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ance with the usages of society was as limited as laughter filled the court. The counsel bore the could well be possessed by any lad who had passed interruption as he best could. The judge was prothrough the ordeal of a public school. Moore, the ceeding to sum up with his usual ability of speech ; poet, who visited Dublin shortly before me, and who the donkey began to bray. 'I beg your lordship’s lived in much the same society as myself, alludes in pardon,' said Bush, putting his hand to his ear, his journal to the character for frivolity which young but there is such an echo in the court that I can't Wellesley had acquired while a member of the vice- hear a word you say.' regal staff. An old lady, one of his contemporaries, told me that when any of the Dublin belles received The following amusing bit of reminiscence rean invitation to a picnic they stipulated as a condi- lates to one of the “eccentricities” of the last gention of its acceptance that 'that mischievous boy, eration : Arthur Wellesley, should not be of the party.' It was the fashion of that period for gentlemen to wear, During my stay at Brighton I was thrown much instead of a neckcloth, a piece of rich lace, which in company with Lord Dudley and Ward, shortly was passed through a loop in the shirt-collar. To afterward created Earl Dudley. There must be twitch the lace out of its loop was a favorite pastime many now living who have heard his two voices-his of the inchoate 'Iron Duke. The disastrous cam- gruff bass and his high treble. Moore mentions that paign of the Duke of York appears to have had a some one said it was like Lord Dudley conversing sobering effect upon his character. From that time with Lord Ward. This peculiarity reminds me of forth he put away childish things and betook himself the end of one of Matthews's songs about a man in good earnest to the active duties of his pro- with two tones in his voice, who, having fallen into fession :"
a pit, cried for assistance to an Irisliman, and the
Irishman's reply: An anecdote inserted under date of 1828 shows the “ Iron Duke" in a more amiable light than that
". Help me out! help me out!'. Zounds! what a pother!
If you're two of you there, why not help one another? in which he usually appears. Private theatricals were the rage in London at that period, and an ama
“Who has not heard of Lord Dudley's eccentric
habit of giving utterance to his thoughts in a loud teur corps dramatique, composed chiefly of noble lords
soliloquy ? and ladies, and of which Keppel was a leading mem “He was a frequent guest at the Pavilion. His ber, used to give regular performances at Hatfield knowledge of good living led him easily to detect a House :
great falling off in the royal cuisine since the decease
of George IV.; sitting next King William he ex“On one grand occasion, the Duke of Welling- claimed, in his deep bass, “What a change, to be ton, then prime-minister, almost every member of sure !cold påtés and hot champagne.' the cabinet, and nearly the whole of the corps diplo "The king and queen, when Duke and Duchess matique, came from London to witness our perform- of Clarence, once dined with Lord Dudley, who ances. The Hatfield epilogues were usually as handed her royal highness in to dinner. Scarcely signed to me. On this special evening, I had to seated, he began to soliloquize aloud : What bores recite a very clever one by Lord Francis Leveson in these royalties are ! Ought I to drink wine with the character of the ghost of Queen Elizabeth. I her as I would with any other woman?' and in the am disturbed in my grave by the goings on in the same tone continued, “May I have the honor of a house that had served me as a prison and palace. glass of wine with your royal highness?' Toward My wrath is roused by finding that such mummeries the end of dinner he asked her again. With great have the sanction of the descendant of my sage min- pleasure, Lord Dudley,' she replied, smiling ; but I ister, Lord Burleigh. In retiring I stumble acci- | have had one glass with you already.' The brute ! dentally into the green-room, and my feelings as a and so she has !' was the rejoinder. "Virgin Queen' are shocked at seeing a man without his coat.' I swoon, the curtain drops.
The last paragraph that we have marked con“But our solemnities did not stop here. An tains an anecdote, hitherto unpublished, we beillustrious actor had his part to play. While the lieve, of Sir Philip Francis, the reputed author of audience was designedly detained some minutes in the theatre, our corps had hurried into 'King James's
"Junius : " Room.' On an ottoman at one end was placed a
“It does not often happen to a man to be one of gilt chair, and on it in royal state sat Queen Eliza
a dinner-party of five, in which there should be two beth. On each side were arranged the dramatis per- nonagenarians. Yet such was my lot, when, in the The Duke of Wellington was then asked, in
summer of 1854, I took my cousin, Sir Robert Adair, his capacity of prime-minister, td make his obei
the diplomatist, to dine with Mr. Samuel Rogers, sances to the sovereign. With a loud, hearty laugh,
the poet. The late Duke and Duchess of Bedford such as many must still remember, he showed that
completed our quintet. The conversation at dinner he fully entered into the fun, and accepted the role. turned upon the authorship of 'Junius. Every one assigned him. Surrounded by the members of his assigned it to Sir Philip Francis. I happened to be cabinet, and by the representatives of the crowned
the only one at table who had not been personally heads of Europe, he approached the throne in mock
acquainted with that gentleman. The others had all solemnity, and did homage to my majesty."
met him at Woburn in the time of the fifth and sixth Here is another of the author's Irish reminis
Dukes of Bedford. 'How,' I asked Rogers, 'could a man accept the hospitalities of sons whose father
he had so maligned ?' I was answered that he was "A cause of much celebrity was tried at some fond of good company and good cheer, and he was country assizes. Chief Baron O'Grady was the pre- sure to find both at the abbey. Of his love of the siding judge. Bush, then a king's counsel, who held pleasures of the table the poet gave us a sample. a brief for the defense, was pleading the cause of At a city feast, Francis sat next a gentleman who his client with much eloquence, when a donkey in was slowly enjoying some turtle - soup, evidently the court set up a loud bray. One at a time, reserving a large lump of green fat for a bonne Brother Bush !' called out his lordship. Peals of bouche. Sir Philip looked upon the process for
some moments with an envious eye. At last he With this “jotting" the earl brings his reminisseized the delicate morsel with his fork, and trans cences of fifty years to a close ; but it is hardly to be ferred it to his mouth. He then gave the stranger supposed that he really staid his memory and pen his card, saying, “Sir, I am ready to make the most
at this point, and we shall probably have a posthuample apology, or to give you the satisfaction of a gentleman, but I must say you had no right to throw
mous continuation of the narrative. That the pubsuch a temptation in my way.' The citizen, much lic will have good reason to anticipate its appearance as he loved calipash, loved life more, and was con- with pleasure, we trust our gleanings from the prestent to accept the first of the alternatives.”
ent installment have shown.
TWO HOLY MOUNTS. .
BY B. F. DE COSTA.
ing steeper at every step. Leaving the little plain
to which the craggy path“ delivereth you,” and where MOUNT ST. MICHAEL, CORNWALL.
some old cannon with rusty throats command the OUNT ST. MICHAEL is at once an isolated
sea, an ancient well is next reached, near which is rock and a stately architectural pile, being
one of those old tin-lodes that made. Cornwall fa. also the most interesting of all the curious antiques Ptolemies. Entering the gateway, one finds that he
mous in the marts of the East in the days of the that gem the British coast. The geologist speaks of this singular mount as a when the greater portion of the masonry was finished.
has suddenly stepped back into the middle ages, rock, but to the eye of the poet this lofty cone of granite, mingled with schist, appears an altar. Thus Nevertheless, we must not make the mistake of supit appeared to the Druids in the days of eld; still
, posing that the history of the mount goes no farther what we see to-day is the mountain of stone, tipped back than the period referred to. It was a holy with a convent, castle, and church ; all of which place in the fifth century, when visited by St. Keyna'; combined form an English knight's home.
and this supposed sanctity is what caused the mount Those who are acquainted with the old English to be revered for many generations. In fact, it was poets will remember where the mount stands. It here that old chronicles place the appearance of the towers up on the classic page of Milton and Spen- archangel Michael, notwithstanding the fact that
this ser, and among the conceits of Drayton and Carew.
is also claimed for Mont St.-Michel
appearance The author of “The Faërie Queene " asks:
in Normandy, and for a convent of the same name
in Italy, near Bologna. This tradition with respect " St. Michael's Mount, who does not know,
to the appearance of the archangel is what Milton That wardes the western coast ?"
refers to in his poem of " Lycidas," where he speaks There are at least few English tourists who do not of the “great vision of the guarded mount," which know St. Michael's Mount, though it may lie out of was always both fortress and convent. The most the track of ordinary American travel. With many simple, however, do not accept the tradition to-day, a Londoner it is a Mecca. In truth, there are but so great is the change wrought in the sentiments of few more attractive summer resorts than Penzance the people by the English Reformation. The sanctity and Mount's Bay. This part of ancient Cornwall, of the mount is a thing of the past, for we no longer facing France and Spain, was the “Ictis” of the see the barefooted pilgrim toiling up the steep asPhænician tin-merchant who, in this rocky coast, saw cent to pay his vows in the convent-church, now rereproduced the shores of " Aradus of Tyre.” One duced to a family chapel. quaint old English chronicler, in describing the Nevertheless, such was the ancient fame of the place, says that “it brooketh no concurrent for the mount that Edward the Confessor gave the monks a highest place ;" yet its height is not so noticeable charter, and Pope Gregory, in the year 1070, issued as the remarkable situation of the rock, which rises a bull extolling its sanctity, and remitting the penup on the border of Mount's Bay, and, by the ebb ance of pilgrims and benefactors of the convent. and flow of the tide, is twice a day surrounded by During the Norman period the mount was made a the sea. At high water the mount stands among the dependence of the Norman Mont St.-Michel ; and waves, while the ebb lays bare a dry causeway sev about the middle of the eleventh century the rule of eral hundred yards long, that connects it with the the Cistercians or reformed Benedictines was estabmain. Crossing this causeway, the old writer says : lished here. There was also a convent for women, “Your arrival on the farther side is entertayned by as well as for men, and the ruins of the chapel, dedian open green of some largenesse, which, finishing cated, of course, to the Virgin, were quite recently where the hill beginneth, leaveth you to the conduc- pointed out. The aspect and the situation of all tion of a winding and craggy path ; and that at the the remaining buildings are exceedingly romantic top delivereth you to a little plain.” At this point and picturesque ; while the view of both land and we may leave our old antiquarian guide to potter at sea is very commanding. To enjoy this view in its his leisure about matters that hardly concern the perfection, it is necessary to climb to the top of one present age, while we ascend, finding the way grow- of the towers, from which dizzy place the prospect
is one that evades description. There is, for instance, rily rang the bells, we are told, as Richard and Re-
“Six marks they on the altar laid, table blue of the clear summer sky.
And Richard knelt in prayer; The tower itself is sometimes called “St. Mi.
She left him to pray, and stole away chael's Chair," but the real chair is on the edge of
To sit in St. Michael's Chair." a dangerous crag overhanging the sea. In connec- But, foolish woman, the place is too much for her tion with this chair there is a curious tradition, which poor brain ; and, growing giddy, she goes over the
teaches that the wife who succeeds in sitting in it crag. In view of this melancholy even the people
"Toll at her burying,' quoth Richard Penlakewaters of St. Keyna's Well. Southey, in visiting the
"Toll at her burying,' quoth he; mount, took occasion to versify the tradition in con
* But don't disturb the ringers now nection with the story of Richard and Rebecca Pen
In compliment to me.' lake. The latter had, as it appears, such a virulence And thus, as the Icelandic Sagaman says, Mistress and such a desire for rule that the former felt bound Penlake “is out of the story.” to curb both infirmities with the cudgel ; all of which St. Michael's Mount is a quiet, dreamy place, Rebecca bore, secretly biding her time. Finally her wholly unlike its Norman namesake. It is an insti. chance came ; for Mr. Richard Penlake, like many tution of the past, and, after its picturesque appearanother stout Cornish man, fell sick and got well, ance, its ancient associations form the great attracand then, of course, according to the custom of the tion. Stirring scenes have been enacted within and times, was obliged to make his pilgrimage to the around these venerable walls. From the year 1196 mount to thank St. Michael for his recovery. Mer- to 1471 the garrison was composed of both soldiers
and monks, the carnal and spiritual elements both would sit in St. Michael's Chair, which is a place finding room for their exercise in the defense of the contrived by the monks evidently for the purpose of place during those turbulent times. In those days a beacon-fire to warn and guide the fishermen at of poor artillery, strategy was resorted to by those sea. But the monks have now gone from the mount, who would gain possession of the stronghold. In never to return, and they live only in reminiscence. the time of Edward VI. the Earl of Oxford and his While across the Channel, but a few miles away, the followers climbed the mount in pilgrim guise, as dev- monastic garb is the commonest of all ecclesiastical otees of St. Michael ; but, when once inside the habits, the cowl is a rarity in England. The spirit gates, they drew their swords and made themselves of monasticism is dead ; and this Cornish mount masters. And it is said of the earl that what he stands to-day as a fair index of the condition of Eng"thus politically won he valiantly kept." Perkin lish society, the family having succeeded the monasWarbeck took possession in a still simpler way. tic community, which it may safely rival in the matKnocking at the gate, he told the monks that he was ter of good living. Yet, though the monks are no King of England, when, glad to have a royal guest, more, St. Michael's Mount, Cornwall, cannot lose its they humbly let him where he was afterward "pro- charm. Its picturesque and commanding situation, claimed ” king. Here also his wife, the counterfeit on the border of Mount's Bay, will never cease to queen, Lady Gordon, was found and made prisoner delight the eye. Under certain atmospheric condi. after the sham king had been defeated. During the tions, the spectacle gives full play to the imagination, Cornish rebellion the mount was fiercely besieged and in the mirage it seems to soar away to the upper and finally captured, after a desperate resistance, by sky; while in the moonlight, seen from Marazion, Arundel. From that time until the present day the ancient resting-place of the pilgrims, four or five quiet has generally reigned in the neighborhood of hundred yards distant, it heaves aloft its vast bulk the mount; and, after passing into various hands, it with an appearance of remarkable grandeur, the was finally bought by Sir John St. Aubyn, whose de architecture with which it is crowned being delicatescendants have held it for five generations.
ly gilded with the white heavenly light. Thus, inThough the mount is now the seat of a private deed, the mount appeared to the ancient pilgrim ap* residence, portions of the buildings are shown to proaching the archangel's shrine even in the comvisitors. To-day the entrance is not much changed, mon light of day, his imagination not waiting for the and the chapel and refectory remain nearly as they moon to gild the hallowed place with glory. appeared in former times. The latter has an arched and groined ceiling, and a frieze extending around four sides, representing hunting-scenes. On viewing these one recalls those monks of The Golden Legend," over the door of whose abbey were
MONT ST.-MICHEL, NORMANDY. “ None of your death-heads carved in wood,
In certain respects, Mont St.-Michel, of the NorNone of your saints looking pious and good,
man coast, bears a striking resemblance to St. MiNone of your patriarchs old and shabby ;
chael's, Cornwall. Like the English marvel, it is a But the heads and tusks of boars,
cone of granite rising from the sea, crowned with a And the cells
convent and castle. But here the resemblance in a Hung all around with the fells Of the fallow-deer."
great measure ends, since, in addition to the monas
tery and keep, the Norman mount bears a considerAnd if the tradition is true, that the region around able town upon its flanks, and is fortified with althe mount was once a forest, the hunting-scenes on most impregnable walls. the walls of the refectory may have been suggested by Again, while the Cornish mount belongs excluthe experience of the monks themselves. In one old sively to the past, the Norman St.-Michel belongs to chronicle, the place is spoken of as the hoare rocke the present. What it has been, it is to-day. The in the woode ;” and some antiquaries prove, to their present is a reflection of the past, and at the same own satisfaction at least, that this region (as is in- time the votaries of the archangel dream of bright disputably the fact with regard to Mont St.-Michel, days to come, days when the pictured prophecies Normandy) has been submerged by the sea, which that adorned the Paris Salon in the spring-time of has encroached several miles. Others show, by the 1875 shall be accomplished, and Mont St.-Michel, discovery of Roman coins, that the shores of the “ La Merveille de l'Occident,” shall reveal a splenbay have not materially changed during the last fif- dor hitherto unknown. teen hundred years ; while the historian of tobacco is In speaking of the physical peculiarities of St.astonished at finding a pipe thirty feet underground. | Michel it should be mentioned that the mount enBut these are curious questions that do not come joys double the elevation of its English namesake, within the range of our article, and which have far the situation also being much more imposing. One less interest for the ordinary visitor than the Chair of part of the day St.-Michel is washed by the waves, St. Michael, which, as already indicated, is a some while at another it appears a mountain rising-rising what dangerous attraction. Those who kiss the from a vast sandy plain, wedge-like cleaving the air : Blarney-stone at Blarney Castle are obliged to hang
“ For with the flow and ebb its style over the brink of the tower head downward ; but
Varies from continent to isle ; the heels must go first in the case of the person who
Dry-shod, o'er sands, twice every day,
The pilgrims to the shrine find way;
not indulge in more than a few recollections. The Twice every day the waves efface
history of St.-Michel would fill a volume. We find Of staves and sandaled feet the trace."
that the Druids were first upon the ground, as was In approaching the bay of Avranche at low tide the case at St. Michael's, Cornwall. The venders one is struck by the weird appearance of the gray of the shell-collars, here may not be aware of the sands laid bare league upon league. This is some- fact, but these collars are really mementoes of the thing more than low tide, for the ocean has actually | Druidic times, which were thrown out of joint by the
disappeared from sight, and has left behind a Sahara. ( classic devotees of Jove. Paganism was succeeded Experience, however, soon teaches that these smooth, by Christianity, in accordance with the decree of compact-appearing sands are as treacherous as the Constantine (A. D. 313), when the anchorites retired sea-waves, and, whatever may be their appearance, to this then lonely place to practise their austerities cannot be trusted without a guide. A ship once in seclusion. Finally, in 708, Aubert, Bishop of wrecked upon the sands disappeared from sight be- Avranche, came to the mount, when the archangel fore the cargo could be saved.
Michael appeared and bade him build a monastery. On reaching the border of the sands, St.-Michel Obedient to the command the work went on, pile is seen looming up grandly at a distance of more being added to pile, until the mount was completely than a mile, though the effect of the view depends transformed and it took on something of the complex more or less upon the condition of the atmosphere. grandeur that we behold to-day. Various orders of
Committing yourself to the ordinary track, you monks have flourished here, and from time to time are safe—that is, if you wait until those who are ac- learning has found a home. Princes have made the customed to pass back and forth have marked it out. place their abode, and kings have ascended the narOn approaching nearer you perceive more clearly the row streets in pilgrim attire. This rock has known nature of the vast pyramidal pile, girt around to its all the vicissitudes of the convent, castle, and prison, base with mediæval walls, strengthened with huge having served each use in turn, and sometimes all of towers and bastions, designed to oppose the assault them at once. Letters have here been cultivated by of cannon and the siege of the waves ; while above such men as the Abbot de Thorigny, and royal huthe walls rises a collection of quaint stone dwellings mility has been illustrated by such kings as Philip inhabited by fishermen, and above all tower the the Hardy and Louis XI. War has done its worst vast conventual buildings, the castle, and the splen- to destroy the mount. Siege-artillery has played did Norman church. The world scarcely affords upon the walls, and what revolutions spared has been another such monument. The building of this has injured by lightning and shaken by earthquake. And already consumed a thousand years. It is with a yet Mont St.-Michel remains in its olden majesty and feeling of wonder that the stranger enters the grim grandeur to-day. port, climbs the steep, narrow street, passes through But let us not forget we are to ascend the mount, a second gate a hundred and fifty feet above the which may be accomplished by climbing the street or sands, and thus reaches a little hostelry in the town following the course of the walls that rise from crag to where the ordinary visitor must lodge.
crag. The little street, whose rough pavements have And here let us pause to think for a moment so many times been trodden by barefooted kings, about the history of Mont St.-Michel, concerning boasts of some little shops, full of souvenirs of the which the very stones are eloquent, though we can- mount, chiefly suited to the tastes of peasant pil