CHAPTER X. HOW ROGUES AGREE!
Leaving the Martins in their quiet retreat at Spa, nor dwelling anylonger on a life whose daily monotony was unbroken by an incident,we once more turn our glance westward. Were we assured that our kindreaders' sympathies were with us, the change would be a pleasure to us,since it is there, in that wild mountain tract, that pathless region offern and wild furze, that we love to linger, rambling half listlesslythrough silent glens and shady gorges, or sitting pensively on thestorm-lashed shore, till sea and sky melt into one, and naught lowersthrough the gloom save the tall crags above us.
We are once more back again at the little watering-place of Kilkieran,to which we introduced our readers in an early chapter of thisnarrative; but another change has come over that humble locality.The Osprey's Nest, the ornamented villa, on which her Ladyship hadsquandered so lavishly good money and bad taste, was now an inn! Avulgar sign-board, representing a small boat in a heavy sea, hung overthe door, with the words "The Corragh" written underneath. The spacioussaloon, whose bay-windows opened on the Atlantic, was now a coffee-room,and the small boudoir that adjoined it--desecration of desecrations--thebar!
It needs not to have been the friend or favored guest beneath a roofwhere elegance and refinement have prevailed to feel the shock atseeing them replaced by all that ministers to coarse pleasure andvulgar association. The merest stranger cannot but experience a sense ofdisgust at the contrast. Whichever way you turned, some object met theeye recalling past splendor and present degradation; indeed, Toby Shea,the landlord, seemed to feel as one of his brightest prerogatives theright of insulting the memory of his predecessors, and throwing intostronger antithesis the "former" and the "now."
"Here ye are now, sir, in my Lady's own parlor; and that's her bedroom,where I left your trunk," said he, as he ushered in a newly arrivedtraveller, whose wet and road-stained drapery bore traces of an Irishwinter's day. "Mr. Scanlan told me that your honor would be here at fouro'clock, and he ordered dinner for two, at five, and a good dinner you'll have."
"There; let them open my traps, and fetch me a pair of slippers and adressing-gown," broke in the traveller; "and be sure to have a good firein my bedroom. What an infernal climate! It has rained since the dayI landed at Dublin; and now that I have come down here, it has blown ahurricane besides. And how cold this room is!" added he, shuddering.
"That's all by reason of them windows," said Toby,--"French windows theycall them; but I'll get real Irish sashes put up next season, if I live.It was a fancy of that ould woman that built the place to have nothingthat was n't foreign."
"They are not popular, then,--the Martins?" asked the stranger.
"Popular!" echoed Toby. "Begorra, they are not. Why would they be? Is itrack-renting, process sarving, extirminating, would make them popular?Sure we're all ruined on the estate. There isn't a mother's son ofus might n't be in jail; and it's not Maurice's fault, either,--Mr.Scanlan's, I mean. Your honor's a friend of his, I believe," added he,stealthily. The stranger gave a short nod. "Sure he only does what he'sordered; and it's breaking his heart it is to do them cruel things theyforce him to."
"Was the management of the estate better when they lived at home?" askedthe stranger.
"Some say yes, more says no. I never was their tenant myself, for Ilived in Oughterard, and kept the 'Goose and Griddle' in John Street;but I believe, if the truth was told, it was always pretty much thesame. They were azy and moderate when they did n't want money, but readyto take your skin off your back when they were hard up."
"And is that their present condition?"
"I think it is," said he, with a confident grin. "They 're spendingthousands for hundreds since they went abroad; and that chap in thedragoons--the Captain they call him--sells a farm, or a plot of ground,just the way ye 'd tear a leaf out of a book. There 's Mr. Mauricenow,--and I 'll go and hurry the dinner, for he 'll give us no peace ifwe 're a minute late."
The stranger--or, to give him his proper name, Mr. Merl--now approachedthe window, and watched, not without admiration, the skilful managementby which Scanlan skimmed along the strand, zigzagging his smart nagthrough all the awkward impediments of the way, and wending his tandemthrough what appeared a labyrinth of confusion.
Men bred and born in great cities are somewhat prone to fancy thatcertain accomplishments, such as tandem-driving, steeple-chasing, andsuch like, are the exclusive acquirements of rank and station. They haveonly witnessed them as the gifts of guardsmen and "young squires of highdegree," never suspecting that in the country a very inferior classis often endowed with these skilful arts. Mr. Merl felt, therefore, noordinary reverence for Maurice Scanlan, a sentiment fully reciprocatedby the attorney, as he beheld the gorgeous dressing-gown, rich tasselledcap, and Turkish trousers of the other.
"I thought I'd arrive before you, sir," said Scanlan, with a profoundbow, as he entered the room; "but I'm glad you got in first. What ashower that was!"
"Shower!" said Merl; "a West India hurricane is a zephyr to it. I 'd notlive in this climate if you 'd give me the whole Martin estate!"
"I 'm sure of it, sir; one must be bred in the place, and know nobetter, to stand it." And although the speech was uttered in allhumility, Merl gave the speaker a searching glance, as though to say,"Don't lose your time trying to humbug me; I'm 'York,' too." Indeed,there was species of freemasonry in the looks that now passed betweenthe two; each seemed instinctively to feel that he was in the presenceof an equal, and that artifice and deceit might be laid aside for thenonce.
"I hope you agree with me," said Scanlan, in a lower and moreconfidential voice, "that this was the best place to come to. Here youcan stay as long as you like, and nobody the wiser; but in the townof Oughterard they'd be at you morning, noon, and night, tracking yoursteps, questioning the waiter, ay, and maybe taking a peep at yourletters. I 've known that same before now."
"Well, I suppose you 're right; only this place does look a little dull,I confess."
"It's not the season, to be sure," said Scanlan, apologetically.
"Oh! and there is a season here?"
"Isn't there, by George!" said Maurice, smacking his lips. "I 've seentwo heifers killed here of a morning, and not so much as a beefsteakto be got before twelve o'clock. 'T is the height of fashion comes downhere in July,--the Rams of Kiltimmon, and the Bodkins of Crossmaglin;and there was talk last year of a lord,--I forget his name; but he ranaway from Newmarket, and the story went that he was making for this."
"Any play?" asked Merl.
"Play is it? That there is; whist every night, and backgammon."
Merl threw up his eyebrows with pretty much the same feeling with whichthe Great Napoleon repeated the words "Bows and Arrows!" as the weaponsof a force that offered him alliance.
"If you'd allow me to dine in this trim, Mr. Scanlan," said he, "I'd askyou to order dinner."
"I was only waiting for you to give the word, sir," said Maurice,reverting to the habit of respect at any fresh display of the other'spretensions; and opening the door, he gave a shrill whistle.
The landlord himself answered the summons, and whispered a few words inScanlan's ear.
"That's it, always," cried Maurice, angrily. "I never came into thehouse for the last ten days without hearing the same story. I 'd like toknow who and what he is, that must always have the best that 's going?"Then turning to Merl, he added: "It's a lodger he has upstairs; an oldfellow that came about a fortnight back; and if there's a fine fish or afat turkey or a good saddle of mutton to be got, he 'll have it."
"Faix, he pays well," said Toby, "whoever he is."
"And he has secured our salmon, I find, and left us to dine on whiting,"said Maurice.
"An eighteen-pound fish!" echoed Toby; "and it would be as much as mylife is worth to cut it in two."
"And he's alone, too?"
"No, sir. Mr. Crow, the painter, is to dine with him. He's makingdrawings for him of all the wonderful places down the coast."
"Well, give us wha
t we 're to have at once," said Maurice, angrily. "Thebasket of wine was taken out of the gig?"
"Yes, sir; all right and ready for you; and barrin' the fish you 'llhave an elegant dinner."
This little annoyance over, the guests relished their fare like hungrymen; nor, time and place considered, was it to be despised.
"Digestion is a great leveller." Mr. Merl and Mr. Scan-Ian felt far moreon an equality when, the dinner over and the door closed, they drewthe table close to the fire, and drank to each other in a glass of racyport.
"Well, I believe a man might live here, after all," said Merl, as hegazed admiringly on the bright hues of his variegated lower garments.
"I 'm proud to hear you say so," said Scanlan; "for, of course, you'veseen a deal of life; and when I say life, I mean fashion and highstyle,--nobs and swells."
"Yes; I believe I have," said Merl, lighting his cigar; "that was alwaysmy 'line.' I fancy there's few fellows going have more experience of thereally great world than Herman Merl."
"And you like it?" asked Maurice, confidentially.
"I do, and I do not," said the Jew, hesitatingly. "To one like myself,who knows them all, always on terms of close intimacy,--friendship, Imay say,--it 's all very well; but take a new hand just launched intolife, a fellow not of their own set,--why, sir, there 's no name for theinsults and outrage he'll meet with."
"But what could they do?" asked Scanlan, inquiringly.
"What?--anything, everything; laugh at him, live on him, win his lastguinea,--and then, blackball him!"
"And could n't he get a crack at them?"
"A what?"
"Couldn't he have a shot at some of them, at least?" asked Maurice.
"No, no," said Mr. Merl, half contemptuously; "they don't do _that_."
"Faix! and we 'd do it down here," said Scanlan, "devil may care who orwhat he was that tried the game."
"But I 'm speaking of London and Paris; I 'm not alluding to theSandwich Islands," said Merl, on whose brain the port and the strongfire were already producing their effects.
Scanlan's face flushed angrily; but a glance at the other checked thereply he was about to make, and he merely pushed the decanter across thetable.
"You see, sir," said Merl, in the tone of a man laying down a greatdictum, "there 's worlds and worlds. There's Claude Willoughby's world,which is young Martin's and Stanhope's and mine. There, we are all youngfellows of fortune, good family, good prospects, you understand,--no,thank you, no more wine;--I feel that what I 've taken has got into myhead; and this cigar, too, is none of the best. Would it be taking toogreat a liberty with you if I were to snatch a ten minutes' doze,--justten minutes?"
"Treat me like an old friend; make yourself quite at home," saidMaurice. "There 's enough here"--and he pointed to the bottles on thetable--"to keep me company; and I 'll wake you up when I 've finishedthem."
Mr. Merl made no reply; but drawing a chair for his legs, and disposinghis drapery gracefully around him, he closed his eyes, and beforeMaurice had replenished his glass, gave audible evidence of a soundsleep.
Now, worthy reader, we practise no deceptions with you; nor so far aswe are able, do we allow others to do so. It is but fair, therefore, totell you that Mr. Merl was not asleep, nor had he any tendency whateverto slumber about him. That astute gentleman, however, had detected thatthe port was, with the addition of a great fire, too much for him; herecognized in himself certain indications of confusion that impliedwandering and uncertain faculties, and he resolved to arrest theprogress of such symptoms by a little repose. He felt, in short, that ifhe had been engaged in play, that he should have at once "cut out," andso he resolved to give himself the advantage of the prerogativewhich attaches to a tired traveller. There he lay, then, with closedeyes,--breathing heavily,--to all appearance sound asleep.
Maurice Scanlan, meanwhile, scanned the recumbent figure before him withthe eye of a connoisseur. We have once before said that Mr. Scanlan'sjockey experiences had marvellously aided his worldly craft, and thathe scrutinized those with whom he came in contact through life, with allthe shrewd acumen he would have bestowed upon a horse whose purchase hemeditated. It was easy to see that the investigation puzzled him. Mr.Merl did not belong to any one category he had ever seen before. Mauricewas acquainted with various ranks and conditions of men; but here was anew order, not referable to any known class. He opened Captain Martin'sletter, which he carried in his pocket-book, and re-read it; but itwas vague and uninstructive. He merely requested that "every attentionmight be paid to his friend Mr. Merl, who wanted to see something ofthe West, and know all about the condition of the people, and such like.He's up to everything, Master Maurice," continued the writer, "andso just the man for _you_." There was little to be gleaned from thissource, and so he felt, as he folded and replaced the epistle in hispocket.
"What can he be," thought Scanlan, "and what brings him down here? Is hea member of Parliament, that wants to make himself up about Ireland andIrish grievances? Is he a money-lender, that wants to see the securitybefore he makes a loan? Are they thinking of him for the agency?"--andMaurice flushed as the suspicion crossed him,--"or is it after Miss Maryhe is?" And a sudden paleness covered his face at the thought. "I 'dgive a cool hundred, this minute, if I could read you," said he tohimself, "Ay, and I'd not ask any one's help how to deal with usafterwards," added he, as he drained off his glass. While he was thusruminating, a gentle tap was heard at the door, and, anxious not todisturb the sleeper, Scanlan crossed the room with noiseless steps, andopened it.
124]
"Oh, it's you, Simmy," said he, in a low voice. "Come in, and make nonoise; he's asleep."
"And that's him!" said Crow, standing still to gaze on the recumbentfigure before him, which he scrutinized with all an artist'sappreciation.
"Ay, and what do you think of him?" whispered Scanlan.
"That chap is a Jew," said Sim, in the same cautious tone. "I knowthe features well; you see the very image of him in the old Venetianpictures. Whenever they wanted cunning and cruelty--but more cunningthan cruelty--they always took that type."
"I would n't wonder if you were right, Simmy," said Scanlan, on whom anew light was breaking.
"I know I am; look at the spread of the nostrils, and the thick, fulllips, and the coarse, projecting under-jaw. Faix!" said he to himself,"I 've seen the day I 'd like to have had a study of your face."
"Indeed!" said Scanlan.
"Just so; he'd make a great Judas!" said Crow, enthusiastically. "Itis the miser all over. You know," added he, "if one took him in thehistorical way, you 'd get rid of the vulgarity, and make him granderand finer; for, looking at him now, he might be a dog-stealer."
Scanlan gave a low, cautious laugh as he placed a chair beside his ownfor the artist, and filled out for him a bumper of port.
"I was just dying for a glass of this," said Crow. "I dined with Mr.Barry upstairs; and though he's a fine-hearted old fellow in manyrespects, he's too abstemious; a pint of sherry for two at dinner, and apint of port after, that's the allowance. Throw out as many hints as youlike, suggest how and what you will, but devil a drop more you'll get."
"And who is he?" asked Scanlan.
"I wish you could tell me," said Crow.
"You haven't a notion; nor what he is?"
"Not the slightest. I think, indeed, he said he was in the army; butI'm not clear it wasn't a commissary or a surgeon; maybe he was, buthe knows a little about everything. Take him on naval matters, and heunderstands them well; ask him about foreign countries,--egad, he waseverywhere. Ireland seems the only place new to him, and it won't beso long; for he goes among the people, and talks to them, and hearsall they have to say, with a patience that breaks my heart. Like allstrangers, he's astonished with the acuteness he meets with, and neverceases saying, 'Ain't they a wonderful people? Who ever saw their equalfor intelligence?'"
"Bother!" said Scanlan, contemptuously.
"But it is not bother! Maurice; he's right. They are just
what he says."
"Arrah! don't be humbugging _me_, Mr. Crow," said the other. "They 'rea set of scheming, plotting vagabonds, that are unmanageable by any one,except a fellow that has the key to them as I have."
"_You_ know them, that's true," said Crow, half apologetically, for heliked the port, and did not feel he ought to push contradiction too far.
"And that's more than your friend Barry does, or ever will," saidScanlan. "I defy an Englishman--I don't care how shrewd he is--tounderstand Paddy."
A slight movement on Mr. Merl's part here admonished the speaker tospeak lower.
"Ay," continued Maurice, "that fellow there--whoever he is or whateverhe is--is no fool! he 's deep enough; and yet there 's not a bare-leggedgossoon on the estate I won't back to take him in."
"But Barry's another kind of man entirely. You wouldn't call him cute orcunning; but he's a sensible, well-judging man, that has seen a deal oflife."
"And what is it, he says, brings him here?" asked Scanlan.
"He never said a word about that yet," replied Crow, "further than hisdesire to visit a country he had heard much of, and, if I understand himaright, where some of his ancestors came from; for, you see, at timeshe's not so easy for one to follow, for he has a kind of a foreign twangin his tongue, and often mumbles to himself in a strange language."
"I mistrust all these fellows that go about the world, pretending theywant to see this and observe that," said Scanlan, sententiously.
"It's mighty hard to mistrust a man that gives you the likes of that,"said Crow, as he drew a neatly folded banknote from his pocket, andhanded it to Scanlan. "Twenty pounds! And he gave you that?" "This veryevening. 'It is a little more than our bargain, Mr. Crow,' said he, 'butnot more than I can afford to give; and so I hope you 'll not refuseit.' These were his words, as he took my lot of drawings--poor daubsthey were--and placed them in his portfolio."
"So that he is rich?" said Maurice, pensively, "There seems no end ofhis money; there's not a day goes over he does n't spend fifteen orsixteen pounds in meat, potatoes, barley, and the like. Sure, you maysay he 's been feeding the two islands himself for the last fortnight;and what's more, one must n't as much as allude to it. He gets angry atthe slightest word that can bring the subject forward. It was the otherday he said to myself, 'If you can relieve destitution without too muchparade of its sufferings, you are not only obviating the vulgar displayof rich benevolence, but you are inculcating high sentiments anddelicacy of feeling in those that are relieved. Take care how youpauperize the heart of a people, for you 'll have to make a workhouse ofthe nation.'"
"Sure, they're paupers already!" exclaimed Scanlan, contemptuously."When I hear all these elegant sentiments uttered about Ireland, I knowa man is an ass! This is a poor country,--the people is poor, the gentryis poor, the climate is n't the best, and bad as it is, you 're neversure of it. All that anybody can hope to do is to make his living outof it; but as to improving it,--raising the intellectual standard of thepeople, and all that balderdash we hear of,--you might just as well tellme that there was an Act of Parliament to make everybody in Connaughtsix feet high. Nature says one thing, and it signifies mighty little ifthe House of Commons says the other."
"And you 're telling me this in the very spot that contradicts everyword you say!" cried Crow, half angrily; for the port had given himcourage, and the decanter waxed low.
"How so?" exclaimed Scanlan.
"Here, where we sit--on this very estate of Cro' Martin--where a younggirl--a child the other day--has done more to raise the condition ofthe people, to educate and civilize, than the last six generationstogether."
A long wailing whistle from Scanlan was the insulting reply to theassertion.
"What do you mean by that?" cried Crow, passionately.
"I mean that she has done more mischief to the property thanfive-and-forty years' good management will ever repair, Now don't beangry, Simmy; keep your temper, and draw your chair back again to thetable. I 'm not going to say one word against her intentions; but whenI see the waste of thousands of pounds on useless improvements, elegantroads that lead nowhere, bridges that nobody will ever pass, and harborswithout boats, not to say the habits of dependence the people have gotby finding everything done for them. I tell you again, ten years more ofMiss Mary's rule will finish the estate."
130]
"I don't believe a word of it!" blurted out Simmy, boldly. "I saw heryesterday coming out of a cabin, where she passed above an hour, nursingtyphus fever and cholera. The cloak she took off the door--for she leftit there to dry--was still soaked with rain; her wet hair hung down hershoulders, and as she stood bridling her own pony,--for there was not aliving soul to help her--"
"She 'd have made an elegant picture," broke in Scanlan, with a laugh."But that's exactly the fault of us in Ireland,--we are all picturesque;I wish we were prosperous! But come, Simmy, finish your wine; it's notworth disputing about. If all I hear about matters be true, there willbe very little left of Cro' Martin when the debts are paid."
"What! do you mean to say that they 're in difficulty?"
"Far worse; the stories that reach me call it--ruin!"
Simmy drew his chair closer to the table, and in a whisper scarcelybreathed, said, "That chap's not asleep, Maurice."
"I know it," whispered the other; and added, aloud, "Many a fellow thatthinks he has the first charge on the property will soon discover hismistake; there are mortgages of more than eighty years' standing on theestate. You've had a great sleep, sir," said he, addressing Merl, whonow yawned and opened his eyes; "I hope our talking did n't disturbyou?"
"Not in the least," said Merl, rising and stretching his legs. "I'm allright now, and quite fresh for anything."
"Let me introduce Mr. Crow to you, sir,--a native artist that we 're allproud of."
"That's exactly what you are not then," said Crow; "nor would you be ifI deserved it. You 'd rather gain a cause at the Quarter Sessions, ortake in a friend about a horse, than be the man that painted the Madonnaat Florence."
"He's cross this evening,--cross and ill-humored," said Scanlan,laughing. "Maybe he 'll be better tempered when we have tea."
"I was just going to ask for it," said Merl, as he arranged hiswhiskers, and performed a small impromptu toilet before the glass, whileSimmy issued forth to give the necessary orders.
"We 'll have tea, and a rubber of dummy afterwards," said Scanlan, "ifyou've no objection."
"Whatever you like,--I 'm quite at your disposal," replied Merl, who nowseated himself with an air of bland amiability, ready, according to theamount of the stake, to win pounds or lose sixpences.