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Page 12
Being invited the day previous to occupy part of a window in Upper
Sackville Street, I was stationed at my allotted place, at an early
hour, with an out-stretched neck and open eyes. My own colour differing
from those about me, I attracted not a little attention from many; and
often, when gazing down the street to see if the Royal procession was in
sight, would find myself eyed by all around. But neither while at the
window, or in the streets, was I once insulted. This was so unlike the
American prejudice, that it seemed strange to me. It was near twelve
o'clock before the procession entered Sackville Street, and when it did
all eyes seemed to beam with delight. The first carriage contained only
Her Majesty and the Prince Consort; the second, the Royal children; and
the third, the Lords in Waiting. Fifteen carriages were used by those
that made up the Royal party. I had a full view of the Queen and all who
followed in the train. Her Majesty--whether from actual love for her
person, or the novelty of the occasion, I know not which--was received
everywhere with the greatest enthusiasm. One thing, however, is certain,
and that is--Queen Victoria is beloved by her subjects.
But the grand _fete_ was reserved for the evening. Great preparations
had been made to have a grand illumination on the occasion, and hints
were thrown out that it would surpass anything ever witnessed in London.
In this they were not far out of the way; for all who witnessed the
scene admitted that it could scarcely have been surpassed. My own idea
of an illumination, as I had seen it in the backwoods of my own native
land, dwindled into nothing when compared with this magnificent affair.
In company with a few friends, and a lady under my charge, I undertook
to pass through Sackville and one or two other streets, about eight
o'clock in the evening, but we found it utterly impossible to proceed.
Masses thronged the streets, and the wildest enthusiasm seemed to
prevail. In our attempt to cross the bridge, we were wedged in and lost
our companions; and on one occasion I was separated from the lady, and
took shelter under a cart standing in the street. After being jammed and
pulled about for nearly two hours, I returned to my lodgings, where I
found part of my company, who had come in one after another. At eleven
o'clock we had all assembled, and each told his adventures and
"hairbreadth escapes;" and nearly every one had lost a pocket
handkerchief or something of the kind: my own was among the missing.
However, I lost nothing; for a benevolent lady, who happened to be one
of the company, presented me with one which was of far more value than
the one I had lost.
Every one appeared to enjoy the holiday which the Royal visit had
caused. But the Irish are indeed a strange people. How varied their
aspect--how contradictory their character. Ireland, the land of genius
and degradation--of great resources and unparalleled poverty--noble
deeds and the most revolting crimes--the land of distinguished poets,
splendid orators, and the bravest of soldiers--the land of ignorance and
beggary! Dublin is a splendid city, but its splendour is that of
chiselled marble rather than real life. One cannot behold these
architectural monuments without thinking of the great men that Ireland
has produced. The names of Burke, Sheridan, Flood, Grattan, O'Connell,
and Shiel, have become as familiar to the Americans as household words.
Burke is known as the statesman; Sheridan for his great speech on the
trial of Warren Hastings; Grattan for his eloquence; O'Connell as the
agitator; and Shiel as the accomplished orator.
But of Ireland's sons, none stands higher in America than Thomas Moore,
the Poet. The vigour of his sarcasm, the glow of his enthusiasm, the
coruscations of his fancy, and the flashing of his wit, seem to be as
well understood in the new world as the old; and the support which his
pen has given to civil and religious liberty throughout the world,
entitled the Minstrel of Erin to this elevated position.
Before leaving America I had heard much of the friends of my enslaved
countrymen residing in Ireland; and the reception I met with on all
hands while in public, satisfied me that what I had heard had not been
exaggerated. To the Webbs, Allens, and Haughtons, of Dublin, the cause
of the American slave is much indebted.
I quitted Dublin with a feeling akin to leaving my native land.
LETTER III.
_Departure from Ireland--London--Trip to Paris--Paris--The Peace
Congress: first day--Church of the Madeleine--Column Vendome--the
French._
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