Such a concourse ne'er was seen
Of coaches, noddies, cars, and jingles,
“Chars-a-bancs,” to hold sixteen,
And “sulkies,” meant to carry singles.
The Pic-nic: A Lay.
It is an old remark that nothing is so stupid as love-letters; and,
pretty much in the same spirit, we may affirm that there are few
duller topics than festivities. The scenes in which the actor is most
interested are, out of compensation, perhaps, those least worthy
to record; the very inability of description to render them is
disheartening too. One must eternally resort to the effects produced, as
evidences of the cause, just as, when we would characterize a climate,
we find ourselves obliged to fall back upon the vegetable productions,
the fruits and flowers of the seasons, to convey even anything of what
we desire. So is it Pleasure has its own atmosphere,--we may breathe,
but hardly chronicle it.
These prosings of ours have reference to the gayeties of Tubbermore,
which certainly were all that a merry party and an unbounded expenditure
could compass. The style of living was princely in its splendor;
luxuries fetched from every land,--the rarest wines of every country,
the most exquisite flowers,--all that taste can suggest, and gold can
buy, were there; and while the order of each day was maintained with
undiminished splendor, every little fancy of the guests was studied with
a watchful politeness that marks the highest delicacy of hospitality.
If a bachelor's house be wanting in the gracefulness which is the charm
of a family reception, there is a freedom, a degree of liberty in
all the movements of the guests, which some would accept as a fair
compromise; for, while the men assume a full equality With their host,
the ladies are supreme in all such establishments. Roland Cashel was,
indeed, not the man to dislike this kind of democracy; it spared him
trouble; it inflicted no tiresome routine of attentions; he was free as
the others to follow the bent of his humor, and he asked for no more.
It was without one particle of vulgar pride of wealth that he delighted
in the pleasure he saw around him; it was the mere buoyancy of a
high-spirited nature. The cost no more entered into his calculations
in a personal than a pecuniary sense. A consciousness that he was
the source of all that splendid festivity,--that his will was the
motive-power of all that complex machinery of pleasure,--increased,
but did not constitute, his enjoyment. To see his guests happy, in the
various modes they preferred, was his great delight, and, for once, he
felt inclined to think that wealth had great privileges.
The display of all which gratified him most was that which usually took
place each day after luncheon; when the great space before the house was
thronged with equipages of various kinds and degrees, with saddle-horses
and mounted grooms, and amid all the bustle of discussing where to, and
with whom, the party issued forth to spend the hours before dinner.
A looker-on would have been amused to watch all the little devices
in request, to join this party, to avoid that, to secure a seat in a
certain carriage, or to escape from some other; Linton's chief amusement
being to thwart as many of these plans as he could, and while he packed
a sleepy Chief Justice into the same barouche with the gay Kennyfeck
girls, to commit Lady Janet to the care of some dashing dragoon, who did
not dare decline the wife of a “Commander of the Forces.”
Cashel always joined the party on horseback, so long as Lady Kilgoff
kept the house, which she did for the first week of her stay; but when
she announced her intention of driving out, he offered his services to
accompany her. By the merest accident it chanced that the very day she
fixed on for her first excursion was that on which Cashel had determined
to try a new and most splendid equipage which had just arrived; it was a
phaeton, built in all the costly splendor of the “Regency of the Duke of
Orleans,”--one of those gorgeous toys which even a voluptuous age gazed
at with wonder. Two jet-black Arabians, of perfect symmetry, drew it,
the whole forming a most beautiful equipage.
Exclamations of astonishment and admiration broke from the whole party
as the carriage drove up to the door, where all were now standing.
“Whose can it be? Where did it come from? What a magnificent phaeton!
Mr. Cashel, pray tell us all about it. Do, Mr. Linton, give us its
history.”
“It has none as yet, my dear Mrs. White; that it may have, one of these
days, is quite possible.”
Lady Janet heard the speech, and nodded significantly in assent.
“Mr. Linton, you are coming with us, a'n't you?” said a lady's voice
from a britzska close by.
“I really don't know how the arrangement is; Cashel said something about
my driving Lady Kilgoff.”
Lady Kilgoff pressed her lips close, and gathered her mantle together as
if by some sudden impulse of temper, but never spoke a word. At the same
instant Cashel made his appearance from the house.
“Are you to drive me, Mr. Cashel?” said she, calmly.
“If you will honor me so far,” replied he, bowing.
“I fancied you said something to me about being her Ladyship's
charioteer,” said Linton.
“You must have been dreaming, man,” cried Cashel, laughing.
“Will you allow my Lady to choose?” rejoined Linton, jokingly, while he
stole at her a look of insolent malice.
Cashel stood uncertain what to say or do in the emergency, when, with a
firm and determined voice, Lady Kilgoff said,--
“I must own I have no confidence in Mr. Linton's guidance.”
“There, Tom,” said Cashel, gayly, “I 'm glad your vanity came in for
that.”
“I have only to hope that you are in safer conduct, my Lady,” said
Linton; and he bowed with uncovered head, and then stood gazing after
the swift carriage as it hastened down the avenue.
“Is it all true about these Kennyfeck girls having so much tin'?” said
Captain Jennings, as he stroked down his moustache complacently.
“They say five-and-twenty thousand each,” said Linton, “and I rather
credit the rumor.”
“Eh, aw! one might do worse,” yawned the hussar, languidly; “I wish they
hadn't that confounded accent!” And so he moved off to join the party on
horseback.
“You are coming with me, Jemima,” said Mr. Downie Meek to his daughter.
“I want to pay a visit to those works at Killaloe, we have so much
committee talk in the House on inland navigation. Oh, dear! it is very
tiresome.”
“Charley says I 'm to go with him, pa; he 's about to try Smasher as a
leader, and wants me, if anything goes wrong.”
“Oh, dear! quite impossible.”
“Yes, yes, Jim, I insist,” said Frobisher, in a half-whisper; “never
mind the governor.”
“Here comes the drag, pa. Oh, how beautiful it looks! There they go, all
together; and Smasher, how neatly he carries himself! I say, Charley,
he has no fancy for that splinter-bar so near him,--it touches his
near hock every instant; would n't it be better to let his trace a hole
looser?”
“So it would,” said Frobisher; “but get up and hold the ribbons till I
have got my gloves on. I say, Linton, keep Downie in chat one moment,
until we 're off.”
This kindly office was, however, anticipated by Lady Janet MacFarline,
who, in her brief transit from the door to the carriage, always
contrived to drop each of the twenty things she loaded herself with at
starting, and thus to press into the service as many of the
bystanders as possible, who followed, one with a muff, another with a
smelling-bottle, a third with a book, a fourth with her knitting, and so
on; while Flint brought up the rear with more air-cushions and hot-water
apparatus than ever were seen before for the accommodation of two
persons. In fact, if the atmosphere of our dear island, instead of being
the mere innocent thing of fog it is, had been surcharged with all the
pestilential vapors of the mistral and the typhoon together, she could
not have armed herself with stronger precautions against it; while even
Sir Andrew, with the constitution of a Russian bear, was compelled
to wear blue spectacles in sunshine, and a respirator when it
lowered,--leaving him, as he said, to the “domnable alternative o' being
blind or dumb.”
“I maun say,” muttered he, behind his barrier of mouth plate, “that
Mesther Cashel has his ain notions aboot amusin' his company when he
leaves ane o' his guests to drive aboot wi' his ain wife. Ech, sir, it
is a pleasure I need na hae come so far to enjoy.”
“Where's Sir Harvey Upton, Sir Andrew?” said my Lady, tartly; “he has
never been near me to-day. I hope he 's not making a fool of himself
with those Kennyfeck minxes.”
“I dinna ken, and I dinna care,” growled Sir Andrew; and then to
himself, he added, “An' if he be, it's aye better fooling wi' young
lassies than doited auld women!”
“A place for you, Mr. Linton!” said Mrs. White, as she seated herself in
a low drosky, where her companion, Mr. Howie, sat, surrounded with all
the details for a sketching-excursion.
“Thanks, but I have nothing so agreeable in prospect.”
“Why, what are you about to do?”
“Alas! I must set out on a canvassing expedition, to court the sweet
voices of my interesting constituency. You know that I am a candidate
for the borough.”
“That must be very disagreeable.”
“It is, but I could not get off; Cashel is incurably lazy, and _I_ never
know how to say 'no.'”
“Well, good-bye, and all fortune to you,” said she; and they drove away.
Mr. Kennyfeck and the Chief Justice, mounted on what are called
sure-footed ponies, and a few others, still lingered about the door, but
Linton took no notice of them, but at once re-entered the house.
For some time previous he had remarked that Lord Kilgoff seemed, as
it were, struggling to emerge from the mist that had shrouded his
faculties; his perceptions each day grew quicker and clearer, and even
when silent, Linton observed that a shrewd expression of the eye would
betoken a degree of apprehension few would have given him credit for.
With the keenness of a close observer, too, Linton perceived that he
more than once made use of his favorite expression, “It appears to me,”
and slight as the remark might seem, there is no more certain evidence
of the return to thought and reason than the resumption of any habitual
mode of expression.
Resolved to profit by this gleam of coming intelligence, by showing
the old peer an attention he knew would be acceptable, Linton sent up
a message to ask “If his Lordship would like a visit from him?” A
most cordial acceptance was returned; and, a few moments after, Linton
entered the room where he sat, with all that delicate caution so
becoming a sick chamber.
Motioning his visitor to sit down, by a slight gesture of the finger,
while he made a faint effort to smile, in return for the other's
salutation, the old man sat, propped up by pillows, and enveloped in
shawls, pale, sad, and careworn.
“I was hesitating for two entire days, my Lord,” said Linton, lowering
his voice to suit the character of the occasion, “whether I might
propose to come and sit an hour with you, and I have only to beg
that you will not permit me to trespass a moment longer than you feel
disposed to endure me.”
“Very kind of you--most considerate, sir,” said the old peer, bowing
with an air of haughty courtesy.
“You seem to gain strength every day, my Lord,” resumed Linton, who
well knew there was nothing like a personal topic to awaken a sick man's
interest.
“There is something here,” said the old man, slowly, as he placed the
tip of his finger on the centre of his forehead.
“Mere debility, nervous debility, my Lord. You are paying the heavy debt
an overworked intellect must always acquit; but rest and repose will
soon restore you.”
“Yes, sir,” muttered the other, with a weak smile, as though, without
fathoming the sentiment, he felt that something agreeable to his
feelings had been spoken.
“I have been impatient for your recovery, my Lord, I will confess to
you, on personal grounds; I feel now how much I have been indebted
to your Lordship's counsel and advice all through life, by the very
incertitude that tracks me. In fact, I can resolve on nothing, determine
nothing, without your sanction.”
The old man nodded assentingly; the assurance had his most sincere
conviction.
“It would seem, my Lord, that I must--whether I will or no--stand for
this borough, here; there is no alternative, for you are aware that
Cashel is quite unfit for public business. Each day he exhibits more and
more of those qualities which bespeak far more goodness of heart than
intellectual training or culture. His waywardness and eccentricity might
seriously damage his own party,--could he even be taught that he had
one,--and become terrible weapons in the hands of the enemy. I was
speaking of Cashel, my Lord,” said Linton, as it were answering the look
of inquiry in the old man's face.
“I hate him, sir,” said the old peer, with a bitterness of voice and
look that well suited the words.
“I really cannot wonder at it,” said Linton, with a deep sigh; “such
duplicity is too shocking--far too shocking--to contemplate.”
“Eh! what? What did you say, sir?” cried the old man, impatiently.
“I was remarking, my Lord, that I have no confidence in his sincerity;
that he strikes me as capable of playing a double part.”
A look of disappointment succeeded to the excited expression of the
old man's face; he had evidently expected some revelation, and now his
features became clouded and gloomy.
“We may be unjust, my Lord,” said Linton; “it may be a prejudice on our
part: others would seem to have a different estimate of that gentleman.
Meek thinks highly of him.”
“Who, sir? I didn't hear you,” asked he, snappishly.
“Meek,--Downie Meek, my Lord.”
“Pshaw!” said the old man, with a shrewd twinkle of the eye that made
Linton fear the mind behind it was clearer than he suspected.
“I know, my Lord,” said he, hastily, “that you always held the worthy
secretary cheap; but you weighed him in a balance too nice for the
majority of people--”
“What does that old woman say? Tell me _her_ opinion of Cashel,” said
Lord Kilgoff, rallying into something like his accustomed manner. “You
know whom I mean!” cried he, impatient at Linton's delay in answering.
“The old woman one sees everywhere,--she married that Scotch sergeant--”
“Lady Janet MacFarline--”
“Exactly, sir.”
“She thinks precisely with your Lordship.”
“I'm sure of it; I told my Lady so,” muttered he to himself.
Linton caught the words with eagerness, and his dark eyes kindled; for
at last were they nearing the territory he wanted to occupy.
“Lady Kilgoff,” said he, slowly, “does not need any aid to appreciate
him; she reads him thoroughly, the heartless, selfish, unprincipled
spendthrift that he is.”
“She does not, sir,” rejoined the old man, with a loud voice, and a
stroke of his cane upon the floor that echoed through the room; “you
never were more mistaken in your life. His insufferable puppyism, his
reckless effrontery, his underbred familiarity, are precisely the very
qualities she is pleased with,--'They are so different,' as she says,
'from the tiresome routine of fashionable manners.'”
“Unquestionably they are, my Lord,” said Linton, with a smile.
“Exactly, sir; they differ as do her Ladyship's own habits from those of
every lady in the peerage. I told her so; I begged to set her right on
that subject, at least.”
“Your Lordship's refinement is a most severe standard,” said Linton,
bowing low.
“It should be an example, sir, as well as a chastisement. Indeed, I
believe few would have failed to profit by it.” The air of insolent
pride in which he spoke seemed for an instant to have brought back the
wonted look to his features, and he sat up, with his lips compressed,
and his chin pro-traded, as in his days of yore.
“I would entreat your Lordship to remember,” said Linton, “how few have
studied in the same school you have; how few have enjoyed the intimacy
of 'the most perfect gentleman of all Europe;' and of that small circle,
who is there could have derived the same advantage from the privilege?”
“Your remark is very Just, sir. I owe much--very much--to his Royal
Highness.”
The tone of humility in which he said this was a high treat to the
sardonic spirit of his listener.
“And what a penance to you must be a visit in such a house as this!”
said Linton, with a sigh.
“True, sir; but who induced me to make it? Answer me that.”
Linton started with amazement, for he was very far from supposing
that his Lordship's memory was clear enough to retain the events of an
interview that occurred some months before.
“I never anticipated that it would cost you so dearly, my Lord,” said
he, cautiously, and prepared to give his words any turn events might
warrant. For once, however, the ingenuity was wasted; Lord Kilgoff,
wearied and exhausted by the increased effort of his intellect, had
fallen back in his chair, and, with drooping lips and fallen jaw, sat
the very picture of helpless fatuity.
“So, then,” said Linton, as on tiptoe he stole noiselessly away, “if
your memory was inopportune, it was, at least, very short-lived. And
now, adieu, my Lord, till we want you for another act of the drama.”