After the friendly parting of the foes (_pro tempore_), there was a
general scatter of the party who had come to see the duel: and how
strange is the fact, that as much as human nature is prone to shudder
at death under the gentlest circumstances, yet men will congregate to
be its witnesses when violence aggravates the calamity! A public
execution or a duel is a focus where burning curiosity concentrates; in
the latter case, Ireland bears the palm for a crowd; in the former, the
annals of the Old Bailey can _amply_ testify. Ireland has its own
interest, too, in a place of execution, but not in the same degree as
England. They have been too used to hanging in Ireland to make it
piquant: "_toujours perdrix_" is a saying which applies in this as in
many other cases. The gallows, in its palmy days, was shorn of its
terrors: it became rather a pastime. For the victim it was a pastime
with a vengeance; for through it all time was past with him. For the
rabble who beheld his agony, the frequency of the sight had blunted the
edge of horror, and only sharpened that of unnatural excitement. The
great school, where law should be the respected master, failed to
inspire its intended awe;--the legislative lesson became a mockery; and
death, instead of frowning with terror, grinned in a fool's cap from
the scaffold.
This may be doubted now, when a milder spirit presides in the councils
of the nation and on the bench; but those who remember Ireland not very
long ago, can bear witness how lightly life was valued, or death
regarded. Illustrative of this, one may refer to the story of the two
basket-women in Dublin, who held gentle converse on the subject of an
approaching execution.
"Won't you go see de man die to-morrow, Judy?"
"Oh no, darlin'," said Judy. (By-the-bye, Judy pronounced the _n_
through her nose, and said "_d_o.")
"Ah do, jewel," said her friend.
Judy again responded, "_D_o."
"And why won't you go, dear?" inquired her friend again.
"I've to wash de child," said Judy.
"Sure, didn't you wash it last week?" said her friend, in an
expostulatory tone.
"Oh, well, I _won't_ go," said Judy.
"Throth, Judy, you're ruinin' your health," said this soft-hearted
acquaintance; "dere's a man to die to-morrow, and you won't
come--augh!--you _d_ever take _d_o divarshin!"
And wherefore is it thus? Why should tears bedew the couch of him who
dies in the bosom of his family, surrounded by those who love him,
whose pillow is smoothed by the hand of filial piety, whose past is
without reproach, and whose future is bright with hope? and why should
dry eyes behold the duellist or the culprit, in whom folly or guilt may
be the cause of a death on which the seal of censure or infamy may be
set, and whose futurity we must tremble to consider? With more reason
might we weep for the fate of either of the latter than the former, and
yet we _do_ not. And why is it so? If I may venture an opinion, it is
that nature is violated: a natural death demands and receives the
natural tribute of tears; but a death of violence falls with a stunning
force upon the nerves, and the fountain of pity stagnates and will not
flow.
Though there was a general scattering of the persons who came to see
the duel, still a good many rode homeward with Murphy, who, with his
second, Tom Durfy, beside him, headed the party, as they rode gaily
towards the town, and laughed over the adventure of Andy and Dick.
"No one can tell how anything is to finish," said Tom Durfy; "here we
came out to have a duel, and, in the end, it turned out a hunt."
"I am glad you were not in at _my_ death, however," said Murphy, who
seemed particularly happy at not being killed.
"You lost no time in firing, Murtough," said one of his friends.
"And small blame to me, Billy," answered Murphy; "Egan is a capital
shot, and how did I know but he might take it into his head to shoot
me?--for he's very hot when roused, though as good-natured a fellow in
the main as ever broke bread; and yet I don't think, after all, he'd
have liked to do me much mischief either; but, you see, he couldn't
stand the joke he thought I played him."
"Will you tell us what it was?" cried another of the party, pressing
forward, "for we can't make it out exactly, though we've heard
something of it--wasn't it leeches you sent to him, telling him he was
a blood-sucking villain?"
A roar of laughter from Murtough followed this question. "Lord, how a
story gets mangled and twisted!" said he, as soon as he could speak.
"Leeches! what an absurdity! No, it was----"
"A bottle of castor oil, wasn't it, by way of a present of noyeau?"
said another of the party, hurrying to the front to put forward _his_
version of the matter.
A second shout of laughter from Murphy greeted this third edition of
the story. "If you will listen to me, I'll give you the genuine
version," said Murtough, "which is better, I promise you, than any
which invention could supply. The fact is, Squire Egan is enraged
against O'Grady, and applied to me to harass him in the parchment line,
swearing he would blister him; and this phrase of blistering occurred
so often, that when I sent him over a bit o' parchment, which he
engaged to have served on my bold O'Grady, I wrote to him, 'Dear
Squire, I send you the blister;' and that most ingenious of all
blunderers, Handy Andy, being the bearer, and calling at M'Garry's shop
on his way home, picked up from the counter a _real_ blister, which was
folded up in an inclosure, something like the process, and left the
law-stinger behind him."
"That's grate!" cried Doyle.
"Oh, but you have not heard the best of it yet," added Murphy. "I am
certain the bit of parchment was sent to O'Grady, for he was hunting
M'Garry this morning through the town, with a cudgel of portentous
dimensions--put that and that together."
"No mistake!" cried Doyle; "and divil pity O'Grady, for he's a
blustering, swaggering, overbearing, ill-tempered----"
"Hillo, hillo, Bill!" interrupted Murphy, "you are too hard on the
adjectives; besides, you'll spoil your appetite if you ruffle your
temper, and that would fret me, for I intend you to dine with me
to-day."
"Faith an' I'll do that same, Murtough, my boy, and glad to be asked,
as the old maid said."
"I'll tell you what it is," said Murphy; "boys, you must all dine with
me to-day, and drink long life to me, since I'm not killed."
"There are seventeen of us," said Durfy; "the little parlour won't hold
us all."
"But isn't there a big room at the inn, Tom?" returned Murphy, "and not
better drink in Ireland than Mrs. Fay's. What do you say, lads--one and
all--will you dine with me?"
"Will a duck swim?" chuckled out Jack Horan, an oily veteran, who
seldom opened his mouth but to put something into it, and spared his
words as if they were of value; and to make them appear so, he spoke in
apophthegms.
"What say you, James Reddy?" said Murtough.
"Ready, sure enough, and willing too!" answered James, who was a small
wit, and made the aforesaid play upon his name at least three hundred
and sixty-five times every year.
"Oh, we'll all come," was uttered right and left.
"Good men and true!" shouted Murphy; "won't we make the rafters shake,
and turn the cellar inside out! Whoo! I'm in great heart to-day. But
who is this powdhering up the road? By the powers! 't is the doctor, I
think; 't is--I know his bandy hat over the cloud of dust."
The individual thus designated as _the_ doctor now emerged from the
obscurity in which he had been enveloped, and was received with a loud
shout by the whole cavalcade as he approached them. Both parties drew
rein, and the doctor, lifting from his head the aforesaid bandy hat,
which was slouched over one eye, with a sinister droop, made a low
obeisance to Murphy, and said, with a mock solemnity, "Your servant,
sir--and so you're not killed?"
"No," said Murphy; "and you've lost a job, which I see you came to look
for--but you're not to have the carving of me yet."
"Considering it's so near Michaelmas, I think you've had a great
escape, signor," returned the doctor.
"Sure enough," said Murphy, laughing; "but you're late this time: so
you must turn back, and content yourself with carving something more
innocent than an attorney to-day--though at an attorney's cost. You
must dine with me."
"Willingly, signor," said the doctor; "but pray don't make use of the
word 'cost.' I hate to hear it out of an attorney's mouth--or _bill_, I
should say."
A laugh followed the doctor's pleasantry, but no smile appeared upon
_his_ countenance; for though uttering quaint and often very good, but
oftener very bitter, things, he never moved a muscle of his face, while
others were shaking their sides at his sallies. He was, in more ways
than one, a remarkable man. A massive head, large and rather protruding
eyes, lank hair, slouching ears, a short neck, and broad shoulders,
rather inclined to stooping, a long body, and short legs, slightly
bowed, constituted his outward man; and a lemon-coloured complexion,
which a residence of some years in the East Indies had produced, did
not tend to increase his beauty. His mind displayed a superior
intelligence, original views, contempt of received opinions, with a
power of satire and ridicule, which rendered him a pleasing friend or a
dangerous enemy, as the case might be; though, to say the truth, friend
and foe were treated with nearly equal severity, if a joke or sarcasm
tempted the assault. His own profession hated him, for he unsparingly
ridiculed all stale practice, which his conviction led him to believe
was inefficient, and he daringly introduced fresh, to the no small
indignation of the more cut and dry portion of the faculty, for whose
hate he returned contempt, of which he made no secret. From an extreme
coarseness of manner, even those who believed in his skill were afraid
to trust to his humour: and the dislike of his brother-practitioners to
meet him superadded to this, damaged his interest considerably, and
prevented his being called in until extreme danger frightened patients,
or their friends, into sending for Dr. Growling. His carelessness in
dress, too, inspired disgust in the fair portion of the creation: and
"snuffy" and "dirty," "savage" and "brute," were among the sweet words
they applied to him.
Nevertheless, those who loved a joke more than they feared a hit, would
run the risk of an occasional thrust of the doctor's stiletto, for the
sake of enjoying the mangling he gave other people; and such rollicking
fellows as Murphy, and Durfy, and Dawson, and Squire Egan petted this
social hedgehog.
The doctor now turned his horse's head, and joined the cavalcade to the
town. "I have blown my Rosinante," said he; "I was in such a hurry to
see the fun."
"Yes," said Murphy, "he smokes."
"And his master takes snuff," said the doctor, suiting the action to
the word. "I suppose, signor, you were thinking a little while ago that
the squire might serve an ejectment on your vitality?"
"Or that in the trial between us I might get damages," said Murphy.
"There is a difference, in such case," said the doctor, "between a
court of law and the court of honour; for in the former, the man is
plaintiff before he gets his damages, while in the latter, it is after
he gets his damages that he complains."
"I'm glad my term is not ended, however," said Murphy.
"If it had been," said the doctor, "I think you'd have had a long
vacation in limbo."
"And suppose I had been hit," said Murphy, "you would have been late on
the ground. You're a pretty friend!"
"It's my luck, sir," said the doctor; "I'm always late for a job.
By-the-bye, I'll tell you an amusing fact of that musty piece of
humanity, Miss Jinkins. Her niece was dangerously ill, and she had that
licensed slaughterer from Killanmaul trying to tinker her up, till the
poor girl was past all hope, and then she sends for me. She swore, some
time ago, I shall never darken her doors; but when she began to
apprehend that death was rather a darker gentleman than I, she
tolerated my person. The old crocodile met me in the hall--by-the-bye,
did you ever remark she's _like_ a crocodile, only not with so pleasing
an expression?--and wringing her hands she cried, 'Oh, doctor, I'll be
bound to you forever!'--I hope not, thought I to myself. 'Save my
Jemima, doctor, and there's nothing I won't do to prove my gratitude.'
'Is she long ill, ma'am?' said I. 'A fortnight, doctor.' 'I wish I had
been called in sooner, ma'am,' says I--for, 'pon my conscience, Murphy,
it is too ridiculous the way the people go on about me. I verily
believe they think I can raise people out of their graves; and they
call me in to repair the damages disease _and_ the doctors have been
making; and while the gentlemen in black silk stockings, with
gold-headed canes, have been fobbing fees for three weeks, perhaps,
they call in poor Jack Growling, who scorns Jack-a-dandyism, and _he_
gets a solitary guinea for mending the bungling that cost something to
the tune of twenty or thirty perhaps. And when I have plucked them from
the jaws of death--regularly cheated the sexton out of them--the best
word they have for me is to call me a pig, or abuse my boots, or wonder
that the doctor is not more particular about his linen--the fools! But
to return to my gentle crocodile. I was shown upstairs to the sick
room, and there, sir, I saw the unfortunate girl, speechless, at the
last gasp absolutely. The Killanmaul dandy had left her to
die--absolutely given her up; and _then_, indeed, I'm sent for! Well, I
was in a rage, and was rushing out of the house, when the crocodile
way-laid me in the hall. 'Oh, doctor, won't you do something for my
Jemima?' 'I can't, ma'am,' says I; 'but Mr. Fogarty can.' 'Mr.
Fogarty!' says she. 'Yes, ma'am,' says I. 'You have mistaken my
profession, Miss Jinkins--I'm a doctor, ma'am; but I suppose _you took
me for an undertaker_!'"
"Well, you hit her hard, doctor," said Murphy.
"Sir, you might as well hit a rhinoceros," returned the doctor.
"When shall we dine?" asked Jack Horan.
"As soon as Mrs. Fay can let us have the eatables," answered Murphy;
"and, by-the-bye, Jack, I leave the ordering of the dinner to you, for
no man understands better how to do that same; besides, I want to leave
my horse in my own stable, and I'll be up at the inn, after you, in a
brace of shakes."
The troop now approached the town. Those who lived there rode to their
own stables, and returned to the party at Mrs. Fay's: while they who
resided at a distance dismounted at the door of the inn, which soon
became a scene of bustle in all its departments from this large influx
of guests; and the preparation for the dinner, exceeding in scale what
Mrs. Fay was generally called upon to provide, except when the assizes,
or races, or other such cause of commotion, demanded all the resources
of her establishment, and more, if she had them. So the Dinnys, and the
Tims, and the Mickeys, were rubbing down horses, cleaning knives, or
drawing forth extra tables from their dusty repose; and the Biddys, and
Judys, and Nellys, were washing up plates, scouring pans, and
brightening up extra candlesticks, or doing deeds of doom in the
poultry-yard, where an audible commotion gave token of the premature
deaths of sundry supernumerary chickens.
Murphy soon joined his guests, grinning from ear to ear, and rubbing
his hands as he entered.
"Great news, boys," said he; "who do you think was at my house, when I
got home, but M'Garry, with his head bandaged up, and his whole body,
as he declares, bearing black and blue testimony to the merciless
attack of the bold O'Grady, against whom he swears he'll bring an
action for assault and battery. Now, boys, I thought it would be great
fun to have him here to dinner--it's as good as a play to hear him
describe the thrashing--so I asked him to come. He said he was not in a
fit state to dine out; but I egged him on by saying that a sight of him
in his present plight would excite sympathy for him, and stir up public
feeling against O'Grady, and that all would tell in the action, as most
likely some of the present company might be on the jury, and would be
the better able to judge how far he was entitled to damages, from
witnessing the severity of the injury he had received. So he's coming;
and mind, you must all be deeply affected at his sufferings, and
impressed with the _powerful_ description he gives of the same."
"Very scientific, of course," said old Growling.
"Extensively so," returned Murphy; "he laid on the Latin _heavy_."
"Yes--the fool!" growled the doctor: "he can't help sporting it even on
me. I went into his shop one day, and asked for some opium wine, and he
could not resist calling it _vinum opii_ as he handed it to me."
"We'll make him a martyr!" cried Durfy.
"We'll make him dhrunk!" said Jack Horan, "and that will be better. He
brags that he never was what he calls 'inebriated' in his life; and it
will be great fun to send him home on a door, with a note to his wife,
who is proud of his propriety."
As they spoke, M'Garry entered, his head freshly bound up, to look as
genteel as possible amongst the gentlemen with whom he was to have the
honour of dining. His wife had suggested a pink ribbon, but M'Garry,
while he acknowledged his wife's superior taste, said black would look
more professional. The odd fellows to whom he had now committed
himself, crowded round him, and, in the most exaggerated phrases,
implied the high sense they entertained of _his_ wrongs and O'Grady's
aggression.
"Unprovoked attack!" cried one.
"Savage ruffian!" ejaculated another.
"What atrocity!" said a third.
"What dignified composure!" added a fourth, in an audible whisper,
meant for M'Garry's ear.
"Gentlemen!" said the apothecary, flurried at the extreme attention of
which he became the object; "I beg to assure you I am deeply--that
is--this proof of--of--of--of symptoms--gentlemen--I mean sympathy,
gentlemen--in short, I really----"
"The fact is," said Growling, "I see Mr. M'Garry is rather shaken in
nerve--whether from loss of blood or----"
"I have lost a quantity of blood, doctor," said M'Garry; "much
vascular, to say nothing of extra-vasated."
"Which, I'll state in my case," said Murphy.
"Murphy, don't interrupt," said Growling, who, with a very grave face,
recommenced: "Gentlemen, from the cause already stated, I see Mr.
M'Garry is not prepared to answer the out-pouring of feeling with which
you have greeted him, and if I might be permitted----"
Every one shouted, "Certainly--certainly!"
"Then as I am permitted, I _will_ venture to respond _for_ Mr. M'Garry,
and address you, as he _would_ address you. In the words of Mr.
M'Garry, I would say--Gentlemen--unaccustomed as I am"--Some smothered
laughter followed this beginning; upon which the doctor, with a mock
gravity, proceeded--
"Gentlemen, this interruption I consider to be an infringement on the
liberty of the subject. I recommence, therefore, in the words of my
honourable and wounded friend, and our honourable and wounded feelings,
and say, as my friend would say, or, to speak classically, M'Garry
_loquitur_"--
The apothecary bowed his head to the bit of Latin, and the doctor
continued--
"Gentlemen--unaccustomed to public thrashing, you can conceive what my
feelings are at the present moment, in mind and body. [_Bravo_!] You
behold an outrage [_much confusion_]! Shall an exaggerated savagery
like this escape punishment, and 'the calm, sequestered vale' (as the
poet calls it) of private life be ravaged with impunity? [_Bravo,
bravo!_] Are the learned professions to be trampled under foot by
barbarian ignorance and brutality? No; I read in the indignant looks of
my auditory their high-souled answers. Gentlemen, your sympathy is
better than diachylon to my wounds, and this is the proudest day of my
life."
Thunders of applause followed the doctor's address, and every one shook
M'Garry's hand, till his bruised bones ached again. Questions poured
upon him from all sides as to the nature and quantity of his drubbing,
to all of which M'Garry innocently answered in terms of exaggeration,
spiced with scientific phrases. Muscles, tendons, bones, and sinews,
were particularised with the precision of an anatomical demonstration;
he swore he was pulverised, and paralysed, and all the other lies he
could think of.
"A large stick you say?" said Murphy.
"Sir! I never saw such a stick--'t was like a weaver's beam!"
"I'll make a note of that," said Murphy. "A weaver's beam--'t will tell
well with a jury."
"And beat you all over?" said Durfy.
"From shoulder to flank, sir, I am one mass of welts and weals; the
abrasures are extensive, the bruises terrific, particularly in the
lumbar region."
"What's that," asked Jack Horan.
"The lumbar region is what is commonly called the loins, sir."
"Not always," said the doctor. "It varies in different subjects: I have
known some people whose _lumber_ region lay in the head."
"You laugh, gentlemen," said M'Garry, with a mournful smile; "but you
_know_ the doctor--he _will_ be jocular." He then continued to describe
the various other regions of his injuries, amidst the well-acted pity
and indignation of the queer fellows who drew him out, until they were
saturated, so far, with the fun of the subject. After which, Murphy,
whose restless temperament could never let him be quiet for a moment,
suggested that they should divert themselves before dinner with a
badger-fight.
"Isn't one fight a day enough for you, signor?" said the doctor.
"It is not every day we get a badger, you know," said Murphy; "and I
heard just now from Tim the waiter that there is a horse-dealer lately
arrived at the stables here, who has a famous one with him, and I know
Reilly the butcher has two or three capital dogs, and there's a wicked
mastiff below stairs, and I'll send for my 'buffer,' and we'll have
some spanking sport."
He led his guests then to the inn yard, and the horse-dealer, for a
consideration, allowed his badger to wage battle: the noise of the
affair spread through the town, while they were making their
arrangements, and sending right and left for dogs for the contest; and
a pretty considerable crowd soon assembled at the place of action,
where the hour before dinner was spent in the intellectual amusement of
a badger-fight.