[Illustration: JIMMY DELANY, OR THE ASCENDANT IDEA.]
“A merry morning to Father Connellan! Well, I dare north, south, east,
and west, of our sweet county of Wexford, to produce such another
comfortable domicile as this of your reverence; and the proof that it
is so in every respect, is, that master, man, dog, cat, cow, and horse,
have the same sleek sides and sleek looks. I wish I could say as much
for some of the poor parsons.” “Alack! alack!” sighed Father Connellan
in a lachrymose tone, “you speak of what we _were_ rather than what
we _are_. Poor things! neither biped nor quadruped _here_ carries the
same port as formerly. Now, how can you speak of sleek sides and sleek
cheeks to me?--to me? Take another glance at me: fancy me with a pink
jacket and black cap, and am I not just the cut, weight, and girth for a
jockey? ‘Ah! what a falling off is _here_,’” pointing to a paunch that he
asserted, with serio-comic phiz, was lamentably diminished.
“Oh, most lamentably!” cried I, entering into his humour. “Bless me! what
is the matter? Oh, thou _poor, poor_ disciple of holy mother church!
black was the fast indeed that hath reduced thee to this pickle!”
“_Black_ it has been more than once, sure enough,” returned the priest,
laughing; “and as I am a christianable man, this strict Lent has been
for the sins and follies of _others_, and not for my own. But you shall
know all.” Then raising his voice, he called, “Jimmy! Jimmy Delany!”
Thrice he shouted, and was still unanswered. “Ay,” continued his
reverence, shaking his head and turning up his eyes, “this is the cut!
Job’s boils and blisters were nothing to this! I may call and call, and
have nothing but the echo of my own voice for my pains. Once more I’ll
try, and if he doesn’t come then”---- and, placing his mouth close to
the wall, he sang out, “Jimmy Delany!” so tremendously loud, that the
delinquent must have heard it at half a mile’s distance. At this fourth
summons, shuffling, lagging steps faltered up the hall, the parlour door
opened, and the anatomy of a man presented itself--
So faint, so spiritless.
So dull, so dead in look, so woe begone.
While gazing on him, I thought that if such a man were to “draw my
curtains in the dead of night,” he need not cry out “fire!” to appal me.
“Well, Misther Delany,” began Father Connellan, “since you have
condescended to appear--(why don’t you make your obeisance, sirrah?--draw
back your shovel foot, bob forward your great mop-head, and bow to
the lady--soh, that will do)--be plaised to explain how and why I,
your spiritual pastor and lawful master, am reduced to half my natural
dimensions, ‘clipt of my fair proportions.’ As some one says”----
But ere the priest could proceed with his quotation, I broke in with an
exclamation of amazement.
“_That_ spectre--plump, grinning, mutton-headed Jimmy Delany! who used
to wish for a gold chain but long enough to encircle the _disc_ of his
face twice, and it would be as long as the chain of my lord mayor of
Dublin? Impossible! No, no! Reverend father, you may make me believe
much; you are a man of mystery and mirth, potent and pleasant; but you
will hardly bring me to believe that _that_ shadow represents my plump
and good-humoured old acquaintance Jimmy Delany.” “I have my doubts too,”
said his reverence.
All this time the ghost-like subject of our observations stood mute and
motionless, gazing at me with lack-lustre eyes, in which there was no
beam of recognition. Indeed, he seemed dubious of his own identity; for
when I refused to acknowledge him, he passed his hand deliberately and
cautiously over his face and person, much in the way a blind man would
do; and it was a considerable time before he ventured to assert “that he
_was_ Jimmy Delany still--if not in flesh and blood, at laist in skin and
bone.”
“Alas! and has it come to this with thee, Jimmy? I recognise thy voice,
though somewhat tremulous and less stentorian than of old, and I would
fain inquire for what unheard of crime has this severe penance been
imposed upon thee?--the direst that the dire church can inflict, it must
have been! Hast thou made a pilgrimage with _unboiled_ peas in your
shoes, my poor, poor Jimmy?”
“Speak, sirrah!” cried the priest.
“Must I tell the _thruth_, sur?” asked the spectre, reddening, and
scratching his head in a dilemma.
At this juncture I perceived that the person appealed to could hardly
command gravity to answer the important query addressed to him, and, but
that a fit of coughing came to his aid, alas for the decorum of Father
Connellan!
“You are a good boy, Jimmy,” said his reverence with becoming sedateness,
when the teasing cough had subsided; “a very good boy to apply to me ere
you answered a question under circumstances which induce you to conceal
the truth if you could. But, my poor, poor fellow, as I have said and
thundered forth a hundred times from the pulpit, TRUTH _should_ be spoken
at all times, however painful to us; and it is especially necessary on
this occasion, as I perceive a something like a fling at the discipline
of our church; because, forsooth, you have dwindled from a mould four to
a farthing candle! Tell the truth and shame the _devil_.”
Thus admonished, with a desperate effort poor Jimmy proceeded to inform
me that the cause of all his woe and waste of flesh was “Betsy Kelly,
an’ the urchint”---- Here he stuck fast, and I waited in vain for the
finishing of the sentence. I next looked to the merry priest for an
explanation, but I found that it was equally fruitless to expect one
from him _then_. He had fallen back in his chair, in a fit of (to me
inexplicable) laughter; and the confused Delany, still more confounded,
took the opportunity to escape from the room, saying, as he retreated,
“I’ll lave it all to his rivirince!--let him tell what he will--I won’t
deny it.” “A fair stage for a fertile imagination, Father Connellan?”
said I.
“Egad, there is no occasion for a fertile imagination in _this_ case,”
he replied. “Too true it is that the drama of every-day life surpasses
that exhibited on the stage. Now, here is my poor Jimmy--_fiddle-string_
I may call him, because I play upon him daily, and he is almost reduced
to one. If an actor ever so clever were to show off _his_ blunders and
absurdities on the stage, he’d be pelted to a mummy, or hooted into a
coal-hole for the rest of his days, for attempting (mind) to impose on a
discerning public with an outrageous caricature of nature.
_Baithershin!_ let them come to Father Connellan’s cabin for a week, and
I’ll promise them more amusement for _nothing_ than they could get at the
theatre in a year, and pay dearly for it. But the farce is drawing to a
conclusion now.”
“_Farce_, call you it? My good sir, to look at poor Jimmy, I should
suppose he has been enacting a very deep tragedy indeed, and that the
bowl or dagger must end it.”
“Or a marl-hole, or his garters,” said his reverence laughing! “But is it
possible,” continued he, “that you have not dived into the mystery yet?
Is it possible that I, a poor secluded priest, dead to the world these
twenty years, minding nothing but my breviary, the souls of my flock,
the Pope’s bulls, and--and an occasional beef-steak and glass of punch,
was up to the secret in a trice, while you, a gay member of society, are
still in the dark? What direful, by me unmentionable disease, doth these
four ugly, sinful capitals spell, L, O, V, E?”
“Love!--Ha! ha! ha! So Jimmy, poor Jimmy, is a lover! ‘Oh, Cupid, thou
_urchint_,’ as thy woe-begone disciple calls thee, thou wert not blind,
but _blind-folded_; thou stolest a peep, and the barbed dart that rankles
in the heart of poor Jimmy was directed with laughter-loving malice!
Pray tell me, reverend Father, was the heroine--for heroine she must
have been, to have achieved such a victory over dullness--a living woman?
or did she smite him through the pages of a book? for I recollect his
reading mania at one time.”
“Arm yourself with the seven-fold fence of patience for half an hour,
and I shall tell you all I know of the matter. But I must begin with the
beginning, according to the method of all story-tellers. Now, a pinch of
Lundy, a preliminary hem! and here goes:--
“About five years come Michaelmas, I buried my old house-keeper Nell
Gray--I was going to say with military honours, for she was quite a
_trooper_ of a woman--but with the honours due to a faithful deserving
servant which she was, and a treasure in a family, especially for
dressing beef-steaks. But as I saw even in her a good deal of the tricks
of the sex (excuse me), I was determined to have no more womenkind about
me. I therefore set about searching for a good, quiet lad, who would be
tractable enough to learn to do all the ordinary work of the house; and
my wishes being made known to my flock, boys of all ages and sizes soon
clustered about me like sparrows round a wheat stack. Out of twenty-five
’cute-looking chaps, I chose our friend Jimmy Delany, to the rapturous
delight of his mother, a widow, who, as she brought her precious son
to me, with a shining Sunday face, and a clean shirt--or at least a
collar--assured me that though ‘her Jimmy was the laist taste slow at
takin’ up the larnin’, yit wanst he got a hoult ov it, it was he that
would take the hoult in airnest!’
‘Very well,’ said I, ‘he is slow, but sure; the very sort I want. Your
quick people forget as soon as they learn.’
Well, Jimmy entered on his service, and, egad, ere the first day closed,
I found that his mother had told truth to the letter! He was ‘slow,’ sure
enough, and it was equally true that the hoult he took was a ‘hoult in
airnest;’ but the pertinacious ‘hoult’ was a hold of any eatable that
fell in his way, for he was a furious eater--God bless us! By and bye, I
found out more of Jimmy’s perfections, and I lauded my sagacity in having
discovered and appropriated such a treasure. ‘Happy old parish priest!’
ejaculated I in an ecstacy, ‘thou hast but one servitor in this teeming
world, and the head of that chosen attendant admits but of one isolated
idea for a time, which ‘idea,’ be it never so extravagant, rules his
brains, words, and actions, as certainly and despotically as the moon
rules the tides!’
Into that head, by dint of hammering at it day and night, his mother
had instilled the ‘idea’ that he was to renounce his old habits,
playmates, and plays, as surely as he was to fling away his old clothes,
and henceforth to think of nothing but of being a faithful diligent
man-of-all-works to his reverence the priest. In fine, in words suited to
his capacity, he was told that he was to forget the idle gorsoon, and to
put on the sarvint boy. For a week this song was sung to him in a variety
of tones, without producing any other effect on Jimmy than causing a
grin. At last, ‘Ov _all_ works, mother?’ quoth he. ‘Bedad I thinks I’ll
have somethin’ to do. Howsomdever, since I _must_ be a sarvint, why it’s
best to begin.’ And thenceforward he laid his whole soul to the task; and
so earnest and anxious was he, that in little more than three months he
could do a few things decently without having me perpetually pinned to
his tail, and in a year he went through the routine of household affairs
without a blunder, not one thought or wish interfering with his business.
Like the churning-horse of my neighbour Giles, he plodded over the dull
ground allotted for him without grumbling, and without being conscious
that any other mode of life might produce equal happiness. Happy being!
contented, stolid Jimmy Delany!
Things were going on thus smoothly with master and man, while the mother
was inwardly and outwardly fretting. She expected by this time that
her boy was taking a short cut towards being a learned man, if not a
_janius_ all out; and great was her dismay when she heard the truth! So
she comes to me with her humble petition ‘that I would be plaised to
enlighten her gorsoon’s brains.’ ‘I fear that is what no _mortal_ can
do,’ said I, ‘but I will do my best for him.’ Indeed, I was attached
to the creature, and I thought it my duty to endeavour to stretch his
capacity if I could; and, accordingly, I bought a Primer, and set him
to learn his letters. Oh! it was the unfortunate moment that I did so!
From that hour the man has never been himself; the four walls of my
quiet house have been eternally frightened with strange sounds; and I
have never had a comfortable meal since. A new ‘idea’ displaced the
old one:--‘he was no longer a _sarvint_, but a _schollard_;’ business
was nearly suspended; and when strong custom, or my stronger reproofs,
so far prevailed that he could not help going over the most urgent of
the household employments, it was not with even-handed justice; for,
let the _left_ hand be occupied as it might, the _right_ was sure to
clutch _the book_; so that every day and every hour he might be taken
for a clumsy leaden personification of Knowledge extending the volume to
the uninitiated, till the strange sounds issuing from the blubber lips
destroyed the illusion.
These strange sounds were first heard when he had surmounted the Alps of
the alphabet, and attacked the A, B, _abs_; and from morning till night
I could obtain no reply to any question I asked him, without having a
string of _abs_ and _obs_ tacked to it, till my brains and patience could
scarce bear the repetition. Soon after, still sailing away on the stream
of learning, that notable piece of literature the ‘Read-a-made-aisy’ got
into his hands, of which he made such excellent use, that in a few days
he could append a sort of poetical illustration to his replies, according
as my queries were shaped, and sometimes he let fly a squib at me through
their medium. I’ll give you a sample of our colloquies:--
‘Ah, then, Jimmy, did you shoot any birds this morning?’
‘One big fella, sur, choke-full ov the currans,’ quoth Jimmy, bringing in
as chorus, ‘A was an archer that shot at a frog.’
‘Well, what shall we have for dinner to-day, Jimmy?’
‘_Mait_ to be sure, sur--B was a butcher that kept a big dog.’
‘Right, Jimmy, well thought of! Down with you as fast as you can to Doyle
the butcher’s, and see what meat he has got. I think our friend the
_constable_ will dine with me to-day.’
‘I will, sur,’ said Jimmy. ‘C was a captain all covered with lace.’
‘And,’ continued I, ‘as my dinner won’t be very splendid, and I’m sure
to have it very vilely cooked, I’ll bring forth a bottle or two of my
_supernaculum_--the rale mountain dew.’
‘Ay, ay, sur,’ responds Jimmy. ‘D was a drunkard that had a red face.’
There was a good hit of stupidity! By the staff of St Patrick, the patron
of drunkards, it was the keenest _cut_ I ever received in my life, and
the innocence with which it was spoken gave it double effect. I fairly
blushed, and dropped my face over my breast like a great bursting peony
whose stalk is too weak to support it. Ah! my friend, happy would I
have been to endure those little embarrassments--however unbecoming
for _me_ to blush--did I foresee the losses, crosses, confusions and
contusions which followed in the train of this comet, and which I might
have expected, for I partly concur in the old opinion that the fiery
prodigies of the heavens prognosticate dire disasters to man; and the
eccentric course of this ‘hairy star’ in this little world of mine
called Ballygrish was equally portentous. But hitherto he had kept
within bounds. So long as he believed himself the _schollard_ and I
the _schoolmaster_, he conducted himself according to the belief; and
the most fault-finding teacher could not complain of Jimmy’s want of
diligence. Indeed, he rehearsed his lesson much oftener than necessary,
in season and out of season, in bed and out of bed, and that in such
a thundering tone, that I told him his constant petition to ‘hear him
his task’ was unnecessary, as I always ‘heard’ him sufficiently well,
though stone walls were betwixt us. But once he became independent of an
instructor, once he was quit of my assistance, I do assure you severe
chastisement was frequently necessary to restrain his lunacies, and I
much wonder how his skull bore the thumps and cracks which from day to
day I was obliged to inflict, in lieu of shaving and blistering, to
moderate the brain fever of the imagination--of ‘_the ascendant idea_.’
I put up with various annoyances and inconveniences with admirable
patience and temper, and which I shall not now stop to particularize; but
one affair I cannot pass over, as it made a haul on my purse, and I’ll
relate it.
Just about the time that he set up to study for himself, I was much in
want of a pair of new _inexpressibles_. My velveteens were much the worse
for wear, and I was determined to have a bran-new pair for the ensuing
Sunday. So I sent, very thoughtlessly indeed, the said student Jimmy
Delany with an order to Bryan the tailor to get the requisite stuff at
a certain shop. Unfortunately I did not specify any particular colour
or material, thinking naturally that all the world knew the colours and
materials fitting for clergymen; but the shopkeeper and tailor--neither
very much wiser than my messenger, I fancy--were quite astray, and in
their dilemma they applied to my man-of-all-works for information. Alas!
they knew little of poor Jimmy. They knew not that he was then under the
dominion of ‘one idea’--that he was a learned _schollard_, and not a
_sarvint_.
Now be it known to you that his then study was the Universal Spelling
Book (I believe he had it in his pocket at the time), in which is the
story of the town in danger of being besieged. The mason, the currier,
and the carpenter, give their opinion as to the best method of fortifying
it, and each, of course, with an eye to self-interest. The mason
recommends stone, the carpenter oak, and the currier leather.
Well, at the instant of the shopkeeper’s and tailor’s deliberations on
my wearables, Jimmy stood at the shop-door, staring up and down the
street, as far as it was in his ken; and when the tailor appealed to him
to know ‘what sort of inexpressibles did his masther ordher,’ honest
Jimmy, thinking but of the ‘town in danger of being besieged,’ answered
in the words of the currier, ‘take my word for it, there is _nothing like
leather_.’
‘Leather!’ echoed the shopkeeper.
‘Leather!’ screamed the tailor.
‘Ay,’ repeated Jimmy decidedly, ‘there is nothing like leather!’
Well! patience is a virtue. Were it not that the gentle spirit had made
my half-starved frame her tabernacle, I should have been a tenant for
Bedlam on the succeeding Saturday night, when the rascal Bryan brought
himself and his green bag, with a sort of grin, into my parlour, and
untying it, shook out before my amazed eyes a dashing pair of---- you
shall hear _what_, presently.
‘They’re a very neat piece of work, Bryan,’ said I, examining them
without much interest, thinking they could not possibly be for me; ‘they
seem to be well seamed and stitched for aught I know, and I only hope for
_your_ sake that they will fit him for whom you have made them.’
‘I hope so too, sur,’ quoth the tailor, smirking complacently. ‘Be
plaised to thry _them_ on sur, an’ I’ll engage they’ll fit to the peelin’
ov an ingin.’
‘Pooh, pooh,’ returned I, good humouredly, still in the dark, ‘what use
in _my_ trying them on? Indeed, if they had come in my way thirty years
ago, and the _red rogue_ in full chase, I wouldn’t say but I’d pop them
on, priest or no priest; but _now_ there’s no use in talking about them.
Hand me out the _velvets_, and let me try _them_ on.’
‘The _velvets_, yer rivirince?’
‘Ay, the _velvets_, Sir Tailor; and I hope those you bring me now are
roomier than the last pair.’
‘Oh, faix, sur,’ cried the fellow, still shaking the _unmentioned
unmentionables_ at me, ‘_those_ are roomy enough in all conscience,
for I thought as how you wouldn’t like them _quite_ to the skin.’ And
there _he_ stood, holding forth his wearables, and expatiating in their
praise; and there _I_ stood expecting my _velvets_--but in vain! I caught
up the bag, and turning it inside out, I found I had nothing more to
expect--those forbidden ones were for ME!
‘What _colour_ are these in day-light?’ asked I, in that still calm that
precedes the tempest.
‘An iligant yellow, sur!’ responded the stitcher with alacrity, his
countenance brightening with hope.
‘And thou vile fraction of a man!’ thundered I in full storm, and
darting a withering scowl that almost put the little animal into the
earth, ‘hast thou no more reverence for thy church than that, to suit
thy petty interests, thou wouldst see thy venerable parish priest, of
seventy-six, figure in a _pair of yellow buckskin breeches_, like a
huntsman or postilion? Away with them, sirrah, or by the soul of your
grandmother in purgatory--where she shall stay those hundred years for
your assurance--these same breeches shall case your own diminutive
limbs to-morrow, and you placed upon the altar as an exhibition, with
_Tally-ho!_ in capitals upon your back. What a beautiful spectacle for
the congregation!’
Soon I had the dismayed stitcher upon his knees, deprecating my wrath,
and recounting the particulars I have already related in explanation;
ending with ‘my backward blessing on Jimmy Delany!’ intending of course
that all my ire should fall upon the real delinquent. And so it would,
but that there is something in the very name ‘Jimmy Delany’ that
invariably mollifies me. I knew he did nothing out of malice or mischief,
but from the greatest simplicity; and when I demanded to see the book he
was then busy with, and his thumb marks pointing to the ‘town in danger
of being besieged,’ I was at home in the matter at once. But I had to pay
for the leather, and the tailor for making the breeches, which I lost
afterwards at a game of backgammon with Squire Hooligan.
About a month afterwards, a nephew of mine, a midshipman, came on a visit
to me, bringing with him some volumes of Cook’s Voyages. These books
seemed to have a fascinating charm for him, but it was nothing to the
charm they had for Misther Delany. It was downright idolatry--he knelt to
them, I believe--I know he slept with them, ate with them, and drank with
them, and finally became so incorporated with the work--he was its hero!
Yes! all the old ‘ruling passions’ were clean forgotten, and Captain Cook
was lord of the ascendant. Oh! how the young seaman laughed, and roared,
and flung himself on the ground again and again, in ecstacies of mirth,
when he discovered what a jewel of a shipmate Providence had provided
for him in an old priest’s house in the country, where he had expected
little but long faces and long fasts!--how he kicked up his heels in all
the obstreperousness of a sailor’s joy! Still the ludicrous perfections
of my poor Jimmy unfolded themselves--still his matchless simplicity,
his inconceivable infatuation under the dominion of the new ‘idea,’
became apparent! And no wonder; for surely his wholesale assumption
of the renowned navigator, his pompous action, and conversations _in
character_, and the total and absolute oblivion of all former ties and
duties, altogether were enough to raise laughter under the ribs of Death,
and was almost too much for the living. If I asked him, after several
hours’ daily absences, where he had been, his prompt reply would be,
‘_at New Zealand_,’ or ‘_Otaheite_.’ And if I begged to know what he had
been doing in these favoured places, I was instantly told, ‘getting in a
supply of fresh water and provisions for the ship’s company,’ and this
with an earnestness of look and manner absolutely irresistible. ‘So, so,’
I would then say, convinced of the infatuation, and letting things take
their course, ‘I perceive I have got the illustrious Captain Cook in my
house. I thought the great man had disappeared from earth long ago: but
in this age of miracles, either through the power of steam, or a galvanic
battery, here he is again, and I must make his stay as agreeable as
possible. Pray be seated, captain; and if not too much trouble, I would
be delighted to hear some of your adventures.’
Down would Jimmy seat himself, and out would come a fluent description of
the different places he had ‘touched at,’ the customs and manners of the
different islands, the ferocious looks of some savages, and the gentle
countenances of others; the birds, beasts, fruits, flowers, &c. &c.; and
I do declare to you I desired no higher entertainment. For whole hours
would I sit listening to him; and the captain, gratified by my attention,
and utterly unconscious of anything ludicrous, continued from day to day
to pour forth his wonderful discoveries for my amusement.
Meanwhile I missed a fine bathing-tub, a fine spacious fellow, in
which I could float as comfortably as in a little lake. I made various
inquiries about it, but could hear nothing of it. I even spoke of it in
the chapel, but all to no purpose. However, one day as I was returning
from seeing a sick person, I came upon an unfrequented path that led by
the side of a large and deep marl-hole, about half a mile from my house;
and as I got on a height over it, what should I see but my bathing-tub
floating majestically on the water, a pole stuck up in the middle, with
a red handkerchief by way of a flag, and a person seated at one end
with another pole for steering! With half an eye I saw who it was, and
I took measures accordingly. I alighted from my horse, and, getting
behind a clump of ash-trees, quite unnoticed by the navigator, who was
enjoying the fineness of the day, I gathered up all the large stones I
could find into a heap beside me, and, taking deliberate aim, I let fly
two or three huge ones at the stern, in which the captain was seated.
At the first assault he started, and looked about in every direction,
quite thunderstricken and alarmed; at the second volley, as none of
them had hit himself as yet, he shouted in character, ‘The natives!
the natives are upon us!’ and began to paddle with might and main for
shore; but as the stones flew thicker and faster, hopping off his head
and shoulders, whacking, banging, cracking at all sides of him, he lost
all self-command, dropped his oar, and finally, in floundering about, and
starting from one end to the other, in his confusion to avoid the stones,
the boat turned keel upwards, and the captain disappeared to the bottom,
yelling all sorts of ‘murdher!’ And I can assure you, my gentleman
forgot all _ideas_ but that _plain Jimmy Delany_ was on the point of
being smothered, and no sailor with a shark in his wake ever showed more
dexterity. Nobly did he buffet and plunge, and kick and puff for his
life, till he got to dry land, where I was ready to receive him.
‘Are you safe, captain?’ inquired I in a tone of much commiseration.
‘Och, masther jewel!’ quoth Jimmy ruefully, his teeth chattering between
fright and cold, ‘I never was so near death in my life! I was well-nigh
smothered between the eels and the mud at the bottom of that curst
marl-hole!’
‘Ah! my Jimmy,’ observed I pathetically, ‘we should never meddle with
unknown elements. See how uncertain is the life of a sailor!--one moment
floating majestically on the bosom of the ocean, and the next at the
bottom with the fishes.’
‘Thrue for ye, masther darlint!’ replied my man, _once more my man_; and
home I drove my man before me, covered with mud, as if he was preparing
a cast of his beautiful person; and so efficacious were the stoning, the
ducking, my lecture, and the shouts of laughter his appearance raised
amongst the workmen and neighbours, that I had soon the pleasure to
see him return to his original ‘idea’ that he was ‘sarvint man to the
priest,’ and become undividedly attentive.
But I believe this life is to be one of change and crosses. No sooner
had I sat myself down with the hope of peace and ease for the rest of my
days, than there comes another, and the greatest of all annoyances, the
more so that it was totally unexpected. No! I never dreamt that Jimmy
Delany would become _a lover_! and when I _did_ become aware of the
state of affairs, I was as much a stricken deer as himself--paralyzed,
bewildered what to do or say under the circumstances.
I will not trouble you with a detail of the first symptoms I observed,
nor a description of the many outrageous blunders he committed under the
influence of this worst of all ‘ideas’ but one--and here it is:--
It was on a Thursday: I had ordered a beef-steak for dinner. You know
it is my favourite dish, and that I am particular to have it dressed
to a turn. I had taught Jimmy the art; but warned by late failures and
mistakes, I called in one of the neighbours’ wives to have an eye to
Jimmy while dressing dinner. Well, at the hour appointed the dinner
smoked on the table sure enough, and, tucking a napkin under my chin, I
sat down ‘richly to enjoy;’ when lo! a loud scream, or rather yell, from
the kitchen, startled me, and the next instant in rushed Mrs Flanagan,
with outstretched arms, apparently panic-stricken.
‘Oh, holy Mary! did you ait any ov it yet, sir?’ she asked in breathless
haste.
‘Eat what?’ demanded I, surprised.
‘That thing in the dish,’ screamed she.
‘No,’ said I gruffly, and angry at the unseasonable interruption.
‘Nor never shall, plaise God,’ exclaimed she, striding over, and
advancing her profane hands to seize the dish, whilst I, holding it with
one hand, motioned her off with the other, as I angrily desired her to
leave the room, and leave me to my meal in peace.
‘Never, by the hob!’ exclaimed the determined vixen; ‘I’ll never quit
till I get that thing in the dish; and here I’ll stay’--and there she
staid in audacious determination. My mind began to misgive me that there
was something the matter with what I was so pertinaciously defending;
so I raised the cover of the dish. There lay a substance black as the
ace of spades. ‘So, so!’ I began, ‘here is a fine morsel for a hungry
man!--here’s frying with a vengeance! Woman, woman!’ cried I solemnly,
and turning to my obtrusive companion with the dignity of a man who had
received a mortal affront, but who yet hail some feeling of God-like
charity--‘Woman, woman! is there never to be any dependence on your
sex? I am wasted to a thread; I am worked to a skeleton; and I think
this carcase hath need of a little indulgence on one day out of seven.
I pay sixpence a pound for a tender, delicate rump-steak, and I call
you in to superintend the dressing of it, decidedly telling you to have
it done the colour of your own skin, and no darker (dark enough in all
conscience). But here it is now--neither Bedford-brown, Vandyke-brown,
Adelaide-brown, nor _Flanagan-brown_, but a sapless, fatless, cinder
_black_! Nevertheless, such is my resignation under all trials, I shall
endeavour to make a meal of it, if possible: do you but leave me in
peace--vanish!’ and I muttered some words in Latin, and gave two or three
figurative flourishes with my hands, by way of letting her think I was
performing some important ceremony of the church, at which her absence
would be necessary. But she stuck fast.
‘Why, thin, indeed, sur,’ she persisted, ‘if you war to praich Latin an’
Greek from this till mornin’, you’ll never convart an ould black wisted
stockin’ into a beef-staik!’
‘A what, woman, in the name of heaven!’
‘I said it, sur--a black wisted stockin’ into a beef-staik.’
I stuck my fork into the black substance plentifully covered with onion
and gravy. I held it up: it was long, and, like Italy, shaped like a
boot; and however it might appertain to the leg, it had nothing whatever
to do with the rump-steak I had bought in the morning.
‘Ay,’ sighs Mrs Flanagan sentimentally, ‘sitch things comes ov love an’
larnin’! I was mendin’ a pair ov yer reverence’s black stockins at the
kitchen-table, where Jimmy was dhressin’ the dinner. One of the workmen
called me out in a hurry, an’ I threw the stockin’ out of my hands upon
the table: it fell upon the dish. Jimmy turned his head about for a
minnit, and the dog snapped up the mait, an’ carried it off. When Jimmy
looked round agin, he seen a black thing lyin’ on the dish, an’ the
crathur’s eyes, bein’ blinded with this same love an’ larnin’, he pours
the gravy on the top ov it, an’ carries it off to table. So there’s the
explanation.’
I still held up the black stocking on the point of my fork: I gazed on
it in silence: but the blood was boiling in my veins, and I was on the
eve of righteously overwhelming all that had animal life near me with a
fearful burst of volcanic passion, when my frenzied eye caught a glimpse
of a face at the half-opened door. It was a side-face: the mouth and
chin had dropped as if in death, the goggle eyes were fixed and upturned
in all the rigidity of despair--not drops, but streams of perspiration
ran down the pallid jaws: motion seemed annihilated, the senses defunct;
and one loud, angry word would have been a cannon-ball through the heart
of poor Jimmy, had not Mercy or Momus tickled my risibilities at the
critical moment, and a long, loud burst of irrepressible laughter closed
the scene, and saved his life! At the first burst the delinquent fell on
his knees, clasped his hands together, and looked imploringly at me, and
in that humble posture remained till I got breath to say ‘I forgive you.’
Now, my friend, tell me can flesh and blood, especially dedicated to
the service of the church, put up with such treatment long? Impossible.
In addition to my fastings and mortifications on _principle_, is it not
the deuce to be obliged to fast for folly? I have played many a trick on
Jimmy, but he is ever more than even with me. I can get no good of him.
But this I am resolved on: come weal come woe, Jimmy Delany and Betsy
Kelly shall be man and wife on Monday next, and I bespeak your company at
the wedding.”
“Agreed; and I think, reverend Father, this is the very best _idea_ that
has been struck out by you, or JIMMY DELANY.”