Volume I Part 2 (1/2)
CHAPTER II.
Still in the vale the village bells ring round, Still in TYRCONNEL hall the jests resound; For now the caudle-cup is circling there, Now glad at heart the gossips breathe their prayer, And crowding, stop the cradle to admire The babe.
HUMAN LIFE.
The lovely Adelaide Raymond, the heroine of our Tale, was the only child of Raymond Duke of Tyrconnel. An old prophecy or tradition had immemorially prevailed, that what time a raven should build her nest in the ducal coronet which decorated the summit of the loftiest pavilion-tower of the castle, a male heir, upon this event, should then be wanting to the n.o.ble house of Tyrconnel. And this sad occurrence, so deprecated by the dark and credulous terror and tenor of those superst.i.tious times, actually occurred some months previous to Adelaide's birth: a raven had then built her nest within the ducal coronet; and a few posts after brought an account that Lord Richard Raymond, the Duke's only brother, had been killed in a duel at Paris.
From this partial fulfilment of the augury the Duke's dependants were filled with the melancholy forebodings that the d.u.c.h.ess, expiring during the pains of parturition, should give birth either to a still-born, or a female infant.
However the latter supposition proved to be well-founded, as the d.u.c.h.ess was soon safely delivered of a female child, in due and given time, upon the Eve of All-Hallows, the 31st day of October, in the year one thousand six hundred and ---- pending the bodings of the raven, and the vaticinations of the vicinage.
The family of Tyrconnel, through the female line, traced their high descent from a proud and enn.o.bled ancestry, (not less ill.u.s.trious than that of the n.o.ble Duke;) the pedigree was traced from the high chieftain, famed _Nial Necalloch_, (or, Nial of the Nine Hostages,) who in his glorious and chivalrous career had achieved various n.o.ble feats in arms. But not content with these successes at home, he sought for fame in foreign lands, where in the ardent search and attainment of glory, his gallant course of valour run, he closed his brave and honourable life amid the sunny regions of France; where this warlike planet, this Mars of Erin, expired upon the banks of the Loire,[7]
falling like the valiant Richard I. of England, ”The lion-hearted,” by the arrow of the a.s.sa.s.sin.
[7] Histoire d'Irlande, par L'Abbe Ma-Geoghegan, _tome_ 1.
Indeed the house of Tyrconnel might be truly called _a n.o.ble family_, ”for all the daughters were chaste, and all the sons were valiant.” PER ACUTA BELLI was the motto which fearlessly they bore, and which, ever unchanged amid the war-trumpet's clang, the burst of battle, and the shouts of victory, or the dismaying groans of defeat, they proudly and n.o.bly maintained; their escutcheon might oft have been encrimsoned by the blood of the bold, but it still defended the heart, and was upheld by the arm of the brave!
The Duke traced his ancient, lordly, and lineal descent from Raymond Count of Toulouse, who was the first zealous champion in serving, and enthusiastically heading, the Christian cause in the holy wars.
Adelaide Raymond, the only child of Raymond Duke of Tyrconnel, was born upon the 31st day of October, _anno salutis_, one thousand six hundred and----upon the Eve of All-Hallows, as we have already noticed. His Royal Highness James Duke of York, (brother and presumptive heir to Charles II.,) and who afterwards succeeded to the throne of the triple realms as James II., upon this happy event was most graciously pleased to signify his royal intention of standing sponsor for Lady Adelaide; which high distinction was gratefully and proudly accepted by the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Tyrconnel; and the Lord Glandarrah was chosen as proxy for the royal sponsor.
Adelaide almost immediately after her birth had been privately baptized; but the first day of May, which had now arrived, was the day appointed for the state christening. The d.u.c.h.ess d'Aremberg, an early friend of the d.u.c.h.ess of Tyrconnel, stood G.o.dmother for the Lady Adelaide, and appointed Lady Lucy Raymond, the Duke's youngest sister, as her proxy. Nor did the d.u.c.h.ess d'Aremberg forget to send a baptismal present upon this august occasion, which arrived in due season, in the shape and form of an infant's cap and frock, all beautifully formed of exquisite Brussels lace, and made under the eye and express directions of the ill.u.s.trious G.o.dmother: and to these were added a scarf and sash of rich Mechlin lace. Nor did Her Grace omit also to send, as was then usual, a handsome _honorarium_ to the child's nurse, Mrs. Judith Braingwain, with whom our gentle reader, in due and given time and place, shall become better acquainted in the following pages of this our eventful history.
But with due leave and respect we must now be permitted to say a word or two concerning the ancient and n.o.ble baronial castle, where the high and exalted ceremonial of this day was with such pomp to be celebrated.
The castle of Tyrconnel was situated in the province of Ulster, where its majestic stately ruins still remain magnificent even in decay. It stood upon the verge of a triangular village, to which it gave its own enn.o.bled name, as it was the generic name at that period of the town and the county, which was a district of large extent. Since that time, in these our modern days, the ancient name of Tyrconnel has been changed into Donegal.[8]
[8] This castle now belongs to the Marquis of Conyngham.
The castle is boldly elevated upon the rocky and precipitous margin of the river Eske, which rolls its impetuous torrent into the Atlantic Ocean, from which it is only half-a-mile distant. Mountains surround the castle on every side, except to the west, from which point receding, they open a n.o.ble vista to the sea, and give a solemn and magnificent character to the entire scenery. Here the curving and fantastic outlines of the distant mountains, clad in aerial blue, arise in endless and beautiful variety, glowing or darkening with every varying tint and tone of sun-s.h.i.+ne or of shadow, reflecting each rainbow hue of the atmosphere, and then boldly blending sky and mountain into one congregated ma.s.s of undefinable tint; so that the dark blue cloud which rolls above can with difficulty be distinguished from the dark blue mountain that, towering, frowns beneath.
The approach to the majestic steep where this ancient and celebrated fortress stands, is through the well-known pa.s.s of _Barna-More_, or the great gap; which is here formed by the opening arms of the stupendous mountain of Sleavedoon, whose gigantic heights const.i.tute vast continuous barriers to the extent of fourteen miles, girdling within their extended embrace a varied and lonely valley, which expands and smiles beneath.
This ma.s.sive fabric was planned and piled in the twelfth century by the first Earl of Tyrconnel, and was then, and subsequently for a series of years, garrisoned as a fortress. The castle, although by no means deficient in architectural grandeur, yet appears to have been const.i.tuted princ.i.p.ally with a view to strength; and that object unquestionably in those days was fully attained, for it was utterly impregnable to all hostile attacks in that early age. The form of the castle is square, and flanked by frowning turrets of similar conformation; the ground-plan is constructed upon an extended scale, and the design of the building is withal irregular: a large magnificent quadrangular court-yard adorns the interior, which is surrounded by bastions, battlements, and towers.
There is a projecting barbican, whose fragments yet remain still boldly overhanging the river Eske, and which seems to have been intended for the purpose of supplying the castle with water, while it is also supposed to have been occasionally used as a donjon-keep, and which afforded an expeditious mode of despatching the prisoners whom the haughty Lord refused to surrender, or was unwilling to maintain, by plunging them down the vortex of the ceaseless current which rapidly rolls beneath.
When the Duke of Tyrconnel resided here several small pieces of cannon were pointed from the embattled bartizan of the central tower, adding to its ornament as well as to its defence. The grand front of the castle was situated seaward; to the west extended a lofty terrace; the embrasures of the parapet wall which enclosed the terrace were furnished with about a dozen of twelve pounders; while the deep foundations of the bastions were moated by the impetuous waters of the Eske, fiercely rolling onward to the Atlantic Ocean.
This lordly pile was this day (the 1st of May, one thousand six hundred and----) destined to be the scene of uncommon festivity and grandeur; indeed such pomp and magnificence never before were witnessed within the walls of Tyrconnel castle. All the n.o.bility and gentry in the country for many miles round were invited to a.s.sist at the baptismal banquet given for the n.o.ble and lovely infant; and every princely preparation was in readiness duly to celebrate this distinguished day.
The n.o.ble banner, quartered and emblazoned with the ancient bearings of this ill.u.s.trious family, from its gilt flag-staff, which was crowned with the ducal coronet, proudly floated over the high central tower, which latterly had obtained the _agnomen_ of ”the raven tower,” from a circ.u.mstance which already has been related. The guns on the parapet fired a loud _salvo_ to welcome the happy day; while the ancient harper (old blind Cormac) and the piper were put in immediate requisition, to add the notes of harmony to the loud reports of joy.
The tenantry and peasantry, both male and female, were invited, and gladly came, clad in their holiday suits, to partake of a rural banquet, prepared expressly for the occasion within marquees erected on the lawn.
The costume of the servants of the Duke was truly princely, and all who wore livery appeared richly apparelled in their state attire of green cloth, deeply laced, and embroidered with gold. The old cathedral tower pealed forth many a merry chime, which duly was responded to by the distant tinkling of the surrounding village bells.
While these preparations were advancing, the Duke happened to be walking upon the terrace, and hearing old Cormac touch his harp and prepare to sing, with the intent, no doubt, that his voice and strings might sound in due tone and harmony at the approaching festival; the Duke had the curiosity to step onward to hear the notes of the aged minstrel--for he was both minstrel and harper; and His Grace listened to learn whether old Cormac had composed any rhythm or song for this great and happy occasion. Accordingly with this fixed intent His Grace advanced to the door of the great hall which led out to the terrace, and which happened to be then open; from thence he listened, and heard the following lines sung by Cormac, which the old man accompanied with his harp:--
CORMAC'S SONG.