The Highland Lady In Ireland - Elizabeth Grant Canongate Classics

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translation of Orlando Furioso between 1823 and 1831.

      TWO

       1841

      Everything comes into a sharper focus with this second year—the ways she brought up her children and looked after her husband; the methods used to cajole a sometimes reluctant tenantry into improvements; their relationships with the Agent and Steward; their views on friends and neighbours, priest and teacher; and (in an election year) how she regarded the politicians of the day from Peel (whom she revered) to O’Connell (whom she loathed).

      FRIDAY JANUARY 1. A little note from Jane complaining of the excessive severity of the weather—Never felt any cold like it since the days of our Highland winters when we girls occupied the barrack room in the roof of the Doune, without a fire, without warm water, when we groped for our clothes a little after six o’clock, washed in ice and descended to the comforts of Cramer’s exercises on the piano-forte, or worse Bochsa’s on the harp till daylight allowed of our using our eyes; really children were cruelly used in those days, and for what purpose. Could we do any good with numb fingers, starving with cold and hunger and cross from actual suffering. Should we not have been better in our warm beds. Mary and I are wiser with our children. We never wish them to get up till they can see to dress and we have a warm room and good fire for them to go to afterwards and they never touch the pianoforte till they have had their breakfast and as I at least wish for no professors in my family, Janey has never yet any day practised an hour.

      8. Miss Gardiner down with an order from the Inspector to attend at Naas to-morrow to furnish accounts and receive directions for the future management of our School. I took the reply on myself and made it like my father of old in the ‘brimstone and butter’ style sending them every account they could want but not sending the poor young woman, thinking their Inspector may come here himself if he has anything particular to say to us.

      12. How taste changes. I remember as a girl being so delighted with Horace Walpole’s Letters, now they almost disgust me, so frivolous, such an absence of principle, such mere trifling through life, without an aim or an end, and vice so familiar to the society of the day, yet the charm of the style carries one on from one gossippy letter to another, all unsatisfactory though they be, and he had mind enough for better things had he lived in a better age, though naturally cold and ill-natured.

      13. A letter from Mary—still delighted with Pau. She has got an admirer too, of course. She can’t live without one, but ’tis only the landlord of the maison Puyoo—rather a descent in the scale of lovers, but even beautiful women approach forty.

      I cannot, when reading of these times and of these men avoid recurring in my thoughts to my father who lived with them and was of them and yet does not hold his proper station among them. In talents he was inferiour to few, in accomplishments superiour to most, but he had two great weaknesses, a wish to do too much and a desire that what he did do should be known and fully appreciated, he had the misfortune to be born heir to a very large fortune, to step into its possession when a boy, to find himself in his own country from his position a man of consequence and in his own family the one flattered idol of a large and needy connexion. He married, too, so very young, a beautiful and a clever woman, but he had to educate her and then he thought his own pupil too perfect and she was as young as himself, utterly ignorant of the world and her temper often prevented her using her judgement. There is nothing like the school of adversity, how can we make up to our children for their never knowing it.

      

      How will O’Connell talk of his recent failure? He drove to Belfast under a borrowed name and left it in fear of his life under the escort of the police. The ministry are weak and ridiculous and contemptible but they have not been wrong in not putting down O’Connell, it was wiser to let him annihilate himself.

      No children at my school but three and the hedge school full to overflowing, the priests, the odious priests, their poor law guardian is persecuting every one who did not vote for him, rating their holdings too high and leaning very light on his friends. Hal had to go to John Hornidge about it, Tom Kelly being of course, under ban and having come to complain. Mary Dodson and many more were turned from the Chapel door at Black Ditches because they had not pennies to pay for entrance. It was shut in their face by Mr. Germaine himself and all they do is to change their chapel. Tom Darker says he knows a 100 would go to church to-morrow if they were not afraid of one another and of the little secrets told at confession. Wretched country.

      MONDAY FEBRUARY 8. Hardly ever was more vexed than on hearing this morning of the folly of that nice girl Anne Fitzpatrick, whom I used to admire as much for her cleanliness and modesty and industry as for her beauty. She has never been quite herself since her handsome lover, Pat Hipps, the carpenter, jilted her for a little dumpy heiress with forty pounds and latterly annoyed her mother by allowing a shabby looking labouring lad, without house or home to dangle after her. Last Monday she said she was going to Mrs. Tyrrell’s to have a gown made. Instead of that she went to Judy Ryan’s where she was joined by Mary Dempsey and this beau—from thence the three set off for the young man’s mother’s where they remained till Friday when Anne returned home to announce that the young man would not marry her. When he was sent for he would condescend to take her with twenty pounds. Old Mrs. Fitzpatrick stood out, would give no money, sent off the man and kept her daughter, but she will give in at last, they all do. This is the common

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