CHAPTER I. MY PEDIGREE AND FAMILY--UNDERGO THE INFLUENCE OF THE TENDERPASSION
Since the days of Adam, there has been hardly a mischief done in thisworld but a woman has been at the bottom of it. Ever since ours wasa family (and that must be very NEAR Adam's time,--so old, noble, andillustrious are the Barrys, as everybody knows) women have played amighty part with the destinies of our race.
I presume that there is no gentleman in Europe that has not heard ofthe house of Barry of Barryogue, of the kingdom of Ireland, than which amore famous name is not to be found in Gwillim or D'Hozier; and though,as a man of the world, I have learned to despise heartily the claimsof some PRETENDERS to high birth who have no more genealogy than thelacquey who cleans my boots, and though I laugh to utter scorn theboasting of many of my countrymen, who are all for descending from kingsof Ireland, and talk of a domain no bigger than would feed a pig as ifit were a principality; yet truth compels me to assert that my familywas the noblest of the island, and, perhaps, of the universal world;while their possessions, now insignificant and torn from us by war, bytreachery, by the loss of time, by ancestral extravagance, by adhesionto the old faith and monarch, were formerly prodigious, and embracedmany counties, at a time when Ireland was vastly more prosperous thannow. I would assume the Irish crown over my coat-of-arms, but that thereare so many silly pretenders to that distinction who bear it and renderit common.
Who knows, but for the fault of a woman, I might have been wearingit now? You start with incredulity. I say, why not? Had there been agallant chief to lead my countrymen, instead or puling knaves who bentthe knee to King Richard II., they might have been freemen; had therebeen a resolute leader to meet the murderous ruffian Oliver Cromwell, weshould have shaken off the English for ever. But there was no Barry inthe field against the usurper; on the contrary, my ancestor, Simon deBary, came over with the first-named monarch, and married the daughterof the then King of Munster, whose sons in battle he pitilessly slew.
In Oliver's time it was too late for a chief of the name of Barryto lift up his war-cry against that of the murderous brewer. We wereprinces of the land no longer; our unhappy race had lost its possessionsa century previously, and by the most shameful treason. This I know tobe the fact, for my mother has often told me the story, and besides hadworked it in a worsted pedigree which hung up in the yellow saloon atBarryville where we lived.
That very estate which the Lyndons now possess in Ireland was once theproperty of my race. Rory Barry of Barryogue owned it in Elizabeth'stime, and half Munster beside. The Barry was always in feud with theO'Mahonys in those times; and, as it happened, a certain English colonelpassed through the former's country with a body of men-at-arms, on thevery day when the O'Mahonys had made an inroad upon our territories, andcarried off a frightful plunder of our flocks and herds.
This young Englishman, whose name was Roger Lyndon, Linden, or Lyndaine,having been most hospitably received by the Barry, and finding him juston the point of carrying an inroad into the O'Mahonys' land, offeredthe aid of himself and his lances, and behaved himself so well, as itappeared, that the O'Mahonys were entirely overcome, all the Barrys'property restored, and with it, says the old chronicle, twice as much ofthe O'Mahonys' goods and cattle.
It was the setting in of the winter season, and the young soldier waspressed by the Barry not to quit his house of Barryogue, and remainedthere during several months, his men being quartered with Barry's owngallowglasses, man by man in the cottages round about. They conductedthemselves, as is their wont, with the most intolerable insolencetowards the Irish; so much so, that fights and murders continuallyensued, and the people vowed to destroy them.
The Barry's son (from whom I descend) was as hostile to the English asany other man on his domain; and, as they would not go when bidden, heand his friends consulted together and determined on destroying theseEnglish to a man.
But they had let a woman into their plot, and this was the Barry'sdaughter. She was in love with the English Lyndon, and broke the wholesecret to him; and the dastardly English prevented the just massacre ofthemselves by falling on the Irish, and destroying Phaudrig Barry, myancestor, and many hundreds of his men. The cross at Barrycross nearCarrignadihioul is the spot where the odious butchery took place.
Lyndon married the daughter of Roderick Barry, and claimed the estatewhich he left: and though the descendants of Phaudrig were alive, asindeed they are in my person,[Footnote: As we have never been able tofind proofs of the marriage of my ancestor Phaudrig with his wife,I make no doubt that Lyndon destroyed the contract, and murdered thepriest and witnesses of the marriage.--B. L.] on appealing to theEnglish courts, the estate was awarded to the Englishman, as has everbeen the case where English and Irish were concerned.
Thus, had it not been for the weakness of a woman, I should have beenborn to the possession of those very estates which afterwards came to meby merit, as you shall hear. But to proceed with my family, history.
My father was well known to the best circles in this kingdom, as in thatof Ireland, under the name of Roaring Harry Barry. He was bred like manyother young sons of genteel families to the profession of the law, beingarticled to a celebrated attorney of Sackville Street in the city ofDublin; and, from his great genius and aptitude for learning, there isno doubt he would have made an eminent figure in his profession, had nothis social qualities, love of field-sports, and extraordinary gracesof manner, marked him out for a higher sphere. While he was attorney'sclerk he kept seven race-horses, and hunted regularly both with theKildare and Wicklow hunts; and rode on his grey horse Endymion thatfamous match against Captain Punter, which is still remembered by loversof the sport, and of which I caused a splendid picture to be made andhung over my dining-hall mantelpiece at Castle Lyndon. A year afterwardshe had the honour of riding that very horse Endymion before his lateMajesty King George II. at New-market, and won the plate there and theattention of the august sovereign.
Although he was only the second son of our family, my dear father camenaturally into the estate (now miserably reduced to L400 a year); for mygrandfather's eldest son Cornelius Barry (called the Chevalier Borgne,from a wound which he received in Germany) remained constant to the oldreligion in which our family was educated, and not only served abroadwith credit, but against His Most Sacred Majesty George II. in theunhappy Scotch disturbances in '45. We shall hear more of the Chevalierhereafter.
For the conversion of my father I have to thank my dear mother, MissBell Brady, daughter of Ulysses Brady of Castle Brady, county Kerry,Esquire and J.P. She was the most beautiful woman of her day in Dublin,and universally called the Dasher there. Seeing her at the assembly,my father became passionately attached to her; but her soul was abovemarrying a Papist or an attorney's clerk; and so, for the love of her,the good old laws being then in force, my dear father slipped into myuncle Cornelius's shoes and took the family estate. Besides the force ofmy mother's bright eyes, several persons, and of the genteelest societytoo, contributed to this happy change; and I have often heard my motherlaughingly tell the story of my father's recantation, which was solemnlypronounced at the tavern in the company of Sir Dick Ringwood, LordBagwig, Captain Punter, and two or three other young sparks of thetown. Roaring Harry won 300 pieces that very night at faro, and laidthe necessary information the next morning against his brother; but hisconversion caused a coolness between him and my uncle Corney, who joinedthe rebels in consequence.
This great difficulty being settled, my Lord Bagwig lent my father hisown yacht, then lying at the Pigeon House, and the handsome Bell Bradywas induced to run away with him to England, although her parentswere against the match, and her lovers (as I have heard her tell manythousands of times) were among the most numerous and the most wealthyin all the kingdom of Ireland. They were married at the Savoy, and mygrandfather dying very soon, Harry Barry, Esquire, took possession ofhis paternal property and supported our illustrious name with credit inLondon. He pinked the famous Count Tiercelin behind Montague House, hewas a mem
ber of 'White's,' and a frequenter of all the chocolate-houses;and my mother, likewise, made no small figure. At length, after hisgreat day of triumph before His Sacred Majesty at Newmarket, Harry'sfortune was just on the point of being made, for the gracious monarchpromised to provide for him. But alas! he was taken in charge by anothermonarch, whose will have no delay or denial,--by Death, namely, whoseized upon my father at Chester races, leaving me a helpless orphan.Peace be to his ashes! He was not faultless, and dissipated all ourprincely family property; but he was as brave a fellow as ever tosseda bumper or called a main, and he drove his coach-and-six like a man offashion.
I do not know whether His gracious Majesty was much affected by thissudden demise of my father, though my mother says he shed some royaltears on the occasion. But they helped us to nothing: and all that wasfound in the house for the wife and creditors was a purse of ninetyguineas, which my dear mother naturally took, with the family plate, andmy father's wardrobe and her own; and putting them into our great coach,drove off to Holyhead, whence she took shipping for Ireland. My father'sbody accompanied us in the finest hearse and plumes money could buy; forthough the husband and wife had quarrelled repeatedly in life, yet at myfather's death his high-spirited widow forgot all her differences, gavehim the grandest funeral that had been seen for many a day, and erecteda monument over his remains (for which I subsequently paid), whichdeclared him to be the wisest, purest, and most affectionate of men.
In performing these sad duties over her deceased lord, the widow spentalmost every guinea she had, and, indeed, would have spent a great dealmore, had she discharged one-third of the demands which the ceremoniesoccasioned. But the people around our old house of Barryogue, althoughthey did not like my father for his change of faith, yet stood by him atthis moment, and were for exterminating the mutes sent by Mr. Plumer ofLondon with the lamented remains. The monument and vault in the churchwere then, alas! all that remained of my vast possessions; for my fatherhad sold every stick of the property to one Notley, an attorney, and wereceived but a cold welcome in his house--a miserable old tumble-downplace it was. [Footnote: In another part of his memoir Mr. Barry willbe found to describe this mansion as one of the most splendid palacesin Europe; but this is a practice not unusual with his nation; and withrespect to the Irish principality claimed by him, it is known that Mr.Barry's grandfather was an attorney and maker of his own fortune.]
The splendour of the funeral did not fail to increase the widow Barry'sreputation as a woman of spirit and fashion; and when she wrote to herbrother Michael Brady, that worthy gentleman immediately rode across thecountry to fling himself in her arms, and to invite her in his wife'sname to Castle Brady.
Mick and Barry had quarrelled, as all men will, and very high words hadpassed between them during Barry's courtship of Miss Bell. When he tookher off, Brady swore he would never forgive Barry or Bell; but comingto London in the year '46, he fell in once more with Roaring Harry, andlived in his fine house in Clarges Street, and lost a few pieces tohim at play, and broke a watchman's head or two in his company,--allof which reminiscences endeared Bell and her son very much to thegood-hearted gentleman, and he received us both with open arms. Mrs.Barry did not, perhaps wisely, at first make known to her friends whatwas her condition; but arriving in a huge gilt coach with enormousarmorial bearings, was taken by her sister-in-law and the rest of thecounty for a person of considerable property and distinction. For atime, then, and as was right and proper, Mrs. Barry gave the law atCastle Brady. She ordered the servants to and fro, and taught them,what indeed they much wanted, a little London neatness; and 'EnglishRedmond,' as I was called, was treated like a little lord, and had amaid and a footman to himself; and honest Mick paid their wages,--whichwas much more than he was used to do for his own domestics,--doingall in his power to make his sister decently comfortable under herafflictions. Mamma, in return, determined that, when her affairs werearranged, she would make her kind brother a handsome allowance forher son's maintenance and her own; and promised to have her handsomefurniture brought over from Clarges Street to adorn the somewhatdilapidated rooms of Castle Brady.
But it turned out that the rascally landlord seized upon every chair andtable that ought by rights to have belonged to the widow. The estate towhich I was heir was in the hands of rapacious creditors; and the onlymeans of subsistence remaining to the widow and child was a rent-chargeof L50 upon my Lord Bagwig's property, who had many turf-dealings withthe deceased. And so my dear mother's liberal intentions towards herbrother were of course never fulfilled.
It must be confessed, very much to the discredit of Mrs. Brady of CastleBrady, that when her sister-in-law's poverty was thus made manifest,she forgot all the respect which she had been accustomed to pay her,instantly turned my maid and man-servant out of doors, and told Mrs.Barry that she might follow them as soon as she chose. Mrs. Mick was ofa low family, and a sordid way of thinking; and after about a coupleof years (during which she had saved almost all her little income) thewidow complied with Madam Brady's desire. At the same time, giving wayto a just though prudently dissimulated resentment, she made a vow thatshe would never enter the gates of Castle Brady while the lady of thehouse remained alive within them.
She fitted up her new abode with much economy and considerable taste,and never, for all her poverty, abated a jot of the dignity which washer due and which all the neighbourhood awarded to her. How, indeed,could they refuse respect to a lady who had lived in London, frequentedthe most fashionable society there, and had been presented (as shesolemnly declared) at Court? These advantages gave her a right whichseems to be pretty unsparingly exercised in Ireland by those natives whohave it,--the right of looking down with scorn upon all persons who havenot had the opportunity of quitting the mother-country and inhabitingEngland for a while. Thus, whenever Madam Brady appeared abroad in anew dress, her sister-in-law would say, 'Poor creature! how can itbe expected that she should know anything of the fashion?' And thoughpleased to be called the handsome widow, as she was, Mrs. Barry wasstill better pleased to be called the English widow.
Mrs. Brady, for her part, was not slow to reply: she used to saythat the defunct Barry was a bankrupt and a beggar; and as for thefashionable society which he saw, he saw it from my Lord Bagwig'sside-table, whose flatterer and hanger-on he was known to be. RegardingMrs. Barry, the lady of Castle Brady would make insinuations still morepainful. However, why should we allude to these charges, or rake upprivate scandal of a hundred years old? It was in the reign of GeorgeII that the above-named personages lived and quarrelled; good or bad,handsome or ugly, rich or poor, they are all equal now; and do not theSunday papers and the courts of law supply us every week with more noveland interesting slander?
At any rate, it must be allowed that Mrs. Barry, after her husband'sdeath and her retirement, lived in such a way as to defy slander. Forwhereas Bell Brady had been the gayest girl in the whole county ofWexford, with half the bachelors at her feet, and plenty of smiles andencouragement for every one of them, Bell Barry adopted a dignifiedreserve that almost amounted to pomposity, and was as starch as anyQuakeress. Many a man renewed his offers to the widow, who had beensmitten by the charms of the spinster; but Mrs. Barry refused all offersof marriage, declaring that she lived now for her son only, and for thememory of her departed saint.
'Saint forsooth!' said ill-natured Mrs. Brady.
'Harry Barry was as big a sinner as ever was known; and 'tis notoriousthat he and Bell hated each other. If she won't marry now, depend on it,the artful woman has a husband in her eye for all that, and only waitsuntil Lord Bagwig is a widower.'
And suppose she did, what then? Was not the widow of a Barry fit tomarry with any lord of England? and was it not always said that a womanwas to restore the fortunes of the Barry family? If my mother fanciedthat SHE was to be that woman, I think it was a perfectly justifiablenotion on her part; for the Earl (my godfather) was always mostattentive to her: I never knew how deeply this notion of advancing myinterests in the world h
ad taken possession of mamma's mind, untilhis Lordship's marriage in the year '57 with Miss Goldmore, the Indiannabob's rich daughter.
Meanwhile we continued to reside at Barryville, and, considering thesmallness of our income, kept up a wonderful state. Of the half-dozenfamilies that formed the congregation at Brady's Town, there was not asingle person whose appearance was so respectable as that of the widow,who, though she always dressed in mourning, in memory of her deceasedhusband, took care that her garments should be made so as to set off herhandsome person to the greatest advantage; and, indeed, I think,spent six hours out of every day in the week in cutting, trimming,and altering them to the fashion. She had the largest of hoops and thehandsomest of furbelows, and once a month (under my Lord Bagwig's cover)would come a letter from London containing the newest accounts of thefashions there. Her complexion was so brilliant that she had no call touse rouge, as was the mode in those days. No, she left red and white,she said (and hence the reader may imagine how the two ladies hated eachother) to Madam Brady, whose yellow complexion no plaster could alter.In a word, she was so accomplished a beauty, that all the women in thecountry took pattern by her, and the young fellows from ten miles roundwould ride over to Castle Brady church to have the sight of her.
But if (like every other woman that ever I saw or read of) she was proudof her beauty, to do her justice she was still more proud of her son,and has said a thousand times to me that I was the handsomest youngfellow in the world. This is a matter of taste. A man of sixty may,however, say what he was at fourteen without much vanity, and I must sayI think there was some cause for my mother's opinion. The good soul'spleasure was to dress me; and on Sundays and holidays I turned out in avelvet coat with a silver-hilted sword by my side and a gold garter atmy knee, as fine as any lord in the land. My mother worked me severalmost splendid waistcoats, and I had plenty of lace for my ruffles, anda fresh riband to my hair, and as we walked to church on Sundays, evenenvious Mrs. Brady was found to allow that there was not a prettier pairin the kingdom.
Of course, too, the lady of Castle Brady used to sneer, because on theseoccasions a certain Tim, who used to be called my valet, followed me andmy mother to church, carrying a huge prayer-book and a cane, and dressedin the livery of one of our own fine footmen from Clarges Street, which,as Tim was a bandy-shanked little fellow, did not exactly become him.But, though poor, we were gentlefolks, and not to be sneered out ofthese becoming appendages to our rank; and so would march up the aisleto our pew with as much state and gravity as the Lord Lieutenant's ladyand son might do. When there, my mother would give the responses andamens in a loud dignified voice that was delightful to hear, and,besides, had a fine loud voice for singing, which art she had perfectedin London under a fashionable teacher; and she would exercise her talentin such a way that you would hardly hear any other voice of the littlecongregation which chose to join in the psalm. In fact, my mother hadgreat gifts in every way, and believed herself to be one of the mostbeautiful, accomplished, and meritorious persons in the world. Often andoften has she talked to me and the neighbours regarding her own humilityand piety, pointing them out in such a way that I would defy the mostobstinate to disbelieve her.
When we left Castle Brady we came to occupy a house in Brady's town,which mamma christened Barryville. I confess it was but a small place,but, indeed, we made the most of it. I have mentioned the familypedigree which hung up in the drawingroom, which mamma called the yellowsaloon, and my bedroom was called the pink bedroom, and hers the orangetawny apartment (how well I remember them all!); and at dinner-time Timregularly rang a great bell, and we each had a silver tankard to drinkfrom, and mother boasted with justice that I had as good a bottle ofclaret by my side as any squire of the land. So indeed I had, but I wasnot, of course, allowed at my tender years to drink any of the wine;which thus attained a considerable age, even in the decanter.
Uncle Brady (in spite of the family quarrel) found out the above factone day by calling at Barryville at dinner-time, and unluckily tastingthe liquor. You should have seen how he sputtered and made faces! Butthe honest gentleman was not particular about his wine, or the companyin which he drank it. He would get drunk, indeed, with the parson or thepriest indifferently; with the latter, much to my mother's indignation,for, as a true blue Nassauite, she heartily despised all those of theold faith, and would scarcely sit down in the room with a benightedPapist. But the squire had no such scruples; he was, indeed, one of theeasiest, idlest, and best-natured fellows that ever lived, and manyan hour would he pass with the lonely widow when he was tired of MadamBrady at home. He liked me, he said, as much as one of his own sons,and at length, after the widow had held out for a couple of years, sheagreed to allow me to return to the castle; though, for herself,she resolutely kept the oath which she had made with regard to hersister-in-law.
The very first day I returned to Castle Brady my trials may be said,in a manner, to have begun. My cousin, Master Mick, a huge monster ofnineteen (who hated me, and I promise you I returned the compliment),insulted me at dinner about my mother's poverty, and made all the girlsof the family titter. So when we went to the stables, whither Mickalways went for his pipe of tobacco after dinner, I told him a piece ofmy mind, and there was a fight for at least ten minutes, during which Istood to him like a man, and blacked his left eye, though I was myselfonly twelve years old at the time. Of course he beat me, but a beatingmakes only a small impression on a lad of that tender age, as I hadproved many times in battles with the ragged Brady's Town boys before,not one of whom, at my time of life, was my match. My uncle was verymuch pleased when he heard of my gallantry; my cousin Nora brought brownpaper and vinegar for my nose, and I went home that night with a pint ofclaret under my girdle, not a little proud, let me tell you, at havingheld my own against Mick so long.
And though he persisted in his bad treatment of me, and used to caneme whenever I fell in his way, yet I was very happy now at CastleBrady with the company there, and my cousins, or some of them, and thekindness of my uncle, with whom I became a prodigious favourite. Hebought a colt for me, and taught me to ride. He took me out coursing andfowling, and instructed me to shoot flying. And at length I was releasedfrom Mick's persecution, for his brother, Master Ulick, returning fromTrinity College, and hating his elder brother, as is mostly the way infamilies of fashion, took me under his protection; and from that time,as Ulick was a deal bigger and stronger than Mick, I, English Redmond,as I was called, was left alone; except when the former thought fit tothrash me, which he did whenever he thought proper.
Nor was my learning neglected in the ornamental parts, for I hadan uncommon natural genius for many things, and soon topped inaccomplishments most of the persons around me. I had a quick ear and afine voice, which my mother cultivated to the best of her power, andshe taught me to step a minuet gravely and gracefully, and thus laidthe foundation of my future success in life. The common dances I learned(as, perhaps, I ought not to confess) in the servants' hall, which,you may be sure, was never without a piper, and where I was consideredunrivalled both at a hornpipe and a jig.
In the matter of book-learning, I had always an uncommon taste forreading plays and novels, as the best part of a gentleman's politeeducation, and never let a pedlar pass the village, if I had a penny,without having a ballad or two from him. As for your dull grammar,and Greek and Latin and stuff, I have always hated them from my youthupwards, and said, very unmistakably, I would have none of them.
This I proved pretty clearly at the age of thirteen, when my aunt BiddyBrady's legacy of L100 came in to mamma, who thought to employ the sumon my education, and sent me to Doctor Tobias Tickler's famous academyat Ballywhacket--Backwhacket, as my uncle used to call it. But sixweeks after I had been consigned to his reverence, I suddenly made myappearance again at Castle Brady, having walked forty miles from theodious place, and left the Doctor in a state near upon apoplexy. Thefact was, that at taw, prison-bars, or boxing, I was at the head of theschool, but could not be brought to excel in the c
lassics; and afterhaving been flogged seven times, without its doing me the least goodin my Latin, I refused to submit altogether (finding it useless) to aneighth application of the rod. 'Try some other way, sir,' said I, whenhe was for horsing me once more; but he wouldn't; whereon, and to defendmyself, I flung a slate at him, and knocked down a Scotch usher with aleaden inkstand. All the lads huzza'd at this, and some or the servantswanted to stop me; but taking out a large clasp-knife that my cousinNora had given me, I swore I would plunge it into the waistcoat of thefirst man who dared to balk me, and faith they let me pass on. I sleptthat night twenty miles off Ballywhacket, at the house of a cottier, whogave me potatoes and milk, and to whom I gave a hundred guineas after,when I came to visit Ireland in my days of greatness. I wish I had themoney now. But what's the use of regret? I have had many a harder bedthan that I shall sleep on to-night, and many a scantier meal thanhonest Phil Murphy gave me on the evening I ran away from school. So sixweeks' was all the schooling I ever got. And I say this to let parentsknow the value of it; for though I have met more learned book-worms inthe world, especially a great hulking, clumsy, blear-eyed old doctor,whom they called Johnson, and who lived in a court off Fleet Street,in London, yet I pretty soon silenced him in an argument (at 'Button'sCoffeehouse'); and in that, and in poetry, and what I call naturalphilosophy, or the science of life, and in riding, music, leaping,the small-sword, the knowledge of a horse, or a main of cocks, and themanners of an accomplished gentleman and a man of fashion, I may say formyself that Redmond Barry has seldom found his equal. 'Sir,' said I toMr. Johnson, on the occasion I allude to--he was accompanied by a Mr.Buswell of Scotland, and I was presented to the club by a Mr. Goldsmith,a countryman of my own--'Sir,' said I, in reply to the schoolmaster'sgreat thundering quotation in Greek, 'you fancy you know a great dealmore than me, because you quote your Aristotle and your Pluto; but canyou tell me which horse will win at Epsom Downs next week?--Can you runsix miles without breathing?--Can you shoot the ace of spades ten timeswithout missing? If so, talk about Aristotle and Pluto to me.'
'D'ye knaw who ye're speaking to?' roared out the Scotch gentleman, Mr.Boswell, at this.
'Hold your tongue, Mr. Boswell,' said the old schoolmaster. 'I had noright to brag of my Greek to the gentleman, and he has answered me verywell.'
'Doctor,' says I, looking waggishly at him, 'do you know ever a rhymefor ArisTOTLE?'
'Port, if you plaise,' says Mr. Goldsmith, laughing. And we had SIXRHYMES FOR ARISTOTLE before we left the coffee-house that evening. Itbecame a regular joke afterwards when I told the story, and at 'White's'or the 'Cocoa-tree' you would hear the wags say, 'Waiter, bring me oneof Captain Barry's rhymes for Aristotle.' Once, when I was in liquor atthe latter place, young Dick Sheridan called me a great Staggerite, ajoke which I could never understand. But I am wandering from my story,and must get back to home, and dear old Ireland again.
I have made acquaintance with the best in the land since, and mymanners are such, I have said, as to make me the equal of them all; and,perhaps, you will wonder how a country boy, as I was, educated amongstIrish squires, and their dependants of the stable and farm, shouldarrive at possessing such elegant manners as I was indisputably allowedto have. I had, the fact is, a very valuable instructor in the person ofan old gamekeeper, who had served the French king at Fontenoy, and whotaught me the dances and customs, and a smattering of the language ofthat country, with the use of the sword, both small and broad. Manyand many a long mile I have trudged by his side as a lad, he telling mewonderful stories of the French king, and the Irish brigade, and MarshalSaxe, and the opera-dancers; he knew my uncle, too, the ChevalierBorgne, and indeed had a thousand accomplishments which he taught me insecret. I never knew a man like him for making or throwing a fly, forphysicking a horse, or breaking, or choosing one; he taught me manlysports, from birds'-nesting upwards, and I always shall consider PhilPurcell as the very best tutor I could have had. His fault was drink,but for that I have always had a blind eye; and he hated my cousin Micklike poison; but I could excuse him that too.
With Phil, and at the age of fifteen, I was a more accomplished man thaneither of my cousins; and I think Nature had been also more bountiful tome in the matter of person. Some of the Castle Brady girls (as you shallhear presently) adored me. At fairs and races many of the prettiestlasses present said they would like to have me for their bachelor; andyet somehow, it must be confessed, I was not popular.
In the first place, every one knew I was bitter poor; and I think,perhaps, it was my good mother's fault that I was bitter proud too. Ihad a habit of boasting in company of my birth, and the splendour of mycarriages, gardens, cellars, and domestics, and this before people whowere perfectly aware of my real circumstances. If it was boys, and theyventured to sneer, I would beat them, or die for it; and many's the timeI've been brought home well-nigh killed by one or more of them, on what,when my mother asked me, I would say was 'a family quarrel.' 'Supportyour name with your blood, Reddy my boy,' would that saint say, with thetears in her eyes; and so would she herself have done with her voice,ay, and her teeth and nails.
Thus, at fifteen, there was scarce a lad of twenty, for half-a-dozenmiles round, that I had not beat for one cause or other. There were thevicar's two sons of Castle Brady--in course I could not associate withsuch beggarly brats as them, and many a battle did we have as towho should take the wall in Brady's Town; there was Pat Lurgan, theblacksmith's son, who had the better of me four times before we cameto the crowning fight, when I overcame him; and I could mention a scoremore of my deeds of prowess in that way, but that fisticuff facts aredull subjects to talk of, and to discuss before high-bred gentlemen andladies.
However, there is another subject, ladies, on which I must discourse,and THAT is never out of place. Day and night you like to hear of it:young and old, you dream and think of it. Handsome and ugly (and, faith,before fifty, I never saw such a thing as a plain woman), it's thesubject next to the hearts of all of you; and I think you guess myriddle without more trouble. LOVE! sure the word is formed on purposeout of the prettiest soft vowels and consonants in the language, andhe or she who does not care to read about it is not worth a fig, to mythinking.
My uncle's family consisted of ten children; who, as is the custom insuch large families, were divided into two camps, or parties; the onesiding with their mamma, the other taking the part of my uncle in allthe numerous quarrels which arose between that gentleman and his lady.Mrs. Brady's faction was headed by Mick, the eldest son, who hated meso, and disliked his father for keeping him out of his property: whileUlick, the second brother, was his father's own boy; and, in revenge,Master Mick was desperately afraid of him. I need not mention the girls'names; I had plague enough with them in after-life, Heaven knows; andone of them was the cause of all my early troubles: this was (though tobe sure all her sisters denied it) the belle of the family, Miss HonoriaBrady by name.
She said she was only nineteen at the time; but I could read thefly-leaf in the family Bible as well as another (it was one of the threebooks which, with the backgammon-board, formed my uncle's library), andknow that she was born in the year '37, and christened by Doctor Swift,Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin: hence she was three-and-twenty years oldat the time she and I were so much together.
When I come to think about her now, I know she never could have beenhandsome; for her figure was rather of the fattest, and her mouth of thewidest; she was freckled over like a partridge's egg, and her hair wasthe colour of a certain vegetable which we eat with boiled beef, touse the mildest term. Often and often would my dear mother make theseremarks concerning her; but I did not believe them then, and somehowhad gotten to think Honoria an angelical being, far above all the otherangels of her sex.
And as we know very well that a lady who is skilled in dancing orsinging never can perfect herself without a deal of study in private,and that the song or the minuet which is performed with so much gracefulease in the assembly-room has not been acquired without vast labourand pers
everance in private; so it is with the dear creatures who areskilled in coquetting. Honoria, for instance, was always practising,and she would take poor me to rehearse her accomplishment upon; or theexciseman, when he came his rounds, or the steward, or the poor curate,or the young apothecary's lad from Brady's Town: whom I recollectbeating once for that very reason. If he is alive now I make him myapologies. Poor fellow! as if it was HIS fault that he should be avictim to the wiles of one of the greatest coquettes (considering herobscure life and rustic breeding) in the world.
If the truth must be told--and every word of this narrative of my lifeis of the most sacred veracity--my passion for Nora began in a veryvulgar and unromantic way. I did not save her life; on the contrary, Ionce very nearly killed her, as you shall hear. I did not behold herby moonlight playing on the guitar, or rescue her from the hands ofruffians, as Alfonso does Lindamira in the novel; but one day, afterdinner at Brady's Town, in summer, going into the garden to pullgooseberries for my dessert, and thinking only of gooseberries, I pledgemy honour, I came upon Miss Nora and one of her sisters, with whomshe was friends at the time, who were both engaged in the very sameamusement.
'What's the Latin for gooseberry, Redmond?' says she. She was always'poking her fun,' as the Irish phrase it.
'I know the Latin for goose,' says I.
'And what's that?' cries Miss Mysie, as pert as a peacock.
'Bo to you!' says I (for I had never a want of wit); and so we fell towork at the gooseberry-bush, laughing and talking as happy as might be.In the course of our diversion Nora managed to scratch her arm, and itbled, and she screamed, and it was mighty round and white, and I tied itup, and I believe was permitted to kiss her hand; and though it was asbig and clumsy a hand as ever you saw, yet I thought the favour themost ravishing one that was ever conferred upon me, and went home in arapture.
I was much too simple a fellow to disguise any sentiment I chanced tofeel in those days; and not one of the eight Castle Brady girls butwas soon aware of my passion, and joked and complimented Nora about herbachelor.
The torments of jealousy the cruel coquette made me endure werehorrible. Sometimes she would treat me as a child, sometimes as a man.She would always leave me if ever there came a stranger to the house.
'For after all, Redmond,' she would say, 'you are but fifteen, and youhaven't a guinea in the world.' At which I would swear that I wouldbecome the greatest hero ever known out of Ireland, and vow that beforeI was twenty I would have money enough to purchase an estate six timesas big as Castle Brady. All which vain promises, of course, I did notkeep; but I make no doubt they influenced me in my very early life, andcaused me to do those great actions for which I have been celebrated,and which shall be narrated presently in order.
I must tell one of them, just that my dear young lady readers mayknow what sort of a fellow Redmond Barry was, and what a courage andundaunted passion he had. I question whether any of the jenny-jessaminesof the present day would do half as much in the face of danger.
About this time, it must be premised, the United Kingdom was in a stateof great excitement from the threat generally credited of a Frenchinvasion. The Pretender was said to be in high favour at Versailles,a descent upon Ireland was especially looked to, and the noblemen andpeople of condition in that and all other parts of the kingdom showedtheir loyalty by raising regiments of horse and foot to resist theinvaders. Brady's Town sent a company to join the Kilwangan regiment, ofwhich Master Mick was the captain; and we had a letter from MasterUlick at Trinity College, stating that the University had also formed aregiment, in which he had the honour to be a corporal. How I enviedthem both! especially that odious Mick as I saw him in his laced scarletcoat, with a ribbon in his hat, march off at the head of his men. He,the poor spiritless creature, was a captain, and I nothing,--I who feltI had as much courage as the Duke of Cumberland himself, and felt, too,that a red jacket would mightily become me! My mother said I was tooyoung to join the new regiment; but the fact was, that it was sheherself who was too poor, for the cost of a new uniform would haveswallowed up half her year's income, and she would only have her boyappear in a way suitable to his birth, riding the finest of racers,dressed in the best of clothes, and keeping the genteelest of company.
Well, then, the whole country was alive with war's alarums, the threekingdoms ringing with military music, and every man of merit paying hisdevoirs at the court of Bellona, whilst poor I was obliged to stay athome in my fustian jacket and sigh for fame in secret. Mr. Mick cameto and fro from the regiment, and brought numerous of his comrades withhim. Their costume and swaggering airs filled me with grief, and MissNora's unvarying attentions to them served to make me half wild. No one,however, thought of attributing this sadness to the young lady'sscore, but rather to my disappointment at not being allowed to join themilitary profession.
Once the officers of the Fencibles gave a grand ball at Kilwangan, towhich, as a matter of course, all the ladies of Castle Brady (and apretty ugly coachful they were) were invited. I knew to what torturesthe odious little flirt of a Nora would put me with her eternalcoquetries with the officers, and refused for a long time to be one ofthe party to the ball. But she had a way of conquering me, against whichall resistance of mine was in vain. She vowed that riding in a coachalways made her ill. 'And how can I go to the ball,' said she, 'unlessyou take me on Daisy behind you on the pillion?' Daisy was a goodblood-mare of my uncle's, and to such a proposition I could not for mysoul say no; so we rode in safety to Kilwangan, and I felt myself asproud as any prince when she promised to dance a country-dance with me.
When the dance was ended, the little ungrateful flirt informed me thatshe had quite forgotten her engagement; she had actually danced the setwith an Englishman! I have endured torments in my life, but none likethat. She tried to make up for her neglect, but I would not. Some of theprettiest girls there offered to console me, for I was the best dancerin the room. I made one attempt, but was too wretched to continue, andso remained alone all night in a state of agony. I would have played,but I had no money; only the gold piece that my mother bade me alwayskeep in my purse as a gentleman should. I did not care for drink, orknow the dreadful comfort of it in those days; but I thought of killingmyself and Nora, and most certainly of making away with Captain Quin!
At last, and at morning, the ball was over. The rest of our ladies wentoff in the lumbering creaking old coach; Daisy was brought out, and MissNora took her place behind me, which I let her do without a word. But wewere not half-a-mile out of town when she began to try with her coaxingand blandishments to dissipate my ill-humour.
'Sure it's a bitter night, Redmond dear, and you'll catch cold without ahandkerchief to your neck.' To this sympathetic remark from the pillion,the saddle made no reply.
'Did you and Miss Clancy have a pleasant evening, Redmond? You weretogether, I saw, all night.' To this the saddle only replied by grindinghis teeth, and giving a lash to Daisy.
'O mercy! you'll make Daisy rear and throw me, you careless creatureyou: and you know, Redmond, I'm so timid.' The pillion had by thisgot her arm round the saddle's waist, and perhaps gave it the gentlestsqueeze in the world.
'I hate Miss Clancy, you know I do!' answers the saddle; 'and I onlydanced with her because--because--the person with whom I intended todance chose to be engaged the whole night.'
'Sure there were my sisters,' said the pillion, now laughing outright inthe pride of her conscious superiority; 'and for me, my dear, I hadnot been in the room five minutes before I was engaged for every singleset.'
'Were you obliged to dance five times with Captain Quin?' said I; andoh! strange delicious charm of coquetry, I do believe Miss Nora Bradyat twenty-three years of age felt a pang of delight in thinking that shehad so much power over a guileless lad of fifteen. Of course she repliedthat she did not care a fig for Captain Quin: that he danced prettily,to be sure, and was a pleasant rattle of a man; that he looked well inhis regimentals too; and if he chose to ask her to dance, how could sherefuse him
?
'But you refused me, Nora.'
'Oh! I can dance with you any day,' answered Miss Nora, with a tossof her head; 'and to dance with your cousin at a ball, looks as if youcould find no other partner. Besides,' said Nora--and this was acruel, unkind cut, which showed what a power she had over me, and howmercilessly she used it,--'besides, Redmond, Captain Quin's a man andyou are only a boy!'
'If ever I meet him again,' I roared out with an oath, 'you shall seewhich is the best man of the two. I'll fight him with sword or withpistol, captain as he is. A man indeed! I'll fight any man--every man!Didn't I stand up to Mick Brady when I was eleven years old?--Didn't Ibeat Tom Sullivan, the great hulking brute, who is nineteen?--Didn't Ido for the Scotch usher? O Nora, it's cruel of you to sneer at me so!'
But Nora was in the sneering mood that night, and pursued her sarcasms;she pointed out that Captain Quin was already known as a valiantsoldier, famous as a man of fashion in London, and that it was mightywell of Redmond to talk and boast of beating ushers and farmers' boys,but to fight an Englishman was a very different matter.
Then she fell to talk of the invasion, and of military mattersin general; of King Frederick (who was called, in those days, theProtestant hero), of Monsieur Thurot and his fleet, of Monsieur Conflansand his squadron, of Minorca, how it was attacked, and where it was; weboth agreed it must be in America, and hoped the French might be soundlybeaten there.
I sighed after a while (for I was beginning to melt), and said how muchI longed to be a soldier; on which Nora recurred to her infallible 'Ah!now, would you leave me, then? But, sure, you're not big enough foranything more than a little drummer.' To which I replied, by swearingthat a soldier I would be, and a general too.
As we were chattering in this silly way, we came to a place that hasever since gone by the name of Redmond's Leap Bridge. It was an old highbridge, over a stream sufficiently deep and rocky, and as the mare Daisywith her double load was crossing this bridge, Miss Nora, giving a looseto her imagination, and still harping on the military theme (I would laya wager that she was thinking of Captain Quin)--Miss Nora said, 'Supposenow, Redmond, you, who are such a hero, was passing over the bridge, andthe inimy on the other side?'
'I'd draw my sword, and cut my way through them.'
'What, with me on the pillion? Would you kill poor me?' (This young ladywas perpetually speaking of 'poor me!')
'Well, then, I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd jump Daisy into the river,and swim you both across, where no enemy could follow us.'
'Jump twenty feet! you wouldn't dare to do any such thing on Daisy.There's the Captain's horse, Black George, I've heard say that CaptainQui--'
She never finished the word, for, maddened by the continual recurrenceof that odious monosyllable, I shouted to her to 'hold tight by mywaist,' and, giving Daisy the spur, in a minute sprang with Nora overthe parapet into the deep water below. I don't know why, now--whetherit was I wanted to drown myself and Nora, or to perform an act thateven Captain Quin should crane at, or whether I fancied that the enemyactually was in front of us, I can't tell now; but over I went. Thehorse sank over his head, the girl screamed as she sank and screamed asshe rose, and I landed her, half fainting, on the shore, where we weresoon found by my uncle's people, who returned on hearing the screams. Iwent home, and was ill speedily of a fever, which kept me to my bed forsix weeks; and I quitted my couch prodigiously increased in stature,and, at the same time, still more violently in love than I had been evenbefore. At the commencement of my illness, Miss Nora had been prettyconstant in her attendance at my bedside, forgetting, for the sake ofme, the quarrel between my mother and her family; which my good motherwas likewise pleased, in the most Christian manner, to forget. And, letme tell you, it was no small mark of goodness in a woman of her haughtydisposition, who, as a rule, never forgave anybody, for my sake to giveup her hostility to Miss Brady, and to receive her kindly. For, like amad boy as I was, it was Nora I was always raving about and asking for;I would only accept medicines from her hand, and would look rudely andsulkily upon the good mother, who loved me better than anything elsein the world, and gave up even her favourite habits, and proper andbecoming jealousies, to make me happy.
As I got well, I saw that Nora's visits became daily more rare: 'Whydon't she come?' I would say, peevishly, a dozen times in the day;in reply to which query, Mrs. Barry would be obliged to make the bestexcuses she could find,--such as that Nora had sprained her ankle, orthat they had quarrelled together, or some other answer to soothe me.And many a time has the good soul left me to go and break her heart inher own room alone, and come back with a smiling face, so that I shouldknow nothing of her mortification. Nor, indeed, did I take much pains toascertain it: nor should I, I fear, have been very much touched even hadI discovered it; for the commencement of manhood, I think, is the periodof our extremest selfishness. We get such a desire then to take wingand leave the parent nest, that no tears, entreaties, or feelingsof affection will counter-balance this overpowering longing afterindependence. She must have been very sad, that poor mother ofmine--Heaven be good to her!--at that period of my life; and has oftentold me since what a pang of the heart it was to her to see all her careand affection of years forgotten by me in a minute, and for the sake ofa little heartless jilt, who was only playing with me while she couldget no better suitor. For the fact is, that during the last four weeksof my illness, no other than Captain Quin was staying at Castle Brady,and making love to Miss Nora in form. My mother did not dare to breakthis news to me, and you may be sure that Nora herself kept it a secret:it was only by chance that I discovered it.
Shall I tell you how? The minx had been to see me one day, as I sat upin my bed, convalescent; she was in such high spirits, and so graciousand kind to me, that my heart poured over with joy and gladness, and Ihad even for my poor mother a kind word and a kiss that morning. I feltmyself so well that I ate up a whole chicken, and promised my uncle, whohad come to see me, to be ready against partridge-shooting, to accompanyhim, as my custom was.
The next day but one was a Sunday, and I had a project for that daywhich I determined to realise, in spite of all the doctor's and mymother's injunctions: which were that I was on no account to leave thehouse, for the fresh air would be the death of me.
Well, I lay wondrous quiet, composing a copy of verses, the first I evermade in my life; and I give them here, spelt as I spelt them in thosedays when I knew no better. And though they are not so polished andelegant as 'Ardelia ease a Love-sick Swain,' and 'When Sol bedecks theDaisied Mead,' and other lyrical effusions of mine which obtained meso much reputation in after life, I still think them pretty good for ahumble lad of fifteen:--
THE ROSE OF FLORA.
Sent by a Young Gentleman of Quality to Miss Brady, of Castle Brady.
On Brady's tower there grows a flower, It is the loveliest flower that blows,-- At Castle Brady there lives a lady (And how I love her no one knows): Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora Presents her with this blooming rose.
'O Lady Nora,' says the goddess Flora, 'I've many a rich and bright parterre; In Brady's towers there's seven more flowers, But you're the fairest lady there: Not all the county, nor Ireland's bounty, Can projuice a treasure that's half so fair!
What cheek is redder? sure roses fed her! Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew Beneath her eyelid is like the vi'let, That darkly glistens with gentle jew? The lily's nature is not surely whiter Than Nora's neck is,--and her arrums too.
'Come, gentle Nora,' says the goddess Flora, 'My dearest creature, take my advice, There is a poet, full well you know it, Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs,-- Young Redmond Barry, 'tis him you'll marry, If rhyme and raisin you'd choose likewise.'
On Sunday, no sooner was my mother gone to church, than I summoned Philthe valet, and insisted upon his producing my best suit, in which Iarrayed myself (although I found that I had shot up so in my illnessthat the old dress was wofully too small for me), and, with my notablecopy of verses in
my hand, ran down towards Castle Brady, bent uponbeholding my beauty. The air was so fresh and bright, and the birds sangso loud amidst the green trees, that I felt more elated than I had beenfor months before, and sprang down the avenue (my uncle had cut downevery stick of the trees, by the way) as brisk as a young fawn. My heartbegan to thump as I mounted the grass-grown steps of the terrace, andpassed in by the rickety hall-door. The master and mistress were atchurch, Mr. Screw the butler told me (after giving a start back atseeing my altered appearance, and gaunt lean figure), and so were six ofthe young ladies.
'Was Miss Nora one?' I asked.
'No, Miss Nora was not one,' said Mr. Screw, assuming a very puzzled,and yet knowing look.
'Where was she?' To this question he answered, or rather made believeto answer, with usual Irish ingenuity, and left me to settle whether shewas gone to Kilwangan on the pillion behind her brother, or whether sheand her sister had gone for a walk, or whether she was ill in her room;and while I was settling this query, Mr. Screw left me abruptly.
I rushed away to the back court, where the Castle Brady stables stand,and there I found a dragoon whistling the 'Roast Beef of Old England,'as he cleaned down a cavalry horse. 'Whose horse, fellow, is that?'cried I.
'Feller, indeed!' replied the Englishman: 'the horse belongs to mycaptain, and he's a better FELLER nor you any day.'
I did not stop to break his bones, as I would on another occasion, fora horrible suspicion had come across me, and I made for the garden asquickly as I could.
I knew somehow what I should see there. I saw Captain Quin and Norapacing the alley together. Her arm was under his, and the scoundrel wasfondling and squeezing the hand which lay closely nestling against hisodious waistcoat. Some distance beyond them was Captain Fagan of theKilwangan regiment, who was paying court to Nora's sister Mysie.
I am not afraid of any man or ghost; but as I saw that sight my kneesfell a-trembling violently under me, and such a sickness came over me,that I was fain to sink down on the grass by a tree against which Ileaned, and lost almost all consciousness for a minute or two: thenI gathered myself up, and, advancing towards the couple on the walk,loosened the blade of the little silver-hilted hanger I always wore inits scabbard; for I was resolved to pass it through the bodies of thedelinquents, and spit them like two pigeons. I don't tell what feelingselse besides those of rage were passing through my mind; what bitterblank disappointment, what mad wild despair, what a sensation as if thewhole world was tumbling from under me; I make no doubt that my readerhath been jilted by the ladies many times, and so bid him recall his ownsensations when the shock first fell upon him.
'No, Norelia,' said the Captain (for it was the fashion of those timesfor lovers to call themselves by the most romantic names out of novels),'except for you and four others, I vow before all the gods, my heart hasnever felt the soft flame!'
'Ah! you men, you men, Eugenio!' said she (the beast's name was John),'your passion is not equal to ours. We are like--like some plant I'veread of--we bear but one flower and then we die!'
'Do you mean you never felt an inclination for another?' said CaptainQuin.
'Never, my Eugenio, but for thee! How can you ask a blushing nymph sucha question?'
'Darling Norelia!' said he, raising her hand to his lips.
I had a knot of cherry-coloured ribands, which she had given me out ofher breast, and which somehow I always wore upon me. I pulled these outof my bosom, and flung them in Captain Quin's face, and rushed out withmy little sword drawn, shrieking, 'She's a liar--she's a liar, CaptainQuin! Draw, sir, and defend yourself, if you are a man!' and with thesewords I leapt at the monster, and collared him, while Nora made the airecho with her screams; at the sound of which the other captain and Mysiehastened up.
Although I sprang up like a weed in my illness, and was now nearlyattained to my full growth of six feet, yet I was but a lath by the sideof the enormous English captain, who had calves and shoulders such as nochairman at Bath ever boasted. He turned very red, and then exceedinglypale at my attack upon him, and slipped back and clutched at hissword--when Nora, in an agony of terror, flung herself round him,screaming, 'Eugenio! Captain Quin, for Heaven's sake spare the child--heis but an infant.'
'And ought to be whipped for his impudence,' said the Captain; 'butnever fear, Miss Brady, I shall not touch him; your FAVOURITE is safefrom me.' So saying, he stooped down and picked up the bunch of ribandswhich had fallen at Nora's feet, and handing it to her, said in asarcastic tone, 'When ladies make presents to gentlemen, it is time forOTHER gentlemen to retire.'
'Good heavens, Quin!' cried the girl; 'he is but a boy.'
'I am a man,' roared I, 'and will prove it.'
'And don't signify any more than my parrot or lap-dog. Mayn't I give abit of riband to my own cousin?'
'You are perfectly welcome, miss,' continued the Captain, 'as many yardsas you like.'
'Monster!' exclaimed the dear girl; 'your father was a tailor, andyou are always thinking of the shop. But I'll have my revenge, I will!Reddy, will you see me insulted?'
'Indeed, Miss Nora,' says I, 'I intend to have his blood as sure as myname's Redmond.'
'I'll send for the usher to cane you, little boy,' said the Captain,regaining his self-possession; 'but as for you, miss, I have the honourto wish you a good-day.'
He took off his hat with much ceremony, made a low CONGE, and was justwalking off, when Mick, my cousin, came up, whose ear had likewise beencaught by the scream.
'Hoity-toity! Jack Quin, what's the matter here?' says Mick; 'Nora intears, Redmond's ghost here with his sword drawn, and you making a bow?'
'I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Brady,' said the Englishman: 'I have hadenough of Miss Nora, here, and your Irish ways. I ain't used to 'em,sir.'
'Well, well! what is it?' said Mick good-humouredly (for he owed Quin agreat deal of money as it turned out); 'we'll make you used to our ways,or adopt English ones.'
'It's not the English way for ladies to have two lovers' (the 'Henglishway,' as the captain called it), 'and so, Mr. Brady, I'll thank youto pay me the sum you owe me, and I'll resign all claims to this younglady. If she has a fancy for schoolboys, let her take 'em, sir.'
'Pooh, pooh! Quin, you are joking,' said Mick.
'I never was more in earnest,' replied the other.
'By Heaven, then, look to yourself!' shouted Mick. 'Infamous seducer!infernal deceiver!--you come and wind your toils round this sufferingangel here--you win her heart and leave her--and fancy her brother won'tdefend her? Draw this minute, you slave! and let me cut the wicked heartout of your body!'
'This is regular assassination,' said Quin, starting back; 'there's twoon 'em on me at once. Fagan, you won't let 'em murder me?'
'Faith!' said Captain Fagan, who seemed mightily amused, 'you may settleyour own quarrel, Captain Quin;' and coming over to me, whispered, 'Athim again, you little fellow.'
'As long as Mr. Quin withdraws his claim,' said I, 'I, of course, do notinterfere.'
'I do, sir--I do,' said Mr. Quin, more and more flustered.
'Then defend yourself like a man, curse you!' cried Mick again. 'Mysie,lead this poor victim away--Redmond and Fagan will see fair play betweenus.'
'Well now--I don't--give me time--I'm puzzled--I--I don't know which wayto look.'
'Like the donkey betwixt the two bundles of hay,' said Mr. Fagan drily,'and there's pretty pickings on either side.'