My Lords of Strogue Volume I Part 12

Go and tell him so.'

'Most obliging, no doubt,' said Terence, with a half-smile; 'but you must refrain this time, for my sake. Indeed, you employed language such as sure never before was used to a lord chancellor. If he survives your words, no bullet can affect him.'

'It's no use!' persisted the little man, shivering like an aspen; 'I shan't sleep until I shoot that rascal.'

But Terence pa.s.sed his arm affectionately within his, and Curran perceived that there was something amiss with him.

'You have other duties, my old friend,' the young man sighed. 'Come, come--you must be dignified.'

'Is it I?' returned the other, rubbing his nose ruefully. 'I fear dignity is a robe which he who would box must lay aside during the sparring. Maybe, when the fight's done, he'll find that it has been stolen during the battle! A fig for dignity! I'd rather have a blaze.'

'No!' pursued the young man, mournfully. 'For my sake, you will abandon this quarrel. I must leave this house, and to whose should I fly if not to yours? I must go away, for this can be borne no longer.

There is a limit to human patience, and mine is a small allowance.'

'Do nothing rashly,' Curran urged.

'I tell you I cannot bear it,' the young man retorted with vehemence.

'Who knows to what I might be tempted if Shane should go too far? I tell you I dare not trust myself. And my mother has no sympathy for me, as you saw; for she was superbly indifferent when he threw that insult in my teeth. What cares she if I am insulted or not? Such words from another man, and I would have sprung at his throat at once. When we fear temptation, it is best to run away from it.'

Curran reflected for a moment, and then grunted:

'Boy! Coriola.n.u.s replied to his pleading parent, "Mother, you have conquered." To oblige you, I will not shoot Lord Clare.'

'I thank you for making an old woman of me!' Terence replied, with a tinge of humour. 'My conduct was somewhat like a woman's, I confess, for sure no man should bear so great an insult, even from a brother!'

'You know best,' the little man said, patting his companion's shoulder fondly. 'But it seems sad thus to shake off the dust of your ancestral home. Maybe, if he sees you won't be put upon, my lord may grow more civil. Shane no doubt is trying, and you are a warm-complexioned young gentleman. Having no son, I would gladly take you to fill the vacant place, as no one knows better than yourself. You shall stay with me for a few months, and I'll speak to her ladyship about my lord, who must be taught to cultivate a civil tongue and apologise; for there must be no open rupture between you. We'll say it's for convenience'

sake, as I want to make a great lawyer of you. There are briefs you must study for me, and they pour in, you know. How'll I get through the papers at all at all, unless I have my junior near me?'

And thus the matter was settled between them, while the elder wondered what Mrs. Gillin would think of the arrangement. She must be hoodwinked without delay to prevent mischief, or she would come clamouring up to the Abbey in her quality-clothes, and all the fat would be in the fire at once.

Hearing a light footstep on the gravel, Terence turned, and a pang shot through his heart as he beheld his cousin. It was dreadful to leave her behind, in the maw as it were of Shane. Yet what difference could his absence make to one who treated him so scurvily? And those smart garments, too--that aggravatingly bewitching bonnet--for whose behoof were they intended? Not for his, certainly. All things considered, it was best that he should go.

Meanwhile my lady calmly discussed a late breakfast in the oak parlour with Lord Clare, unconscious that the behaviour of her sons had been more indecorous than usual, while the originator of the quarrel trifled languidly with an egg, speculating about time and place, whether the duel between Curran and the chancellor was to be with sword or pistol. Why not directly after breakfast in the rosary? a capital spot, sheltered from wind and observation. Terence would of course be Curran's second; Ca.s.sidy here, who had been hanging about in a deprecatory manner, first on one leg, then on the other, would be the chancellor's; while he, my lord, would see fair play. An excellent arrangement. Then the combatants might amicably return together to Dublin in the golden coach to set about the business of the day.

Having settled the party of pleasure to his liking and reviewed its details, the King of the Cherokees was no little disgusted to see Mr.

Curran enter presently and take his seat as if nothing had happened.

My lady, on the other hand, was mightily relieved, for she liked the two almost equally well, leaning a little perhaps to the side of the chancellor, on account of his polish and fine manners. She was not blind to the faults of either of her friends. Clare, she knew, despised literature, in which Curran delighted. He disdained the arts of winning; was sullen sometimes, and always overbearing; and when he condescended to be jocular was usually offensive. But then he was a dazzling light. Curran was particularly interesting to the stately countess by reason of his marvellous energy and originality. He was quicksilver--surcharged with life--restless, sparkling, bewildering; and it amused her to try to control his erratic movements. Many a time she lectured, in private, Curran with reference to Clare--Clare with regard to Curran.

The latter was in the habit of deploring that the former was a patriot lost, seduced by England, because of his aristocratic proclivities. A patriot cannot be a courtier, he constantly declared. The ways of the aristocracy grow more brutal and more reckless with impunity; the coa.r.s.eness of their debauchery would have disgusted the crew of Comus; their drunkenness, their blasphemy, their ferocity, have left the ignorant English squires far behind. To this the countess would reply (who knew little of the Dublin _monde_, living as she did a retired life) that he was bia.s.sed by the prejudice of his Irish slovenliness, in that he could not look upon a man as honest who wore clean linen and velvet small-clothes. And so the friendly conflict would go on, one scoring a point and then the other, one breaking into rage and the other apologising; and so the incongruous cronies wrangled along the road of life, battling with the breezes which blew round them, whether from east or west.

Mr. Curran sat down to his breakfast as if nothing had happened, tucking a napkin into his vest, and handing my Lord Clare, with biting amiability, the salt or the b.u.t.ter or the bread, while my lady marked with satisfaction that this tempest was but a squall. That the chairs of Terence and her niece should remain unoccupied was a matter of no moment, for the former was probably sulky after his snubbing; while as for Doreen, her conduct was always more or less improper. Perhaps her serene ladyship would have been ruffled if she could have looked on them in the stable-yard, for they were standing very close together, the one subdued by the prospect of leaving his home for the first time, the other saddened with thinking of the arrests.

They stood very close together, oblivious of the morning meal; and Terence caressed the moist muzzles of the hounds with lingering fingers, while his cousin observed that an interesting air of sadness suited him. A too healthy look, a too ruddy cheek, are to be deprecated as unfavourable to romance; yet is there a peculiar and specially captivating interest about a humdrum exterior with a blight on it. Terence was too fat and sleek; unheroic, prosaic to an absurd degree. At least his cousin chose to think so as she looked at him.

Then she glanced down at her own fine raiment with disgust, and hated prosperity. What right had she to flaunt in delicate muslins while her people were in bondage? Sackcloth and ashes would become her better, now that the last champions of her faith were pining in duress. As for the youth here, it was only fitting that he should be fat and sleek; for was he not a Protestant, one of the oppressors? What was his trouble to her trouble--sorrow for a race ground down? True, his mother loved him not, and his brother was inconsiderate. He should have spoken boldly, putting his foot down as Doreen would have done, though his was big and hers was tiny--demanding at least some sort of respectful consideration, instead of wrapping himself in injured airs as he proposed to do. And as the thought pa.s.sed through her mind it was touched by a tinge of self; for if Terence were to go away, one of the safeguards of his cousin's peace would slip from her. With the instinct of intrigue, which is planted in the staidest of female bosoms, she had determined that the best way, perhaps, of counteracting her aunt's eccentric marriage scheme would be to play one brother off against the other. As to a match with Shane, that was out of the question; to marry Terence would be equally undesirable.

Even now, the wistful humility with which he surveyed her fairy bonnet was conducive only to laughter. He did not care for her any more than she cared for him--of course not. But is it not _de rigueur_ for youths to sigh intermittently after domesticated cousins till the moment for the _grande pa.s.sion_ arrives, when they breathe like furnaces and threaten to fling themselves out of windows? His was clearly a case of primary intermittent fever, which was not a serious cause for alarm; and the damsel was quite justified in employing its vagaries for the protection of her own peace. My lady's project, she considered, would tumble to pieces in time through inherent weakness.

Till that auspicious moment arrived it would be necessary to stave off a crisis. It was merely a matter of time--a brief struggle between two strong wills, in which my lady would succ.u.mb, as she invariably did when pitted against her stubborn niece. For this reason it was annoying that Terence should go away, and Doreen felt tempted to employ such arts as she might, without being unmaidenly, for the prevention of a family split. She said therefore, with a distracting glance of her brown eyes, while eager muzzles wormed into her hand:

'Is this quite irrevocable? The house will be so dull without you.'

'I would stay if you really wished it,' blurted out the inflammable youth, pinching a cold nose till the dog--its owner--broke away howling. 'You know there is nothing I would not do to please you, Doreen!'

'Is there not?' she returned, with a ring of bitterness, for she was too straightforward to feel aught but impatience for idle protestations. 'To please me, would you give up all for Erin, as Theobald has done? No--you would not. A fine-weather sailor, Terence!

_You_ give up anything, who have all your life been lapped in luxury--and why should you? Thanks to Mr. Curran, the legal ball is at your foot, and you only need to work to become rich and happy. But I shall be sorry to miss your bright face, for all that.'

A second flash, as of a burn in sunlight, carried the lad beyond his usual prudence. With disconcerting suddenness he seized her hand and brought his flushed cheek close to hers.

'Doreen!' he gasped. 'If you will love me and be my wife, I will do anything and bear anything. You've only to direct. I'm poor I know, but I will work, for I am capable of better things if I have an object.'

But Miss Wolfe, though far from a coquette, was gifted with presence of mind. Her intention had been not to provoke an untoward declaration such as would exasperate her aunt, and, possibly, Lord Glandore; but to use this impulsive swain as a bulwark of protection against the a.s.saults of my lady. Perchance, under the circ.u.mstances, it was better that he should depart for a few months to cool his too explosive ardour. It would not do to encourage, nor yet to quarrel with him. She escaped from him therefore, holding up her pretty hands, and said demurely:

'Of course, if Mr. Curran really wishes it, you had better obey. It is a long ride for you every morning from the Abbey to the Four-courts.'

The Priory, on the other side of Dublin, was about the same distance from the Four-courts, Terence thought with anger. The girl was playing with him, as she always did.

'I hope Sara will make you comfortable,' she went on. 'No doubt she will, she is so sweet a girl. Then we shall meet at Castle b.a.l.l.s, and you shall lead me out for a rigadoon like a mere stranger. That will be funny, will it not? You don't mean what you say one bit, and it is a relief to me to know that it is all flummery--you silly, hot-pated, blarneying Pat! Come along. We will go and eat our breakfast and be thankful that we have one to eat, instead of talking nonsense. That is all that you or I are fit for, I am afraid! For it is not such as you nor I who are destined to save poor Ireland!'

CHAPTER IX.

THE PRIORY.

A year went by, and Terence was still away from home, an inmate of the Priory; settled down, much against his will, as a sober councillor, princ.i.p.al a.s.sistant to Mr. Curran, the continually rising advocate.

Sober is scarcely the fitting epithet, for conviviality was the besetting sin of all cla.s.ses of Irish in the eighteenth century, and it was notorious that legal gentlemen, from Judge Clonmel to the meanest attorney, were constantly in the habit of going drunk to roost. Where lawyers led, Dublin was fain to follow, for the Bar took the lead in the society of the metropolis, occupying a strong middle position of its own between 'gentlemen to the backbone' and 'half-mounted' ditto, from, which it dictated to both. As the policy of ministers grew more and more unpopular, it became more and more urgent that Government patronage should be expended in purchasing support for the measures under which the country groaned; and where could support be more easily found than among the exponents of forensic wisdom?

Successfully to do battle with Flood and Grattan it was necessary to sc.r.a.pe together as much intellect as was available, and so every promising barrister became certain of a seat in parliament if he would furbish up his brains for the Viceroy's benefit. This gave to the lawyers a prestige which drew sons of peers within their ranks, and they a.s.sumed superior airs, which no man challenged, in that their profession was a nursery to the senate--a step-ladder to the highest honours. Younger sons of n.o.ble houses invariably lean towards the middle cla.s.s, because a wide difference of income divides them in feeling and ways of thought from their elder brothers. Such lordlings as possessed a competence chose to while away their hours elegantly in gowns and bands. And so the Bar became the fashion, the lawyers being credited with such attributes as they thought proper to adopt, and being permitted to wield an arbitrary sway which was beneficial and mirth-inspiring. They a.s.sumed the right of mind over matter, and people bowed the knee without inquiry, for they were pre-eminently jolly dogs who made life the merrier, whose sc.r.a.ps of legal lore sounded mightily sonorous to ignorant ears, and who, if one was rash enough to presume to dispute their law, were always ready to take refuge behind the inevitable pistol. But human nature at its best is frail, and even lawyers are not always pure. When came the tug of war--when the Four-courts were closed and courts-martial juggled away men's lives--the councillors prated no more of their incorruptible virtue, but donned the uniform as others did, and truckled, with a few bright exceptions, as meanly as the rest.

But we are now in 1796, when King Claret ruled the roast; when all were besotted with drink, from Clonmel who gave sentence with a drop in his eye, to the beggar in the dock who starved his stomach to buy a drain of spirits; when out of the six thousand houses which formed Dublin, thirteen hundred were occupied as boozing-kens; when guests were deprived of their shoes by a host who understood hospitality, and broken gla.s.s was sprinkled in the pa.s.sages to prevent a man from jibbing at his liquor.

Mr. Curran's fears were being realised in this year of '96, for the criminal business to which he had turned his attention was increasing on his hands through the swelling torrent of treasonable charges. My Lord Clare's policy was bearing its full crop of evils, for he had succeeded in moulding the too plastic Viceroy into the shape that suited him, according to the plan laid down by Mr. Pitt. Lord Camden, whilst meaning to do well, was repeatedly led astray, as many a better man has been before him. To Clare he was a docile cat. He submitted to the secret council of Lords--that mysterious wehmgericht--who were urged by the chancellor to the most violent proceedings, and became unconsciously a scapegoat for the bearing of the sins of others.

Under skilful manipulation the Society of United Irishmen flourished prodigiously. Tom Emmett and Neilson were kept in prison, where they languished without trial. Others were let out and caged again as occasion required, that they might inflame their fellows with a catalogue of dread experiences. Midnight meetings resulted, wherein orators declaimed of the wickedness of the perfidious one, and summoned all true patriots to take the fatal oath. The decision which had been come to on the disastrous night in Trinity was carried out to the letter, and was much a.s.sisted in its fulfilmeut by the harsh treatment of the chiefs. The military system was engrafted on the civil.

Faithful to his promise, Ca.s.sidy rode to Belfast, delivered Emmett's order to the delegates there, and then with commendable prudence subsided into the background. The provincial committee spread out its arms, from which new ones were speedily engendered, and pa.s.sed resolutions of grave import, while England stifled her merriment.

Civil officers were to wear military t.i.tles. A secretary over twelve was to become a petty officer with gewgaws on his coat; a delegate over five of these, a captain, with more gewgaws; a superior over five captains, a colonel with a plume; mighty fine! The colonels of each county were to send three names to the central directory, from which one was to be chosen adjutant-general of his county to deal directly with the capital. And thus a national army was forming in the dark, just as the Volunteer army had sprung up in the daylight, with the important difference that by this time England had cured her wounds and regained her pristine strength.

I protest that this linen-draper-medley masquerading in galoon would be laughable, were it not so sad a spectacle. But who shall dare to laugh at honest men, whose delusions are nursed and played upon instead of being tenderly swept away? Curran's sympathies were with the reformers, but not his judgment; and he became a sort of link between two parties. His position as a lawyer gave him the _entree_ to the best houses, whilst his homely habits and untidy dress caused the lower orders to look on him as one of themselves. Between the rival parties he shillyshallied with a weakness which his character belied, grumbling at the patriots for their imprudence, growling at the sins of Government, very uncomfortable in his mind, and of no use so far to either of the opposing factions.

As the members of the society committed themselves more deeply, Lord Clare became more gay. He hinted to the half-mounted gentry that if they liked it they might volunteer as active agents against the misguided youths who were preparing to turn Ireland topsy-turvy.

Nothing could please the squireens better than this tacit permission to give vent to their worst pa.s.sions. Brutal, cruel, sycophantic (as ignorant and depraved natures are), they began to band themselves in regiments, with n.o.bles for superior officers, and to commit outrages on those below them, pretty certain that they would be indemnified for any atrocity they might commit. _L'appet.i.t vient en mangeant_. The peasant, ground down and wretched to the level of the serf of Elizabeth, howled out that Justice was indeed fled, and hearkened with ravenous avidity to the voice of the charmer who sang of French ships in the offing, and a proximate term to misery. Drilling went on under cover of night, and the practice of the pike, since gunpowder could not be purchased; and the shibboleth anent the bough which was to be planted in England's crown might be heard a hundred times in whispers on every market-day.

But, misery or no misery, folks must eat and drink, and the Hibernian nature--as quick to resent as to forgive, as vehement as indiscreet--is given to extremes, from sadness to mirth and back again.

Mr. Curran, though his heart was sore, was fond of dainty viands, and beguiled himself, as others did, with the pleasures of the table; striving to drown, with a clatter of knives and forks, the din of approaching tempest. His board was ever sumptuously garnished, his claret of the best, his welcome of the warmest, and few who were bidden to partake of it ever declined his hospitality.

Timid Arthur Wolfe, who was growing more cautious every day, and doing his best to serve two masters for his daughter's sake, implored his friend to take example by himself, demonstrating in the clearest way that the history of my Lord Clare was becoming the history of all Ireland, and that a man with a child's future in his hands has no right to run a-muck. He had found out that the chancellor had endeavoured to buy Curran, and failing ignominiously in that attempt, was trying to undermine his business. Why be for ever snarling at Lord Clare? It would be the old story of the pipkin and the iron pot. To which arguments Curran answered, laughing: