The Purcell Papers — Volume 2Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
Science
The Purcell Papers — Volume 2
Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
Fantasy fiction, English; Ireland -- Fiction
Produced by Judith Boss and Charles Keller
THE PURCELL PAPERS.
BY THE LATE
JOSEPH SHERIDAN LE FANU,
AUTHOR OF 'UNCLE SILAS.'
With a Memoir by
ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
PASSAGE IN THE SECRET HISTORY OF AN IRISH COUNTESS
THE BRIDAL OF CARRIGVARAH
STRANGE EVENT IN THE LIFE OF SCHALKEN THE PAINTER
SCRAPS OF HIBERNIAN BALLADS
PASSAGE IN THE SECRET HISTORY OF AN IRISH COUNTESS.
Being a Fifth Extract from the Legacy of the late Francis
Purcell, P.P. of Drumcoolagh.
The following paper is written in a female hand, and was no doubt
communicated to my much-regretted friend by the lady whose early history
it serves to illustrate, the Countess D----. She is no more--she long
since died, a childless and a widowed wife, and, as her letter sadly
predicts, none survive to whom the publication of this narrative can
prove 'injurious, or even painful.' Strange! two powerful and wealthy
families, that in which she was born, and that into which she had
married, have ceased to be--they are utterly extinct.
To those who know anything of the history of Irish families, as they
were less than a century ago, the facts which immediately follow will
at once suggest THE NAMES of the principal actors; and to others
their publication would be useless--to us, possibly, if not probably,
injurious. I have, therefore, altered such of the names as might, if
stated, get us into difficulty; others, belonging to minor characters in
the strange story, I have left untouched.
My dear friend,--You have asked me to furnish you with a detail of
the strange events which marked my early history, and I have, without
hesitation, applied myself to the task, knowing that, while I live, a
kind consideration for my feelings will prevent your giving publicity
to the statement; and conscious that, when I am no more, there will not
survive one to whom the narrative can prove injurious, or even painful.
My mother died when I was quite an infant, and of her I have no
recollection, even the faintest. By her death, my education and habits
were left solely to the guidance of my surviving parent; and, as far
as a stern attention to my religious instruction, and an active anxiety
evinced by his procuring for me the best masters to perfect me in those
accomplishments which my station and wealth might seem to require, could
avail, he amply discharged the task.
My father was what is called an oddity, and his treatment of me, though
uniformly kind, flowed less from affection and tenderness than from a
sense of obligation and duty. Indeed, I seldom even spoke to him except
at meal-times, and then his manner was silent and abrupt; his leisure
hours, which were many, were passed either in his study or in solitary
walks; in short, he seemed to take no further interest in my happiness
or improvement than a conscientious regard to the discharge of his own
duty would seem to claim.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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