MISTRESS O'CALLIGAN'S WOOERS.
It will be remembered that Mr. Jinks had summed up the probable
results of his deep laid schemes that morning when he returned from
Mistress O'Calligan's, in the strong and emphatic word-picture, "there
will be gory blood, sir!"
Now, while these words, strictly construed, are, perhaps, ambiguous,
from a certain redundancy in the arrangement, still, there is little
difficulty in determining what Mr. Jinks meant. Death and destruction
dwelt in his imagination, and held there a riotous carnival; and to
such a pitch of delight was our friend elevated by the triumphant
anticipation of revenge upon O'Brallaghan, that he stalked about
during the remaining portion of the day, talking to himself in the
heroic vein, and presenting the appearance of an imperial grasshopper,
arrived at the summit of felicity.
But Mr. Jinks was not idle; no one knew better than himself that
vigilance was the price paid for success; and to vigilance our
conspirator added cunning--in which noble trait he was by no means
deficient.
We have seen how, on returning from the heroic attack upon the
peace-bound O'Brallaghan, Mr. Jinks threw out a series of observations
which attracted the attention of the landlord at the tavern; and
we have further seen these two gentlemen retire together into the
hostelry, with significant looks and mutterings. Of the exact nature
of that interview we cannot speak, having nowhere discovered any
memoranda to guide us, in the authentic documents from which this
history is compiled.
But results define causes; and from after events it is not improbable
that Mr. Jinks made an eloquent and stirring oration, addressed after
the manner of all great orators to the prejudices of the auditor,
and indicative of Mr. Jinks' intention to overwhelm, with defeat and
destruction, the anti-Germanic league and pageant, on St. Michael's
day.
That day was very near, as we have seen; but twenty-four hours
remained for the conspirators to act in; and Mr. Jinks determined not
to lose the opportunity to perfect and render satisfactory his bloody
revenge.
Many things conspired to put him in high spirits, and arouse that
heroic confidence felt by all great men in undertaking arduous
affairs. The landlord had been so much pleased with Mr. Jinks'
patriotic ardor in the German cause, that he generously hinted at an
entire obliteration of any little score chalked up against the name
of Jinks for board and lodging at the hostelry; this was one of the
circumstances which inspirited Mr. Jinks. Another was the possession
of a steed--a donkey, it is true, but a donkey out of a thousand, _nee
pluribus impar_, and not unworthy of a knight in a great and exciting
contest.
Thus it happened that when, upon the following morning, Mr. Jinks
arose, assumed his garments, and descended, his face was radiant with
anticipated triumph, his sword clattered against his slender legs with
martial significance, and his brows were corrugated into a frown,
which indicated ruin to all those opposed to him.
Mounted upon Fodder, who was sleek and in high spirits, owing to a
good night's rest and a plentiful supply of his favorite provender,
Mr. Jinks remained for a moment irresolute before the door of the
hostelry, revolving in his mind various and conflicting thoughts of
love and war.
Should he go on his handsome animal, and enact the little drama, which
he had arranged in his mind, with Miss Sallianna at the Bower of
Nature? Should he, on this morning, advance to victory and revenge in
that direction? Or should he go and challenge his enemy, Verty, and
make his name glorious forever?
These conflicting ideas chased themselves through Mr. Jinks' mind, and
rendered him irresolute.
He was interrupted in the midst of them by a voice, laughing and
sonorous, which cried from the direction of the gateway:
"Hey, there! What now, Jinks'? What thoughts occupy your mind, my dear
fellow?"
And Ralph came out from the yard of the tavern, mounted upon his
handsome animal, as fresh and bright-looking as himself.
"I was reflecting, sir," said Mr. Jinks, "I have much to occupy me
to-day."
"Ah? Well, set about it--set about it! Don't you know that the great
element of success in life, from killing a mosquito to winning an
empress, is to strike at once, and at the right moment? Go on, Jinks,
my boy, and luck to you!"
"Thanks, sir," replied Mr. Jinks--"I hope I shall have luck."
"Of course, because you have genius! What is luck?" cried Ralph,
bending down to smooth the glossy neck of his animal, and laughing
gaily,--"why, nothing but a word! Luck, sir, is nothing--genius
everything. Luck throws her old shoe after, as says the proverb; but
genius catches it, and conquers. Come, you are good at everything, let
us have a race!"
"No, I thank you," said Mr. Jinks, drawing back; "I have business,
sir--important business, sir!"
"Have you?" said Ralph, restraining his desire to lay the lash of his
whip over Fodder's back, and so inaugurate a new Iliad of woes for Mr.
Jinks. "Then go on in your course, my dear fellow. I am going to see a
young lady, who really is beginning to annoy me."
And the mercurial young fellow passed from laughter to smiles, and
even to something suspiciously resembling a sigh.
"Farewell, my dear Jinks," he added, becoming gay again; "fortune
favors the brave, recollect. I wish I could believe it," he added,
laughing.
And touching his horse, Ralph set forward toward the Bower of Nature,
and consequently toward Miss Fanny.
"There goes a young man who is in love," said Mr. Jinks, with
philosophic dignity; "regularly caught by a pair of black eyes. Boy!"
added Mr. Jinks, after the manner of Coriolanus, "he don't know 'em as
I do. He's looking out for happiness--I for revenge!"
And Mr. Jinks scowled at a stable-boy until the terrified urchin hung
his head in awe, respect, and admiration. The great militaire was not
superior to humanity, and even this triumph elated him. He set forth,
therefore, on Fodder, feeling like a conqueror.
If this veracious history were a narrative of the life and adventures
of Mr. Jinks alone, we might follow the great conspirator in his
various movements on this eventful day. We might show how he
perambulated the town of Winchester on his noble steed, like a second
Don Quixote, mounted for the nonce upon the courser of Sancho Panza,
while Rosinante recovered from his bruises. Though the illustration
might fail if carried further, inasmuch as Mr. Jinks encountered no
windmills, and indeed met with no adventures worth relating, still
we might speak of his prying inquisition into every movement of the
hostile Irish--detail his smiling visits, in the character of spy,
to numerous domicils, and relate at length the manner in which he
procured the information which the noble knight desired. All this we
might do; but is it necessary? Not always does the great historic muse
fill up the flaws of story, leaving rather much to the imagination.
And in the present instance, we might justly be accused of undue
partiality. We are not sure that some of our kind readers might not go
further still, and declare in general terms, that none of Mr. Jinks'
adventures were worth telling--Mr. Jinks himself being a personage
wholly unworthy of attention.
To critics of this last description, we would say in deprecation of
their strictures--Friends, the world is made up of a number of odd
personages, as the animal kingdom is of singular, and not wholly
pleasant creatures. Just as the scarabaeus and the ugly insect are as
much a part of animated nature as the golden-winged butterfly, and
humming-bird, and noble eagle, so are the classes, represented
partly by our friend, as human as the greatest and the best. As the
naturalist, with laborious care, defines the characteristics of the
ugly insect, buzzing, and stinging, and preying on the weaker, so must
the writer give a portion of his attention to the microscopic bully,
braggart, and boasting coward of the human species. In the one case,
it is _science_--in the other, _art_.
But still we shall not give too much space to Mr. Jinks, and shall
proceed to detail very briefly the result of his explorations.
The great conspirator had, by the hour of eventide, procured all the
information he wished. That information led Mr. Jinks to believe that,
on the following day, the opposing races would turn out in numbers,
far exceeding those on any previous occasion. They would have a grand
pageant:--St. Patrick would meet St. Michael in deadly conflict, and
the result would undoubtedly overwhelm one of the combatants with
defeat, elevating the other to the summit of joy and victory.
It was Mr. Jinks' object to ensure the success of the worthy St.
Michael, and prostrate the great St. Patrick in the dust. But this was
not all. Mr. Jinks further desired to procure an adequate revenge upon
his friend O'Brallaghan. To overwhelm with defeat and dismay the party
to which his enemy belonged, was not enough--any common man could
invent so plain a course as that. It was Mr. Jinks' boast, privately,
and to himself be it understood, that he would arrange the details
of an original and refined revenge--a revenge which should, in equal
degree, break down the strength and spirit of his enemy, and elevate
the inventor to the niche of a great creative genius.
By the hour of nine that night all was arranged; and, after laboring
for an hour or more at some mysterious employment, in the secresy of
his apartment, Mr. Jinks descended, and ordered Fodder to be saddled.
Under his arm he carried a bundle of some size; and this bundle was
placed carefully before him on the animal.
This done, Mr. Jinks went forth cautiously into the night.
Let us follow him.
He proceeds carefully toward the western portion of the town; then
suddenly turns a corner, and goes northward; then changes his course,
and takes his way eastward. This is to throw enemies off the track.
Half an hour's ride brings him in the neighborhood of Mistress
O'Calligan's.
What does he hear? A voice singing;--the voice of no less a personage
than Mr. O'Brallaghan.
The conspirator retraces his steps for some distance--dismounts--ties
Fodder to a tree-trunk; and then, with his bundle under his arm,
creeps along in the shadow toward the cabin.
At Mrs. O'Calligan's door, sitting upon the railing, he perceives the
portly figure of Mr. O'Brallaghan, who is singing a song of his
own composition; not the ditty which has come down to modern times
connected with this gentleman's name--but another and more original
madrigal. The popular ditty, we have every reason to believe, was
afterwards written by Mr. Jinks, in derision and contempt of Mr.
O'Brallaghan.
Mr. Jinks creeps up; diabolical and gloomy thoughts agitate his soul;
and when a night-cap appears at an opening in the shutter, and a
fluttering voice exclaims, "Oh, now--really! Mr. O'Brallaghan," the
hidden spectator trembles with jealousy and rage.
A colloquy then ensues between the manly singer and the maiden,
which we need not repeat. It is enough to say, that Mr. O'Brallaghan
expresses disapprobation at the coldness of the lady.
The lady replies, that she respects and esteems Mr. O'Brallaghan, but
never, never can be his, owing to the fact that she is another's.
Mr. Jinks starts with joy, and shakes his fist--from the protecting
shadow--triumphantly at the poor defeated wooer.
The wooer, in turn, grows cold and defiant; he upbraids the lady; he
charges her with entertaining a passion for the rascal and coward
Jinks.
This causes the lady to repel the insulting accusation with hauteur.
Mr. O'Brallaghan thinks, and says, thereupon, that she is a cruel and
unnatural woman, and unworthy of affection or respect.
Mistress O'Calligan wishes, in reply, to know if Mr. O'Brallaghan
means to call her a woman.
Mr. O'Brallaghan replies that he does, and that if Mr. Jinks were
present, he would exterminate that gentleman, as some small exhibition
of the state of his feelings at being thus insulted by the worst and
most hard-hearted of her sex.
After which, Mr. O'Brallaghan clenches his hands with threatening
vehemence, and brushing by the concealed Jinks, who makes himself as
small as possible, disappears, muttering vengeance.
Mr. Jinks is happy, radiant, triumphant, and as he watches the
retreating wooer, his frame shakes with sombre merriment. Then he
turns toward the window, and laughs with cautious dignity.
The lady, who is just closing the window, starts and utters an
exclamation of affright. This, however, is disregarded by Mr. Jinks,
who draws near, and stands beneath the window.
Mistress O'Calligan considers it necessary to state that she is in
such a taking, and to ask who could have thought it. Mr. Jinks does
not directly reply to this question, but, reaching up, hands in the
bundle, and commences a whispered conversation. The lady is doubtful,
fearful--Mr. Jinks grows more eloquent. Finally, the lady melts, and
when Mr. Jinks clasps, rapturously, the red hand hanging out, he has
triumphed.
In fifteen minutes he is on his way back to the tavern, chuckling,
shaking, and triumphant.
All is prepared.