Scarcely had the carriage driven from the gloomy portals of the jail,
and entered one of the long, straggling streets that led towards the
river, when I noticed a singular-looking figure who ran alongside, and
kept up with us as we went. A true type of the raggedness of old Dublin,
his clothes fluttered behind him like ribbons; even from his hat,
his long, red hair straggled and streamed, while his nether garments
displayed a patchwork no tartan could vie with. His legs were bare, save
where a single topboot defended one of them; the other was naked to
the foot, clad in an old morocco slipper, which he kicked up and caught
again as he went with surprising dexterity, accompanying the feat with
a wild yell which might have shamed a warwhoop. He carried a bundle of
printed papers over one arm; and flourished one of them in his right
hand, vociferating something all the while with uncommon energy.
Scarcely had the carriage drawn up at the door of an old-fashioned brick
building when he was beside it.
“How are ye. Major? How is every bit of you, sir? Are ye taking them
this mornin'--'t is yourself knows how! Buy a ha'porth, sir.”
“What have you got to-day, Toby?” said the major, with a greater degree
of complacency in his manner than I had ever noticed before.
“An illigant new song about Buck Whaley; or maybe you 'd like
'Beresford's Jig, or the Humors of Malbro' Green.'”
“Why, man, they 're old these three weeks.”
“True for ye, Major. Begorra! there 's no chating you at all, at all.
Well, maybe you 'll have this: here 's the bloody and cruel outrage
committed by the yeomen on the body of a dacent and respectable young
man, by the name of Darby M'Keown, with the full and true account of how
he was inhumanly stabbed and murdered on the eighth day of July--”
“Ay, give me that. I hope they 've done for that scoundrel; I have been
on his track three years.”
The fellow drew near, and, as he handed the paper to the major,
contrived to approach close to where I stood. “Buy one, master,” said
he; and as he spoke, he turned completely round, so as only to be
observed by myself, and as suddenly the whole expression of his vacant
features changed like magic, and I saw before me the well-known face of
Darby himself.
“Did you get an answer to that for me, Toby?', said the major.
“Yes, sir; here it is.” And with that he pulled off his tattered hat,
and withdrew a letter which lay concealed within the lining. “'T
is sixpence you ought to be afther givin' me this mornin', Major,”
continued he, in an insinuating tone of voice; “the devil a less than
twenty-one mile it is out of this, not to spake of the danger I run, and
the boys out on every side o' me.”
“And what's the news up the country, Toby?” asked the major, as he broke
the seal of the letter.
“'T is talking of a risin' they do be still, sir,--av the praties was
in; glory be to God, they say it 'll be a great sayson.”
“For which, Toby,--the crops or the croppies?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Toby, with a most provoking look of idiocy. “And you
won't buy Darby sir?” rejoined he, flourishing the printed placard. “No
matter; here 's the whole, full, thrue, and particular account--” And so
he turned the angle of the building, and I could hear his voice mingling
with the street noises as he wended his way down Dame Street.
The major looked after him and smiled; and brief as was that smile, I
saw in it how thoroughly he was duped.
“Come, sir, follow me, if you please,” said he, addressing me.
I mounted a flight of old and neglected stairs, and entered an anteroom,
where, having waited for a few seconds, the major whispered an order to
the porter, and passed on to the inner room, leaving me behind.
As Major Barton passed out by one door, the porter turned the key in the
other, and placing it in his pocket, drew his chair to the window and
resumed the newspaper he was reading when we entered. How long I waited
I cannot say. My thoughts, though sad ones, chased each other rapidly,
and I felt not the time as it passed. Suddenly the door opened, and I
heard my name called. I drew a deep breath, like one who felt his fate
was in the balance, and entered.
The room, which was plainly furnished, seemed to serve as an office. The
green covered table that stood in the middle was littered with letters
and papers, among which a large, heavy-browed, dark-featured man was
searching busily as I came in. Behind, and partly beside him, stood
Barton, in an attitude of respectful attention; while, with his back to
the fire, was a third person, whose age might have been from thirty-five
to forty. His dress was in the perfection of the mode: his topboots
reaching to the middle of his leg; his coat, of the lightest shade of
sky-blue, was lined with white silk; and two watch chains hung down
beneath his buff waistcoat, in the acme of the then fashion. His
features were frank and handsome, and saving a dash of puppyism that
gave a character of weakness to the expression, I should deem him a
manly, fine-looking fellow.
“So this is your 'Robespierre,' Major, is it?” cried he, bursting into a
laugh, as I appeared.
Barton approached nearer to him, and muttered something in a low,
mumbling tone, to which the other seemed to pay little if any attention.
“You are here, sir,” said the dark-featured man at the table, holding in
his hand a paper as he spoke, “you are here under a warrant of the Privy
Council, charging you with holding intercourse with that rebellious
and ill-fated faction who seek to disturb the peace and welfare of this
country,--disseminating dangerous and wicked doctrines, and being in
alliance with France--with France--What 'a that word, Barton?--to--”
“In two words, young gentleman,” said the young man at the fire,
“you are charged with keeping very bad company, learning exceedingly
unprofitable notions, and incurring very considerable present risk. Now
I am not disposed to think that at your age, and with your respectable
connections, either the cause or its associates can have taken a very
strong hold of your mind. I am sure that you must have received your
impressions, such as they are, from artful and designing persons, who
had only their own ends in view when involving you in their plots. If I
am justified in this opinion, and if you will pledge me your honor--”
“I say, Cooke, you can't do this. The warrant sets forth--”
“Well, well, we 'll admit him to bail.”
“It is not bailable. Right Honorable,” said Barton, addressing the large
man at the table.
“Phelan,” said the younger man, turning away in pique, “we really have
matters of more importance than this boy's case to look after.”
“Boy as he is, sir,” said Barton, obsequiously, “he was in the full
confidence of that notorious French captain for whose capture you
offered a reward of one thousand pounds.”
“You like to run your fox to earth. Barton,” replied the
Under-Secretary, calmly, for it was he who spoke.
“In alliance with France,” continued the dark man, reading from
the paper, over which he continued to pore ever since, “for the
propagation--ay, that's it--the propagation of democratic--”
“Come, come, Browne; never mind the warrant. If he can find bail--say
five hundred pounds--for his future appearance, we shall be satisfied.”
Browne, who never took his eyes from the paper, and seemed totally
insensible to everything but the current of his own thoughts, now looked
up, and fixing his dark and beetling look upon me, uttered in a deep,
low tone,--
“You see, sir, the imminent danger of your present position, and at
the same time the merciful leniency which has always characterized his
Majesty's Government,--ahem! If, therefore, you will plead guilty to any
transportable felony, the grand jury will find true bills--”
“You mistake, Browne,” said Cooke, endeavoring with his handkerchief to
repress a burst of laughter; “we are going to take his bail.”
“Bail!” said the other, in a voice and with a look of amazement
absolutely comic.
Up to this moment I had not broken silence, but I was unable to remain
longer without speaking.
“I am quite ready, sir,” said I, resolutely, “to stand my trial for
anything laid to my charge. I am neither ashamed of the opinions I
profess, nor afraid of the dangers they involve.”
“You hear him, sir; you hear him,” said Barton, triumphantly, turning
towards the Secretary, who bit his lip in disappointment, and frowned
on me with a mingled expression of anger and warning. “Let him only
proceed, and you 'll be quite satisfied, on his own showing, that he
cannot be admitted to bail.”
“Bail!” echoed the Right Honorable, whose faculties seemed to have
stuck fast in the mud of thought, and were totally unable to extricate
themselves.
At the same moment, a gentle tap was heard at the door, and the porter
entered with a card, which he delivered to the Secretary.
“Let him wait,” was the brief reply, as he threw his eyes over it.”
Captain Bubbleton!”, muttered he, between his teeth; “don't know him.”
I started at the name, and felt my cheek flush. He saw it at once.
“You know this gentleman, then?” said he, mildly.
“Yes; to his humanity I am indebted for my life.”
“I think I shall be able to show, sir,” said Barton, interposing, “that
through this Burke's instrumentality a very deep scheme of disaffection
is at this moment in operation among the troops in garrison. It was in
the barrack at George's Street that I apprehended him.”
“You may withdraw, sir,” said the Secretary, turning towards me. “Let
Captain Bubbleton come in.”
As I left the room, the burly captain entered; but so flurried and
excited was he, that he never perceived me, as we passed each other.
I had not been many minutes in the outer room when a loud laugh
attracted me, in which I could distinctly recognize the merry cadence
of my friend Bubbleton; and shortly after the door was opened, and I was
desired to enter.
“You distinctly understand, then, Captain Bubbleton,” said Mr. Cooke,
“that in accepting the bail in this case, I am assuming a responsibility
which may involve me in trouble?”
“I have no doubt of it,” muttered Barton, between his teeth.
“We shall require two sureties of five hundred pounds each.”
“Take the whole myself, by Jove!” broke in Bubbleton, with a flourish of
his hand. “In for a penny,--eh, Tom?”
“You can't do that, sir,” interposed Barton.
The Secretary nodded an assent, and for a moment or two Bubbleton looked
nonplussed.
“You 'll of course have little difficulty as to a co-surety,” continued
Barton, with a grin. “Burke of 'Ours' is sufficiently popular in the
Forty-fifth to make it an easy matter.”
“True,” cried Bubbleton, “quite true; but in a thing of this kind, every
fellow will be so deuced anxious to come forward,--a kind of military
feeling, you know.”
“I understand it perfectly,” said Cooke, with a polite bow; “although a
civilian, I think I can estimate the esprit de corps you speak of.”
“Nothing like it! nothing like it, by Jove! I 'll just tell you a story,
a little anecdote, in point. When we were in the Neelgharries, there was
a tiger devilish fond of one of ours. Some way or other, Forbes--that
was his name--”
“The tiger's?
“No, the captain's. Forbes had a devilish insinuating way with
him,--women always liked him,--and this tiger used to come in after
mess, and walk round where he was sitting, and Forbes used to give him
his dinner, just as you might a dog--”
The Castle clock struck three just at this moment. The Secretary started
up.
“My dear captain,” cried he, putting his hand on Bubbleton's arm,
“I never was so sorry in my life; but I must hurry away to the Privy
Council. I shall be here, however, at four; and if you will meet me at
that time with the other security, we can arrange this little matter at
once.” So saying, he seized his hat, bowed politely round the room, and
left us.
“Come along, Tom!” cried Bubbleton, taking me by the arm. “Devilish
good fellow that! Knew I 'd tickle him with the tiger; nothing to what I
could have told him, however, if he had waited.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Barton, interposing between us and the
door; “Mr. Burke is in custody until the formality at least of a bail be
gone through.”
“So he is,” said Bubbleton; “I forgot all about it. So good-by, Tom, for
half an hour; I 'll not be longer, depend on it.”
With this he shook me warmly by the hand, bustled out of the room, and
hurried downstairs, humming a tune as he went, apparently in capital
spirits, while I knew from his manner that the bail he was in search of
had about as much existence as the tiger in the Neelgharries.
“You can wait in this room, sir,” said Barton, opening the door of a
small apartment which had no other exit save through this office.
I sat down in silence and in sorrow of heart, to speculate, as well as
I was able, on the consequences of my misfortune. I knew enough of
Bubbleton to be certain that all chance of assistance in that quarter
was out of the question: the only source he could draw upon being his
invention; the only wealth he possessed, the riches of his imagination,
which had, however, this advantage over any other species of property
I ever heard of,--the more he squandered it, the more affluent did he
become. Time wore on; the clock struck four, and yet no appearance of
Bubbleton. Another hour rolled by,--no one came near me; and at length,
from the perfect stillness without, I believed they had forgotten me.