It was not very willingly that Mr. Cutbill left the drawing-room, where
he had been performing a violoncello accompaniment to one of the young
ladies in the execution of something very Mendelssohnian and profoundly
puzzling to the uninitiated in harmonics. After the peerage he loved
counterpoint; and it was really hard to tear himself away from passages
of almost piercing shrillness, or those still more suggestive moanings
of a double bass, to talk stock and share-list with Colonel Bramleigh in
the library. Resisting all the assurances that “papa wouldn't mind it,
that any other time would do quite as well,” and such like, he went
up to his room for his books and papers, and then repaired to his
rendezvous.
“I 'm sorry to take you away from the drawing-room, Mr. Cutbill,” said
Bramleigh, as he entered; “but I am half expecting a summons to town,
and could not exactly be sure of an opportunity to talk over this matter
on which Lord Culduff is very urgent to have my opinion.”
“It is not easy, I confess, to tear oneself away from such society. Your
daughters are charming musicians, Colonel. Miss Bramleigh's style is as
brilliant as Meyer's; and Miss Eleanor has a delicacy of touch I have
never heard surpassed.”
“This is very flattering, coming from so consummate a judge as
yourself.”
“All the teaching in the world will not impart that sensitive
organization which sends some tones into the heart like the drip,
drip of water on a heated brow. Oh, dear! music is too much for me; it
totally subverts all my sentiments. I 'm not fit for business after it,
Colonel Bramleigh, that's the fact.”
“Take a glass of that 'Bra Mouton.' You will find it good. It has been
eight-and-thirty years in my cellar, and I never think of bringing it
out except for a connoisseur in wine.”
“Nectar,--positively nectar,” said he, smacking his lips. “You are quite
right not to give this to the public. They would drink it like a mere
full-bodied Bordeaux. That velvety softness--that subdued strength,
faintly recalling Burgundy, and that delicious bouquet, would all be
clean thrown away on most people. I declare, I believe a refined palate
is just as rare as a correct ear; don't you think so?”
“I'm glad you like the wine. Don't spare it. The cellar is not far off.
Now then, let us see. These papers contain Mr. Stebbing's report. I have
only glanced my eye over it, but it seems like every other report. They
have, I think, a stereotyped formula for these things. They all set out
with their bit of geological learning; but you know, Mr. Cutbill, far
better than I can tell you, you know sandstone doesn't always mean
coal?”
“If it does n't, it ought to,” said Cutbill, with a laugh, for the wine
had made him jolly, and familiar besides.
“There are many things in this world which ought to be, but which,
unhappily, are not,” said Bramleigh, in a tone evidently meant to
be half-reproachful. “And as I have already observed to you, mere
geological formation is not sufficient. We want the mineral, sir; we
want the fact.”
“There you have it; there it is for you,” said Cutbill, pointing to a
somewhat bulky parcel in brown paper in the centre of the table.
“This is not real coal, Mr. Cutbill,” said Bramleigh, as he tore open
the covering, and exposed a black misshapen lump. “You would not call
this real coal?”
“I 'd not call it Swansea nor Cardiff, Colonel, any more than I 'd say
the claret we had after dinner to-day was 'Mouton;' but still I'd call
each of them very good in their way.”
“I return you my thanks, sir, in the name of my wine-merchant. But to
come to the coal question--what could you do with this?”
“What could I do with it? Scores of things--if I had only enough of it.
Burn it in grates--cook with it--smelt metals with it--burn lime with
it--drive engines, not locomotives, but stationaries, with it. I tell
you what, Colonel Bramleigh,” said he, with the air of a man who was
asserting what he would not suffer to be gainsaid. “It's coal quite
enough to start a company on; coal within the meaning of the act, as the
lawyers would say.”
“You appear to have rather loose notions of joint-stock enterprises, Mr.
Cutbill,” said Bramleigh, haughtily.
“I must say, Colonel, they do not invariably inspire me with sentiments
of absolute veneration.”
“I hope, however, you feel, sir, that in any enterprise--in any
undertaking--where my name is to stand forth, either as promoter or
abetter, that the world is to see in such guarantee the assurance of
solvency and stability.”
“That is precisely what made me think of you; precisely what led me to
say to Culduff, 'Bramleigh is the man to carry the scheme out.'”
Now the familiarity that spoke of Culduff thus unceremoniously in great
part reconciled Bramleigh to hear his own name treated in like fashion,
all the more that it was in a quotation; but still he winced under
the cool impertinence of the man, and grieved to think how far his own
priceless wine had contributed towards it. The Colonel therefore merely
bowed his acknowledgment and was silent.
“I'll be frank with you,” said Cutbill, emptying the last of the
decanter into his glass as he spoke. “I 'll be frank with you. We 've
got coal; whether it be much or little, there it is. As to quality, as
I said before, it is n't Cardiff. It won't set the Thames on fire, any
more than the noble lord that owns it; but coal it is, and it will burn
as coal--and yield gas as coal--and make coke as coal, and who wants
more? As to working it himself, Culduff might just as soon pretend he 'd
pay the National Debt. He is over head and ears already; he has been in
bondage with the children of Israel this many a day, and if he was n't
a peer he could not show; but that's neither here nor there. To set
the concern a-going we must either have a loan or a company. I 'm for a
company.”
“You are for a company,” reiterated Bramleigh, slowly, as he fixed his
eyes calmly but steadily on him.
“Yes, I 'm for a company. With a company, Bramleigh,” said he, as he
tossed off the last glass of wine, “there 's always more of P. E.”
“Of what?”
“Of P. E.--Preliminary expenses! There 's a commission to inquire into
this, and a deputation to investigate that. No men on earth dine
like deputations. I never knew what dining was till I was named on a
deputation. It was on sewerage. And didn't the champagne flow! There was
a viaduct to be constructed to lead into the Thames, and I never think
of that viaduct without the taste of turtle in my mouth, and a genial
feeling of milk-punch all over me. The assurance offices say that there
was scarcely such a thing known as a gout premium in the City till the
joint-stock companies came in; now they have them every day.”
“_Revenons à nos moutons_, as the French say, Mr. Cutbill,” said
Bramleigh, gravely.
“If it's a pun you mean, and that we 're to have another bottle of the
same, I second the motion.”
Bramleigh gave a sickly smile as he rang the bell, but neither the jest
nor the jester much pleased him.
“Bring another bottle of 'Mouton,' Drayton, and fresh glasses,” said he,
as the butler appeared.
“I 'll keep mine; it is warm and mellow,” said Cutbill. “The only fault
with that last bottle was the slight chill on it.”
“You have been frank with me, Mr. Cutbill,” said Bramleigh, as soon as
the servant withdrew, “and I will be no less so with you. I have retired
from the world of business--I have quitted the active sphere where I
have passed some thirty odd years, and have surrendered ambition, either
of money-making, or place, or rank, and come over here with one single
desire, one single wish--I want to see what's to be done for Ireland.”
Cutbill lifted his glass to his lips, but scarcely in time to hide the
smile of incredulous drollery which curled them, and which the other's
quick glance detected.
“There is nothing to sneer at, sir, in what I said, and I will repeat my
words. I want to see what's to be done for Ireland.”
“It 's very laudable in you, there can be no doubt,” said Cutbill,
gravely.
“I am well aware of the peril incurred by addressing to men like
yourself, Mr. Cutbill, any opinions--any sentiments--which savor of
disinterestedness, or--or--”
“Poetry,” suggested Cutbill.
“No, sir; patriotism was the word I sought for. And it is not by any
means necessary that a man should be an Irishman to care for Ireland. I
think, sir, there is nothing in that sentiment at least which will move
your ridicule.”
“Quite the reverse. I have drunk 'Prosperity to Ireland' at public
dinners for twenty years; and in very good liquor too, occasionally.”
“I am happy to address a gentleman so graciously disposed to listen to
me,” said Bramleigh, whose face was now crimson with anger. “There is
only one thing more to be wished for--that he would join some amount of
trustfulness to his politeness; with that he would be perfect.”
“Here goes, then, for perfection,” cried Cutbill, gayly. “I 'm ready
from this time to believe anything you tell me.”
“Sir, I will not draw largely on the fund you so generously place at my
disposal. I will simply ask you to believe me a man of honor.”
“Only that? No more than that?”
“No more, I pledge you my word.”
“My dear Bramleigh, your return for the income-tax is enough to prove
that. Nothing short of high integrity ever possessed as good a fortune
as yours.”
“You are speaking of my fortune, Mr. Cutbill, not of my character.”
“Ain't they the same? Ain't they one and the same? Show me your
dividends, and I will show you your disposition--that's as true as the
Bible.”
“I will not follow you into this nice inquiry. I will simply return to
where I started from, and repeat, I want to do something for Ireland.”
“Do it, in God's name; and I hope you 'll like it when it 's done.
I have known some half-dozen men in my time who had the same sort of
ambition. One of them tried a cotton-mill on the Liffey, and they burned
him down. Another went in for patent fuel, and they shot his steward. A
third tried Galway marble, and they shot himself. But after all there 's
more honor where there 's more danger, What, may I ask, is your little
game for Ireland?”
“I begin to suspect that a better time for business, Mr. Cutbill, might
be an hour after breakfast. Shall we adjourn till to-morrow morning?”
“I am completely at your orders. For my own part, I never felt clearer
in my life than I do this minute. I 'm ready to go into coal with you:
from the time of sinking the shaft to riddling the slack, my little
calculations are all made. I could address a board of managing directors
here as I sit; and say, what for dividend, what for repairs, what for a
reserved fund, and what for the small robberies.”
The unparalleled coolness of the man had now pushed Bramleigh's patience
to its last limit; but a latent fear of what such a fellow might be in
his enmity, restrained him and compelled him to be cautious.
“What sum do you think the project will require, Mr. Cutbill?”
“I think about eighty thousand; but I'd say one hundred and fifty--it's
always more respectable. Small investments are seldom liked; and then
the margin--the margin is broader.”
“Yes, certainly; the margin is much broader.”
“Fifty-pound shares, with a call of five every three months, will start
us. The chief thing is to begin with a large hand.” Here he made a wide
sweep of his arm.
“For coal like that yonder,” said Bramleigh, pointing to the specimen,
“you 'd not get ten shillings the ton.”
“Fifteen--fifteen. I'd make it the test of a man's patriotism to use
it. I 'd get the Viceroy to burn it, and the Chief Secretary, and the
Archbishop, and Father Cullen. I 'd heat St. Patrick's with it, and the
national schools. There could be no disguise about it; like the native
whiskey, it would be known by the smell of the smoke.”
“You have drawn up some sort of prospectus?”
“Some sort of prospectus! I think I have. There's a document there on
the table might go before the House of Commons this minute; and the
short and the long of it is, Bramleigh”--here he crossed his arms on
the table, and dropped his voice to a tone of great confidence--“it is
a good thing--a right good thing. There 's coal there, of one kind or
other, for five-and-twenty years, perhaps more. The real, I may say,
the only difficulty of the whole scheme will be to keep old Culduff from
running off with all the profits. As soon as the money comes rolling in,
he 'll set off shelling it out; he 's just as wasteful as he was thirty
years ago.”
“That will be impossible when a company is once regularly formed.”
“I know that,--I know that; but men of his stamp say, 'We know nothing
about trade. We have n't been bred up to office-stools and big ledgers;
and when we want money, we get it how we can.'”
“We can't prevent him selling out or mortgaging his shares. You mean, in
short, that he should not be on the direction?” added he.
“That's it,--that's exactly it,” said Cutbill, joyously.
“Will he like that? Will he submit to it?”
“He 'll like whatever promises to put him most speedily into funds;
he'll submit to whatever threatens to stop the supplies. Don't you know
these men better than I do, who pass lives of absenteeism from their
country; how little they care how or whence money comes, provided they
get it? They neither know, nor want to know, about good or bad seasons,
whether harvests are fine, or trade profitable; their one question is,
'Can you answer my draft at thirty-one days?'”
“Ah, yes; there is too much, far too much, of what you say in the
world,” said Bramleigh, sighing.
“These are not the men who want to do something for Ireland,” said the
other, quizzically.
“Sir, it may save us both some time and temper if I tell you I have
never been 'chaffed.'”
“That sounds to me like a man saying, I have never been out in the
rain; but as it is so, there 's no more to be said.”
“Nothing, sir. Positively nothing on that head.”
“Nor indeed on any other. Men in my line of life could n't get
on without it. Chaff lubricates business just the way grease oils
machinery. There would be too much friction in life without chaff,
Bramleigh.”
“I look upon it as directly the opposite. I regard it as I would a
pebble getting amongst the wheels, and causing jar and disturbance,
sir.”
“Well, then,” said Cutbill, emptying the last drop into his glass,
“I take it I need not go over all the details you will find in those
papers. There are plans, and specifications, and estimates, and
computations, showing what we mean to do, and how; and as I really could
add nothing to the report, I suppose I may wish you a good night.”
“I am very sorry, Mr. Cutbill, if my inability to be jocular should
deprive me of the pleasure of your society; but there are still many
points on which I desire to be informed.”
“It's all there. If you were to bray me in a mortar you could n't get
more out of me than you 'll find in those papers; and whether it 's the
heat of the room, or the wine, or the subject, but I am awfully sleepy,”
and he backed this assurance with a hearty yawn.
“Well, sir, I must submit to your dictation. I will try and master
these details before I go to bed, and will take some favorable moment
to-morrow to talk them over.”
“That's said like a sensible man,” said Cutbill, clapping him familiarly
on the shoulder, and steadying himself the while; for as he stood up to
go, he found that the wine had been stronger than he suspected. “When we
see a little more of each other,” said he, in the oracular tone of a man
who had drunk too much; “when we see a little more of each other, we 'll
get on famously. You know the world, and I know the world. You have had
your dealings with men, and I have had my dealings with men, and we know
what's what. Ain't I right, Bramleigh?”
“I have no doubt there is much truth in what you say.”
“Truth, truth, it's true as gospel! There's only one thing, however,
to be settled between us. Each must make his little concession with
reci-procity--reci-procity, ain't it?”
“Quite so; but I don't see your meaning.”
“Here it is, then, Bramleigh; here's what I mean. If we 're to march
together we must start fair. No man is to have more baggage than his
neighbor. If I 'm to give up chaff, do you see, you must give up humbug.
If I 'm not to have my bit of fun, old boy, you 're not to come over me
about doing something for Ireland, that's all,” and with this he lounged
out, banging the door after him as he went.
Mr. Cutbill, as he went to his room, had a certain vague suspicion that
he had drunk more wine than was strictly necessary, and that the liquor
was not impossibly stronger than he had suspected. He felt, too, in the
same vague way, that there had been a passage of arms between his host
and himself; but as to what it was about, and who was the victor, he had
not the shadow of a conception.
Neither did his ordinary remedy of pouring the contents of his water-jug
over his head aid him on this occasion.
“I'm not a bit sleepy; nonsense!” muttered he, “so I'll go and see what
they are doing in the smoking-room.”
Here he found the three young men of the house in that semi-thoughtful
dreariness which is supposed to be the captivation of tobacco; as if the
mass of young Englishmen needed anything to deepen the habitual gloom of
their natures, or thicken the sluggish apathy that follows them into all
inactivity.
“How jolly,” cried Cutbill, as he entered. “I 'll be shot if I believed
as I came up the stairs that there was any one here. You haven't even
got brandy and seltzer.”
“If you touch that bell, they 'll bring it,” said Augustus, languidly.
“Some Moselle for me,” said Temple, as the servant entered.
“I'm glad you've come, Cutty,” cried Jack; “as old Kemp used to say,
anything is better than a dead calm; even a mutiny.”
“What an infernal old hurdy-gurdy! Why haven't you a decent piano here,
if you have one at all?” said Cutbill, as he ran his hands over the keys
of a discordant old instrument that actually shook on its legs as he
struck the chords.
“I suspect it was mere accident brought it here,” said Augustus. “It was
invalided out of the girls' schoolroom, and sent up here to be got rid
of.”
“Sing us something, Cutty,” said Jack; “it will be a real boon at this
moment.”
“I'll sing like a grove of nightingales for you, when I have wet my
lips; but I am parched in the mouth, like a Cape parrot. I 've had two
hours of your governor below stairs. Very dry work, I promise you.”
“Did he offer you nothing to drink?” asked Jack.
“Yes, we had two bottles of very tidy claret. He called it 'Mouton.'”
“By Jove!” said Augustus, “you must have been high in the governor's
favor to be treated to his 'Bra Mouton.'”
“We had a round with the gloves, nevertheless,” said Cutbill, “and
exchanged some ugly blows. I don't exactly know about what or how it
began, or even how it ended; but I know there was a black eye somewhere.
He's passionate, rather.”
“He has the spirit that should animate every gentleman,” said Temple.
“That's exactly what _I_ have. I 'll stand anything, I don't care
what, if it be fun. Say it's a 'joke,' and you'll never see me show bad
temper; but if any fellow tries it on with me because he fancies himself
a swell, or has a handle to his name, he 'll soon discover his mistake.
Old Culduff began that way. You 'd laugh if you saw how he floundered
out of the swamp afterwards.”
“Tell us about it, Cutty,” said Jack, encouragingly.
“I beg to say I should prefer not hearing anything which might, even
by inference, reflect on a person holding Lord Culduff's position in my
profession,” said Temple, haughtily.
“Is that the quarter the wind 's in?” asked Cutbill, with a not very
sober expression in his face.
“Sing us a song, Cutty. It will be better than all this sparring,” said
Jack.
“What shall it be?” said Cutbill, seating himself at the piano, and
running over the keys with no small skill. “Shall I describe my journey
to Ireland?”
“By all means let's hear it,” said Augustus.
“I forget how it goes. Indeed, some verses I was making on the curate's
sister have driven the others out of my head.”
Jack drew nigh, and leaning over his shoulder, whispered something in
his ear.
“What!” cried Cutbill, starting up; “he says he'll pitch me neck and
crop out of the window.”
“Not unless you deserve it--add that,” said Jack, sternly.
“I must have an apology for those words, sir. I shall insist on your
recalling them, and expressing your sincere regret for having ever used
them.”
“So you shall, Cutty. I completely forgot that this tower was ninety
feet high; but I 'll pitch you downstairs, which will do as well.”
There was a terrible gleam of earnestness in Jack's eye as he spoke this
laughingly, which appalled Cutbill far more than any bluster, and he
stammered out, “Let us have no practical jokes; they're bad taste. You'd
be a great fool, admiral”--this was a familiarity he occasionally used
with Jack--“you 'd be a great fool to quarrel with _me_. I can do more
with the fellows at Somerset House than most men going; and when the
day comes that they 'll give you a command, and you 'll want twelve or
fifteen hundred to set you afloat, Tom Cutbill is not the worst man to
know in the City. Not to say, that if things go right down here, I could
help you to something very snug in our mine. Won't we come out strong
then, eh?”
Here he rattled over the keys once more; and after humming to himself
for a second or two, burst out with a rattling merry air, to which he
sung,--
“With crests on our harness and breechin,
In a carriage and four we shall roll,
With a splendid French cook in the kitchen,
If we only succeed to find coal,
Coal!
If we only are sure to find coal.”
“A barcarolle, I declare,” said Lord Culduff, entering. “It was a good
inspiration led me up here.”
A jolly roar of laughter at his mistake welcomed him; and Cutty, with an
aside, cried out, “He's deaf as a post,” and continued,--
“If we marry, we 'll marry a beauty,
If single we 'll try and control
Our tastes within limits of duty,
And make ourselves jolly with coal,
Coal!
And make ourselves jolly with coal.
“They may talk of the mines of Golcondar,
Or the shafts of Puebla del Sol;
But to fill a man's pocket, I wonder
If there's anything equal to coal,
Coal!
If there 's anything equal to coal.
“At Naples we 'll live on the Chiaja,
With our schooner-yacht close to the Mole,
And make daily picknickings to Baja,
If we only come down upon coal,
Coal!
If we only come down upon coal.”
“One of the fishermen's songs,” said Lord Culduff, as he beat time on
the table. “I 've passed many a night on the Bay of Naples listening to
them.”
And a wild tumultuous laugh now convulsed the company, and Cutbill,
himself overwhelmed by the absurdity, rushed to the door, and made his
escape without waiting for more.