The Wild Irish Girl: A National TaleMorgan, Lady (Sydney)
General
The Wild Irish Girl: A National Tale
Morgan, Lady (Sydney)
British -- Ireland -- Fiction; Celts -- Fiction; Ireland -- Fiction; Love stories; Princesses -- Fiction
It should seem that the name of M-------- is interdicted at Inismore: I
have more than once endeavoured (though remotely) to make the residence
of our family in this country a topic of conversation; but every one
seemed to shrink from the subject, as though some fatality was connected
with its discussion. To avoid speaking ill of those of whom we have but
little reason, speak well, is the temperance of aversion, and seldom
found but in great minds.
I must mention to you another instance of liberality in the sentiments
of these isolated beings:--I have only once attended the celebration of
divine service here since my arrival; but my absence seemed not to be
observed, or my attendance noticed; and though, as an Englishman, I may
be naturally supposed to be of the most popular faith, yet, for all they
know to the contrary, I may be Jew, Mussulman, or Infidel; for, before
me at least, religion is a topic never discussed.
Adieu,
H. M
LETTER IX.
TO J. D. ESQ., M. P.
I have already given two lessons to my pupil, in an art in which, with
all due deference to the judgment of her quondam tutor, she was never
destined to excel.
Not, however, that she is deficient in talent--very far from it; but it
is too progressive, too tame a pursuit for the vivacity of her genius.
It is not sufficiently connected with those lively and vehement emotions
of the soul she is so calculated to feel and to awaken. She was created
for a musician--there she is borne away by the magic of the art in which
she excels, and the natural enthusiasm of her impassioned character: she
can sigh, she can weep, she can smile over her harp. The sensibility
of her soul trembles in her song, and the expression of her rapt
countenance harmonizes with her voice. But at her drawing-desk, her
features lose their animated character--the smile of rapture ceases
to play, and the glance of inspiration to beam. And with the transient
extinction of those feelings from which each touching charm is derived,
fades that all pervading interest, that energy of admiration which she
usually excites.
Notwithstanding, however, the pencil is never out of her hand; her
harp lies silent, and her drawing-book is scarcely ever closed. Yet
she limits my attendance to the first hour after breakfast, and then
I generally lose sight of her the whole day, until we all meet
_en-famille_ in the evening. Her improvement is rapid--her father
delighted, and she quite fascinated by the novelty of her avocation; the
priest congratulates me, and I alone am dissatisfied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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