WE PIPED UNTO YOU.
So the "Irish Slave" was destroyed by fire, and its hapless occupant,
finding that no redress might be obtained through, Miss Wolfe, crawled
to the Little House, where she was taken in by its kind mistress, who
in her turn received, a few minutes later, a visit from Major Sirr. He
pointed out with deferential politeness to the good-humoured dame
that, as a Catholic possessing property, it was scarcely wise to
harbour traitors, whereat the stout lady broke into her hearty laugh
and invited him to lunch.
'Is it me, meejor, that causes the Secret Council to shiver in their
shoes,' she asked, 'with a Protestant daughter to go bail for me, and
meeself, all but the fine airs, an aristocrat? Not but what Ollam
Fodlah, mee ancestor, was better than the best of the stuck-up
crathers! I'm a "no-party woman," as all the world knows, just as the
buckramed bag-o'-bones at the Abbey foreninst us is a "no-popery
woman." Let my ould collough be; she was my nurse, and won't trouble
any one for long. Come in. Ye shall taste a gulp of my fine claret
just to show there's no spite betune us--the very same, on my word of
honour, as Justice Carleton and Judge Clonmel have such a tooth for.'
And Major Sirr pledged his hostess in his best manner, with a smirk on
his thin features and a worldly twinkle glimmering from under his
bushy brows, and departed presently to report at the Castle that Madam
Gillin was a staunch loyalist who had miraculously escaped the taint
which poisoned most ladies of her creed.
When he had departed, the good lady's face lost its dimples and grew
long.
'That wicked fellow will bring them all to the gallows,' she muttered
to herself, frowning at some one she saw in her mind's eye who was not
Major Sirr. 'And my lips are sealed! It's a fearsome thing to have to
watch what's going on, and not dare speak a word of warning. If he
only didn't know that I take Norah to the mass! Yet I'm bound to do my
best for the child's soul, though my lord would have her brought up a
Protestant. Sure Father Daly said I must bring the pet to chapel for
her soul's sake as well as mine.'
Then Madam Gillin, who was dividing the sheep from the goats in the
matter of faded frippery in an untidy cupboard, resigned herself to
unwonted meditation, with lines of gravity about her mouth which
seldom rested there, as she recalled the day some time since, when he
whom she had looked upon as friend unveiled himself to her in drunken
frenzy as a viper; when she had stared into his big jolly face with an
expression that had sobered him, while he explained that for the
future she must do as she was bidden, or else all sorts of penalties
would swoop upon her for tampering with the religion of a Protestant.
On that occasion he fairly terrified her, and she kept the secret as
to his being a viper in disguise, though it sickened her to think of
it o' nights. She recalled the scene now for the thousandth time, and
shuddered; and her best frock slipped out of her hands on the dirty
floor while she contemplated that genial pleasant boon companion as
she and only a few others knew him. Norah found her standing absently
among crumpled gauzes when she returned from a jaunt to Dublin, and
rallied her mother on her looks, with a smacking kiss like a
whip-crack.
'Have ye heard a banshee, mamma?' she asked. 'See! I've done all the
commissions. Feathers a foot long, lovely flowers for our skirts, and
gloves to cover the elbow. I met Shane upon the road, and we went
together; but I could not wheedle him into coming to the ball, though
I did my best. He said the grand ladies frightened him--bored him more
likely. He's mighty timid for a Blaster. It's a wonder he's not afraid
of _me_.'
As the girl surveyed herself archly in the glass, she perceived why
her lover feared her not. Indeed there was little of the grand style
about the colleen. A rosy cheek; a liquid merry eye; a large ripe
mouth, and an impudent upturned nose. No classical belle was poor
Norah--only a healthy, comely wench--just such an one as would be
likely to enchain a man with no loftier aspirations than Glandore's.
Though mamma was inclined to be glum, her daughter was in the highest
spirits; for before her was the delicious prospect of the ball (such
gaieties were becoming rarer and more rare), and she was quite
convinced, from what Shane had said, that that spiteful cat the
countess had lied when conversing at Crow Street with Lady Camden. It
was true, certainly, that he was going away for a few weeks. It
appeared that he had duties to perform, and she liked him too well to
stand in the way of his duties. But as to that sinful, deceitful,
odious story about bringing home a bride, the notion was quite too
foolish. He had sworn as much with entrancing kisses, and was she not
delighted to believe him? Why, there would be only two ladies of the
party, he averred. Did his little goose suppose that he could lead his
own mother to the altar? As for Doreen, the idea was quite as
preposterous. Her frigid ways and tiresome national wrongs were not to
his taste at all. Therefore Miss Norah was quite content, though she
had just bidden her lover farewell. She would see him no more for
several months, perhaps; for, to avoid attending a ball where
objectionable fine ladies would congregate, my lord had settled to
ride as _avant courier_ to Drogheda, to superintend the preparations
at the inn where my lady and the household were to sojourn.
Though the volcano was heaving in portentous fashion, society seemed
of one mind as to dancing jigs upon it to the last. Upon formal
proclamation of martial law, the yeomanry had thrown off all disguise.
The squireens were ruffianly through ignorance, their betters through
self-interest, for it was easy to detect which way the wind was
blowing. The chancellor was plainly for harsh measures. 'I will make
these Irish as tame as cats,' he was heard incautiously to say. It was
to be a war of class against class, in which both parties were
artistically goaded by dark suspicions and deftly-spread falsehoods.
Internecine strife is always remarkable for a display of the vilest
passions. It seems as if the flow of gall is the more bitter from the
difficulty of first pumping it to the surface. Major Sirr and his gang
took to prowling in the night-houses--to making evening raids on
taverns--a species of political crimping which was fruitful of
brilliant hawls. Lists were even despatched to the Staghouse by Mr.
Secretary Cooke that the town-major's lambs might study them, and
'pencil off such as they deemed dangerous to the country.' Bands of
armed squireens sallied out in the mad frolics begot by drink, to
'give their opinion' to the disaffected, and the result was such a
succession of night-brawls that Lord Clare was sorry and hurt.
'What are we to do with these depraved turbulent creatures?' he
plaintively inquired of the cabinet. And one and all--Arthur Wolfe
even reluctantly consenting--admitted that stringent measures were
imperative, or anarchy would surely supervene. So an order went forth
that none should appear in Dublin streets after eight o'clock p.m.,
unless armed with a special permit to do so. The theatres were closed.
The city was in a state of siege, as though really Hoche were at its
gates.
But this was too dull for my lords and my ladies, who were not given
to reading books, and had no intention that annoyance should fall upon
themselves. They met for cards at one another's houses, their sedans
protected by retinues of servants; but this was a poor pastime to
folks who were accustomed to the public dances of Fishamble
Street--the sumptuous entertainments at the Castle. They grumbled that
this premature alarm was ridiculous. The French were not in Ireland,
though the 'Shan van Vocht' was wont lyrically to declare at all hours
of the day that they were on the sea. As for the United Irishmen, they
were a 'Bugaboo.' With the troops which had been sent over any
attempted rising could be frustrated at once; but they would not be so
stupid as to rise--the tongues of these foul-mouthed patriots were
more killing than their swords. My Lord Clare must be losing his
nerve, he was not severe enough. They--the lords, urged by their
ladies--would see that a proper spirit of terror was instilled into
the scum, so that even if called on by their chiefs to rise, they
would sit like beaten hounds--their tails between their legs. Lord
Clare looked at Lord Camden from under his beetling penthouse. Lord
Camden looked at Lord Clare and hummed, and hawed, and shuffled. For
the unfortunate gentleman who represented majesty, though he lived as
much as he could, like some Japanese monarch behind screens, could not
hide himself so well but that unpleasant speeches reached his ears. He
had consented tacitly to make a Guy Fawkes of himself, and permit the
bearers of the pageant to explode malodorous squibs under his nose;
but when the evil savours choked him he winced in tribulation. He grew
to hate his tormentor well-nigh as much as the people did, which was
no little. But Lord Clare's day of triumph seemed in nowise on the
wane--everything went as he wished it to go. His ruthless bearing had
made him a despot in the imbecile senate. His colleagues, forgetting
their rank, their country, and their dignity, yielded to the spell of
his dictation as a fascinated bird drops before the snake. The letters
of congratulation which he received from Pitt and others were
accumulating within his escritoire. So soon as he should have tamed
the tiger-Irish, how great would his reward be! He saw in the
distance a vision no longer dim. An English peerage. A position in the
English House of Lords, where great statesmen should listen to his
periods--where Nestors should encourage his ambition. There seemed no
end to the gorgeous vista. Why not some day assume the place of Pitt
himself, who, though young, was (at least the world said so) eaten up
by debauchery and excess? And what was there which stood 'twixt
himself and this glorious prospect? His own country, its interests,
its safety, its political existence--nothing more! Pooh! Time works
wonders. Things were going well. If those idiots would only fall upon
the swords which were held out to them, there was no knowing what
might not be accomplished. The Hibernian lords and gentlemen were in a
fair way of exhibiting themselves to the odium of the world. Having
danced their infernal dance at the bidding of those who clutched the
purse-strings, they would make a sorry figure when the latter spurned
them in disgust. What would they do then? Only sink lower still, and
become more abject, till the pit of degradation should know no deeper
depth. That was the way to work on them! To hold out threats that
pensions would not be paid unless certain dirty work was done. To
declare then that it was much too dirty--that by disobeying
instructions they had forfeited the right to sit in the presence of
decent people; that, having gone so far, all sense of respect must be
abandoned; that, honour being lost, nothing was left to them but
money; that with their own guilty hands they must cut the throat of
their legislature, and drown remorse so long as the blood-money should
last. This was to be the crowning edifice of my Lord Clare's scheme;
and Mr. Pitt laughed a sardonic laugh as he tied a wet towel round his
throbbing temples. He had got very drunk and lost at whist, had the
gay young British premier; but the excellence of this conceit caused
him to grin, despite his headache.
'This Irishman,' he laughed, 'talks monstrous fine about the low ebb
to which the Irish lords have sunk--forgetting that his own place is
lower still than theirs; but he does his burrowing with rare ability.'
So Lord Clare worked and wormed with consummate diplomacy and tact,
while those who employed him despised their tool in increasing ratio
with his success; and Lord Camden's seat of thorns became daily more
galling, and the silly mice gambolled with a recklessness which
compelled pity--and old Father Time hurried on, afraid to look behind
him.
My lords and my ladies, finding Dublin very dull, began to vent their
spleen. The chancellor therefore saw that he must break the ice, which
had been freezing up too rapidly. He announced, accordingly, that the
Castle festivities would not be postponed, as had been intended. The
grand ball, usually given on Christmas Eve, would take place a week
later instead--no other change would result from the threatening state
of affairs. Gentlemen, however, were requested to wear their swords;
for all sorts of rumours were abroad, which the executive sincerely
hoped were merely the invention of the enemy. How any enemy could be
so heartless as to plot and conspire against so angelic an executive,
etc., etc., as usual.
That the great ball was really to take place, was hailed with
universal delight. Everybody knows St. Patrick's hall--its magnificent
proportions, the suite of state-rooms to which it leads; the splendid
staircases, balconies, lobbies; ideal spots for flirtation--or
conspiracy. All parties, patriotic and the reverse, rejoiced at
prospect of this _fete_, for several reasons.
Sirr and his Battalion of Testimony were becoming so
ubiquitous--informers had a way of turning up so unexpectedly--that it
grew daily more difficult to hit on a place of meeting secure from
their spying presence. Of course only gentlemen and ladies 'to the
backbone' could expect to gain admittance to Castle dinners and
concerts; but with the St. Patrick balls it was otherwise. These
assemblies bore so official a character that respectable citizens of
all denominations were certain of receiving an invitation. Lord Clare,
aware of this, had made his calculations. The United Irishmen were
sure to be there in force; it would not be his fault if they did not
flounder into a hole.
It was for this ball on New Year's Eve that Norah Gillin had gone
forth to purchase ribbons and plumes. It was for this ball that my
Lady Glandore had waited--after which she and Miss Wolfe were to start
for Donegal, changing their gala-dresses at the first stage upon the
road.
Sara, who burned to see Robert and hear how his red-hot speech at the
debating society had been received, importuned her father with unusual
eagerness to take her to this ball. Was his little primrose becoming
worldly? he inquired, with a gloomy smile. No, no! Twinkling feet
should go with light hearts. Whose hearts might be light at this awful
crisis? His girl must stop at home and say her prayers for Erin, and
he would soothe himself and her by strains on the violoncello. That
instrument was constantly in his hand now, whenever he was at home;
and folks trembled as they passed by at night, for sure such dreadful
sounds must come from the damned in agony!
Mr. Curran was exceeding sick at heart. His friend Wolfe upbraided him
constantly for too openly opposing Government; whilst, on the other
hand, anonymous letters arrived by dozens, abusing him for
lukewarmness in the cause. He shook his head at the latter, muttering,
as he tossed them into the fire, 'Blind fools! Mine is the waiting
game. Ye'll be glad enough by-and-by that I stood neutral!'
But on the morning of the 29th a report came to the lawyer's ears
which filled him with amazement. He put aside his beloved violoncello,
and trotted to Dublin to see Emmett, Russell, Bond. The report was
true, he found. Vainly he argued and protested--vowed that to save
them from their madness he must go and tell Lord Clare. No! He would
not betray them, but would go and intercede. The chancellor was not at
home to him, though he saw him come from behind a curtain; so,
retiring disconsolately to the Priory, he bade Sara fetch out her
gewgaws, as he must even take her to the Castle after all.
St. Patrick's hall was crowded when he and his child entered it--she
in a white muslin dress, with a single frilling round its short skirt,
a scarf of soft green about her neck, for the night was bitter, and
the dancing-room beset by draughts. It was a gay assemblage, for
General Lake (who had arrived recently) and all his staff were present
in glittering English uniforms, which were not to be outdone in
splendour by the officers of Irish militia. Even Mr. Curran's
unmartial figure was buckramed in gold and scarlet, for was not he too
an officer of the Lawyer's corps, which forbade its members to wear
mufti?
The national love of parade showed strongly in the martial costume
which the sons of Erin donned. Sumptuous embroidery was scattered
with a lavish hand over cuffs, high collars, padded breasts, and
tight-fitting pantaloons; while some regiments, whose colonels
boasted of picturesque proclivities, were grand in the matter of
shoulder-knots and becoming scarves around the waist. The effect was
enhanced by contrast, for metal ornaments were little used at that day
to adorn the dresses of the fair, who with towering ostrich feathers,
silken fillets, lofty wreaths of flowers, could afford to resign to
their lords and masters the glories of gold and silver. Variety of
texture, too, heightened the fine effect; for whilst men were swathed
quite stiff in gold-laced coats and voluminous cravats, young ladies
wore as little as possible, and that of thinnest gauze or crape, and
their mammas the scantiest quantity of shot or patterned silk.
The scene was the more animated for the strangeness of its component
parts. Irish patriotic belles were putting forth all their attractions
to pump young English exquisites--aides-de-camp to Lake or
Abercromby--to entrap them into unguarded statements, which might
convey useful information to their brothers. General Lake himself was
literally besieged by beauty, who lavished before that vain person the
fascination of neat ankles, the flash of diamond eyes, the charms of
pouting bosoms--in order to wring from him, in spite of caution, some
hint of the intentions of the military. This was a game open to both
parties. Aides-de-camp were instructed to ensnare their partners as to
the plans of the United Irishmen; to discover, if possible, under the
mask of innocent flirtation, who the acting delegates were, what were
their views, their capacities, their characters; but it must be
admitted that the weak sex generally had the best of it, for
hot-headed youth is apt to be distracted by externals, and the costume
of the period was characterised by peculiarities which were calculated
to mislead young men.
This practice of seeking the society of political opponents for the
purpose of discovering secrets, and of frustrating designs by sly
hand-pressure or furtive kissing behind doors, was one quite after the
burrowing heart of the astute lord chancellor, who stood smiling by
the side of the throne, his dapper figure clothed in official costume,
his neat limbs displaying their roundness in black silk breeches and
stockings. He was chatting with my Lady Glandore, who with Doreen
sat close to Lady Camden, directing her attention to some prettier
girl than usual--(where are more to be found than in the Irish
capital?)--some peculiar headdress or _outre_ garment. Nothing could
seem more guileless than he, as he busied his pure soul with
trifles--the colour of a shoe--the fashion of a sash. When Curran and
Sara entered he changed colour, muttering ere he recovered himself:
'What brings him here, I wonder?'
He was not left long in suspense; for the lawyer bowed before the
Viceroy, made straight for my lady's bench, and having deposited Sara
by Doreen, began to speak abruptly in undertones.
'I tried to see you to-day, my lord, and could not. We were friends
once, though it is long since we quarrelled. Yet I feel impelled to
make one more protest. You are driving this unhappy country to the
brink of a great tragedy. You, and you alone, are responsible for
this. It is not yet too late, but to-morrow it may be. Reflect, Lord
Clare, while yet there's time!'
Curran grasped the chancellor's arm in his earnestness.
'Do you refer to the United Irishmen?' drawled the latter.
'Do not despise your enemy, my lord. That association at first was
small,' pursued Curran, 'the earth seemed to drink it as a rivulet. A
thousand streams, through the secret windings of the earth, found
their way to one source and swelled its waters; it is prepared now to
burst forth as a great river--what will its cataracts not sweep away?
It is you, my lord, who will have aggravated sedition into rebellion.'
'Dear, dear!' smiled Lord Clare. 'Do you, too, listen to their
claptrap? I say to you, as I've said openly all along, nothing can be
more lenient than the executive! We stand simply on the defensive. I
don't mind telling you in confidence,' he continued, eyeing his
companion askance, 'that there is a plot which is to be carried out at
this very ball to-night, for kidnapping his excellency and your humble
servant, and locking us up somewhere quite cosy and comfortable.
Audacious and clever, is it not? Yes, we have all the details--indeed,
we had them yesterday, which may account to you for the muster of
troops in the yard below, and the display of scarlet on the stairs and
in the corridors. Clever, but, oh dear, how wild! I hope for their own
sakes that the troops will daunt them; for nothing could come of this
but an unseemly scuffle which would distress the ladies. Would you
like to hear the rest of the plot? If these fools shall succeed in
possessing themselves of our valuable carcases, a rocket is to be sent
up from the corner of Ormond's quay, when two parties will start
simultaneously--one to seize the artillery at Chapelizod, the other to
surprise Newgate and Kilmainham. You look astonished. Well you may,
for it is indeed astonishing.'
Curran looked deeply pained, but made no reply. The chancellor's cold
flippant tones pierced his heart like knives. How could a band of
unwary, warm-hearted, impulsive fellows, who were prepared to dare all
for motherland, cope with this hard calculating schemer? Truly, it was
well for them that _he_ was there. The feeblest arm may be nerved by
wrong for miracles. It was news of this rash project which had changed
his plans as to the ball. He saw at a glance that it was
impracticable. He had explained this to those whom it concerned; that
it was an impossible compromise between those of the Directory who
wished to wait, and those others who were for commencing a regular war
this winter, which could be productive of nothing but disaster. The
enthusiasm of the delegates had simply exasperated him. The God of
battles, they said, was always on the side of right! Was He? Such had
not been the experience of Mr. Curran's schooling. All he could do was
to intercede with those in power--to make a final call on their
humanity; and if that failed, humbly to bend the knee to Providence.
He was moving away when Lord Clare stopped him.
'Mr. Curran,' he said, with a winning show of teeth, 'as you said, we
once were friends; why not again? It's not my fault, mind. The heroic
role no doubt is charming; but, believe me, fitted more for
adolescence than for men in middle life. You aim at becoming the
champion of the oppressed. You will come to grief with them, I fear.'
'In a general intoxication the most grievous of offenders is he who
passes the cup, refusing to be degraded,' snapped the lawyer.
'Rebuking by importunate sobriety the indecent revelry around--eh, Mr.
Curran?' laughed the chancellor. 'That's a fit finish to your period,
I think. What a mistake it is when orators forget that they are not
always addressing juries or constituents.'
As the lawyer plunged into the crowd, Lord Clare muttered:
'Damn him, he can't be bought; let us try what traps will do.' Then
cried with the artlessness of infancy, 'Miss Wolfe! Miss Wolfe! What
makes you look so animated? The statue has come to life while I've
been gossiping with that eccentric friend of ours.'
Pupil of Machiavelli! He knew as well as did Doreen, though his back
was turned--for he had a way of looking aslant like a hare--that a
party of young men had just appeared in the grand doorway, who not
long since were suffering as traitors. Tom Emmett and his associates
presented themselves before their natural enemy, the Viceroy; then
retired into a side-room to deliberate. Things were going wrong, yet
the Emmetts did not despair. Tom had fought with all his might in
council against the kidnapping scheme--in vain--and was no little
relieved when he discovered that the massing of troops about the
Castle had rendered this plot abortive. As they marched up the grand
staircase the delegates scrutinised each soldier who stood upright and
impassive on each step. One hummed between his teeth of a 'green
bough,' but met with no response. The executive fell into no errors.
These soldiers, ostensibly placed there as a new spectacle for Dublin
eyes, belonged to a regiment just landed, who could not by any
possibility know aught about a green bough, or care about it, or
bestow mysterious sidewinks upon such as chose to babble of it. The
mine had through treachery of some sort been countermined. Those two
parties who were waiting in ambush for a signal must wait and shiver
in the cold; there could be no starting either for Chapelizod or
Kilmainham. Perhaps they would all agree now to place firmer faith in
their chief--to trust to the judgment of him who stood in the shoes of
Tone. Why, the French might be under weigh by this time. A pretty
thing it would be if upon his landing Hoche found the ground already
cut from beneath his feet by the precipitancy of his Irish allies!
They had been awaiting intelligence for weeks. Terence would return
anon with news--something tangible on which to build up future
edifices.
At mention of Terence a shade of coldness came over the faces of some
of the young men. Cassidy--who was in splendid military garb, which
made his stalwart figure look like a modern Mars--had joined them on
their entry; and chid them severely now for daring to be suspicious of
Mr. Crosbie.
'What matters it,' he asked, 'about his brother's views? Brothers
usually take up opinions as diametrically opposed as possible, as
though to establish a family balance.' He himself who spoke, whom none
would presume to suspect, had angled after Councillor Crosbie as an
invaluable accession to their ranks; had angled in vain for long,
till the Orr atrocity had roused even him. He, Cassidy, their old
boon-companion, who would give his lifeblood for any of them, would go
bail for the honesty of Terence. 'His honesty, forsooth! The suspicion
was ludicrous. What had he to gain by joining them, in proportion
with what he lost? He, an aristocrat, who might be Earl of Glandore
to-morrow--his brother being the fighting champion of the Cherokees.'
Robert followed suit with grateful glances at Cassidy. 'Their faith
had been shaken by Miss Wolfe, than whom there was no patriot more
earnest. But they must remember that Miss Wolfe, masculine and shrewd
as by whiffs she seemed, was a woman who was, like all women, guided
by her heart rather than her head. Terence, for aught he knew, might
have been worshipping at some other shrine than hers, which, to a
woman's mind, would be quite excuse enough for allowing private malice
to trip up public good. Terence had been his (Robert's) friend for
years. Aye, and Tom's too. They must beg the members of the Irish
Directory to avoid hasty decisions which afterwards they might repent.
Terence should have been back ere this, no doubt; but when he did
arrive he would show good reason for delay.'
This discussion was carried on in whispers in the little drawing-room
through which a flirting couple strolled now and then on the way to
the buffet. Therefore Cassidy, who of late had begun to assume a
whimsically patriarchal air in his communion with the delegates,
because he was by a few years their senior, thought it prudent to
stroll up and down the room now and again, lest haply his ubiquitous
friend Sirr should be lurking behind a shutter, or the lord chancellor
himself be squatting under a chair. The situation, to our modern
minds, is well-nigh impossible to realise. Traitors wandering close
under the viceregal nose, which they had arranged that very night to
tweak; traitors who were marked men, yet who were allowed to be at
large; who made no pretence to loyalty, who openly admitted that they
panted to see the tricolour; that when this hour should come their
vengeance would be like a thunderbolt. Spies, too, in all directions,
and families rent in twain by greed of gold, and rare examples of
honesty. Brothers against brothers, fathers against sons, daughters
against mothers; yet all dancing and smirking together on the powder
magazine which might be fired at any moment.
Cassidy deemed it prudent to keep watch and ward, to be sure that no
eavesdroppers were listening to the squabbles of the delegates; and,
in wheeling his big body round, caught sight of a new figure entering
the ball-room.
Could it be? Terence! returned from Cork, looking handsome and well in
the dress of the Lawyer's corps. The jealous giant ground his teeth as
he marked him pressing gently through the crowd to make his bow,
smiling his bright smile to his numerous friends, then turning to the
left to where his relations sat. Doreen affected not to see him,
Cassidy perceived with glee. She would not speak to him at all. She
was busy arranging Sara's scarf about her neck. This was prime. He
must see what happened next. Alas! the devil gets hold of the best
of us through jealousy! So, whispering, 'Whisht! boys--here's
Terence--returned!' he hurried to observe what was passing, pursued
shortly after by the others, who for a second had been transfixed by
the sudden appearance of the man about whose conduct they were
quarrelling.
'Hope you enjoyed yourself at Cork. The sea-breeze has done you good,'
my lady was saying in frigid accents to her son; for she resented the
unfailing good-humour of this boy who was always respectfully dutiful,
as if he were not the seed of his mother's long remorse. It was the
thought of him that had sent the crows to plough furrows on her face;
that kept her awake sometimes all through the dreary night. If he had
only reviled her, she would have preferred it to this studied
courtesy. If he would only complain--but her conscience was leading
her astray. He knew nothing, except that she loved him not. Why should
he revile her? She had promised Lord Clare to caution him about his
conduct; therefore she asked him to sit beside her. But for once he
appeared undutiful, for he hurriedly postponed the invitation.
'I want to talk to you, Terence; sit by me,' she said.
'Presently, mother,' he answered. 'I will come back by-and-by; there
is business that must be seen to.'
Then turning his back on her, he looked towards Doreen. She was so
much occupied with that scarf of Sara's that it engrossed all her
attention. She would not look up.
'I have come back, Doreen,' he whispered. 'Have you nothing to ask
me?'
She raised her brown eyes to his for a moment. 'Nothing!' she said,
then resumed her occupation.
Biting his lip he turned away, to be received in the exuberant embrace
of his dear Cassidy, behind whom came trooping Tom Emmett and Robert;
Russell, Bond, and others hanging back waveringly, as if not quite
certain how they should act. Was he not an aristocrat? Had not Miss
Wolfe warned them? Was it not too likely that he should be playing a
double game? How difficult a task it was to separate friends from
foes!
Terence, despite his cousin's ill-humour, was in great spirits.
Eagerly he conducted his friends into a remote boudoir. He was dying
to tell his news, and to hear theirs. So earnest was he, so strong a
ring of truth was in his voice, that the delegates could doubt no
more. Bond, Russell, gathered round as anxiously as the two Emmetts.
Cassidy's broad visage was alight with grins. He slapped his thigh in
huge delight as Terence unfolded his budget. He had been treated with
every civility at Brest. Hoche, his fears removed, was taking up the
matter with all his might; his rival, young Buonaparte, was getting on
too well. Both these generals were straining every nerve to outstrip
each other. The Irish envoy had seen Tone in his uniform as general de
brigade. He was to sail in the expedition aboard the _Indomptable_.
The force was of fifteen sail of the line, ten frigates, and seven
transports. There was some diversity of opinion as to the plan to be
pursued, for Admiral Gardner was cruising in the Channel with the
English fleet, and, crowded as the ships were with troops, it was well
to avoid a sea-fight if possible. The message to the Irish Directory
was that their allies might be expected at any moment--_where_, it was
impossible to say--for much would depend on events, and it was taken
for granted that on the first signal the country would rise _en
masse_. Terence, indeed, was surprised that nothing had yet taken
place, for when he left Brest on the 10th all was ready, the men
embarked--thirteen thousand strong--the etat-major prepared to follow.
He, the envoy, had been compelled to travel through England, which had
delayed his coming; but he had ridden as fast as possible, lest all
should be over before he could arrive.
'Started at last!' exclaimed Robert, full of glee.
'Ready to start twenty days ago!' ejaculated Emmett, with a long face.
'Please God no evil has befallen them.'
The conspirators looked one at the other uneasily. What if that
English fleet should have intercepted the convoy?
'They've bin weather-bound,' Cassidy declared with confidence. 'Bad
news flies quickly. If the English had done anything, we should have
had them crowing over us long since.'
'There were fogs in the Channel, I remarked that,' assented Terence.
'I went down into the great cabin of the _Indomptable_ on the evening
of the tenth, to wish the officers God-speed. It was an exhilarating
spectacle. The ceiling was a mass of firelocks; the candlesticks were
bayonets, stuck in the table. A fine band was playing the
"Marseillaise;" the officers, in full fig, were lounging about, some
playing cards, some singing to the time--all full of hope. As my boat
rowed me away, the effect of the grand hymn on the water, diminishing
as the black hull seemed flitting into haze, was delicious. It is
surprising, though, that they delay so long.'
The colloquy was interrupted by a general move to supper. It might
create suspicion if they were to stand too long aloof from the
company.
Arthur Wolfe plucked Curran by the sleeve, as he met him, in
mid-stream, and whispered in his ear:
'I saw you talking to Lord Clare. Ye've not been insulting him, I
trust? Take the advice of your friend. Do not make an enemy of him,
for he'll have it all his own way by-and-by, depend on it.'
Curran shrugged his shoulders with contempt.
'Intelligence of some sort has arrived,' continued the
attorney-general, gravely. 'Lord Camden was called away half an hour
ago, and sent presently for Clare, who was rubbing his hands and
smiling when the two came back again. I overheard him say, "With your
permission, I'll announce it after supper. It will make a good
impression."'
'It's something cruel, then,' returned Curran, sadly. 'It's always
something cruel when the chancellor looks pleased!'
Supper was served in the picture-gallery which adjoins St. Patrick's
hall, and it was a splendid _coup d'[oe]il_ that met your eye as you
crossed the threshold. Two long lines of snowy cloth, illuminated by
myriads of wax-lights in massive silver candelabra, vanished in
perspective like the iridescent path cloven by a ship at night-time.
Great piles of fruit and flowers gave relief to the scarlet and gold
masses of the uniforms, broken as they were, in regular sequence, by
the plumes and dresses of the ladies; whilst the general richness of
effect was still further heightened by dark rows of feathery palms and
large-leaved shrubs, which served as a sombre background.
At the centre of the chief table, the Countess of Glandore occupied
the place of honour beside the Viceroy, faced by Lord Clare, with Lady
Camden on his right and Doreen on his left. On glancing down the
table, my lady perceived with rage that the chances of the rush had
placed Sara upon one side of Terence, while--(was this accident, or
fate?)--the other was occupied by Madam Gillin! The young man seemed
highly amused by his elderly companion, who--two monstrous ostrich
feathers nodding over her the while--was vowing by her soul and body
that she couldn't touch another skelp of jelly--no, not the tiniest
wee bit--unless somebody fed her with a spoon; which Terence, entering
into the humour of the situation, proceeded immediately to do, amid
the laughter and applause of all his neighbours.
The human animal being apt to run after bellwethers, it may be looked
upon as natural that this strange conduct of a respectable matron was
speedily imitated by the girls. They vowed one and all, at this end of
the table, with a unanimity which looked like an epidemic, that they
must be fed with spoons; and fed they were accordingly, by amorous
sons of Mars, whose blood bubbled to their brains at close contact
with perfumed curls; whilst their cheeks glowed, fanned by fragrant
breath, and their eyes were dazzled by snowy busts thrown back, their
nerves thrilled by fairy little kicks from elfin feet and pinches from
pink fingers, in the course of this bringing-up by hand of grown-up
bantlings.
Claret and champagne assisting, it must be admitted that at this end
of the table the hilarity was more joyous than genteel. My lady looked
thitherward several times with frowns, for in her day men, when they
worshipped Bacchus, did so when the ladies had withdrawn. Then it
mattered little what jests were bandied, what coarse freedom used. But
it shocked her that a sabbat such as this should take place in the
presence of his Majesty's representatives, of high-born dames and
dowagers, of young girls who were presumably innocent, and that her
own son should set it going.
'That boy is a thorn in my side,' she reflected, with grim resentment.
'He has never brought me anything but trouble from the moment of his
birth till now. I promised to reason with him, and he has declined
even to hear me speak. On his own shoulders then let the burthen of
the future lie.'
The Countess of Glandore, stung by the humiliation which her pride was
just then suffering, irritated as it was by the canker which had
poisoned the maternal milk in her breast so long, almost wished, in a
throb of wickedness, that her second-born might entangle himself
irrevocably. Her evil monitor whispered that if he were to die or
disappear, the numbing dread which had sallowed her life would be
buried in his grave. So are we impelled by little puffs of wind, when
we have once started in the ice-sleigh down the slippery incline hewn
out like a steel ribbon, our vision blinded by snow swirls and the
rapidity of transit, till with amaze we find ourselves at the bottom
with a jerk, not knowing what urged us on the road.
When Madam Gillin had convinced her beau that she could take no more
jelly without choking, he desisted from his well-meant efforts, and
the two began to converse on a pleasantly easy-going basis.
'Indeed, ye're a strapping chap,' she declared, with a tap of her fan
and a great laugh, 'although ye're a bad neighbour. I like your face,
and I'm a quare body. Would ye make me a promise now, just to plase a
fanciful old woman? I wouldn't have an oath, there are too many,
about, worse luck! Ye would? Promise me, then, on your honour, that if
ever ye get into a scrape, in which I can be of service, ye'll come to
the Little House? Now didn't I say I was a quare woman, and you almost
a stranger? You're a lad of your word, I know.' Then she added,
exchanging her tone of banter for a serious whisper: 'Maybe I know
more of ye than ye think, with the lock of hair cut away behind. Ye've
taken up the cause. Bedad, I can't blame ye, though I'm sad for your
sake. Mum's the word. We're strangers till you need me. Hush! They are
watching us.'
Terence had scarcely recovered his surprise at the eccentric conduct
of Madam Gillin, before there was a clattering of glasses and a hum,
then a dead stillness of respect, for the Viceroy had risen on his
legs.
He mumbled slavish platitudes anent the virtues of his gracious
Majesty. No doubt everybody present was in the habit of reading the
_Gazette_. Of course they were, for they loved their sovereign, and
were thankful for the privilege of watching, with respectful awe, his
daily movements. He was at Weymouth, indulging in warm baths; so was
her Majesty Queen Charlotte, and so likewise were their august
children the Princesses. For his part, he, the unworthy representative
of so perfect and enlightened and generally admirable a monarch, could
scarcely peruse without tears the simple bulletin of that household.
'This morning the Princess Amelia walked, with her gouvernante, on the
sands, to study the wonders of the shore. The Princesses Augusta and
Elizabeth rode for two hours, on their Shetland ponies, whilst their
Majesties were enjoying a bath!' Indeed it was a high privilege for a
nation to have daily before its eyes so pure and noble an example of
unsullied virtue, of innocent enjoyment and sterling worth. With
heartfelt thankfulness for the blessing bestowed by Providence, he
would propose the health of 'The King and Queen--God bless them!'
upstanding, with all the honours.
All this time claret and champagne had been freely going the rounds.
The roses had deepened from pink to damask on the cheeks of the Dublin
fair--the young officers of yeomanry and militia had reached the stage
of aberration which follows thirst and precedes coma. Standing on
their chairs the better to let loose their bursting loyalty, they
drank the health of their Majesties; whilst others--amongst whom some
of our friends were--raised their glasses with a flourish, muttering
as they did so, 'Remember Orr!'
Terence, with his arm round Sara, who shrank at the uproarious din,
took her glass, and, pressing to his lips the place where hers had
touched it, whispered in her ear--then in that of Madam Gillin: 'To
the diffusion of Light--may it break upon us soon!'
Then--silence being with difficulty restored--Lord Clare stood up to
speak.
He surveyed the assemblage for a moment, casting his eagle eye on one
and then another as though to consider how best to touch the
sympathies and flick the raws of so incongruous a gathering. The
attention of all was riveted on his smiling face, for a murmur had
flitted along the lines like a breeze over corn, which was an echo of
Arthur Wolfe's surmise. There was something behind--some intelligence
of moment--the divulging of which the all-powerful lord chancellor had
expressly reserved to himself.
'It is nearly twelve o'clock,' he said at length, in the rasping voice
which set so many people's teeth on edge. 'We have gone through a year
of trouble and anxiety, and are on the eve of a new one, which, I
trust, will prove vastly different from that which is now dying. I
will venture to propose a toast to you--gentlemen and ladies
all--which may at first seem a riddle--but which you will, I know, all
join with me in drinking, trusting to a satisfactory solution. I beg
you to drink to the Wind.'
The chancellor paused--one white hand upon his hip--to mark the effect
of his exordium. Young' officers banged applause upon the table, not
knowing why they did it, save that the leading spirit who guided
them seemed to expect the silence to be broken. Arthur Wolfe made
bread-pills with feverish absentness. Curran placed his hand behind
his ear, and leaned forward with impatient anxiety. Doreen sat, her
hands folded in her lap, staring before her into space.
'I give you the Wind,' the chancellor went on, with the clear coldness
of a glacier rivulet 'because those who deplore the evil which has
gathered of late like a mist over our unhappy country, will have to
thank the wind for driving it away, and leaving a clear atmosphere.
Alas! I cannot say that the horizon is as yet quite clear--small
cloudlets float still upon the waters--but those heavy banks of rain,
which we have all feared would drench us presently, are in mercy put
to rout, and it is the wind that we have to thank for it. "The French
are on the sea, said the Shan van Vocht." So runs the ditty which was
in all careless mouths to-day. Well! I am authorised by his
excellency's goodness to tell you that the French _are_ on the
sea--but flying back to their native ports by this time in every phase
of discomfiture and distress.'
A pause--while the doves shivered. Girls drew their feet into safety
under chairs, and pushed away--shuddering--the importunate hands of
British aides-de-camp.
'Some among you,' innocently insinuated the speaker, 'may possibly be
aware that the French have been preparing for some time past to make a
descent upon our coasts, and I tell you now (danger being over) that
supposing they could have evaded the English fleet and landed in
force, much difficulty might have resulted. But thanks to the wind
which has blown persistently for days, although they did escape for
awhile the vigilance of the English admiral, yet are they, by heaven's
mercy, routed and put to flight, after beating about in the offing for
well-nigh a week.'
Again the speaker paused to mark the success of his efforts. Curran,
like Arthur, was rolling pills of bread upon the tablecloth; the young
ladies, so demonstratively lively but a few moments before, were
glancing at each other with blanched lips. Mrs. Gillin was sitting
bolt upright, her trembling fingers making sad havoc with her fan. A
low hum of dismay passed along the tables. The sound seemed to tickle
my Lord Clare's ear. He waited for a moment or so, and fixed his eye
upon Miss Wolfe as he took up the thread of his discourse.
'Yes!' he said with exultation. 'The French fleet has come and gone!
The menacing danger has faded harmlessly away. It started 15,000
strong. Tempests arose, such as are always at the beck of Britain when
invasion threatens her rights, which scattered the Gallic fleet.
Hoche--who was to do such wonders--was aboard the admiral's ship;
General Wolfe Tone (who by-the-bye will certainly, though he dubs
himself general, bring himself to the gallows) was aboard another. The
flower of Republican valour was packed like herrings between decks.
Where now are those gawdy cohorts? Making for Brest as fast as fear
can drive them. I pray that the King's admiral may intercept them in
their flight!'
The chancellor's little oration came upon the party like a
thunderclap. There was no more flirting now, or dallying with taper
waists. Doreen, at mention of her hero, woke with a start from
reverie. Her lids quivered for a second, and shrank as though her eyes
were blinded by the lightning. She cast one wild glance of reproach at
her cousin--then was herself again--a trifle paler maybe; but
otherwise the staid, impassive maiden whose grave austerity so awed
the turbulent squireens. The Emmetts and their friends seemed stunned.
Their hopes were blasted now, as it appeared, for ever. It would have
been better not to have waited for tardy assistance so feebly
administered. At times of deep anguish, thoughts whirl through the
brain in vivid flashes. Tom Emmett saw at once that the executive had
won a double victory. The bugbear which had threatened them was
dissolved and gone. The members of the Irish Directory, who had been
for acting at once, would turn now upon their comrades with a
plausible appearance of justice, and revile them for having allowed
precious moments to slip by. The breach in the national bulwark, which
had been showing in dangerous fissures, would be rent into chasms
now--the edifice, which had taken such anxious pains to rear, would
crumble into dust. It was the oppressor's hour of triumph. Ireland's
fate was sealed. Such were the gloomy thoughts which crushed the
leader of the patriots. With the majority of the party present it
was far otherwise. A mighty huzza shook the rafters--another and
another--like waves rolling in to shore. The officers of yeomanry and
militia saw before them a bright perspective of lawlessness, wherein
the Helots would be handed over to their mercy--to smite, and revile,
and torture, and kill--wherein their daughters would become a
legitimate prey, their flocks and herds a booty, their household gods
an appanage. Now was the time come when it behoved them to display
their zeal. So thought the squireens, so also thought the lords their
leaders, who hoped that they might earn extra pensions by accepting
the bait that was held out. So the glittering assemblage rose with one
accord--on the chairs--even on the tables, and the luckless professors
of a different creed were compelled to follow suit, as small stones
are dashed along at the mercy of the breakers. With shouts, with
frantic wavings of swords and handkerchiefs--supporting each other as
they swayed in their excitement---the lord-lieutenant's guests drank
to the wind, and, at the same time, to the new year, which was thus
heralded to the Irish capital in noise and drunken tumult.
The chancellor had turned up a trump and played it skilfully. With
smiles on their faces and despair in their hearts, the Dublin belles
returned to the dancing-hall. But the innate ruffianism of the
yeomanry officers had been let loose by wine and frenzy. The girls
fled to their brothers for protection--their excellencies retired to
their own apartments m a hurry. A youth with down upon his lip seized
the green scarf of pretty Sara, and wrenched it from her neck with a
brutal jest.
'What do you hide?' he gibed. 'That lily bosom may not be hidden by
the rebel colour--off with it!'
The youth sprawled prone at once, felled by a blow between the eyes.
Sara shrieked, and clung to a protecting arm. It was Terence who had
knocked him down, and who was soon the centre of a _melee_. Madam
Gillin's feathers were seen tossing in the throng, while her voice
added to the hubbub.
'In the days of Brian Buroo,' she wailed, 'bejewelled leedies might
walk alone from one end to t'other of Innisfail! Now, faith, we can't
be safe even in Pat's hall!'
My lady and Doreen made the best of their way to their coach. The
soldiers stood in motionless rows upon the stairs, as though there was
no brawl above. Their captain had hurried to the chancellor to ask if
he should clear the hall.
'No!' was the laughing reply. 'Their blood is hot--a little phlebotomy
won't hurt them. Let be! let be! It's not a good omen for the year
though, that it should dawn in bloodshed!'