Text: Viscount D’Arlingcourt, Weekly Mirror (New York), November 23, 1844, vol. 1, no. 7, pp. 110-111

[page 110:]

A Nobleman's Sketches of Noble Society in England

THE VISCOUNT D’ARLINGCOURT has lately written his travels in England. He avows in his first chapter the spirit in which he means to travel — “As for me I mean to avoid all unfavorable descriptions, and to abstain from bitter reproaches. When anything unpleasant in a foreign land meets my view, which it would serve no good end to mention, I turn away my head and am silent; but when an object possesses attraction for me, and may be of advantage to others, I hasten to examine and describe it. Let the serpent crawl along and hiss; I, like the bird, pass on and sing.” The Viscount, after this expression of a gentleman's creed, commences with his ascent of the Tames in an Ostend steamer; and apropos of passing Greenwich, which the Londoners call Grinwich, he quotes some puzzled Frenchman, who declares that the English pronounce no word as it is written, and “would write Solomon and pronounce it Nebuchadnezzar!” We omit other matters, and copy the Viscount's sketches of one or two famous people:

LADY BLESSINGTON AND COUNT D’ORSAY.

On that day I dined with Lady Blessington, one of the muses of England, combining wit with beauty. I was delighted to become acquainted with so distinguished an ornament of literature. I had before admired her talent, I now did homage to her charms. At her house I met the handsome Count d’Orsay, her son-in-law, the king of fashion in London. He cultivates the fine arts with the greatest success. He has a wonderful talent for catching likenesses, and paints admirably.

King of fashion is that his highest title? No, certainly not; a meritorious work of charity has entitled him to the gratitude of his countrymen. Count d’Orsay has founded in London a benevolent society for the purpose of affording succor to all Frenchmen in destitute circumstances. Thanks to his care, an asylum has been established where all his indigent fellow-countrymen find shelter and protection. Honor to him, who, from the height of the throne of fashion has been able to prove that he can be at one and the same time the prince of dandies, and the father of the unfortunate. The capital of the Benevolent Society, founded by Count D’Orsay, increases daily, thanks to the numerous donations of charitable individuals. The Courrier de l’Europe, an excellent French journal published in London, has recently given a list of several new subscribers, among whom we will mention his Royal Highness the Duc de Bordeaux, who has subscribed if £50.

THE QUEEN.

I had only been a short time in London when her Majesty, Queen Victoria, gave a grand ball. In order to obtain an invitation, I ought to have been introduced at court; but as, since my arrival, there had been no levees, I had no opportunity of being presented. I was lamenting this disappointment when I received a card from her Majesty, who condescended to dispense with the usual etiquette in my favor.

The Queen had already entered the ball-room, and had the extreme kindness to make several inquiries after me, the string of carriages having delayed my arrival. The French Ambassador, the Comte de St. Aulaire, hastened to present me to her Majesty. She was seated on a throne at the end of one of the galleries of the palace, and was surrounded by the principal ladies of her court: among them was the Princess Clementine of Saxe Coburg, daughter of Louis Philippe, who had recently arrived with her husband from Portugal. The Queen wore a white dress, trimmed with bouquets interspersed with precious stones. Her coiffure was composed of flowers and diamonds, forming a toilet of the richest and yet most simple elegance. Her smile was most affable, and her personal appearance extremely graceful. Rising at my approach, her Majesty condescended [column 2:] to address me in French, which, as well as almost all the European languages, she speaks admirably, and expressed herself in the most flattering manner. I had thus to my great satisfaction a favorable opportunity for contemplating her. Her features beamed with hope and happiness. How grateful, in truth, she has reason to be to Providence, who has been pleased to lavish upon her all earthly blessings, and who has not counterbalanced the most brilliant of fortunes by secret sorrows!

PRINCE ALBERT.

In her husband she possesses the handsomest prince of the age; and this husband is entirely devoted to her, adoring her as a mistress, and respecting her as a master. In the heir to her throne she possesses a son whom she idolizes, adding another to the many joys which fall to her share; while her own character displays the firmness of a man with the attractive gentleness of a woman. A people, enthusiastically prostrate at her feet, attribute to her none of the evil, and bless her for all the good that occurs. What a destiny and what an existence!

Could any thing be more eminently poetic than this charming youthful sovereign, before whom one of the most powerful nations of the earth bent submissively! The proud and formidable sceptre of mighty Albion was there, in the hand of a delicate and graceful nymph; and that sceptre appeared not to weigh down the fair hand that held it, which, nevertheless, seemed only made to lift the lightest gauze or garlands of flowers. In her were united the artless animation of the young girl, and the noble dignity of the illustrious sovereign; and the effect was enchanting. What a mixture of weakness and strength! What an evidence of the absolute power of an established principle of government: a reed ruling over oaks, a flower arbitress of the world!

On being presented to Prince Albert, who condescended to question me respecting my travels in Europe, I spoke to him at some length of his brother, in whose company I had supped with the King of Saxony, when the Prince came to Dresden to introduce his wife to that court; the newly-married Princess was daughter of the Grand Duke of Baden. Quecn Victoria's husband is, as is well known, a remarkably handsome man, such as the imagination of a romance writer would select for the model of the heroes he presents to his admiring readers. He is said to be serious and cold; I found him, on the contrary, full of animation and courtesy. His mode of expressing himself was as pleasing as his reception of me was affable; he speaks French most elegantly. My conversation with him only ceased when her Majesty opened the ball by a quadrille with the Prince of Saxe Coburg, husband of the Princess Clementine.”

Accustomed to the fetes of Paris, where it is usual to walk through a quadrille, I was delighted to witness a ball where real dancing was in fashion. The orchestra was perfect, and the coup-d’œil of the ball-room dazzling. The Queen of England has the prettiest little foot in the world, and she dances in the most charming manner; it is said, moreover, that being mistress of every accomplishment, she sings enchantingly. How many crowns at one and the same time are hers!

In each of the salons of the palace a throne and dais were erected; as soon as the youthful sovereign had finished dancing in one apartment, she recommenced in the next, her arrival in and departure from each room being announced by the national air of “God save the Queen.” All this gave a new impulse to the fete, as from her Majesty's constantly changing her position, each of the ladies seated in the different salons had the satisfaction in turns of seeing her pass close to them. What a throng of pretty women what exquisitely delicate creatures, resembling the faces in the Keepsake! It is necessary to mix in the first London society, if we wish to form an idea of what an assembly of beauty really is; the country par excellence for poetic expression of countenance is England.

None of those unbecoming black coats, which ought to be only worn at funerals, were to be seen; the gentlemen were in uniform, and some great Scottish lords wore the costume of their respective clans. Among the latter was Lord Lorne, son of the Duke of Argyll. The Scotch [column 3:] reel was danced in the course of the evening. Gold and precious stones alone were visible, gleaming amid flowers and lace; beside the garland of the graces sparkled the arms of the brave with a different brilliancy, but with equal effect, in varied but complete harmony. There, in the presence of the Queen, amid the melody of festive music and the glitter of countless wax-lights, all seemed radiant of love and glory!

LORD BROUGHAM.

Lord Brougham was among the guests at Lady Blessington's table; his conversation sparkled with bon-mots. There also were present Westmacott, the famous sculptor, and the celebrated painters Edwin Landseer, Stanfield and Grant; our own illustrious Gudin was also there. How much I regretted being obliged to quit abruptly this assemblage of talent to dress for the court ball; but had I reason to complain? Another fete awaited me. I arrived about eleven o’clock at Buckingham Palace. That very morning I had examined its exterior, which is not very remarkable; but opposite to it is St. James's Park, adorned with beautiful green plots, gravel walks, tall trees, and transparent waters. I can easily imagine the Queen preferring this residence to the old smoky palace of St. James's, which, with its castellated turrets and its galleries with narrow windows, resembles a convent or a prison.

LADY CHESTERFIELD AND KING OF HANOVER.

I was invited to a matinée dansante at Lady Chesterfield's. This noble lady inhabits one of the finest mansions in London, where nothing conducive either to comfort or luxury is wanting. Galleries of family portraits,” apartments with gilded wainscoting, and a delicious garden formed points of attraction on that day for the élite of English society. At half-past four in the afternoon the matinée dansante began. The King of Hanover was among the company, and I was presented to him by the Duchess of Beaufort; his Majesty conversed with me, for some time, respecting my travels, and blaming me for not having yet passed through his dominions, made me premise to pay him a visit there. The King, although advanced in years, expresses himself with youthful vivacity; his hair is white, and his sight failing; but his wit and conversation are not the less charming. He was one of the handsomest men of his day.

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

I had also a tolerably long talk with one of those historical characters whom it is impossible to approach without a strong feeling of curiosity, the Duke of Wellington. His grace, bending under the weight of years, and reminding one of Œdipus or Belisarius, was surrounded with homage and adulation, like a monarch or an idol: a word from his lips, a look, a smile, were the objects of the most jealous anxiety. A crowd perpetually followed him, and I observed that the enthusiasm felt in England for this hero of times past had not yet grown cold. Yes, of times past; I repeat these words, for we have advanced so far since 1816 that we have left it at least a century behind us; the hundred days concentrated the events of a hundred years.

CLUB LIFE IN LONDON.

I was admitted, when in London, to the Travellers’ Club and the Athenaeum; but seldom profited by the privilege accorded me. I preferred the salons where I could enjoy the agreeable society of ladies to these clubs; magnificent they are indeed, but from them the most amiable portion of the human race is exiled. Nevertheless, the clubs of London deserve particular mention.

They are real palaces, with drawing-rooms, galleries, and libraries, where all kinds of food, bodily and mental, lavishly abound; it is, moreover, extremely difficult to obtain admission to them. At the Athenaeum, of which there are one thousand two hundred and fifty members, fifty at least of them being princes, dukes, and other peers of the realm, a new member can only be admitted on a vacancy occurring, and frequently for this vacancy there are from one thousand to eleven hundred applicants. When I was there, the first name to be ballotted for had been nine years on the list; it may possibly remain there some time longer.

In the splendid salons of these clubs one meets with a multitude of distinguished personages. [page 111:]

FATHER MATHEW.

This reverend minister of God is now fifty-three years old: he does not seem more than thirty. His appearance is unspeakably attractive; his manners are engaging and endearing; his hair is still black. An aquiline nose, blue eyes, whose gentleness is relieved by their vivacity, a well-formed mouth, and a high forehead, announce in him a firm character and a superior intelligence. Simple, even-tempered, affable, and above all charitable, he unites in the eyes of his fervent admirers the eloquence of Bossuet and the benignity of Felenon.

The reception of a member into the society of temperate brothers resembled a second baptism; it was accompanied by a display of religious pomp and consecrated images, and was held in some open public place. The ceremony was performed after the following manner.

The candidates presented themselves in groups which were distinguished by different badges: some wore in their hats a bunch of shamrock, the national plant celebrated by the poet Moore. Dressed, previously to joining the procession in their best attire, they carried in their hands, instead of a wax-candle a stick enveloped in white flags, and suspended from their necks instead of a scarf, an elegant shoulder-belt.

They marched to the sound of sacred music, and on arriving at the appointed spot, knelt down in a semi-circle. Mathew then advanced bare-headed, and addressed a short discourse to those about to receive the pledge: afterwards each repeated the prescribed formula. The words of the pledge are as follows:

“I promise, with God's assistance, as long as I shall continue a member of the Temperance Society, to abstain from all intoxicating drinks, except used medicinally and by order of a medical man, and to discountenance the cause and practice of intemperance in others; as far as I am able, as well by my advice as by my own example.”

The pledge being taken, the Reverend Father Mathew went the round of the circle; he laid his hands on the multitude, and, making the sign of the cross, gave them his benediction. During this time, the names of the new proselytes were entered in a register, and a medal was given to each. This medal bore on one side a cross with an inscription repeating the words of the pledge, and on the other, a device representing the Paschal lamb, with these letters I-H-S. Underneath this device was the famous shamrock, the plant of the zealous Roman Catholic, together with these words, Hoc signo vinces. Each member receives a certificate, on which is a cross with the same inscription.

The Reverend Father Theobald Mathew, born at Thomastown in the county of Tipperary in October, 1790, is related to the noble family of Landaff and the Earl of Kenmare. He is said to be a connexion of the Vicorate de Chabot, principal secretary to the French Embassy in London. An orphan from his infancy, adopted by Lady Elizabeth Mathew, and entrusted to the tutorship of the Reverend Denis O’Donnell, parish priest of Tallagh, he commenced his studies at the College of Kilkenny and finished them at the seminary of Maynooth.* Being ordained a priest in 1814, on Easter Day he became a member of the brotherhood of Capuchins or reformed Franciscans. Subject to no ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and holding his title of apostolical delegate directly from the Pope, he gave himself up with ardour to the exercise of his religious duties. He had amassed, partly from his savings and partly from his patrimony, a sum amounting to above £5000: this he devoted to the erection of a church. He also founded at his own expense a superb cemetery, after the model of Pere la Chaise at Paris, and this work was hailed by the blessings of his countrymen, the Irish attaching great importance to the splendour of their funeral ceremonies.

The reputation of the talents and virtues of Father Mathew beginning to be spread abroad, a society which, in imitation of one in America, had been established at Cork, for the purpose of endeavouring to arrest the further progress of Irish intemperance, called the celebrated ecclesiastic to its aid. Mathew acceded to their request, and on the 10th of April, 1838, he was named President of the Society. A report was immediately spread abroad that a messenger sent from Heaven had come to change the aspect of Ireland. Crowds [column 2:] flocked to him from all parts, the holy man harangued the people, laid his hands on them, prayed God to convert the sceptic and regenerate the sinner: he announced in the language of religious inspiration that his glorious end would be attained, and the whole assembly fell prostrate at the prophet's feet. At his command the drunkard became sober, at his voice the impious man became a believer. He is not only a Christian orator, he is a miraculous guide: he changes morals and thoughts, customs and hearts. The popular belief is that in laying his hands on his followers, he cures at once the diseases of the mind and the maladies of the body. The apostle of temperance began his career with a few hundred disciples: he could soon count them by hundreds of thousands, and at this moment can reckon them by millions: he journeys from town to town, and from district to district, with daily increasing success.

HOMES OF ENGLISH NOBILITY.

The first and only duke in Ireland, the twenty-third Earl of Kildare, the nephew of the famous Fitzgerald who married Pamela, daughter of Madame de Genlis, the highest noble in the country, in a word, the Duke of Leinster, expected me at his residence, Carton House, where I had promised to spend a couple of days.” Carton House, situated in County Kildare, is quite a royal abode; its colonnades, its statues, domes and galleries, are of modern erection; its park is a vast track of land with lakes and cascades. Seventy thousand acres of arable land annexed to it are the property of the duke, as are also the three principal towns in the county. The green lawns of the gardens are veritable carpets of emeralds, where not a single blade of grass appears to raise its head; and then to keep in order this smooth and verdant velvet, how much attention and how many laborers are required! The parks of Great Britain are cleaned, brushed, washed, trimmed, embellished with flowers, and swept like the saloons of Paris. They are parcs petites-maitresses, which, with perfumed toilettes and ruinous coquetry, are perpetually in full dress.

The table kept by the nobility in the Three Kingdoms is as magnificent as are their residences. Their hot-houses, similar to those in Russia, furnish them at all seasons with excellent fruits; their wines, imported from distant countries, are exquisite; and the stranger, if he be naturally temperate, has only one fault to find with them, namely, their abundance. In order to keep company with his hosts, he is obliged to be continually emptying his glass, so that it occasionally happens at desert, that antisocial moment when the ladies and gentlemen separate, that the wine becomes as it were a punishment, and pleasure is converted into torture. — Translated for Smith's Weekly.