From what I have already stated, it may be inferred that my acquaintance
with the Rooneys was begun under favourable auspices. Indeed, from the
evening of the ball the house was open to me at all hours; and, as the
hour of luncheon was known to every lounger about town, by dropping in
about three o'clock one was sure to hear all the chit-chat and gossip
of the day. All the dinners and duels of the capital, all its rows and
runaway matches, were there discussed, while future parties of pleasure
were planned and decided on, the Rooney equipages, horses, servants, and
cellar being looked upon as common property, the appropriation of which
was to be determined on by a vote of the majority.
At all these domestic parliaments O'Grady played a prominent part. He
was the speaker and the whipper-in; he led for both the government and
the opposition; in fact, since the ever-memorable visit of the viceroy
his power in the house was absolute. How completely they obeyed, and how
implicitly they followed him, may be guessed, when I say that he even
persuaded Mrs. Rooney herself not only to abstain from all triumph on
the subject of their illustrious guest, but actually to maintain a kind
of diplomatic silence on the subject; so that many simple-minded people
began to suspect his grace had never been there at all, and that poor
Mrs. Rooney, having detected the imposition, prudently held her tongue
and said nothing about the matter. As this influence might strike my
reader as somewhat difficult in its exercise, and also as it presents a
fair specimen of my friend's ingenuity, I cannot forbear mentioning the
secret of its success.
When the duke awoke late in the afternoon that followed Mrs. Rooney's
ball, his first impression was one bordering on irritation with O'Grady.
His quick-sightedness enabled him at once to see how completely he had
fallen into the trap of his worthy aide-de-camp; and although he had
confessedly spent a very pleasant evening, and laughed a great deal, now
that all was over, he would have preferred if the whole affair could
be quietly consigned to oblivion, or only remembered as a good joke for
after dinner. The scandal and the éclat it must cause in the capital
annoyed him considerably; and he knew that before a day passed over,
the incident of the guard of honour lying in bivouac around their horses
would furnish matter for every caricature-shop in Dublin. Ordering
O'Grady to his presence, and with a severity of manner in a great degree
assumed, he directed him to remedy, as far as might be, the consequences
of this blunder, and either contrive to give a totally different version
of the occurrence, or else by originating some new subject of scandal to
eclipse the memory of this unfortunate evening.
O'Grady promised and pledged himself to everything; vowed that he would
give such a turn to the affair that nobody would ever believe a word of
the story; assured the duke (God forgive him!) that however ridiculous
the Rooneys at night, by day they were models of discretion; and at
length took his leave to put his scheme into execution, heartily glad
to discover that his grace had forgotten all about Corny and the
knighthood, the recollection of which might have been attended with very
grave results to himself.
So much for his interview with the duke. Now for his diplomacy with Mrs.
Rooney!
It was about five o'clock on the following day when O'Grady cantered up
to the door. Giving his horse to his groom, he dashed boldly upstairs,
passed through the ante-chamber and the drawing-room, and tapping
gently at the door of a little boudoir, opened it at the same moment and
presented himself before Mrs. Paul.
That amiable lady, reclining _à la_ Princess OToole, was gracefully
disposed on a small sofa, regarding with fixed attention a little
plaster bust of his grace, which, with considerable taste and propriety,
was dressed in a blue coat and bright buttons, with a star on the
breast, a bit of sky-blue satin representing the ribbon of the Bath.
Nothing was forgotten; and a faint attempt was even made to represent
the colouring of the viceregal nose, which I am bound to confess was not
flattered in the model.
'Ah, Captain, is it you?' said Mrs. Paul, with a kind of languishing
condescension very different from her ordinary reception of a Castle
aide-de-camp. 'How is his grace this evening?'
Drawing his chair beside her, Phil proceeded to reply to her questions
and assure her that whatever her admiration for the duke, the feeling
was perfectly mutual. 'Egad,' said he, 'the thing may turn out very ill
for me when the duchess finds out that it was all my doing. Speaking
in confidence to you, my dear Mrs. Paul, I may confess that although
without exception she is the most kind, amiable, excellent soul
breathing, yet she has one fault. We all have our faults.'
'Ah!' sighed Mrs. Rooney, as she threw down her eyes as though to say,
'That's very true, but you will not catch me telling what mine is.'
'As I was observing, there never was a more estimable being save in this
one respect---- You guess it? I see you do.'
'Ah, the creature, she drinks!'
The captain found it not a little difficult to repress a burst of
laughter at Mrs. Rooney's suggestion. He did so, however, and proceeded:
'No, my dear madam, you mistake. Jealousy is her failing; and when I
tell you this, and when I add, that unhappily for her the events of
last night may only afford but too much cause, you will comprehend the
embarrassment of my present position.'
Having said this, he walked up and down the room for several minutes
as if sunk in meditation, while he left Mrs. Rooney to ruminate over an
announcement, the bare possibility of which was ecstasy itself. To be
the rival of a peeress; that peeress a duchess; that duchess the lady of
the viceroy! These were high thoughts indeed. What would Mrs. Riley say
now? How would the Maloneys look? Wouldn't Father Glynn be proud to meet
her at the door of Liffey Street Chapel in full pontificals as she drove
up, who knows but with a guard of honour beside her? Running on in this
way, she had actually got so far as to be discussing with herself what
was to be done with Paul--not that her allegiance was shaken towards
that excellent individual--not a single unworthy thought crossed her
mind--far from it. Poor Mrs. Rooney was purity herself; she merely
dreamed of those outward manifestations of the viceroy's preference,
which were to procure for her consideration in the world, a position
in society, and those attentions from the hands of the great and the
titled, which she esteemed at higher price than the real gifts of
health, wealth, and beauty, so bounteously bestowed upon her by
Providence.
She had come then to that difficult point in her mind as to what was
to be done with Paul; what peculiar course of training could he be
submitted to, to make him more presentable in the world; how were
they to break him off whisky-and-water and small jokes? Ah,' she was
thinking, 'it's very hard to make a real gentleman out of such materials
as grog and drab gaiters,' when suddenly O'Grady, wiping his forehead
with his handkerchief, and then flourishing it theatrically in the air,
exclaimed--
'Yes, Mrs. Rooney, everything depends on you. His grace's visit--I have
just been with him talking the whole thing over--must be kept a profound
secret. If it ever reach the ears of the duchess we are ruined and
undone.'
Here was a total overthrow to all Mrs. Paul's speculations; here was a
beautiful castle uprooted from its very foundation. All her triumph, all
her vaunted superiority over her city acquaintances was vanishing like
a mirage before her! What was the use of his coming after all? What
was the good of it, if not to be spoken of, if not talked over at tea,
written of in notes, discussed at dinner, and displayed in the morning
papers? Already was her brow contracted, and a slight flush of her cheek
showed the wily captain that resistance was in preparation.
'I know, my dear Mrs. Paul, how gratifying it would be for even the
highest of the land to speak of his grace's condescension in such
terms as you might speak; but then, after all, how very fleeting such
a triumph! Many would shrug their shoulders, and not believe the story.
Some of those who believed would endeavour to account for it as a joke:
one of those odd wild fancies the duke is ever so fond of'--here she
reddened deeply. 'In fact, the malevolence and the envy of the world
will give a thousand turns to the circumstance. Besides that, after all,
they would seem to have some reason on their side; for the publicity of
the affair must for ever prevent a repetition of the visit; whereas,
on the other side, by a little discretion, by guarding our own
secret'--here Phil looked knowingly in her eyes, as though to say they
had one--'not only will the duke be delighted to continue his intimacy,
but from the absence of all mention of the matter, all display on the
subject, the world will be ten times more disposed to give credence to
the fact than if it were paragraphed in every newspaper in the kingdom.'
This was hitting the nail on the head with a vengeance. Here was a
picture, here a vision of happiness! Only to think of the duke dropping
in, as a body might say, to take his bit of dinner, or his dish of tea
in the evening, just in a quiet, homely, family way! She thought she saw
him sitting with his feet on the fender, talking about the king and the
queen, and the rest of the royal family, just as he would of herself and
Paul; and her eyes involuntarily turned towards the little bust, and two
round full tears of pure joy trickled slowly down her cheeks.
Yielding at length to these and similar arguments, Mrs. Rooney gave in
her adhesion, and a treaty was arranged and agreed upon between the high
contracting parties, which ran somewhat to this effect:--
In the first place, for the enjoyment of certain advantages to be
hereafter more fully set forth, the lady was bound to maintain in all
large companies, balls, dinners, drums, and déjeuners, a rigid silence
regarding the duke's visit to her house, never speaking of, nor alluding
to it, in any manner whatever, and, in fact, conducting herself in all
respects as if such a thing had never taken place.
Secondly, she was forbidden from making any direct inquiries in public
respecting the health of the duke or the duchess, or exercising any
overt act of personal interest in these exalted individuals.
Thirdly, so long as Mrs. Rooney strictly maintained the terms of the
covenant, nothing in the foregoing was to preclude her from certain
other privileges--namely, blushing deeply when the duke's name was
mentioned, throwing down her eyes, gently clasping her hands, and even
occasionally proceeding to a sigh; neither was she interdicted from
regarding any portion of her domicile as particularly sacred in
consequence of its viceregal associations. A certain arm-chair might be
selected for peculiar honours, and preserved inviolate, etc.
And lastly, nevertheless, notwithstanding that in all large assemblies
Mrs. Rooney was to conduct herself with the reserve and restrictions
aforesaid, yet in small _réunions de famille_--this O'Grady purposely
inserted in French, for, as Mrs. Paul could not confess her ignorance
of that language, the interpretation must rest with himself--she was to
enjoy a perfect liberty of detailing his grace's advent, entering into
all its details, discussing, explaining, expatiating, inquiring with a
most minute particularity concerning his health and habits, and, in
a word, conducting herself in all respects, to use her own expressive
phrase, 'as if they were thick since they were babies.'
Armed with this precious document, formally signed and sealed by both
parties, O'Grady took his leave of Mrs. Rooney--not, indeed, in his
usual free-and-easy manner, but with the respectful and decorous reserve
of one addressing a favourite near the throne. Nothing could be more
perfect than Phil's profound obeisance, except perhaps the queenly
demeanour of Mrs. Rooney herself; for, with the ready tact of a woman,
she caught up in a moment the altered phase of her position, and in the
reflective light of O'Grady's manner she learned to appreciate her own
brilliancy.
'From this day forward,' muttered O'Grady, as he closed the door behind
him and hurried downstairs--'from this day forward she 'll be greater
than ever. Heaven help the lady mayoress that ventures to shake hands
with her, and the attorney's wife will be a bold woman that asks her to
a tea-party henceforth!'
With these words he threw himself upon his horse and cantered off
towards the park to inform the duke that all was happily concluded, and
amuse him with a sight of the great Rooney treaty, which he well knew
would throw the viceroy into convulsions of laughter.