I affront an Irish gentleman, and make a handsome apology, which
is accepted.
Before I had gained my own room, I informed Mr Cophagus, who had just
returned from a visit to his maiden aunt's house, of what had passed.
"Can't see anything in it, Japhet--wild goose chase?--who told
you?--oh! Pleggit's men--sad liars--De Benyon not name, depend upon
it--all stuff, and so on."
And when I reflected, I could but acknowledge that the worthy
apothecary might be right, and, that I was running after shadows;
but this was only in my occasional fits of despondency. I soon
rallied, and was as sanguine as ever. Undecided how to proceed, and
annoyed by what Cophagus had said, I quitted the hotel, to walk out,
in no very good humour. As I went out, I perceived the agent M'Dermott
speaking to the people in the bar, and the sight of him reminded me of
what, for a moment, I had forgotten, which was, to ascertain whether
Melchior and Sir Henry de Clare were one and the same person. As I
passed a crossing, a man in tattered habiliments, who was sweeping
it, asked for alms, but being in no very charitable humour, I walked
on. He followed me, pestering me so much, that I gave him a tap
with the cane in my hand, saying to him, "Be off, you scoundrel."
"Oh! very well. Be off, is it you mane? By the blood of the
O'Rourkes but you'll answer for that same, anyhow."
I passed on, and having perambulated the city of Dublin for some
time, returned to the hotel. A few minutes afterwards, I was told
by the waiter that a Mr O'Donaghan wished to speak to me. "I have
not the honour of his acquaintance," replied I, "but you may show
him up."
Mr O'Donaghan entered, a tall, thick-whiskered personage, in a
shabby--genteel dress, evidently not made for him, a pair of
white cotton gloves, and a small stick. "I believe that I have the
honour of spaking to the gentleman who crossed over the street
about two hours ago?"
"Upon my word, sir," replied I, "that is so uncertain a definition,
that I can hardly pretend to say whether I am the person you mean;
indeed, from not having the pleasure of any one's acquaintance
in Dublin, I rather think there must be some mistake."
"The devil a bit of a mistake, at all at all; for there's the
little bit of cane with which you paid my friend, Mr O'Rourke, the
compliment over his shoulders."
"I really am quite mystified, sir, and do not understand you; will
you favour me with an explanation?"
"With all the pleasure in life, for then we shall come to a right
understanding. You were crossing the street, and a gentleman, a
particular friend of mine, with a broom which he carries for his own
amusement, did himself the honour to address you, whereupon of that
same little stick of yours, you did him the honour to give him a
slight taste."
"What do you mean? do you refer to the sweeper, who was so importunate
when I crossed over the road?"
"Then, by the powers, you've just hit it, as you did him. That's my
particular friend, Thaddeus O'Rourke, gentleman."
"Gentleman!" exclaimed I.
"And with as good and as true Milesian blood as any in Ireland. If you
think, sir, that because my friend, just for his own amusement, thinks
proper to put on the worst of his clothes and carry a broom, just by
way of exercise, to prevent his becoming too lusty, he is therefore to
be struck like a hound, it's a slight mistake, that's all; and here, sir,
is his card, and you will oblige me by mentioning any friend of yours
with whom I may settle all the little points necessary before the
meeting of two gentlemen."
I could hardly refrain from laughing at this Irish gentleman and his
friend, but I thought it advisable to retain my countenance. "My dear
sir," replied I, "it grieves me to the heart that I should have committed
such an error, in not perceiving the gentility of your friend; had I not
been so careless, I certainly should have requested him to do me the
honour to accept a shilling, instead of having offered him the insult.
I hope it is not now too late?"
"By the powers, I'm not one of those harum-scarum sort, who would make up
a fight when there's no occasion for it, and as your 'haviour is that of
a gentleman, I think it will perhaps be better to shake hands upon it,
and forget it altogether. Suppose, now, we'll consider that it was all
a mistake? You give the shilling, as you intended to do, I'll swear,
only you were in so great a hurry--and then, perhaps, you'll not object
to throw in another shilling for that same tap with the cane, just to
wipe off the insult as it were, as we do our sins, when we fork out the
money, and receive absolution from the padre; and then, perhaps, you will
not think it too much if I charge another shilling for my time and
trouble, for carrying a message between two gentlemen."
"On the contrary, Mr O'Donaghan, I think all your demands are reasonable.
Here is the money."
Mr O'Donaghan took the three shillings. "Then, sir, and many thanks to
you, I'll wish you a good evening, and Mr O'Rourke shall know from me
that you have absolution for the whole, and that you have offered every
satisfaction which one gentleman could expect from another." So saying,
Mr O'Donaghan put his hat on with a firm cock, pulled on his gloves,
manoeuvred his stick, and, with a flourishing bow, took his departure.
I had hardly dismissed this gentleman, and was laughing to myself at the
ridiculous occurrence, when Mr Cophagus returned, first putting his cane
up to his nose with an arch look, and then laying it down on the table
and rubbing his hands. "Good--warm old lady. No--dead and cold? but left
some thousands--only one legacy--old Tom cat--physic him to-morrow--soon
die, and so on."
On a more full explanation, I found that the old lady had left about nine
thousand pounds in the funds and bank securities, all of which, with the
exception of twenty pounds per annum to a favourite cat, was left to Mr
Cophagus. I congratulated him upon this accession of fortune. He stated
that the lease of the house and the furniture were still to be disposed
of, and that afterwards he should have nothing more to do; but he wished
me very much to assist him in rummaging over the various cabinets
belonging to the old lady, and which were full of secret drawers; that
in one cabinet alone he had found upwards of fifty pounds in various gold
coins, and that if not well examined, they would probably be sold with
many articles of consequence remaining in them.
As my only object in Ireland was to find out Sir Henry de Clare, and
identify him (but, really, why I could not have said, as it would have
proved nothing after all), I willingly consented to devote a day to
assist Mr Cophagus in his examination. The next morning after breakfast,
we went together to the house of the old lady, whose name had been
Maitland, as Mr Cophagus informed me. Her furniture was of the most
ancient description, and in every room in the house there was an ormolu,
or Japan cabinet; some of them were very handsome, decorated with
pillars, and silver ornaments. I can hardly recount the variety of
articles, which in all probability had been amassed during the whole of
the old lady's life, commencing with her years of childhood, and ending
with the day of her death. There were antique ornaments, some of
considerable value, miniatures, fans, etuis, notes, of which the ink,
from time, had turned to a light red, packages of letters of her various
correspondents in her days of hope and anticipation, down to those of
solitude and age. We looked over some of them, but they appeared to both
of us to be sacred, and they were, after a slight examination, committed
to the flames.
After we had examined all the apparent receptacles in these cabinets, we
took them up between us, and shook them, and in most cases found out that
there were secret drawers containing other treasures. There was one
packet of letters which caught my eye, it was from a Miss De Benyon. I
seized it immediately, and showed the inscription to Mr Cophagus.
"Pooh--nothing at all--her mother was a De Benyon."
"Have you any objection to my looking at these letters?"
"No--read--nothing in them."
I laid them on one side, and we proceeded in our search, when Mr Cophagus
took up a sealed packet. "Heh! what's this--De Benyon again? Japhet, look
here."
I took the packet; it was sealed, and tied with red tape. "Papers
belonging to Lieutenant William De Benyon, to be returned to him at my
decease." "Alice Maitland, _with great_ care," was written at the bottom
of the envelope.
"This is it, my dear sir," cried I, jumping up and embracing Mr Cophagus
"these are the papers which I require. May I keep them?"
"Mad--quite mad--go to Bedlam--strait waistcoat--head shaved, and so on."