Mallow, all anxious to see the duel. They had pitted us like game-cocks,
and bets were freely taken as to the chances of our killing one another,
and the particular spots. One betted on my being hit in the jaw, another
was so kind as to lay the odds on my knee. The tolerably general opinion
appeared to prevail that one or other of us was to be killed; and much
good-humoured joking took place among them while they were deciding
which. As I was double the thickness of my antagonist, I was clearly the
favourite for being shot, and I heard one fellow near me say, 'Three to
two on Burke, that he's shot first--I bet in tenpennies.'
"Brady and Codd soon appeared, and the preliminaries were arranged with
much punctilio between our seconds, who mutually and loudly extolled
each other's gentleman-like mood of doing business. Brady could scarcely
stand with fright, and I confess that I did not feel quite as Hector of
Troy, or the Seven Champions of Christendom are reported to have done on
similar occasions. At last the ground was measured--the pistols handed
to the principals--the handkerchief dropped--whiz! went the bullet
within an inch of my ear--and crack! went mine exactly on Ensign Brady's
waistcoat pocket. By an unaccountable accident, there was a five
shilling piece in that very pocket, and the ball glanced away, while
Brady doubled himself down, uttering a loud howl that might be heard
half-a-mile off. The crowd was so attentive as to give a huzza for my
success.
"Codd ran up to his principal, who was writhing as if he had ten
thousand colics, and soon ascertained that no harm was done.
"'What do you propose,' said he to my second--'What do you propose to
do, Major?'
"'As there is neither blood drawn nor bone broken,' said the Major, 'I
think that shot goes for nothing.'
"'I agree with you,' said Captain Codd.
"'If your party will apologise,' said Major Mug, 'I'll take my man off
the ground.'
"'Certainly,' said Captain Codd, 'you are quite right, Major, in asking
the apology, but you know that it is my duty to refuse it.'
"'You are correct, Captain,' said the Major; 'I then formally require
that Ensign Brady apologise to Mr. Burke.'
"'I, as formally, refuse it,' said Captain Codd.
"'We must have another shot then,' said the Major.
"'Another shot, by all means,' said the Captain.
"'Captain Codd,' said the Major, 'you have shown yourself in this, as in
every transaction of your life, a perfect gentleman.'
"'He who would dare to say,' replied the Captain, 'that Major Mug is not
among the most gentleman-like men in the service, would speak what is
untrue.'
"Our seconds bowed, took a pinch of snuff together, and proceeded to
load the pistols. Neither Brady nor I were particularly pleased at these
complimentary speeches of the gentlemen, and, I am sure, had we been
left to ourselves, would have declined the second shot. As it was, it
appeared inevitable.
"Just, however, as the process of loading was completing, there appeared
on the ground my cousin Phil Purdon, rattling in on his black mare as
hard as he could lick--
"'I want to speak to the plaintiff in this action--I mean, to one of
the parties in this duel. I want to speak to you, Bob Burke.'
"'The thing is impossible, sir,' said Major Mug.
"'Perfectly impossible, sir,' said Codd.
"'Possible or impossible is nothing to the question,' shouted Purdon;
'Bob, I must speak to you.'
"'It is contrary to all regulation,' said the Major.
"'Quite contrary,' said the Captain.
"Phil, however, persisted, and approached me: 'Are you fighting about
Dosy Mac?' said he to me, in a whisper.
"'Yes,' I replied.
"'And she is to marry the survivor, I understand?'
"'So I am told,' said I.
"'Back out, Bob, then; back out, at the rate of a hunt. Old Mick
MacNamara is married.'
"'Married!' I exclaimed.
"'Poz,' said he. 'I drew the articles myself. He married his housemaid,
a girl of eighteen; and,' here he whispered.
"'What,' I cried, 'six months!'
"'Six months,' said he, 'an' no mistake.'
"'Ensign Brady,' said I, immediately coming forward, 'there has been a
strange misconception in this business. I here declare, in presence of
this honourable company, that you have acted throughout like a man of
honour, and a gentleman; and you leave the ground without a stain on
your character.'
"Brady hopped three feet off the ground with joy at the unexpected
deliverance. He forgot all etiquette, and came forward to shake me by
the hand.
"'My dear Burke,' said he, 'it must have been a mistake: let us swear
eternal friendship.'
"'For ever,' said I. 'I resign you Miss Theodosia.'
"'You are too generous,' he said, 'but I cannot abuse your generosity.'
"'It is unprecedented conduct,' growled Major Mug. 'I'll never be second
to a Pekin again.'
"'My principal leaves the ground with honour,' said Captain Codd,
looking melancholy, nevertheless.
"'Humph!' grunted Wooden-Leg Waddy, lighting his meerschaum.
"The crowd dispersed much displeased, and I fear my reputation for
valour did not rise among them. I went off with Purdon to finish a jug
at Carmichael's, and Brady swaggered off to Miss Dosy's. His renown for
valour won her heart. It cannot be denied that I sunk deeply in her
opinion. On that very evening Brady broke his love, and was accepted.
Mrs. Mac. opposed, but the red-coat prevailed.
"'He may rise to be a general,' said Dosy, 'and be a knight, and then I
will be Lady Brady.'
"'Or, if my father should be made an earl, angelic Theodosia, you would
be Lady Thady Brady,' said the Ensign.
"'Beautiful prospect!' cried Dosy, 'Lady Thady Brady! What a harmonious
sound!'
"But why dally over the detail of my unfortunate loves? Dosy and the
Ensign were married before the accident which had befallen her uncle was
discovered; and if they were not happy, why, then, you and I may. They
have had eleven children, and, I understand, he now keeps a comfortable
eating-house close by Cumberland Basin, in Bristol. Such was my duel
with Ensign Brady of the 48th."
Billy Malowney's Taste of Love and Glory.
_From "The Purcell Papers."_
BY JOSEPH SHERIDAN LE FANU (1814-1873).
Let the reader fancy a soft summer evening, the fresh dews falling on
bush and flower. The sun has just gone down, and the thrilling vespers
of thrushes and blackbirds ring with a wild joy through the saddened
air; the west is piled with fantastic clouds, and clothed in tints of
crimson and amber, melting away into a wan green, and so eastward into
the deepest blue, through which soon the stars will begin to peep.
Let him fancy himself seated upon the low mossy wall of an ancient
churchyard, where hundreds of grey stones rise above the sward, under
the fantastic branches of two or three half-withered ash-trees,
spreading their arms in everlasting love and sorrow over the dead.
The narrow road upon which I and my companion await the tax-cart that is
to carry me and my basket, with its rich fruitage of speckled trout,
away, lies at his feet, and far below spreads an undulating plain,
rising westward into soft hills, and traversed (every here and there
visibly) by a winding stream which, even through the mists of evening,
catches and returns the funeral glories of the skies.
As the eye traces its wayward wanderings, it loses them for a moment in
the heaving verdure of white-thorns and ash, from among which floats
from some dozen rude chimneys, mostly unseen, the transparent blue film
of turf smoke. There we know, although we cannot see it, the steep old
bridge of Carrickdrum spans the river; and stretching away far to the
right the valley of Lisnamoe; its steeps and hollows, its straggling
hedges, its fair-green, its tall scattered trees, and old grey tower,
are disappearing fast among the discoloured tints and blaze of evening.
Those landmarks, as we sit listlessly expecting the arrival of our
modest conveyance, suggest to our companion--a bare-legged Celtic
brother of the gentle craft, somewhat at the wrong side of forty, with a
turf-coloured caubeen, patched frieze, a clear brown complexion,
dark-grey eyes and a right pleasant dash of roguery in his features--the
tale, which, if the reader pleases, he is welcome to hear along with me
just as it falls from the lips of our humble comrade.
His words I can give, but your own fancy must supply the advantages of
an intelligent, expressive countenance, and what is, perhaps, harder
still, the harmony of his glorious brogue, that, like the melodies of
our own dear country, will leave a burden of mirth or of sorrow with
nearly equal propriety, tickling the diaphragm as easily as it plays
with the heart-strings, and is in itself a national music that, I trust,
may never, never--scouted and despised though it be--never cease, like
the lost tones of our harp, to be heard in the fields of my country, in
welcome or endearment, in fun or in sorrow, stirring the hearts of
Irishmen and Irish women.
My friend of the caubeen and naked shanks, then, commenced, and
continued his relation, as nearly as possible, in the following words:--
Av coorse ye often heerd talk of Billy Malowney, that lived by the
bridge of Carrickadrum. "Leumarinka" was the name they put on him, he
was sich a beautiful dancer. An' faix, it's he was the rale sportin'
boy, every way--killin' the hares, and gaffin' the salmons, an' fightin'
the men, an' funnin' the women, and coortin' the girls; an', be the same
token, there was not a colleen inside iv his jurisdiction but was
breakin' her heart wid the fair love iv him.
Well, this was all pleasand enough, to be sure, while it lasted; but
inhuman beings is born to misfortune, an' Bill's divarshin was not to
last always. A young boy can't be continually coortin' and kissin' the
girls (an' more's the pity) without exposin' himself to the most eminent
parril; an' so signs an' what should happen Billy Malowney himself, but
to fall in love at last wid little Molly Donovan, in Coolamoe.
I never could ondherstand why in the world it was Bill fell in love wid
her, above all the girls in the country. She was not within four stone
weight iv being as fat as Peg Brallaghan; and as for redness in the
face, she could not hould a candle to Judy Flaherty. (Poor Judy! she was
my sweetheart, the darlin', an' coorted me constant, ever entil she
married a boy of the Butlers; an' it's twenty years now since she was
buried under the ould white-thorn in Garbally. But that's no matther!).
Well, at any rate, Molly Donovan tuck his fancy an' that's everything!
She had smooth brown hair--as smooth as silk--an' a pair iv soft coaxin'
eyes--an' the whitest little teeth you ever seen; an', bedad, she was
every taste as much in love wid himself as he was.
Well, now, he was raly stupid wid love: there was not a bit of fun left
in him. He was good for nothin' an airth bud sittin' under bushes,
smokin' tobacky, and sighin' till you'd wonder how in the world he got
wind for it all.
An', bedad, he was an illigant scholar, moreover an', so signs by, it's
many's the song he made about her; an' if you'd be walkin' in the
evening, a mile away from Carrickadrum, begorra you'd hear him singing
out like a bull, all across the country, in her praises.
Well, ye may be sure, ould Tim Donovan and the wife was not a bit too
well plased to see Bill Malowney coortin' their daughter Molly; for, do
ye mind, she was the only child they had, and her fortune was
thirty-five pounds, two cows, and five illigant pigs, three iron pots, a
skillet, an' a trifle iv poultry in hand; and no one knew how much
besides, whenever the Lord id be plased to call the ould people out of
the way into glory!
So, it was not likely ould Tim Donovan id be fallin' in love wid poor
Bill Malowney as aisy as the girls did; for, barrin' his beauty, an' his
gun, an' his dhudheen, an' his janious, the divil a taste of property iv
any sort or description he had in the wide world!
Well, as bad as that was, Billy would not give in that her father and
mother had the smallest taste iv a right to intherfare, good or bad.
"An' you're welcome to rafuse me," says he, "whin' I ax your lave," says
he; "an' I'll ax your lave," says he, "whenever I want to coort
yourselves," says he; "but it's your daughter I'm coortin' at the
present," says he, "an' that's all I'll say," says he; "for I'd a soon
take a doase of salts as be discoursin' ye," says he.
So it was a rale blazin' battle betune himself and the ould people; an',
begorra, there was no soart iv blaguardin' that did not pass betune
them; an' they put a solemn injection on Molly again seein' him or
meetin' him for the future.
But it was all iv no use. You might as well be pursuadin' the birds agin
flying, or sthrivin' to coax the stars out of the sky into your hat, as
be talking common sinse to them that's fairly bothered and burstin' wid
love. There's nothin' like it. The toothache and colic together id
compose you betther for an argyment than itself. It leaves you fit for
nothin' bud nansinse.
It's stronger than whisky, for one good drop iv it will make you drunk
for one year, and sick, begorra, for a dozen.
It's stronger than the say, for it'll carry you round the world an'
never let you sink, in sunshine or storm; an', begorra, it's stronger
than Death himself, for it is not afeard iv him, bedad, but dares him in
every shape.
Bud lovers has quarrels sometimes, and, begorra, when they do, you'd
a'most imagine they hated one another like man and wife. An' so, signs
an', Billy Malowney and Molly Donovan fell out one evening at ould Tom
Dundon's wake; an' whatever came betune them, she made no more about it
but just draws her cloak round her, and away wid herself and the
sarvant-girl home again, as if there was not a corpse, or a fiddle, or a
taste of divarsion in it.
Well, Billy Malowney follied her down the boreen, to try could he
deludher her back again; but, if she was bitther before, she gave it to
him in airnest when she got him alone to herself, and to that degree
that he wished her safe home, short and sulky enough, an' walked back
again, as mad as the devil himself, to the wake, to pay respect to poor
Tom Dundon.
Well, my dear, it was aisy seen there was something wrong wid Billy
Malowney, for he paid no attintion for the rest of the evening to any
soart of divarsion but the whisky alone; an' every glass he'd drink it's
what he'd be wishing the divil had the woman, an' the worst iv bad luck
to all soarts iv courting, until, at last, wid the goodness iv the
sperits, an' the badness iv his temper, an' the constant flusthration iv
cursin', he grew all as one as you might say almost, saving your
presince, bastely drunk!
Well, who should he fall in wid, in that childish condition, as he was
deploying along the road almost as straight as the letter S, an' cursin'
the girls, an' roarin' for more whisky, but the recruiting-sargent iv
the Welsh Confusileers.
So, cute enough, the sargent begins to convarse him, an' it was not long
until he had him sitting in Murphy's public-house, wid an elegant dandy
iv punch before him, an' the king's money safe an' snug in the lowest
wrinkle of his breeches pocket.
So away wid him, and the dhrums and fifes playing, an' a dozen more
unforthunate bliggards just listed along with him, an' he shakin' hands
wid the sargent, and swearin' agin the women every minute, until, be the
time he kem to himself, begorra, he was a good ten miles on the road to
Dublin, an' Molly and all behind him.
It id be no good tellin' you iv the letters he wrote to her from the
barracks there, nor how she was breaking her heart to go and see him
just wanst before he'd go; but the father and mother would not allow iv
it be no manes.
An' so in less time than you'd be thinkin' about it, the colonel had him
polished off into a rale elegant soger, wid his gun exercise, and his
bagnet exercise, and his small sword, and broad sword, and pistol and
dagger, an' all the rest, an' then away wid him on board a man-a-war to
furrin parts, to fight for King George agin Bonypart, that was great in
them times.
Well, it was very soon in everyone's mouth how Billy Malowney was batin'
all before him, astonishin' the ginerals, and frightenin' the inimy to
that degree, there was not a Frinchman dare say parley voo outside of
the rounds iv his camp.
You may be sure Molly was proud iv that same, though she never spoke a
word about it; until at last news kem home that Billy Malowney was
surrounded an' murdered be the Frinch army, under Napoleon Bonypart
himself. The news was brought by Jack Bryan Dhas, the pedlar, that said
he met the corporal iv the regiment on the quay iv Limerick, an' how he
brought him into a public-house and thrated him to a naggin, and got all
the news about poor Billy Malowney out iv him while they war dhrinkin'
it; an' a sorrowful story it was.
The way it happened, accordin' as the corporal tould him, was jist how
the Dook iv Wellington detarmined to fight a rale tarin' battle wid the
Frinch, and Bonypart at the same time was aiqually detarmined to fight
the divil's own scrimmidge wid the British foorces.
Well, as soon as the business was pretty near ready at both sides,
Bonypart and the general next undher himself gets up behind a bush, to
look at their inimies through spy-glasses, and thry would they know any
iv them at the distance.
"Bedad!" says the gineral, afther a divil iv a long spy, "I'd bet half a
pint," says he, "that's Billy Malowney himself," says he, "down there,"
says he.
"Och!" says Bonypart, "do you tell me so?" says he--"I'm fairly
heart-scalded with that same Billy Malowney," says he; "an' I think if I
wanst got shut iv him, I'd bate the rest of them aisy," says he.
"I'm thinking so myself," says the general, says he; "but he's a tough
bye," says he.
"Tough!" says Bonypart, "he's the divil," says he.
"Begorra, I'd be better plased," says the gineral, says he, "to take
himself than the Duke iv Willinton," says he, "an' Sir Edward Blakeney
into the bargain," says he.
"The Duke of Wellinton and Gineral Blakeney," says Bonypart, "is great
for planning, no doubt," says he; "but Billy Malowney's the boy for
action," says he--"an' action's everything, just now," says he.
So with that Bonypart pushes up his cocked hat, and begins scratching
his head, and thinking and considherin' for the bare life, and at last
says he to the gineral:
"Gineral Commandher iv all the Foorces," says he, "I've hot it," says
he: "ordher out the forlorn hope," says he, "an' give them as much
powdher, both glazed and blasting," says he, "an' as much bullets, do ye
mind, an' swan-dhrops an' chainshot," says he, "an' all soorts iv
waipons an' combustables as they can carry; an' let them surround Bill
Malowney," says he, "an' if they can get any soort iv an advantage,"
says he, "let them knock him to smithereens," says he, "an' then take
him presner," says he; "an' tell all the bandmen iv the Frinch army,"
says he, "to play up 'Garryowen,' to keep up their sperits," says he,
"all the time they're advancin'. And you may promise them anything you
like in my name," says he; "for, by my sowl, I don't think it's many iv
them 'ill come back to throuble us," says he, winkin' at him.
So away with the gineral, an' he ordhers out the forlorn hope, an' tells
the band to play, an' everything else, just as Bonypart desired him. An'
sure enough whin Billy Malowney heerd the music where he was standin'
taking a blast of the dhudheen to compose his mind for murdherin' the
Frinchmen as usual, being mighty partial to that tune intirely, he cocks
his ear a one side, an' down he stoops to listen to the music; but,
begorra, who should be in his rare all the time but a Frinch grannideer
behind a bush, and seeing him stooped in a convenient forum, bedad he
let flies at him straight, and fired him right forward between the legs
an' the small iv the back, glory be to God! with what they call (saving
your presence) a bum-shell.
Well, Bill Malowney let one roar out iv him, an' away he rolled over the
field iv battle like a slitther (as Bonypart and the Duke iv Wellington,
that was watching the manoeuvres from a distance, both consayved) into
glory.
An' sure enough the Frinch was overjoyed beyant all bounds, an' small
blame to them--an' the Duke of Wellington, I'm toult, was never all out
the same man sinst.
At any rate, the news kem home how Billy Malowney was murdhered by the
Frinch in furrin parts.
Well, all this time, you may be sure, there was no want iv boys comin'
to coort purty Molly Donovan; but one way ar another, she always kept
puttin' them off constant. An' though her father and mother was
nathurally anxious to get rid of her respickably, they did not like to
marry her off in spite iv her teeth.
An' this way, promising one while and puttin' it off another, she
conthrived to get on from one Shrove to another, until near seven years
was over and gone from the time when Billy Malowney listed for furrin
sarvice.
It was nigh hand a year from the time whin the news iv Leum-a-rinka
bein' killed by the Frinch came home, an' in place iv forgettin' him, as
the saisins wint over, it's what Molly was growin' paler and more
lonesome every day, antil the neighbours thought she was fallin' into a
decline; and this is the way it was with her whin the fair of Lisnamoe
kem round.
It was a beautiful evenin', just at the time iv the reapin' iv the oats,
and the sun was shinin' through the red clouds far away over the hills
iv Cahirmore.
Her father an' mother, an' the biys an' girls, was all away down in the
fair, and Molly sittin' all alone on the step of the stile, listenin' to
the foolish little birds whistlin' among the leaves--and the sound of
the mountain-river flowin' through the stones an' bushes--an' the crows
flyin' home high overhead to the woods iv Glinvarlogh--an' down in the
glen, far away, she could see the fair-green iv Lisnamoe in the mist,
an' sunshine among the grey rocks and threes--an' the cows an' horses,
an' the blue frieze, an' the red cloaks, an' the tents, an' the smoke,
an' the ould round tower--all as soft an' as sorrowful as a dhrame iv
ould times.
An' while she was looking this way, an' thinking iv Leum-a-rinka--poor
Bill iv the dance, that was sleepin' in his lonesome glory in the fields
of Spain--she began to sing the song he used to like so well in the ould
times:
"Shule, shule, shule a-roon;"
an' when she ended the verse, what do you think but she heard a manly
voice just at the other side iv the hedge, singing the last words over
again!
Well she knew it; her heart fluttered up like a little bird that id be
wounded, and then dhropped still in her breast. It was himself. In a
minute he was through the hedge and standing before her.
"Leum!" says she.
"Mavourneen cuishla machree!" says he; and without another word they
were locked in one another's arms.
Well, it id only be nansinse for me thryin' to tell ye all the foolish
things they said, and how they looked in one another's faces, an'
laughed, an' cried, an' laughed again; and how, when they came to
themselves' and she was able at last to believe it was raly Billy
himself that was there, actially holdin' her hand, and lookin' in her
eyes the same way as ever, barrin' he was browner and boulder, an' did
not, maybe, look quite as merry in himself as he used to do in former
times--an' fondher for all, an' more lovin' than ever--how he tould her
all about the wars wid the Frinchmen--an' how he was wounded, and left
for dead in the field of battle, bein' shot through the breast, and how
he was discharged, an' got a pinsion iv a full shillin' a day--and how
he was come back to live the rest iv his days in the sweet glen iv
Lisnamoe, an' (if only she'd consint) to marry herself in spite iv them
all.
Well, ye may aisily think they had plinty to talk about, afther seven
years without seeing one another; and so signs on, the time flew by as
swift an' as pleasant as a bird on the wing, an' the sun wint down, an'
the moon shone sweet, yet they didn't mind a ha'port about it, but kept
talkin an' whisperin', an' whisperin' an' talkin'; for it's wondherful
how often a tinder-hearted girl will bear to hear a purty boy tellin'
her the same story constant over an' over; ontil at last, sure enough,
they heerd the ould man himself comin' up the boreen, singin' the
"Colleen Rue"--a thing he never done barrin' whin he had a dhrop in; an'
the misthress walkin' in front iv him an' two illigant Kerry cows he
just bought in the fair, an' the sarvint biys dhriving them behind.
"Oh, blessed hour!" says Molly, "here's my father."
"I'll spake to him this minute," says Bill.
"Oh, not for the world," says she; "he's singin' the 'Colleen Rue,'"
says she, "and no one dar raison with him," says she.