Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

pour in the whiskey (Kinahan's "LL.") from one of those delightful little decanters, which would make such charming adjuncts to a doll's dinner party; fourthly, to fill up and drink. Frank suggests a soupçon of lemon; and this was the sole point upon which, throughout our tour, we were not quite unanimous !

CHAPTER III.

DUBLIN.

THE next morning found us, with the indomitable pluck of Englishmen, once more upon an outside car, as doggedly determined as two old Whigs never to resign our seats. First, we drove to Merrion Square, where we had a call to make, and where, each side of the square being numbered alike, we spent a good deal of time in pulling at the wrong bells, and in unnecessarily evoking several servants, whose easy mission it was to take care of "number one." Of this Square and of St. Stephen's Green we thought that, though as to extent and pleasant situation they were quite equal to anything in London, the houses themselves were by no means so handsome or commodious.

The University of Dublin, to us who study among the chapels and the cloisters of medieval Oxford, does not resemble an

university at all, but is more like a series of Government offices, or any other spacious public buildings. Why do the porters wear velvet hunting caps? Frank would keep inquiring, “where

the hounds met" (it was a broiling day early in August) "why they did'nt have top boots ?" &c., &c., &c. The museum is a very interesting one; and our cicerone in the cap pointed out the harp of Brian Boroimhe,-that "Bryan the Brave," who was so devoted to threshing the Danes and music; the enormous

antlers of an Irish elk, which placed upon wheels would make a glorious outside car, the passengers sitting among the tines; eagles, and other native birds, galore; and numberless antiquities and curiosities. There were some awful instruments, which we gazed upon with intense interest, as being the most cruel shillelaghs we had ever seen, until the guide happened to mention that they were weapons of the South-Sea

Islanders."

The Chapel of Trinity College, like some in our English Universities, is more suggestive of sleep than supplication, gloomy without being solemn, and the light dim without being religious. There was a sacrifice of two inverted hassocks upon the altar, but the idol of the place, a gigantic pulpit, indignantly turned his back on them, and I was not slow to follow his example, with a sigh for

"The good old days, when nought of rich or rare,

Of bright or beautiful, was deem'd a gift

Too liberal to Him who giveth all."

Indeed, I felt much more impressed, and inclined to take off my hat in the Examination and Dining Halls, as I stood in the pictured presence of Irish worthies, and thought of them, and of others not there pourtrayed, in all their young power and

promise. I thought of Archbishop Ussher, who, a boy of eighteen, contended with the Jesuit, Fitz-Symonds, and was designated by his opponent as "acatholicorum doctissimus." I thought of Swift, as well I might, having recently read, for the third time, that most touching essay on his life and genius from the master hand of Thackeray.* I could cry over that lecture any time; there is so much noble sympathy in it of one great genius with another-such a tender yearning not to condemn, and, all the while, such a grand, honest resolution to take side with what is right and true. I thought of Swift, "wild and witty," in the happiest days of his unhappy life, getting his degree, “speciali gratiâ" (as a most particular favour), and going forth into the world to be a disappointed, miserable man-to fight against weapons which himself had welded, a hopeless, maddening fight. All must pity, as Johnson and Thackeray pity, but who can love? He put on the surplice for mere earthly views, and it was to him as the shirt of Hercules!

I

And next (could two men differ more?) of Goldsmith. thought of him shy and silent (for he was a dull boy, we read, and never learned the art of conversation), chaffed by his fellowstudents, and saluted by them, doubtless, in the exuberance of

* « The English humourists of the eighteenth century," three of whom, Swift, Steele, and Goldsmith, were Irishmen.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »