Chapter 2

"_Antonio_. Thou knowest that all my fortunes are at sea; Nor have I money or commodity, To raise a present sum."

_Merchant of Venice_.

The _Boheeil Kistanaugh_, called in plain English, the kitchen boy, had entered, not like Caliban, "bearing a log," but with a basket full. He deposited the supply, and was directed by the commander to replenish the fire. I believe that Petereeine's allegiance to my father originated in fear rather than affection. He dreaded

"the deep damnation of his 'Bah!'"

but what was a still more formidable consideration, was a black-thorn stick which the colonel had carried since he gave up the sword; it was a beauty, upon which every fellow that came for law, in or out of custody, lavished his admiration--a clean crop, with three inches of an iron ferule on the extremity. My father was, "good easy man," a true Milesian philosopher--his arguments were those impressive ones, called _ad hominem_, and after he had _grassed_ his man, he explained the reason at his leisure.

_Petereeine_ (little Peter), as he was called, to distinguish him from another of that apostolic name--who was six feet two--approached the colonel in his best state of health with much alarm; but, when a fit of the gout was on--when a foot swathed in flannel, or slippered and rested on a hassock, announced the anthritic visitation, Petereeine would hold strong doubts whether, had the choice been allowed, he should not have preferred entering one of Van Amburgh's dens, to facing the commander in the dining-room.

Petereeine was nervous--he had overheard his master blowing to the skies the Reverend George Cantwell, and the red-headed rector, Paul Macrony. If a parson and a priest were so treated, what chance had he? and great was his trepidation, accordingly, when he entered the state chamber, as in duty bound.

"Why the devil did you not answer the bell? You knew well enough, you incorrible scoundrel! that I wanted you."

Now my father's opening address was not calculated to restore Petereeine's mental serenity--and to add to his uneasiness, he also caught sight of that infernal implement, the black-thorn, which, in treacherous repose, was resting at my father's elbow.

"On with some wood, you vagabond."

The order was obeyed--and Petereeine conveyed a couple of billets safely from the basket to the grate. The next essay, however, was a failure--the third log fell--and if the fall were not great, as it dropped on the fender, it certainly was very noisy. The accident was harmless--for, according to honest admeasurement, it evaded my father's foot by a full yard--but, under nervous alarm, he swore, and, as troopers will swear, that it had descended direct upon his afflicted member, and, consequently that he was ruined for life. This was a subsequent explanation--while the unhappy youth was extended on the hearth-rug, protesting innocence, and also declaring that his jaw-bone was fractured. The fall of the billet and the boy were things simultaneous--and while my mother, in great alarm, inculcated patience under suffering, and hinted at resignation, my father, in return, swore awfully, that no man with a toe of treble its natural dimensions, and scarlet as a soldiers jacket, had ever possessed either of those Christian articles. My mother quoted the case of Job--and my father begged to inquire if there was any authority to prove that Job ever had the gout? In the mean time, the kitchen-boy had gathered himself up and departed--and as he left the presence with his hand pressed upon his cheek, loud were his lamentations. Constance and I--nobody enjoyed the ridiculous more than she did--laughed heartily, while the colonel resented this want of sympathy, by calling us a brace of fools, and expressing his settled conviction, that were he, the commander, hanged, we, the delinquents, would giggle at the foot of the gallows.

Such was the state of affairs, when the entrance of the chief butler harbingered other occurrences, and much more serious than Petereeine's damaged jaw. Mick Kalligan had been in the "heavies" with my father, and at Salamanca, had ridden the opening charge, side by side, with him, greatly to the detriment of divers Frenchmen, and much to the satisfaction of his present master. In executing this achievement, Mick had been a considerable sufferer--his ribs having been invaded by a red lancer of the guard--while a _chausseur-à-cheval_ had inserted a lasting token of his affection across his right cheek, extremely honorable, but by no means ornamental.

Mick laid a couple of newspapers, and as many letters, on the table--but before we proceed to open either, we will favor the reader with another peep into our family history.

Manifold are the ruinous phantasies which lead unhappy mortals to pandemonium. This one has a fancy for the turf, another patronizes the last imported _choryphée_. The turf is generally a settler--the stage is also a safe road to a safe settlement, and between a race-horse and a _danseuse_, we would not give a sixpence for choice. Now, as far as horse-flesh went, my grandfather was innocent; a _pirouette_ or _pas seul_, barring an Irish jig, he never witnessed in his life--but he had discovered as good a method for settling a private gentleman. He had an inveterate fancy for electioneering. The man who would reform state abuses, deserves well of his country; there is a great deal of patriotism in Ireland; in fact, it is, like linen, a staple article generally, but still the best pay-master is safe to win; and hence, my poor grandfather generally lost the race.

My father looked very suspiciously at the letters--one had his own armorial bearings displayed in red wax--and the formal direction was at a glance detected to be that of his aunt Catharine--Catharine's missives were never agreeable--she had a rent charge on the property for a couple of thousands; and, like Moses and Son, her system was "quick returns," and the interest was consequently expected to the day. For a few seconds my father hesitated, but he manfully broke the seal--muttering, audibly, "What can the old rattle-trap write about? Her interest-money is not due for another fortnight." He threw his eyes hastily over the contents--his color heightened--and my aunt Catharine's epistle was flung, and most unceremoniously, upon the ground--the hope that accompanied the act, being the reverse of a benediction.

"Is there anything wrong, dear James?" inquired my mother, in her usual quiet and timid tone.

"Wrong!" thundered my father; "Frank will read this spiritual production to you. Every line breathes a deep anxiety on old Kitty's part for my soul's welfare, earthly considerations being non-important. Read, Frank, and if you will not devoutly wish that the doting fool was at the dev--"

"Stop, my dear James."

"Well-read, Frank, and say, when you hear the contents, whether you would be particularly sorry to learn that the old lady had, as sailors say, her hands well greased, and a fast hold upon the moon? Read, d----n it, man! there's no trouble in deciphering my aunt Catharine's penmanship. Hers is not what Tony Lumpkin complained of--a cursed cramp hand; all clear and unmistakable--the _t_'s accurately stroked across, and the _i_'s dotted to a nicety. Go on--read, man, read."

I obeyed the order, and thus ran the missive, my honored father adding a running commentary at every important passage; shall place them in italics--

"'MY DEAR NEPHEW,'"

"_Oh, ---- her affection!_"

"'If, by a merciful dispensation, I shall be permitted to have a few spiritual minded friends to-morrow, at four o'clock, at dinner--'"

"_Temps militaire--they won't fail you, my old girl._"

"'I shall then have reached an age to which few arrive--look to the psalm--namely, to eighty--'"

"_She's eighty-three_--"

"'I have, under the mercy of Providence, and the ministry of a chosen vessel, the Reverend Carter Kettlewell, and also a worshiping Christian learned in the law, namely, Mr. Selby Sly, put my earthly house in order. Would that spiritual preparation could he as easily accomplished; but yet I feel well convinced that mine is a state of grace, and Mr. Kettlewell gives me a comfortable assurance that in me the old man if crucified--'"

"_Did you ever listen to such rascally cant?_"

"'I have given instructions to Mr. Sly to make my will, and Mr. Kettlewell has kindly consented to be the trustee and executor--"

"_Now comes the villainy, no doubt_"

"'I have devised--may the offering be graciously received!--all that I shall die possessed of to make an addition to support those devoted soldiers--not, dear nephew, soldiers in your carnal meaning of the word--but the ministers of the gospel, who labor in New Zealand. These inestimable men, whose courage is almost supernatural, and who--'"

"_Pish--what an old twaddler!_"

"'Although annually eaten by converted cannibals, still press forward at the trumpet-call--"'

"_I wonder what sort of a grill old Kate would make? cursed tough, I fancy._"

"'I have added my mite to a fund already established to send assistance there--'"

"_Ay, to Christianize, and, in return, be carbonadoed. I wish I had charge of the gridiron I would broil one or two of the new recruits._"

"'I have called in, under Mr. Sly's advice the mortgage granted to the late Sir George O'Gorman, by my ever-to-be-lamented husband, and the other portions of my property being in state securities, are reclaimable at once. My object in writing this letter is to convey to my dear nephew my heartfelt prayers for his spiritual amendment, and also to intimate that the 2000l.--a rent-charge on he Kilnavaggart property--with the running quarter's interest, shall be paid at La Touche's to the order of Messrs. Kettlewell and Sly. As the blindness of the New Zealanders is deplorable, and as Mr. Kettlewell has already enlisted some gallant champions who will blow the gospel-trumpet, although they were to be served up to supper the same evening, I wish the object to be carried out at once--'"

"_Beautiful!_" said my poor father with a groan; "_where the devil could the money be raised? You won't realize now for a bullock what, in war-time, you would get for a calf. Go on with the old harridan's epistle._"

"'Having now got rid of fleshly considerations--I mean money ones--let me, my dear James, offer a word in season. Remember that it comes from an attached relation, who holds your worldly affairs as nothing--'"

"_I can't dispute that_," said my father with a smothered groan.

"'But would turn your attention to the more important considerations of our being. I would not lean too heavily upon the bruised reed, but your early life was anything but evangelical--'"

Constance laughed; she could not, wild girl, avoid it.

"'We must all give an account of our stewardship,' _vide_ St. Luke, chap. xvi.--'"

"_Stop--Shakspeare's right; when the devil quotes Scripture--but, go on--let's have the whole dose._"

"'When can you pay the money in? And, oh! in you, my dear nephew, may grace yet fructify, and may you be brought, even at the eleventh hour, to a slow conviction that all on this earth is vanity and vexation of spirit--drums, colors, scarlet and fine linen, hounds running after hares, women whirling round, as they tell me they do, in that invention of the evil one called a waltz, all these are but delusions of the enemy, and designed to lead sinners to destruction. I transcribe a verse from a most affecting hymn, composed by that gifted man--'"

"_Oh, d----n the hymn!_" roared my father; "_on with you, Frank, and my benison light on the composer of it! Don't stop to favor us with his name, and pass over the filthy doggerel!_"

I proceeded under orders accordingly.

"'Remember, James, you are now sixty-one; repent, and, even in the eleventh hour, you may be plucked like a brand from the fire. Avoid swearing, mortify the flesh--that is, don't take a third tumbler after dinner--'"

My father could not stand it longer. "_Oh, may Cromwell's curse light upon her! I wonder how many glasses of brandy-and-water she swallows at evening exercise, as she calls it, over a chapter of Timothy?_"

"'I would not recall the past, but for the purpose of wholesome admonition. The year before you married, and gave up the godless life of soldiering, can you forget that I found you, at one in the morning in Bridget Donovan's room? Your reason was, that you had got the colic; if you had, why not come to my chamber, where you knew there was laudanum and lavender?

Poor Constance could not stand the fresh allegation; and, while my mother looked very grave, we laughed, as Scrub says, "consumedly." My father muttered something about "cursed nonsense!" but I am inclined to think that aunt Catharine's colic charge was not without some foundation.

"'I have now, James, discharged my duty: may my humble attempts to arouse you to a sense of the danger of standing on the brink of the pit of perdition be blessed! Pay the principal and interest over to La Touche. Mr. Selby Sly hinted that a foreclosure of the mortgage might expedite matters; and, by saving a term or two in getting in the money, two or three hundred New Zealanders would--and oh, James! how gratifying would be the reflection!--be saved from the wrath to come.

"'This morning, on looking over your marriage settlement, Mr. Sly is of opinion that, if Mrs. Hamilton will renounce certain rights he can raise the money at once, and that too only at legal interest, say six per cent.--'"

Often had I witnessed a paternal explosion; but, when it was hinted that the marital rights of my poor mother were to be sacrificed, his fury amounted almost to madness.

"Damnation!" he exclaimed; "confusion light upon the letter and the letter-writer! You!--do you an act to invalidate your settlement! I would see first every canting vagabond in----" and he named a disagreeable locality. "Never, Mary! pitch that paper away: I dread that at the end of it the old lunatic will inflict her benediction. Frank, pack your traps--you must catch the mail to-night; you'll be in town by eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Be at Sly's office at nine. D----n the gout!--I should have done the job myself. Beat the scoundrel as nearly to death as you think you can conscientiously go without committing absolute murder: next, pay a morning visit to Kettlewell, and, if you leave him in a condition to mount the pulpit for a month, I'll never acknowledge you. Break that other seal; Probably, the contents may prove as agreeable as old Kitty's."

There were times and moods when, in Byron's language, it was judicious to reply "Psha! to hear is to obey," and this was such a period. I broke the black wax, and the epistle proved to be from the very gentleman whom I was to be dispatched per mail to qualify next morning for surgical assistance.

"Out with it!" roared my father, as I unclosed the foldings of the paper; "What is the signature? I remember that my uncle Hector always looked at the name attached to a letter when he unclosed the post-bag; and if the handwriting looked like an attorney's he flung it, without reading a line, into the fire."

"This letter, sir, is subscribed 'Selby Sly.'"

"Don't burn it, Frank, read. Well, there is one comfort that Selby Sly shall have to-morrow evening a collection of aching ribs, if the Hamiltons are not degenerated: read, man," and, as usual, there was a running comment on the text.

"'Dublin,--March, 1818.

"'Colonel Hamilton,--Sir,

"'It is my melancholy duty to inform you--'"

"_That you have foreclosed the mortgage. Frank, if you don't break a bone or two, I'll never acknowledge you again._"

"'That my honored and valued client and patroness, Mrs. Catharine O'Gorman, suddenly departed this life at half-past six o'clock, P.M., yesterday evening, when drinking a glass of sherry, and holding sweet and spiritual converse with the Reverend Carter Kettlewell.'"

"_It's all up, no doubt: the canting scoundrels have secured her--or, as blackguard gamblers say, have 'made all' safe?_"

"'She has died intestate, although a deed, that would have immortalized her memory, was engrossed, and ready for signature. Within an hour after she went to receive her reward--'"

My father gave a loud hurrah! "_Blessed be Heaven that the rout came before the old fool completed the New Zealand business!_"

"'As heir-at-law, you are in direct remainder, and the will, not being executed, is merely wastepaper: but, from the draft, the intentions of your inestimable aunt can clearly be discovered. Although not binding in law, let me say there is such a thing as Christian equity that should guide you. The New Zealand bequest, involving a direct application of 10,000l. to meet the annual expenditure of gospel-soldiers--there being a constant drain upon these sacred harbingers of peace, from the native fancy of preferring a deviled missionary to a stewed kangaroo--that portion of the intended testament I would not press upon you. But the intentional behests of 500l. to the Rev. Carter Kettlewell, the same sum to myself, and an annuity to Miss Grace Lightbody of 50l. a year, though not recoverable in law, under these circumstances should be faithfully confirmed.

"'It may be gratifying to acquaint you with some particulars of the last moments of your dear relative, and one of the most devout, nay, I may use the term safely, evangelical elderly gentlewomen for whom I have had the honor to transact business.'"

"_Stop, Frank. Pass over the detail. It might be too affecting._"

"'I await your directions for the funeral. My lamented friend and client had erected a catacomb in the Siloam Chapel, and in the minister's vault, and she frequently expressed a decided wish that her dust might repose with faithful servants, who, in season and out of season, fearlessly grappled with the man of sin, who is arrayed in black, and the woman who sitteth on the seven hills, dressed in scarlet.'"

"_Hang the canting vagabond--why not call people by their proper titles; name Old Nick at once, and the lady whose soubriquet is unmentionable, but who, report says, has a town residence in Babylon._"

Constance and I laughed; my mother, as usual, looking demure and dignified. Another twinge of the gout altogether demolished the commander's temper.

"_Stop that scoundrel's jargon. Run your eye over the remainder, and tell me what the fellow's driving at._"

I obeyed the order.

"Simply, sir, Mr. Sly desires to know whether you have any objection to old Kitty taking peaceable possession of her catacomb in the Dublin gospel-shop which she patronized, or would you prefer that she were 'pickled and sent home,' as Sir Lucius says."

"Heaven forbid that I should interfere with her expressed wishes," said my father. "I suppose there's 'snug lying' in Siloam; and there's one thing certain, that the company who occupy the premises are quite unobjectionable. Kitty will be safer there. Lord! if the gentleman in black, or the red lady of the seven hills attempted a felonious entry on her bivouac, what a row the saintly inmates would kick up! It would be a regular 'guard, turn out!' And what chance would scarlatina and old clooty have? No, no, she'll be snug there in her sentry-box. What a blessed escape from ruin! Mary, dear, make me another tumbler, and d----n the gout!"--he had a sharp twinge. "I'll drink 'here's luck!' Frank, go pack your kit, and instead of demolishing Selby Sly, see Kitty decently sodded. Your mother, Constance, and myself will rumble after you to town by easy stages. I wonder how aunt Catherine will cut up. If she has left as much cash behind as she has lavished good advice in her parting epistle, by--" and my father did ejaculate a regular rasper--"I'll re-purchase the harriers, as I have got a whisper that poor Dick was cleaned out the last meeting at the Curragh, and the pack is in the market."

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