--Lord Cumber's Duel--Shot by Hartley--Dies in the Vindication of a
tyrannical Principle--Marriage of Harman and Mary O'Loughlin--Solomon
struck off the roll--Handsome Compliment to the Judge--Solomon's
Death--Dances the Swaggering Jig--Lucre's Virtues and Christian Death.
The Honorable Richard Alexander Topertoe, for he was sometimes called
the one and sometimes the other, but most frequently Richard, had been
for several years on the continent, where he found it more economical
to reside than at home. A circumstance connected with a gambling debt of
his brother's; communicated by a friend, brought him suddenly to London,
where he arrived in time to save his brother's reputation and fortune,
and most probably his life, for Lord Cumber, be it known, was very
nearly what is termed a professed duelist. Having succeeded in saving
his brother from being fleeced by a crew of aristocratic black-legs,
and thereby rendered an appeal to the duello unnecessary, he happened to
become acquainted with a very wealthy merchant, whose daughter, in the
course of a few months, he wooed and won. The thing in fact is common,
and has nothing at all of romance in it. She had wealth and beauty;
he had some title. The father, who passed off to a different
counting-house, about a couple of months after their marriage, left him
and her to the enjoyment of an immense property in the Funds; and
sooth to say, it could not have got into better hands. She was made
the Honorable Mrs. Richard Topertoe, and if a cultivated understanding,
joined to an excellent and humane heart, deserved a title, in her person
they did. After his arrival in London he had several conversations with
his brother, whose notions with regard to property he found to be of the
cool, aristocratic, and contemptuous school; that is to say, he did not
feel himself bound to neglect the pleasures and enjoyments of life, and
to look after his tenants. It was enough that he received their rents,
and paid a sensible Agent to collect them. What more could he do? Was he
to become their slave?
Richard, who now felt quite anxious to witness the management of his
brother's estate--if only for the purpose of correcting his bad logic
upon the subject of property, came over incognito to the metropolis,
accompanied by his wife; and it was to his brother, under the
good-humored sobriquet of Spinageberd, that he addressed the letters
recorded in these volumes. He also had a better object in view, which
was to purchase property in the country, and to reside on it. That
he did not succeed in rooting out of Lord Cumber's mind his senseless
prejudices with respect to the duties of a landlord, was unfortunately
none of his fault. All that man could do, by reasoning, illustration,
and remonstrance, he did; but in vain; the old absurd principle of the
landlord's claims upon his tenantry, Lord Cumber neither could nor would
give up; and having made these necessary observations, we proceed with
our narrative.
Better than a week had now elapsed; M'Clutchy had been interred with
great pomp--all the Orangemen of the neighboring districts having
attended “his honored and lamented remains” to the grave, each dressed
in his appropriate Orange costume. The provincial chaplain, remarkable
for singing his own songs, had been engaged to preach his funeral
sermon, which he did with a force of eloquence and pathos that literally
brought the tears of those who were acquainted with Val's virtues down
their cheeks--but of none else. He dwelt with particular severity upon
those who had kindled bonfires, and hung his respectable son, “our
esteemed brother, Captain Phil, in effigy; whilst the sacred remains of
that father whom he loved so well, and who so well deserved his
love, and the love of all who had the pleasure and happiness of his
acquaintance, &c, &c, were not yet cold.”
All this, we say, had taken place, and our friend Hartley was seated
quietly at his breakfast one morning, when a gentleman named
Fenton waited upon him, on the part of Lord Cumber. After the usual
salutations, Mr. Fenton opened the business on which he had come.
“I regret, Mr. Hartley, that there should be any misunderstanding
between you and Lord Cumber.”
“Not more so than I do, Mr. Fenton, I assure you; Lord Cumber, I
presume, has arrived then? But pardon me, have you breakfasted?”
“Thank you, sir, I have breakfasted. He has arrived, sir, and, requested
me, to wait upon you for an apology. It appears, according to my
instructions, as the lawyers say, that you have charged him with holding
and exercising tyrannical principles as a landlord; now this, you know,
is really a thing that a man like him could not overlook.”
“Of course, Mr. Fenton, he placed our correspondence in your hands.”
“Unquestionably he submitted it to me, previous to my consenting to
act.”
“And may I ask your own opinion, Mr Fenton?”
“As an extensive landed proprietor, Mr. Hartley, I must say that I agree
with him; I think a landlord has a right to demand every kind of support
from his tenant, and that if the tenant claims the privilege of running
counter to his landlord's interest, then the landlord is justified in
removing the tenant off his property as soon as he can.”
“In that case, then,” replied Hartley, “I have no concession to make,
and no apology to offer. I regret this business very much; but Lord
Cumber places me in a position which I cannot leave without dishonor.”
“He also wishes to have an explanation with respect to the circumstances
which induced so many of his corps of yeomanry to enroll their names in
your new troop.”
“I have explained that already, by stating that I never solicited any
of his men to join my troop; they came of their own free will, and I
received them, and certainly will receive as many as come to us under
similar circumstances.”
“Then I suppose you will not cause them to withdraw from your troop, as
Lord Cumber insists on.”
“Insists on! Will he allow neither the tenant nor the yeoman the use of
his free will, Mr. Fenton? I see nothing now remains but to refer you
to my friend, Captain Ormsby, who will assist you in making all the
necessary arrangements; and the sooner this unpleasant matter is
terminated; the better.”
After bidding each other good morning, Mr. Fenton departed to make, as
Hartley termed them, “the necessary arrangements.”
The next morning at day-break, in a paddock about two miles from Castle
Cumber, there stood a very elegant young man, of a high and aristocratic
bearing, accompanied by Mr. Fenton, to whom he appeared to be relating
some pleasant anecdote, if one could judge by the cheerful features of
the narrator, and the laughter of his companion. A carriage stood by a
kind of scalp in the road, which carriage contained a medical man,
who, indeed, was present with great reluctance. In a few minutes a
gig, containing two persons, drove to the same spot at a rapid pace,
a gentleman on horseback accompanying it; these were Mr. Hartley,
his friend, Captain Ormsby, and a medical gentleman, whom he also had
brought on the occasion.
On meeting the two principals bowed politely, addressing each other in
friendly terms, and were actually advancing to shake hands, when they
mutually checked themselves, and Hartley, smiling, said:--
“My Lord, I fear that this is really a foolish business--why, it is
literally fighting a duel upon abstract principles.”
“It is fighting a duel upon a principle, which, either abstract or
not, I will always support. If, however, you wish to avoid a duel, Mr.
Hartley, you have only to withdraw the offensive term you applied to the
principle in question.”
“As soon, my Lord, as you renounce the principle itself.”
“Enough,” said Lord Cumber, “gentlemen, please to let us take our
ground.”
Nothing could surpass the coolness, the ease of manner, and fine bearing
of both. The ground was measured at twelve paces, and it was agreed
by the seconds, from principles of humanity, that they should fire by
signal. Indeed, we may say here, that the seconds did everything that
men so circumstanced could do, to prevent the necessity of fighting.
Each, however, was high-minded and courageous, and knowing that his
opponent was remarkable for bravery and success as a duellist, refused
to make any concession. They accordingly took their grounds, resolved to
abide the event.
Having been placed, the seconds, previous to their agreement as to the
signal to be given, withdrew a little, so as to be completely out of
hearing. While discussing this point, a circumstance occurred worthy of
notice, and, we must say, the high-minded courage which it manifested
ought to have restrained Lord Cumber, as a man of honor, from turning a
pistol against Hartley on the occasion. Both were standing, as we have
said, awaiting the signal to fire, when Hartley said:--
“My Lord Cumber a word with you.”
“It is too late, Mr. Hartley,” replied that nobleman; “I am on my
ground.”
“It is not an apology, my Lord,” replied the other smiling; “but really,
as a man of honor, I cannot fight you as we stand at present: we are not
upon equal terms.”
“Speak to your second, sir,” said his opponent.
“You perceive he happens to be engaged just now,” rejoined Hartley;
“but, in fact, the communication can as well be made to your lordship; I
have just observed, my Lord, that the bullet of your pistol has dropped
out, and I believe, if you will take the trouble to look upon the
ground, you will see it at your feet; your second, I presume, has forgot
to put in wadding.”
“Mr. Hartley,” replied Lord Cumber, “I always believed you to be a
gentleman, and a man of bravery; I feel it now, and whatever the event
of this meeting may be, I shall render you ample justice. I thank you,
sir, for that act of true courage and honor.” At length the bullet was
restored to its place, and the seconds drew aside to give the signal,
which was letting fall a white handkerchief, when each was immediately
to fire.
How short a span there is between life and eternity! There they stood,
both in high health and strength, full of the world, and the world's
spirit, and yet in how brief a space was one of them to appear before
the judgment-seat of God!
At length the signal was given, the handkerchief fell, two shots were
heard, one instantly following the other. Hartley having fired, dropped
his pistol hand by his side, whilst Lord Cumber raised his left hand
to his breast, or rather was in the act of raising it, when he fell,
gathered up his knees to his chin, and immediately stretching out
his limbs at full length, was a corpse: thus dying as he did, in the
maintenance of an unjust and tyrannical principle. And so passed away,
by an untimely death, a man who was not destined to be a bad character.
His errors as a man--a private nobleman--we do not canvass any farther
than as they affected his duties as a landlord. His errors as a landlord
were the errors of his time, and represented the principles of his
class. These were contempt for, and neglect of, the condition and
comforts of his tenantry, of the very individuals from whose exertions
and straggles he derived his support. Strange, indeed, it is that men
placed as his lordship was, should forget a principle, which a neglect
of their duties may one day teach them to their cost--that principle is
the equal right of every man to the soil which God has created for all.
The laws of agrarian property are the laws of a class, and it is not too
much to say, that if the rights of this class to legislate for their
own interests were severely investigated, it might appear upon just and
rational principles that the landlord is nothing more nor less than a
pensioner upon popular credulity, and lives upon a fundamental error
in society created by the class to which he belongs. Think of this,
gentlemen, and pay attention to your duties.
Whilst Lord Cumber, who never communicated a syllable touching the duel
with Hartley to his brother, was engaged in that mortal conflict, as it
unhappily turned out to be, the Honorable Richard Topertoe was engaged
in a far different occupation. On that same morning, in Castle Cumber
church, he had the pleasure of giving away the hand of Mary M'Loughlin
to her lover, Harman, and it was on their return from her father's
house, after having witnessed their subsequent marriage by Father Roche,
that he met his brother's carriage containing his dead body. Richard
Topertoe possessed a mind above an empty title, and, perhaps, there
lived not a man who more sincerely deplored the event which made him
Lord Cumber, and put him in possession of a property which he did not
require.
Our chronicles draw to a close. The contemplated interview between Mrs.
Lenehan, her brother, and Solomon, never in fact took place. Solomon
fell very seasonably into ill health, and could be seen by nobody,
except his physician, who was nearly as religious as himself, and
besides, a member of his own congregation. In the trust, however,
which the widow placed in Solomon, she was, to use his own language,
abundantly justified, as the event proved. Honest Solomon defrauded her
out of the money, and had the satisfaction of reflecting that he reduced
her and her family to beggary. Breach of trust it appears is a very
slight thing in the eye of the law, and Solomon, encouraged by this
consideration, ruined the unfortunate widow and her orphans. This act
of gross, unprincipled robbery was, however, not unpunished. In about a
month after he had perpetrated it, the following scene occurred in
the Court of King's Bench, in presence of many who will have little
difficulty in bringing it to their recollection. A thin, pale-faced
man, far gone apparently in serious illness, supported on each side by a
religious friend who had not given him up, one of them by the way was
a Scotchman, and a far greater knave and hypocrite than
himself--approached the table, and requested permission to address the
Court, previous to the exercise of its jurisdiction in striking him off
the Roll of Attornies. This permission was granted, and Solomon, for it
was he, spoke briefly as follows:--
“My Lord, you see before you a frail sinner, who will soon appear before
a greater and more awful tribunal than yours. I am not here, my Lord,
to defend an act to which I was prompted by--may I be permitted to
say so--by my very virtues. Some men, my Lord, we ruined by excellent
qualities, and some by those which are the reverse. As touching mine, my
Lord, and the principles upon which--but an explanation on this subject
would not become me. Oh, no, my Lord; but your lordship sees these
tears; your lordship sees this weak, feeble, and emaciated frame.
You perceive, in fact, my Lord, that I am scarcely a subject for the
severity of this or any other court. In the meantime, may I be prepared
to meet a greater, a more awful one! May that be granted, my Lord! oh,
may He grant it! I am very feeble, my Lord, but still able to entreat
that your lordship will temper justice with mercy. About a month ago, my
Lord, when I little apprehended the occurrence which--but may His will
be done! My honesty is known, my Lord; it is known there, pointing
up--about a month ago, I say, I had my last child baptized by--I am
ashamed to tell your lordship what name, lest you might imagine that I
done so for the purpose of biasing your judgment in the--No, my Lord,
I will add nothing to the simple fact--I had my last child baptized by
the name of Richard Pennywinkle M'Slime--a circumstance which fills my
heart with sentiments of joy and gratification up to this moment. And I
am not depressed---far from it. This, my Lord, is a trial, and I know,
for I feel, that it is good for me to be tried, inasmuch as it is a
proof that I am cared for THERE!” and he pointed again upwards as he
spoke.
The judge, who was a kind-hearted and humane man, was melted even unto
tears which he could with difficulty restrain whilst he spoke.
“Unhappy man,” said he, “I have been for several years in the habit of
dispensing law--”
“Justice, you mean, my Lord,” said Solomon; “oh, justice, justice, or
rather mercy, my Lord! little of law have you ever dispensed! Oh, little
of law--but much of justice. May He be praised for it! amen, amen!”
“Your case, unhappy man, is one which places me in a peculiarly painful
position indeed. The compliment you were good enough to pay me--I mean
that of calling your child after me--makes me feel as if in addressing
you I was--” here he sobbed and wiped his eyes bitterly, and was about
to proceed, when Widow Lenehan's counsel rose up, and said:--
“My Lord, it is really too bad that hypocrisy should continue its
impositions even to the last act of the drama. I feel it my duty to
disabuse your lordship in this matter of naming the child after
you. Perhaps the compliment will be considerably diminished, if not
absolutely reversed, when you come to know, my Lord, that the child
which bears your lordship's name--if it does bear it--is an illegitimate
one, and very unworthy, indeed, my Lord of bearing such an honored name
as yours.”
The judge had been shedding tears for Solomon's calamities during this
address, but it is almost unnecessary to say that the change from the
benevolent and pathetic to the indignant was as fine a specimen as ever
was given of the ludicrous.
“Do you mean to tell me,” said the judge, the whole features of his face
in a state of transition that was perfectly irresistible; “do you mean
to tell me that the child which the wretched! man had the insolence to
name after me, was not born in wedlock.
“My Lord,” said Solomon, “this is a subject on which aided by my great
namesake the wisest of--”
“The decision of the court,” continued the judge, “is, that your name be
struck off the list of Attornies who practice here.”
In the course of about six weeks afterwards might be read, in all the
metropolitan papers, the following announcement: “Died of deep
decline in the forty-eighth year of his age, Solomon M'Slime, Esq.,
Attorney-at-Law. Indeed we are bound to say, that for the last and
most exemplary portion of his life, he ought rather to have been termed
Attorney-at-Gospel. We are glad to hear, for the sake of his interesting
family, that his life was insured for the sum of two thousand pounds,
which has been paid to them.”
About four months after Solomon's death, an American vessel was lying at
the Pigeon House, waiting for the tide. Several of the passengers were
assembled in Mrs. Thumbstall's tavern--previous to the departure of the
brig--where, as was then usual, they amused themselves by drinking punch
and dancing. Among them was a little thin fellow, dressed in a short
frieze coat, striped waistcoat, corduroy breeches, and stout brogues;
beside him sat a comely, youthful, but somewhat prim female, dressed
as a plain peasant girl. The moment the floor became vacant, the little
frieze-coated fellow got to his legs, accompanied by the female, and
addressed the musician as follows:
“My good friend, there is--is much cheerfulness in thy music, for
which reason this young person and I will trouble you to play us that
sustaining psalm--I mean that blessed air called the Swaggering Jig,
which is really a consoling planxtic--come, Susanna.”
Good by, Solomon, thou art now gone to that land of true liberty, and
sorry are we to say, that thou has left so many who are so much worse
than thyself behind thee! One of the most virtuous acts of thy life was
the defrauding the Spiritual Railway Assurance office of two thousand
pounds upon the fiction of thy death; which, truth to say, was a very
bitter fiction to them.
Our chronicles are closed. Need we say that Richard Topertoe, on gaining
the title and estate, became a resident landlord, and is at this
day enjoying a green and happy old age upon one of the best managed
properties in Ireland, where his tenantry are grateful, prosperous, and
happy. Mary M'Loughlin, her husband, and family, lived happily, as they
deserved to live, and some, of them live yet, and will easily recognize
themselves in these pages.
Of Phil, we must say a word or two. On finding himself the uncontrolled
inheritor of his father's ill-gotten wealth, he accelerated his progress
in drunkenness and profligacy. He took to the turf, became a gambler and
spendthrift, and went backwards in squandering his fortune through as
unprincipled a course as his father pursued in making it. From step to
step he came down until nothing was left. Having no manly principle
to sustain him, he fell from one stage of rascality and meanness to
another, until he succeeded at length in getting himself appointed as
an under turnkey in Castle Cumber Gaol. A whisper has gone abroad,
that upon a critical occasion when the Sheriff, owing to the death of a
certain functionary essential to the discharge of his duty, felt
himself considerably at a loss, he found in one of the under turnkeys a
convenient substitute.
The living of Castle Cumber, left vacant by the promotion of Mr. Lucre
to a Bishopric, was given to an Englishman, as was then the practice,
and would be now, were it not for the influence of common shame and
public opinion.
Mr. Clement opened an Academy in Castle Cumber, and succeeded; for he
thought it a wiser thing to live by teaching a school, than to suffer
his large family and himself to starve by the gospel.
We now beg to close, by a paragraph from the True Blue:--
“_Elevation of the Rev. Dr. Lucre to the See of ------_
“For many years a duty at once so painful and so delightful, has not
devolved upon us as a public journalist. The elevation of the
Right Rev., Father in God,, Phineas Lucre to the See of ------, is a
dispensation to our Irish Establishment which argues the beneficent
hand of a wise and overruling Providence. In him we may well say, that
another bright and lustrous star is added to that dark, but beautiful
galaxy, in the nether heavens above us, which is composed of our blessed
Bishops. The diocese over which he has been called by the Holy Spirit
to preside, will know, as they ought, how to appreciate his learning and
attainments. But what shall we say of the poor of Castle Cumber, to whom
he has been such a kind, meek, charitable, and consoling dispenser
of God's gifts and God's word? At the bed of death, of disease, of
poverty--at every post, no matter how poor, low, neglected, or how
dangerous--there was he to be found, the champion of God--fighting his
battles in peace, self-denial, and charity. It is true, he is not an
Irishman; but is it not a blessed thing that such links of love as he,
and of those who resemble him, should continue to bind the virtues
of the two churches, and the two countries together? His Lordship was
consecrated on last Sunday, by that Right Rev. and blessedly facetious
prelate, Archbishop Drapely, who, in addition to his other evangelical
gifts, is said to be a perfect Toler in canonicals. It is not often that
so much piety proceeds from so comic a source.”
Our readers can scarcely forget the circumstances of Mr. Lucre's
departure out of this wicked, ungodly, and sensual world. About eight
years ago, or less, he died in a very pious fit of apoplectic passion,
brought on by his cook, in consequence of that important functionary
having neglected the apostolic duty of dressing a haunch of venison, we
presume, upon scriptural authority. We regret to say, for the sake of
the Church, and the loss which she sustained in consequence, that the
haunch in question was considerably overdone--a fact which one would
scarcely imagine could have produced such important results upon the
religion of the country as it did by his death.
With respect to Counsellor Browbeater, we have only to say, that the
government of that period, having got out of him all the dirty work of
which he was capable, felt extremely anxious to get rid of him as easily
and safely as they could. Browbeater, however, who was a most insatiable
leech, stuck to them, knowing that they could not well discharge him
without a character. He was made a master in chancery, and had the honor
of succeeding old Tom Silver, a lawyer, a gentleman, an orator, and a
man of honor and integrity! And only think of Browbeater succeeding such
an office, as excellent, respected, and admirable Tom Silver left behind
him!