured handkerchief scarcely concealed her shrivelled bosom; and a cotton gown, which in its variegated pattern showed all the hues of the parterre, trained in the dust, and was partly caught up under her arm, below which appeared a tattered stuff petticoat, that scarcely reached to her knees. Her countenance was, if possible, more disgusting than her dress: her dark black eyes and oval forehead showed still some trace of beauty; but an expression of unblushing vice called forth sensations rather of disgust than of compassion. The little ragged urchin, that trotted by her side, endeavoured, on seeing Selina, to hide its head beneath her gown; but after a moment's deliberation, she dragged him from his concealment, and pushing him forward, desired him to demand charity. Selina, pitying the infant, more from the appearance of its associate than even from its own wretchedness, could not deny its request; and while she gave the poor child all the silver her purse contained, she inquired if the woman was its mother. "To be sure I am, my lady," replied she, in a tone of impertinent carelessness; "else what do you think I'd be troubled with such a brat as that for?" "It seems a fine boy," returned Selina, willing to rouse the maternal feelings that seemed so nearly extinct. "And where do you live?" "Down in that hut yonder, and a pretty penny I pay for it. Our landlord never comes to these here parts; if he did, he wouldn't let us be so racked; but he never thinks of us when he is away, and Mr. Smart, his agent, raises our rents just as he pleases; but he has our curses for his gains;" so saying, she seized the child roughly by the arm, and pursued her way, muttering imprecations Selina shuddered to hear. She also proceeded towards home; but her thoughts now took a more unpleasant turn. She recollected with sorrow how many poor cottages on her estate might also, with reason, lament the loss of a landlord, who had always inquired into their distresses and relieved their wants. But she, though possessed of such extensive means of being useful to her fellow-creatures, had hitherto seemed to consider the possession of fortune only as affording her a more ample opportunity for selfish gratification. She called to mind the happiness she had formerly experienced in charitable occupations; and reflected, with remorse, that since she had plunged into the vortex of dissipation, no tear had been wiped from the cheek of indigence by her generous aid--no smile of gratitude had hailed her approach to the couch of misery or pain. Of the many hours she had wasted in the pursuit of pleasure, not one had been devoted to the purposes of benevolence; and while she had lavished uncalculated sums in extravagance and folly, she had never purchased the inestimable benefit of a poor man's blessing.

This trifling incident served to awaken in Selina's mind feelings and reflections that had long lain dormant. The whole tenour of Lady Eltondale's conduct had been calculated to efface all the impressions formerly made on her, both by the precepts and example of the admirable Mrs. Galton; and while her Ladyship contrived, by cautious degrees, to impede, and finally almost destroy the correspondence with her, which might have served occasionally to recall the first, the latter was almost totally obliterated from her mind by the entirely new scenes, into which she had been introduced. As to the habits of charity, to which both from inclination and instruction she had been early habituated, but little opportunity for their exercise had occurred since her residence with the Viscountess; for the very servants at Eltondale were too polite to admit a vulgar beggar within its gates; and in London she had been taught to consider all vagrants indiscriminately as impostors, whom it was almost a crime to relieve.

But are those aware, who are anxious to find plausible excuses for delaying or omitting the fulfilment of the duties of charity, that the feelings of the human heart, though inflamed by casual restraint, are extinguished by a continued suppression? And wo be to that breast, in which the sentiments of benevolence and compassion are destroyed! The virtues of humanity, as they are those which most peculiarly belong to this present state of existence, so is the exercise of them most necessary to our individual happiness in this world; for he, whose heart has never melted at the sorrows of others, will assuredly, sooner or later, know the agony of seeking in vain for one sympathising bosom on which to repose the burden of his own.

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