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The Journal of Nathaniel Lenton on his Tour of Europe
March 26, 1826
After an uneventful crossing from Dover, I am landed on the continent. French, which I have only ever spoken with my tutors, now surrounds me on the streets. I must stop my record now, as the candle is waning.
March 27
I have had the most glorious day. Hutchinson, my guide, insisted upon showing me the smallest shop I have ever seen filled with more works of art than I am sure all of Ireland holds! The green hills are of a different shade than at home and the paintings seem more vibrant. The real jewel of the day came, not in the form of scenery or a framed canvas but, as Miss Eloise Hampton. She is traveling with her father and Hutchinson has offered, after consulting me, to be their guide as well and so they are to travel with us. I am overjoyed and this trip is bound to be even better than I had imagined.
April 10
We have been traveling with relative speed across the countryside and I fear I have neglected my travel journal for far too long. I cannot be blamed, though, for I have been spending my evenings in the company of Miss Hampton. She is a sheer delight to be around, but is cloaked in a shyness. I shall have to endeavor to get her to speak more. As for the journey, we are to be in Paris tomorrow. My days are bound to become even busier with music and dancing lessons in the city.
April 13
J'adore Paris!
April 30
We are to leave tomorrow. I have bought a settee and two landscape paintings to fill the rooms when my house is completed. Regrettably, I have rarely seen Miss Hampton but Hutchinson has informed me that our little group will spend more time together as we journey east as, he informs me that the absence of the Hamptons is owed to Mr. Hampton's business dealings. I do not know precisely what he does, only that it is something in London.
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MAY 20
The Germanic countryside is exquisite. If I could carve myself a portion to carry home and add to my estate, I would. Miss Hampton's shyness seems to be dissipating. She has even, on occasion, asked me to tell her of Dublin and my plans for my estate.
May 23
We are well into Hesse now and have been following the path of the Rhine River. It is so much wider than the Liffey at home and, in several places, castles dot the hillsides. I have spent the afternoon drawing the views, as it is my hope of acquiring some of my own sketches. Later, I will paint them to add to those of the true artists who will adorn the walls of my house. Hutchinson is taking me to meet with an old friend of his tomorrow, an old Hessian soldier who fought in the American Revolution. I should like to journey to America someday and explore as Lewis and Clark did. Though, perhaps, I shall wait until the cities are better established. I am so devoted to art and culture!
May 24
The Hessian, whose name I am unable to accurately spell so I shall not attempt to do so, made a wonderful host. The stories that he told have made me even more determined to travel to America eventually, to see its beauty. He had the most beautiful home and I found myself examining the works in his house as a study for how I ought to design the interior of my own. Hutchinson has told me that this was his intention from the beginning. By a rather fortunate turn of fate, I have acquired a lovely portrait. The Hessian, who noticed I was staring at the painting while we ate our lunch, very kindly offered that I take the painting with me. I was completely astounded at his generosity, even more so because he refused to allow me to pay him for it. He said that it was a gift from a British soldier and so it should return to an Englishman. He didn't understand that I am Irish! But the painting is beautiful, a truly wonderful addition to what I have gathered so far and now that I think of it, she bears a striking resemblance to Miss Hampton. I shall have to show it to her, as she was not at lunch today.
May 25
We are traveling south toward Switzerland. My heart leaps at the thought of soon seeing the Alps. I am certain that they shall be even grander and larger than I imagine them.
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MAY 30
Grand cannot begin to explain the beauty and that is not even of the mountains but rather my painting, the one that the Hessian gave to me. The painting—I fear I will be seen as a lunatic for writing this— but, it speaks! I will write more, when I have figured out how this has happened.
June 4
Much of the past few days has been spent in the mountains. I persuaded Hutchinson to take me wandering to view the waterfalls and flowers. Their majesty is breathtaking. How short the peaks of Wicklow at home now seem— though it is with fondness that I think of them. My heart wilts a little at the thought of the distance now between me and them. I have tried to breathe the fresh air into my thoughts to create some sort of structure for them. I shall relate the story of what happened with the portrait now— or at least try my best to make some sense of it. Miss Hampton and I were speaking together after dinner on the evening of May 30th. Both her father and Hutchinson had retired for the night and we were thus alone. I took out the painting to show her, thinking she would like to see it. We have spoken on art on occasion together and it always seems to delight her. I do not know how it happened— and no logical reason is forthcoming— so I shall simply say that as Miss Hampton gazed upon the painted face of the portrait, and I in turn gazed upon her, I saw wonder transfix her face entirely.
“What is it?” said I.
“You shall think me silly,” said she. I assured her that such a thing was impossible, as I hold her in the very highest esteem.
“Look at her,” she said at last and so I willing obliged and set to work examining the portrait, searching for some small detail of importance I had previously missed. She watched me expectantly. I am certain that I would have blushed, from so thorough an observation she cast upon me, had it not been for my sincere desire to comply with her bidding that I find what she implored I search for. When I failed to produce the expected reaction, she studied me and then the painting alternatively with a steady intensity. She did this for a few moments, until her eyes came to rest fully on me.
“Why did you not tell me?” she asked, with sudden tenderness in place of her scientific scrutiny.
“Tell you? Tell you what?” asked I.
“How you feel for me, that your heart quickens at my presence, that you wish to marry me,” she replied. At hearing her words I was so utterly astounded that I am certain I made a complete fool of myself, stumbling over my words as I scrambled to make some sort of reply.
“How could you know that?” asked I, when my words finally regained my senses. A soft smile spread across her face in the dimming light of the evening and she took on a loveliness that nearly stopped my breathing. Before she offered explanation, more clumsy sentences and rambling questions spilled from my lips.
“I don't understand. Perhaps a look in my eye or some small mannerism that I did not notice betrayed my heart, but how could you know? That is to say, how could you know in such detail my very thoughts?” And then, she said the strangest thing, which I am certain anyone would think me a crazed fool for writing. Gesturing toward the painting, Miss Hampton said,
“She told me.”
“What? I don't understand,” said I.
“I do not really understand it either,” said she, “but I felt her words in me, as surely as if I were hearing them.” Amazed, I looked down at Miss Hampton. I saw my face reflected back at me from the silver pendant she wears around her neck. I am certain that more would have been spoken had Mr. Hampton and Hutchinson not suddenly burst from the room they had been sipping brandy in to join us. Regrettably, Miss Hampton and I have not had a moment alone these past few days in which to speak of the painting again. It seems, we have taken a kind of silent oath about it when in the company of others.
June 7
Finally, a quiet moment arrived this evening for Miss Hampton and I to sit together alone with the portrait. An idea had been building in me the past few days and, when we were alone, I immediately presented it to Miss Hampton.
“Might I put on your pendant?” said I, as I began to unwrap the portrait.
“Whatever for?” said she and then suddenly seeming to realize, “you want to read my thoughts! Why, Mr. Lenton, that hardly seems gentlemanly,” said she and, for a moment, I lost my courage at her rebuff, gently spoken as it had been.
“I assure you, Miss Hampton, I made the suggestion of no other impetus than that we might undertake a scientific endeavor to examine the strange predicament surrounding the painting.”
“Well, all right then,” said she. After a moment's hesitation, her fingers moved to the clasp at the back of her neck and she unhooked it to loosen the chain holding the pendant. She passed it to me and for a moment I held her hand in mine, before I placed the pendant around my own neck. With excitement building in my stomach, I looked into the portrait and, sure enough just as Miss Hampton had described, a voice ringing in clarity spoke from somewhere deep within me in a voice other than my own. I was certain that the painted lady was speaking to me. And though I was amazed by this discovery, my thoughts soon turned cloudy as I realized I was not hearing the thoughts of the painting but of Miss Hampton.
“How can I tell him that Father will not approve? I love him. We are leaving soon to return to London.”
“What's this about not understanding and leaving and all?” asked I, unable to decide whether to celebrate that she felt the same as I do for her or to be concerned that we might not be together any longer. And then, realizing what had happened with a look of surprise said I, “Oh! It works.” I shall have to stop my pen, as the candle is dwindling.
June 10
Sure enough, as Miss Hampton feared and I learned in the painting the night I wore her pendant, Hutchinson and I are to journey south into Italy alone while Mr. Hampton and Miss Hampton (ah, my heart sighs to even write it) are to turn north and return to London. I had fancied myself walking the halls of the Uffizi gallery in Florence with her at my side or even, if I am so bold to admit, entertained the notion of stealing a kiss beside the canals of Venice. It seems my dreams are not to be though and I really should stop my pen, as my intention has been from the outset to keep a diligent record of what I have seen, done, and acquired for my home and it has rather of late become a musing of what is not to be. Allow me to say only that I had every intention of speaking to Mr. Hampton about my desire to marry Miss Hampton, but she forbid me to do so, saying the time was not right. I assured her that, when my journey is complete and I have returned home with my estate completed, I will seek her out in London. She was good enough to give me her address, which I shall place here for safekeeping. With sadness in her eyes, but a brave smile, she bid me adieu this evening. At least I have the assurance that she will not forget me, for I have left the portrait that held our secret love with her as a souvenir of our friendship and in hopes of it blooming into a full romance. Well, that is all to say on the matter and I shall speak no longer of Miss Hampton or the portrait. Tomorrow we leave for Italy, but my heart has already departed, rushing on ahead to some future time when I might gaze across the beauteous Irish hills with the lovely Miss Hampton at my side.