|Title:||Hon. Caroline Norton, London, to W.H. Malcolm, Holywood.|
|Collection||Irish Emigration Database|
|Destination||Co. Down, N.Ireland|
|Source||D 1071F/E2/10: From the Dufferin & Ava Papers Presented by the Marchioness of Dufferin & Ava.|
|Archive||The Public Record Office, N. Ireland.|
|Log||Document added by LT, 29:08:97.|
THE HON. MRS. NORTON
W.H. MALCOLM ESQ.
Holywood, County Down.
3 Chesterfield Street,
June 6th, 1872.
I write to express my very sincere regret that it
will be impossible for me to be in Belfast on the 11th
instant. on account of settled engagements here, of long
To no one could the occasion be more interesting than to
myself, and to no one could the conviction be more strong
or satisfactory that the "Welcome and Farewell" your
Committee propose to offer thus publicly to my nephew
Lord Dufferin, - is deserved - and will be remembered by
him, as one more link of attachment to the country whose
welfare and increasing prosperity have always been to him
a chief object of solicitude.
In that "Wellcome (sic) and Farewell", I am sure all
parties will unite, - whatever may be their shades of
difference in political opinion; for he has never
narrowed his views of Ireland's interest to the dull
wooden boundaries of this section or that section of men:
nor considered "the service of his country" to mean the
service of only one particular group of his countrymen,
instead of earnest regard for all.
The words of your own national poet Tom Moore (not
altogether unfit for application on the festive occasion
to which you have invited so many guests) contain much
just and serious feeling, though clothed in sportive
language. I quote them from memory, as I heard Moore sing
them at the country seat of Bowood, belonging to my
venerated friend the Marquis of Lansdowne, - but I think
I quote correctly, - and with them, and with thanks for
your remembrance of me at the time of Ireland's compliment
to the future Governor of Canada, I conclude my letter, and
beg you to believe me, dear Sir,
Yours truly obliged,
Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side
In the cause of mankind, - if our creeds agree?
Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried
If he kneels not before the same altar as me?
Your glass may be purple, and mine may be blue,
But, while they are filled from the same bright bowl,
The fool who would quarrel for difference of hue,
Deserves not the comfort they shed over the soul.
From Tom Moore's Irish Melodies.