In the sketch which I gave of Lady Wellesley's Tabinet Ball, (and of which a continuation was announced,) I mentioned that, of the persons whom the Marchioness had assembled for the purposes of dancing and of benevolence, the Duke of Leinster was the next in importance to Sir Harcourt Lees. With the highest rank, and a magnificent estate, and with a name to which so many national recollections are painfully but endearingly allied, it must be confessed that the first peer in Ireland, notwithstanding so many claims upon the public respect, is less sensibly felt, and produces an impression less distinct and palpable, than the renowned champion of the Church. The one is at the head of the nobles, and the other of the Protestants of Ireland; and how r insane the alacrity of Sir Harcourt may appear, there is ng in enthusiasm, be it genuine or affected, which is preferable to the inactive honesty and the inoperative integrity of the Duke. The latter is descended from the first Norman settlers in Ireland. The Fitzgeralds gradually became attached to the country, and were designated as the ultra-Irish, from the barbarous nationality, of which, i course of that series of rebellions dignified by the name of Irish history, they gave repeated proof. They were of that class of insurgents who earned the ignominious appellation of "Hibernis ipsis Hiberniores." I recollect to have seen their pedigree upon a piece of mouldering parchment, which was produced at a trial in Waterford connected with the royalties of Dromona, and had been brought by a messenger from the Tower in London. It was a very remarkable document. The words, attainted," or "beheaded," were annexed to the names of more than half the members of this illustrious house. 66 The love of Ireland appears to have been a family disease, and to have descended to the unfortunate Lord Edward as a malady of the heart, although the sanguinary record of the virtues of his house did not include his name; but it was impossible to look upon that memorial of the scaffold, without recalling the memory of the celebrated person whose failure constituted so large a portion of his crime. It may be readily imagined, that when the Duke of Leinster returned to Ireland, after having attained his full age, in order to take possession of his estates, he was an object of great national interest. The associations connected with his name, had already secured him the partialities of the country. His frank and open air, the unaffected urbanity of his manners, the kindness and cordiality which distinguished his address, and an expression of dignified good nature in his physiognomy, brought back the recollection of Lord Edward, and gave to his young kinsman a share in the affectionate respect with which the guilty patriotism of that chivalrous nobleman is regarded in Ireland. Few were sufficiently rash to desire that the Duke of Leinster should engage in an enterprise so little likely to be successful, as that which cost Lord Edward his life. Almost all men had become sensible of the hopelessness of such an undertaking: but it was expected that, while the chief of the house of Fitzgerald would abstain from any criminally adven Continued from p. 55. vol. xvi. Sept. 1826--VOL. XVII. NO. LXIX. turous speculation, he would, notwithstanding, place himself at the head of the popular party, that he would rally round him the friends of the country, that he would extend to good principles the authority of his rank, and rescue the spirit of Irish whiggism from the scoff with which it had been the fashion in the higher circles to deride it. A scope of political usefulness was unquestionably given to the Duke. It would have been easy for him to raise up a legitimate and salutary opposition to the abuses of the local government, which were at that time excessive, and to have awed the viceregal despotism of the Duke of Richmond into moderation. There was enough of public virtue left among the aristocracy, to turn it to good practical account, if there had been any man capable of giving it a direction; and of all others, the young Duke of Leinster, from his paramount rank and hereditary station, seemed to be calculated to take the honourable lead. What might not a Duke of Leinster, with even ordinary abilities, and with an active, steadfast, and energetic mind, accomplish in this country? He might place himself at once in the front of a vast and ardent population, and become not only the protector of the Catholics, but the director of the whole body of liberal Protestants in Ireland. The distinctions of sect would, under his influence, be merged in the community of country, and all religious animosities give way to a comprehensive and philosophical sentiment of nationality. He would be the point of contact, at which the contending factions might meet, and cohere together. His rank and property would attract the men who profess illiberal opinions as much out of fashion as out of prejudice; while the democratic parts would find in his name and blood a sufficient guarantee for his fidelity to Ireland. Having been once associated in a stricter intimacy, it is likely that the enthusiasts on both sides would lay down a large portion of their antipathies, and acquire a feeling of forbearance towards each other. Partisanship would in a little time subside, and Catholics and Orangemen would enter into a pacific confederacy for the public good. Such a junction, formed under the auspices of a Duke of Leinster, would secure to him the respect of a wise and the fears of a corrupt administration. His opinions among the hereditary counsellors of the crown would carry a paramount authority. His voice in the senate would be that of seven millions of his fellow countrymen; Ireland would speak through him. The consciousness of the minister, that in times of difficulty and of danger the Irish people could readily find a man who would insist upon justice who sustained by a united population, could ensure whatever he required, would instruct the most arbitrary statesman in the anticipating wisdom of concession. It is difficult to conceive a more lofty or a more useful part, than that which it would be easy for a Duke of Leinster to perform; and the facility with which this ideal picture would be realized, induces the more regret, that a person surrounded with such numerous opportunities of doing good, should have omitted the splendid occasions thrown by birth and fortune in his way. He has voluntarily consigned himself to oblivion. It required, indeed, that he should make a sort of effort to be forgotten. He has at last succeeded in sinking out of the recollection of the public. He has, if I may so say, dived into Lethe, from which he hardly ever lifts his head. The first injudicious step which he adopted, was the sale of his magnificent mansion in Merion Square. It surpasses any private residence in London, and rather resembles the palace of a Venetian senator, than the house of a British subject. That vast structure, upon which enormous sums had been expended by his father, was a perpetual intimation of the importance of the Duke, as long as it was called Leinster House: but after he had sold it to the Dublin Society, and its original designation was laid aside, a memorial of the family was wanting, which the Duke's political conduct was not calculated to supply. He was not contented with this disposal of his family mansion, but took a small house in Dominick-street, which he dignified with the appellation of the Duke of Leinster's Office. Many ascribed the sale of his palace (for such it might be called) to a penurious tendency; but, although the Duke is a prudent man, he is not, I believe, addicted to that most ignoble of all vices, and avarice forms no part of his character. The truth is, that the Duke of Leinster is wholly insensible to fame; and such is his aversion to publicity, that I could never bring myself to give any credit to the statement in Harriet Wilson's Memoirs, that his Grace was in the habit of standing behind her carriage. He has such a horror of the general eye, that I hold it to be impossible that he could ever have achieved a piece of such open and undisguised gallantry as the modern Aspasia has been pleased to ascribe to him. After having sold his house, the Duke retired to the woods and solitudes of Carton. There he buried himself from the inspection, and gradually dropped out of the notice of the country. Having a turn for mechanics, he provided himself with a large assortment of carpenter's tools, and beguiled the tedium of existence with occupations by which his arms were put into requisition. There is not a better sawyer in the county of Kildare. As you wander through the forests on his demesne, you occasionally meet a vigorous young woodman, with his shirt tucked up to his shoulders, while he lays the axe to the trunk of some lofty tree, that totters beneath his stroke. On approaching, you perceive a handsome face, flushed with exercise and health, and covered with perspiration. Should you enter into conversation with him, he will throw off a few jovial words betwixt every descent of the axe; and, if he should pause in his task for breath, will hail you in the tone of good-humoured fellowship. He sets to his work again; while you pursue your path through the woodlands, and hear from the ranger of the forest that you have just seen no less a person than his Grace himself. In the midst of these innocent em. ployments, the Duke of Leinster passes away a life which ought to be devoted to higher purposes. It is with the utmost difficulty that he is occasionally dragged out of his retreat, and consents, some once a year, to fill the chair at a public meeting. But he takes no part in the deliberations or the measures of popular assemblies, for which he entertains an unaffected distaste, and hurries back to his domestic occupations again. The result has been, that he not only holds no place in the public estimation beyond that which his private virtues confer upon him, but he is without any influence at the Castle. Shortly after Lord Wellesley came to Ireland, the Duke called to pay his respects to his Excellency, who sent him an intimation, that he was at the moment too busily engaged to see him, but that, in case he called again, he should be happy to receive his Grace. At the Tabinet Ball (from which I have made a wide digression, into somewhat too serious, if not extraneous matter), it was easy to observe that the Duke of Leinster, surrounded as he was by all the provincial rank and wealth of Dublin, was not an object of much public concern. As he mingled among the various circles in the saloon, some person, who chanced to know him, just mentioned,-" There is the Duke of Leinster;" while his Grace, neither attracting, nor caring for any further notice, passed on without heed to some other part of the room. How different an impression would he have produced, had he taken the more active and intrepid part, to which his fortunes appeared to invite him! The mock regality of a lord-lieutenant would fade at once before him. The representative of a nation would stand superior to the delegate of the king. But in drawing this contrast, it would be an injustice not to add, that after all, the Duke of Leinster has a right to make a selection of happiness for himself. He has no ambition. Nature has not mixed that mounting quality in his blood, which teaches men to aspire to greatness, and makes them impatient of subordination. If he is deficient in energy, and is without the temperament necessary for high enterprise, he is adorned by many gentle and, perhaps, redeeming virtues. His life is blameless in every domestic relation; and if he is not admired, he is prized, at least by all those who are acquainted with him. He looks, and I am convinced he is, an exceedingly happy man; and has at all events one of the chief means of felicity, in the amiable and accomplished woman to whom he is united. The Duchess of Leinster accompanied her husband to the Tabinet Ball. This excellent lady is one of the daughters of Lord Harrington. She has been some years married to the Duke, and has the reputation of being a most affectionate mother and wife. Although an Englishwoman, she prefers Ireland to her own country, and has never seduced her husband into absenteeism. Lady Morgan should make a heroine of her. Few persons are more esteemed and loved than she is. There is a charm in her kind and good-hearted manners, which engages the partiality of those about her, and converts that respect which is due to her station, into regard. I have never seen any lady of her distinction in society so wholly free from assumption. There is the enchantment of sincerity in her sweet demeanour, which, in the manners of the great, is above every other charm. She is not beautiful; but there is about her, "Something than beauty dearer, That for a face not beautiful does more A look of benignity, united with a pleasant and vivacious smile, makes you forget a certain want of regularity in her features. I do not quite like her deportment and gait. There seems to be a weakness in her limbs, which prevents a steadiness and measure of movement, necessary for a perfect gracefulness of head. But it is only after a minute observation, made in the spirit which is "nothing if not critical," that any such imperfections are discerned, and they are speedily forgotten in the feeling of kindness which her noble gentleness cannot fail to produce. It was amusing to observe the contrast between the unostentatious affability of her Grace, and the factitious loftiness of the other titled patronesses of the ball, Lady Wellesley had nominated a certain number of vice-presidents of the dance, who were directed to appear with a head-dress of ostrich-feathers, by way of distinguishing them from the ladies to whom that high function had not been confided. Accordingly, about a dozen heads, stuck with a profusion of waving plumage, lifted their nodding honours above the crowd. These reminded me of the Mexican princesses in prints of Montezuma's court, which I have seen in the History of New Spain. The absence of any superfluity of attire, did not make the resemblance less striking. It was pleasant to observe the authoritative simper with which they discharged their high-plumed office, and intimated the important part which they were appointed to play in this fantastic scene. Upon the vulgar in the crowd, such as the wives of rich burghers, of opulent attorneys, and of stuff-gown lawyers, they looked with ineffable disdain; and even to the fat consorts of the aldermen, they scarcely extended a smile of supercilious recognition. Busily engaged among the latter, I observed Mr. Henry Grattan, who was then a candidate, and is now a representative of the city of Dublin. This gentleman was not a little strenuous at the Tabinet Ball, in his attentions to the ladies, both young and elderly, of the Corporation. He had, upon a former occasion, been defeated by Master Ellis, through the influence of the civic authorities, and was determined to conciliate the leading members of the powerful body by which he had been successfully opposed. He is a singular example of perseverance, and, I rejoice to add, of success, in the steadfast pursuit of an honourable object. His name, the veneration in which his father's memory is so justly held by every true lover of his country, and the earnest which he has himself already given of eminent abilities, and of public virtue, gather much of the popular solicitude about him, and render his career in parliament a matter of interesting speculation. Some mention of this young senator, whose foot is yet upon the threshold of the House, may not be inappropriate. "How widely," the reader may say, "do you deviate from the Tabinet Ball!" Be it so. I set down my thoughts as they flow carelessly from my pen. A word or two then of Mr. Henry Grattan. He is the second son of the great Irishman, of whom it may be so justly said : Magnum et venerabile nomen, Gentibus, et nostræ multùm quod prodeat urbi. His father took from the earliest period the most anxious care of his mind, upon which he set a high value. I have been assured by a gentleman, whose authority I could not for a moment question, that the late Mr. Grattan, in presenting his son to his tutor at Trinity College, expressed his conviction of his superior qualifications, and said, that he hoped to leave "his Henry" as a noble bequest to his country. The great patriot saw in the mind of his son what Doctor Johnson calls "the latent possibilities of excellence;" and he was anxious, as well from a national as from a parental feeling, to bring them forth. Mr. Henry Grattan, while in college, enjoyed the double advantage of an excellent system of public education, and of having a domestic pattern of the admirable in eloquence and in patriotism perpetually before his eyes. His career in the University was highly honourable; and in the Historical Society, which, if it were not a school of genuine oratory, was at all events a useful nursery of declamation, obtained universal plau |