Until the moment when I reached the room and threw myself into a chair,
my course respecting Lord Dudley de Vere seemed to present not a single
difficulty. The appeal so unconsciously made to me by Miss Bellew, not
less than my own ardent inclination, decided me on calling him out.
No sooner, however, did calm reflection succeed to the passionate
excitement of the moment, than at once I perceived the nicety of
my position. Under what possible pretext could I avow myself as her
champion, not as of her own choosing? for I knew perfectly well that
the words she uttered were merely intended as a menace, without the
slightest idea of being acted on. To suffer her name, therefore, to
transpire in the affair would be to compromise her in the face of the
world. Again, the confusion and terror she evinced when she beheld me at
the door proved to me that, perhaps of all others, I was the last person
she would have wished to have been a witness to the interview.
What was to be done? The very difficulty of the affair only made my
determination to go through with it the stronger. I have already said my
inclination also prompted me to this course. Lord Dudley's manner to me,
without being such as I could make a plea for resenting, had ever been
of a supercilious and almost offensive character. If there be anything
which more deeply than another wounds our self-esteem, it is the
assumed superiority of those whom we heartily despise. More than once
he ventured upon hinting at the plans of the Rooneys respecting me,
suggesting that their civilities only concealed a deeper object; and all
this he did with a tone of half insolence that irritated me ten times
more than an open affront. Often and often had I promised myself that a
day of retribution must come. Again and again did I lay this comfort to
my heart--that, one time or other, his habitual prudence would desert
him; that his transgression would exceed the narrow line that separates
an impertinent freedom from an insult, and then---- Now this time had
come at last. Such a chance might not again present itself, and must not
be thrown away.
My reasonings had come to this point, when a tremendous knocking at my
door, and a loud shout of 'Jack! Jack Hinton!' announced O'Grady. This
was fortunate. He was the only man whom I knew well enough to consult
in such a matter; and of all others, he was the one on whose advice and
counsel I could place implicit reliance.
'What the deuce is all this, my dear Hinton?' said he, as he grasped
my hand in both of his. 'I was playing whist with the tabbies when it
occurred, and saw nothing of the whole matter. She fainted, didn't she?
What the deuce could you have said or done?'
'Could I have said or done! What do you mean, O'Grady?'
'Come, come, be frank with me; what was it? If you are in a scrape, I am
not the man to leave you in it.'
'First of all,' said I, assuming with all my might a forced and
simulated composure, 'first of all, tell me what you heard in the
drawing-room.'
'What I heard? Egad, it was plain enough. In the beginning, a young lady
came souse down upon the floor; screams and smelling-bottles followed; a
general running hither and thither, in which confusion, by-the-bye, our
adversaries contrived to manage a new deal, though I had four by honours
in my hand. Old Miss Macan upset my markers, drank my negus, and then
fainted off herself, with a face like an apothecary's rose.'
'Yes, yes; but,' said I impatiently, 'what of Miss Bellew?'
'What of her! that you must know best. You know, of course, what
occurred between you.'
'My dear O'Grady,' said I, with passionate eagerness, 'do be explicit.
What did they say in the drawing-room? What turn has been given to this
affair?'
''Faith, I can't tell you; I am as much in the dark as my neighbours.
After the lady was carried out and you ran away, they all began talking
it over. Some said you had been proposing an elopement: others said you
hadn't. The Rileys swore you had asked to have your picture back again;
and old Mrs. Ram, who had planted herself behind a curtain to overhear
all, forgot, it seems, that the window was open, and caught such a cold
in her head, and such a deafness, that she heard nothing. She says,
however, that your conduct was abominable; and in fact, my dear Hinton,
the whole thing is a puzzle to us all.'
'And Lord Dudley de Vere,' said I, 'did he offer no explanation?'
'Oh yes, something pretty much in his usual style; pulled up his stock,
ran his fingers through his hair, and muttered some indistinct phrases
about lovers' quarrels.'
'Capital!' exclaimed I with delight; 'nothing could be better, nothing
more fortunate than this! Now, O'Grady, listen to my version of the
matter, and then tell me how to proceed in it.'
I here detailed to my friend every circumstance that had occurred from
the moment of my entering to my departure from the drawing-room. 'As to
the wager,' said I, 'what it was when made, and with whom, I know not.'
'Yes, yes; I know all that,' interrupted O'Grady; 'I have the whole
thing perfectly before me. Now let us see what is to be done: and first
of all, allow me to ring the bell for some sherry and water--that's the
head and front of a consultation.'
When O'Grady had mixed his glass, sipped, corrected, and sipped again,
he beat the bars of the grate a few moments contemplatively with the
poker, and then turning to me, gravely said: 'We must parade him, Jack,
that's certain. Now for the how. Our friend Dudley is not much given to
fighting, and it will be rather difficult to obtain his consent. Indeed,
if it had not been for the insinuation he threw out, after you had left
the room, I don't well see how you could push him to it.'
'Why, my dear O'Grady, wasn't there quite cause enough?'
'Plenty, no doubt, my dear Jack, as far as feeling goes; but there are
innumerable cases in this life which, like breaches of trust in law,
escape with slight punishment. Not but that, when you owe a man a
grudge, you have it always in your power to make him sensible of it; and
among gentlemen there is the same intuitive perception of a contemplated
collision as you see at a dinner-party, when one fellow puts his hand on
a decanter; his friend at the end of the table smiles, and cries, “With
pleasure my boy!” There is one thing, however, in your favour.'
'What is that?' said I eagerly.
'Why, he has lost his wager; that's pretty clear; and, as that won't
improve his temper, it's possible--mind, I don't say more, but it's
possible he may feel better disposed to turn his irritation into valour;
a much more common process in metaphysical chemistry than the world wots
of. Under these circumstances the best thing to do, as it strikes me,
is to try the cause, as our friend Paul would say, on the general issue;
that is, to wait on Herbert; tell him we wish to have a meeting; that,
after what has passed--that 's a sweet phrase isn't it? and has got more
gentlemen carried home on a door than any other I know--that after what
has passed, the thing is unavoidable, and the sooner it comes off the
better. He can't help referring me to a friend, and he can scarcely find
any one that won't see the thing with our eyes. It's quite clear Miss
Bellow's name must be kept out of the matter; and now, my boy, if you
agree with me, leave the whole affair in my hands, tumble into bed, and
go to sleep as fast as you can.'
'I leave it all to you, Phil,' said I, shaking his hand warmly, 'and to
prove my obedience, I'll be in bed in ten minutes.'
O'Grady finished the decanter of sherry, buttoned up his coat, and
slapping his boots with his cane, sauntered downstairs, whistling an
Irish quick step as he went.
When I had half accomplished my undressing, I sat down before the fire,
and, unconsciously to myself, fell into a train of musing about my
present condition. I was very young; knew little of the world: the very
character of my education had been so much under the eye and direction
of my mother, that my knowledge was even less than that of the
generality of young men of my own time of life. It is not surprising,
then, if the events which my new career hurried so rapidly one upon
another, in some measure confused me. Of duelling I had, of course,
heard repeatedly, and had learned to look upon the necessity of it as
more or less imperative upon every man in the outset of his career. Such
was, in a great measure, the tone of the day; and the man who attained
a certain period of life, without having had at least one affair of
honour, was rather suspected of using a degree of prudent caution in
his conduct with the world than of following the popular maxim of the
period, which said, 'Be always ready with the pistol.'
The affair with Lord De Vere, therefore, I looked upon rather as a lucky
hit; I might as well make my début with him as with any other. So much,
then, for the prejudice of the period. Now, for my private feelings on
the subject, they were, I confess, anything but satisfactory. Without
at all entering into any anticipation I might have felt as to the
final result, I could not avoid feeling ashamed of myself for my total
ignorance about the whole matter; not only, as I have said, had I never
seen a duel, but I never had fired a pistol twice in my life. I was
naturally a nervous fellow, and the very idea of firing at a word,
would, I knew, render me more so. My dread that the peculiarity of
my constitution might be construed into want of courage, increased my
irritability; while I felt that my endeavour to acquit myself with all
the etiquette and punctilio of the occasion would inevitably lead me to
the commission of some mistake or blunder.
And then, as to my friends at home, what would my father say? His
notions on the subject I knew were very rigid, and only admitted the
necessity of an appeal to arms as the very last resort. What account
could I give him, sufficiently satisfactory, of my reasons for going
out? How would my mother feel, with all her aristocratic prejudices,
when she heard of the society where the affair originated, when some
glowing description of the Rooneys should reach her? and this some kind
friend or other was certain to undertake. And, worse than all, Lady
Julia, my high-born cousin, whose beauty and sarcasm had inspired me
with a mixture of admiration and dread--how should I ever bear the
satirical turn she would give the whole affair? Her malice would be
increased by the fact that a young and pretty girl was mixed up in
it; for somehow, I must confess, a kind of half-flirtation had always
subsisted between my cousin and me. Her beauty, her wit, her fascinating
manner, rendered me at times over head and ears in love with her; while,
at others, the indifference of her manner towards me, or, still
worse, the ridicule to which she exposed me, would break the spell and
dissipate the enchantment.
Thoughts like these were far from assuring me, and contributed but
little towards that confidence in myself I stood so much in need of.
And, again, what if I were to fall? As this thought settled on my mind,
I resolved to write home. Not to my father, however: I felt a kind of
constraint about unburdening myself to him at such a moment. My mother
was equally out of the question; in fact, a letter to her could only be
an apologetic narrative of my life in Ireland--softening down what
she would call the atrocities of my associates, and giving a kind
of Rembrandt tint to the Rooneys, which might conceal the more vivid
colouring of their vulgarity. At such a moment I had no heart for this:
such trifling would ill suit me now. To Lady Julia, then, I determined
to write: she knew me well. Besides, I felt that, when I was no more,
the kindliness of her nature would prevail, and she would remember me
but as the little lover that brought her bouquets from the conservatory;
who wrote letters to her from Eton; who wore her picture round his
neck at Sandhurst, and, by-the-bye, that picture I had still in my
possession: this was the time to restore it. I opened my writing-desk
and took it out. It was a strange love-gift, painted when she was barely
ten years old. It represented a very lovely child, with blue eyes, and a
singular regularity of feature, like a Grecian statue. The intensity of
look that after years developed more fully, and the slight curl of the
lip that betrayed the incipient spirit of mockery, were both there;
still was she very beautiful I placed the miniature before me and fixed
my eyes upon it. Carried away by the illusion of the moment, I burst
into a rhapsody of proffered affection, while I vindicated myself
against any imputation my intimacy with Miss Bellew might give rise
to. As I proceeded, however, I discovered that my pleading scarce
established my innocence even to myself; so I turned away, and once more
sat down moodily before the fire.
The Castle clock struck two. I started up, somewhat ashamed of myself at
not having complied with O'Grady's advice, and at once threw myself on
my bed, and fell sound asleep. Some confused impression upon my mind of
a threatened calamity gave a gloomy character to all my dreams, and
more than once I awoke with a sudden start and looked about me. The
flickering and uncertain glare of the dying embers threw strange goblin
shapes upon the wall and on the old oak floor. The window-curtains waved
mournfully to and fro, as the sighing night wind pierced the openings
of the worn casements, adding, by some unknown sympathy, to my gloom
and depression; and although I quickly rallied myself from these foolish
fancies, and again sank into slumber, it was always again to wake with
the same unpleasant impressions, and with the same sights and sounds
about me. Towards morning, however, I fell into a deep, unbroken sleep,
from which I was awakened by the noise of some one rudely drawing my
curtains. I looked up, as I rubbed my eyes: it was Corny Delany, who,
with a mahogany box under his arm, and a little bag in his hand, stood
eyeing me with a look, in which his habitual ill-temper was dashed with
a slight mixture of scorn and pity.
'So you are awake at last!' said he; ''faith, and you sleep sound,
and'--this he muttered between his teeth--'and maybe it's sounder you'll
sleep to-morrow night! The Captain bid me call you at seven o'clock, and
it's near eight now. That blaguard of a servant of yours wouldn't get
up to open the door till I made a cry of fire outside, and puffed a few
mouthfuls of smoke through the keyhole!'
'Well done, Corny! But where's the Captain?' 'Where is he? Sorrow one
o'me knows! Maybe at the watch-house, maybe in George's Street barrack,
maybe in the streets, maybe---- Och, troth! there's many a place he
might be, and good enough for him any of them. Them's the tools, well
oiled; I put flints in them.'
'And what have you got in the bag, Corny?'
'Maybe you'll see time enough. It's the lint, the sticking-plaster and
the bandages, and the turn-an'-twist.' This, be it known, was the Delany
for tourniquet. 'And, 'faith, it's a queer use to put the same bag to;
his honour the judge had it made to carry his notes in. Ugh, ugh, ugh!
a bloody little bag it always was! Many's the time I seen the poor
craytures in the dock have to hould on by the spikes, when they'd see
him put his hands in it! It's not lucky, the same bag! Will you have
some brandy-and-water, and a bit of dry toast? It's what the Captain
always gives them the first time they go out. When they're used to it,
a cup of chocolate with a spoonful of whisky is a fine thing for the
hand.'
I could scarce restrain a smile at the notion of dieting a man for a
duel, though, I confess, there seemed something excessively bloodthirsty
about it. However, resolved to give Corny a favourable impression of my
coolness, I said, 'Let me have the chocolate and a couple of eggs.'
He gave a grin a demon might have envied, as he muttered to himself, 'He
wants to try and die game, ugh, ugh!' With these words he waddled out
of the room to prepare my breakfast, his alacrity certainly increased by
the circumstance in which he was employed.
No sooner was I alone than I opened the pistol-case to examine
the weapons. They were, doubtless, good ones; but a ruder, more
ill-fashioned, clumsy pair it would be impossible to conceive. The
stock, which extended nearly to the end of the barrel, was notched with
grooves for the fingers to fit in, the whole terminating in an uncouth
knob, inlaid with small pieces of silver, which at first I imagined were
purely ornamental On looking closer, however, I perceived that each of
them contained a name and a date, with an ominous phrase beneath, which
ran thus: 'Killed!V or thus: 'Wounded!'
'Egad,' thought I, 'they are certainly the coolest people in the world
in this island, and have the strangest notions withal of cheering a
man's courage!'
It was growing late, meanwhile; so that without further loss of time
I sprang out of bed, and set about dressing, huddling my papers and
Julia's portrait into my writing-desk. I threw into the fire a few
letters, and was looking about my room lest anything should have escaped
me, when suddenly the quick movement of horses' feet on the pavement
beneath drew me to the window. As I looked out, I could just catch a
glimpse of O'Grady's figure as he sprang from a high tandem; I then
heard his foot as he mounted the stairs, and the next moment he was
knocking at my door. 'Holloa!' cried he, 'by Jove, I have had a night
of it! Help me off with the coat, Jack, and order breakfast, with any
number of mutton-chops you please; I never felt so voracious in my life.
Early rising must be a bad thing for the health, if it makes a man's
appetite so painful.'
While I was giving my necessary directions, O'Grady stirred up the fire,
drew his chair close to it, and planting his feet upon the fender, and
expanding his hands before the blaze, called out--
'Yes, yes, quite right--cold ham and a devilled drumstick by all means;
the mulled claret must have nothing but cloves and a slice of pine-apple
in it; and, mind, don't let them fry the kidneys in champagne; they are
fifty times better in moselle: we'll have the champagne _au naturel_,
There, now, shut the door; there's a confounded current of air comes
up that cold staircase. So, come over, my boy; let me give you all the
news, and to begin:--
'After I parted with you, I went over to De Vere's quarters, and heard
that he had just changed his clothes and driven over to Clare Street. I
followed immediately; but, as ill-luck would have it, he left that just
five minutes before, with Watson of the Fifth, who lives in one of the
hotels near. This, you know, looked like business; and, as they told me
they were to be back in half an hour, I cut into a rubber of whist with
Darcy and the rest of them, where, what between losing heavily, and
waiting for those fellows, I never got up till half-past four; when I
did, it was minus Paul's cheque, all the loose cash about me, and a bill
for one hundred and thirty to Vaughan. Pleasant, all that wasn't it?
Monk, who took my place, told me that Herbert and Watson were gone out
together to the park, where I should certainly find them. Off, then, I
set for the Phoenix, and, just as I was entering the gate of the Lodge,
a chaise covered with portmanteaus and hat-boxes drove past me. I
had just time to catch a glimpse of De Vere's face as the light fell
suddenly upon it; I turned as quickly as possible, and gave chase down
Barrack Street. We flew, he leading, and I endeavouring to keep up; but
my poor hack was so done up, between waiting at the club and the sharp
drive, that I found we couldn't keep up the pace. Fortunately, however,
a string of coal-cars blocked up Essex Bridge, upon which my friend came
to a check, and I also. I jumped out immediately, and running forward,
just got up in the nick, as they were once more about to move forward,
“Ah, Dudley,” cried I, “I 've had a sharp run for it, but by good
fortune have found you at last” I wish you had seen his face as I said
these words; he leaned forward in the carriage, so as completely to
prevent Watson, who was with him, overhearing what passed?
“May I ask,” said he, endeavouring to get up a little of his habitual
coolness; “may I ask, what so very pressing has sent you in pursuit of
me?”
'“Nothing which should cause your present uneasiness,” replied I, in a
tone and a look he could not mistake.
'“Eh--aw! don't take you exactly; anything gone wrong?”
'“You 've a capital memory, my lord, when it suits you; pray call it to
your aid for a few moments, and it will save us both a deal of trouble.
My business with you is on the part of Mr. Hinton, and I have to request
you will, at once, refer me to a friend.”
'“Eh! you want to fight? Is that it? I say, Watson, they want to make a
quarrel out of that foolish affair I told you of.”
'“Is Major Watson your friend on this occasion, my lord?”
'“No; oh no; that is, I didn't say---- I told Watson how they walked
into me for three hundred at Rooney's. Must confess I deserved it richly
for dining among such a set of fellows; and, as I have paid the money
and cut the whole concern, I don't see what more's expected of me.”
'“We have very little expectation, my lord, but a slight hope, that
you'll not disgrace the cloth you wear and the profession you follow.”
'“I say, Watson, do you think I ought to take notice of these words?”
'“Would your lordship like them stronger?”
'“One moment, if you please, Captain O'Grady,” said Major Watson, as,
opening the door of the chaise, he sprang out. “Lord Dudley de Vere has
detailed to me, and of course correctly, the whole of his last night's
proceedings. He has expressed himself as ready and anxious to apologise
to your friend for any offence he may have given him--in fact, that
their families are in some way connected, and any falling out would be
a very unhappy thing between them; and, last of all, Lord Dudley has
resigned his appointment as aide-de-camp, and resolved on leaving
Ireland; in two hours more he will sail from this. So I trust, that
under every circumstance, you will see the propriety of not pressing the
affair any further.”
'“With the apology----”
'“That» of course,” said Watson.
'“I say,” cried Herbert, “we shall be late at the Pigeon-house; it's
half-past seven.”
'Watson whispered a few words into his ear; he was silent for a second,
and a slight crimson flush settled on his cheek.
“'It won't do for me if they talk of this afterwards; but tell him--I
mean Hinton--that I am sorry; that is, I wish him to forgive----”
'“There, there,” said I impatiently, “drive on! that is quite enough!”
'The next moment the chaise was out of sight, and I leaned against the
balustrade of the bridge, with a sick feeling at my heart I never felt
before. Vaughan came by at the moment with his tandem, so I made
him turn about and set me down; and here I am, my boy, now that my
qualmishness has passed off, ready to eat you out of house and home, if
the means would only present themselves.'
Here ended O'Gradys narrative, and as breakfast very shortly after
made its appearance, our conversation dropped into broken, disjointed
sentences; the burden of which, on his part, was that, although no
man would deserve more gratitude from the household and the garrison
generally than myself for being the means of exporting Lord De Vere, yet
that under every view of the case all effort should be made to prevent
publicity, and stop the current of scandal such an event was calculated
to give rise to in the city.
'No fear of that, I hope,' said I.
'Every fear, my dear boy. We live in a village here: every man hears his
friend's watch tick, and every lady knows what her neighbour paid for
her paste diamonds. However, be comforted! your reputation will scarcely
stretch across the Channel; and one's notoriety must have strong claims
before it pass the custom-house at Liverpool.'
'Well, that is something; but hang it, O'Grady, I wish I had had a shot
at him.'
'Of course you do: nothing more natural, and at the same time, if you
care for the lady, nothing more _mal à propos_. Do what you will, her
name will be mixed up in the matter; but had it gone further she must
have been deeply compromised between you. You are too young, Jack,
to understand much of this; but take my word for it--fight about your
sister, your aunt, your maternal grandmother, if you like, but never for
the girl you are about to marry. It involves a false position to both
her and yourself. And now that I am giving advice, just give me another
cutlet. I say, Corny, any hot potatoes?'
'Thim was hot awhile ago,' said Corny, without taking his hands from his
pockets.
'Well, it is pleasant to know even that. Put that pistol-case back
again. Ah! there goes Vaughan; I want a word with him.'
So saying, he sprang up, and hastened downstairs.
'What did he say I was to do with the pistols?' said Corny, as he
polished the case with the ample cuff of his coat.
'You are to put them by: we shan't want them this morning.'
'And there is to be no devil after all,' said he with a most fiendish
grin. 'Ugh, ugh! didn't I know it? Ye's come from the wrong side of the
water for that. It's little powder ye blaze, for all your talking.'
Taking out one of the pistols as he spoke, he examined the lock for a
few minutes patiently, and then muttered to himself: 'Wasn't I right to
put in the ould flints? The devil a more ye 'd he doing I guessed nor
making a flash in the pan!'
It was rather difficult, even with every allowance for Mr. Delany's
temper, to submit to his insolence patiently. After all, there was
nothing better to be done; for Corny was even greater in reply than
attack, and any rejoinder on my part would unquestionably have made me
fare the worse. Endeavouring, therefore, to hum a tune, I strolled to
the window and looked out; while the imperturbable Corny, opening the
opposite sash, squibbed off both pistols previous to replacing them in
the box.
I cannot say what it was in the gesture and the action of this little
fiend; but somehow the air of absurdity thus thrown over our quarrel
by this ludicrous termination hurt me deeply; and Corny's face as he
snapped the trigger was a direct insult. All my self-respect, all my
self-approval gave way in a moment, and I could think of nothing but
cross Corny's commentary on my courage.
'Yes,' said I, half aloud, 'it is a confounded country! If for nothing
else, that every class and condition of man thinks himself capable to
pronounce upon his neighbour. Hard drink and duelling are the national
pénates; and Heaven help him who does not adopt the religion of the
land! My English servant would as soon have thought of criticising a
chorus of Euripides as my conduct; and yet this little wretch not only
does so, but does it to my face, superadding a sneer upon my country!'
This, like many other of my early reflections on Ireland, had its grain
of truth and its bushel of fallacy; and before I quitted the land I
learned to make the distinction.