My Lords of Strogue. Volume 2 of 3

And his betters had good cause for the earnestness of their talk. When Mr. Grattan threw up his parliamentary seat, Curran had twitted him for loss of temper. But now his turn was come. He had spoken out rashly in the debate, which was still droning on-had distributed rhetorical slaps in the face, which caused the friends of Government to wince. Then one, bolder than the rest, interrupted the flow of his eloquence by saying:

'We're growing warm. Will any gintleman tell us an anecdote to bring us into a better temper?' And then Curran, flying in a rage, declared that he was wasting the energies which would serve him better in another place, and proceeded to abdicate with scorn his seat as member.

Terence, when he heard of it, doubted the wisdom of the move, and begged leave to know, as nearly as he might, what the orator had said.

'I charged them openly,' was the simple reply, 'with their corrupt practices. I charged them with a systematic endeavour to undermine the constitution in violation of the law of the land. I charged them with being public malefactors, public criminals. Then I was called to order, and I repeated the charge even yet more strongly, bawling out: "Why not expel me now? Why not send me to the bar of the Lords? Going out, I will repeat the accusation, and the winds shall carry it-that the ministers are traitors, who should be publicly impeached-and, advancing to the bar of the Lords, I will repeat it there. If I am to suffer in the public cause, I will go further than my prosecutors in virtue as in danger."'

'That wasn't wise, for nothing could come of it but noise,' Terence said, shaking his head at his old mentor. 'This is the time not for talk, but action.'

'It may happen,' returned the other gently, 'that the boys of action may come to need the help of a silver tongue-after all! I know not for certain how far ye're in it, Terence; and it's best I shouldn't know. Any way, I'm glad ye're not like your brother, who's a half-caste in character, more than half Englishman. You, at any rate, are not ashamed,' he continued slily, 'of going to tay with your mammy, or of perambulating by the say with a colleen asthore! I wish ye'd keep clear of this, though.'

'Would you have had me stand by-a man-a cold spectator of events? Would you have me show the white feather now, when so many have been kidnapped? No-I know you would not,' Terence said, looking in the little lawyer's eyes (into which the tears started) with a hand placed on either shoulder.

Curran said nothing for a few moments, then, blowing his nose, whispered rapidly:

'If there's naught to be gained by noise, my boy, still less will foolhardiness avail us. Why will you wear that gorgeous scarf of green? If you are to do man's work, do not act like a baby. There's only you and Cassidy left now to give directions to the country delegates. I don't know much, and it's not my business; but I can see now the tail of the Erin-go-bragh order sparkling within your vest. Two hands fraternally gripped. How lamentably childish, when so much may depend on you! Erin's cause will be none the less well served, I warrant, for fewer gewgaws on the persons of her sons. Too much green ribbon, Terence! Every man among you sports a green ribbon, and has some compromising paper in his pocket! Why, here's a roll in yours. For shame!'

'That's the military plan,' Terence returned, 'which I was to have shown to-day to our friends. It was a mercy, certainly, that you detained me here, or else-'

'You would have fallen a sacrifice to overweening prudence! Therein lies Erin's curse. Her sons are faithful enough, and earnest enough; but they're all impractical and scatter-brained.'

'Faithful, are they?' echoed Terence, mournfully. 'So many traitors walk among us, that no one can swear any day whether he's like to sleep or hang at night!'

'Traitors!' repeated Curran between his teeth, as he turned his head. 'Yes. Traitors galore! There walks the arch-traitor. Lucifer among his cohorts.'

Lord Clare was coming up the steps towards the lobby of the House of Commons, surrounded by a bevy of obsequious gentlemen who had rushed round to the 'Lords' entrance,' in Westmoreland Street, to warn the chancellor that dreadful things were happening. His hatchet face wore an evil expression which, melting away, gave place to beaming looks when he perceived before him his hated enemy.

'Ah! Mr. Curran. Taking the air? You're looking well, Terence,' he cried in his rasping voice, holding out a hand to each. 'Anything doing in the Commons? Not much to do, eh? Dull times. Sad-sad times, my friends! Dangerous, too; very dangerous.'

'You are right there, my lord,' returned the lawyer, curtly. 'Tyrants should remember that secret murder is the special weapon of the weak against the strong.'

The chancellor bit his lip, then showed his teeth again. He would not lose his temper. But it was singularly ill-mannered of this demagogue to try and make a scene in the public colonnade!

'I have warned you solemnly before, my lord, of what you are doing!' went on the sturdy little man. 'You play with awkward weapons. Take care they don't slip and cut you. The Staghouse overflows with guests, I know. Yet more than one has lately disappeared.'

'Consigned to Moiley?' laughed Lord Clare. 'Well, they weigh, I suppose, like wise men, the risks of their position against its advantages. We are quits. For I have warned you too. You'll get nothing by your present attitude, I do assure you. It is lamentable to see a clever man so waste his opportunity. I am sure if Terence's mother was here she would say the same. You believe in her, I think, though you've always done me the injury to mistrust me.'

Here he gave a friendly nod to Terence, who took no heed of it.

'Would you have me tie my countrymen in bundles?' inquired Curran, 'to raise myself to wealth and to remorse? The envy of fools-the contempt of the wise. No! Come what may, I will mourn over and console them; aye, and rebuke them too when they act against themselves.'

'Which is pretty frequently the case!' returned Lord Clare. 'I assure you I weep quite as much as you can over my country's misfortunes!'

Mr. Curran waxed peppery, for he hated humbug.

'And yet, my lord,' he sneered, 'your glittering optic is so dry that the finest gunpowder might be dried on it!'

This was uphill work; but the chancellor still smiled, though a hectic spot showed upon his cheekbone; for the squireens around were beginning to hee-haw, and he felt he was playing le rôle ridicule.

'It is a sad thing, when the interests of millions are placed at the mercy of one man's selfish ambition-or error, if you prefer it-for what is individual ambition but error?'

'Selfish ambition!' echoed Lord Clare, grandly. 'I have the honour to be a chosen servant of the King, and as such I humbly strive to do my duty-nothing more.'

'You owe no allegiance to the land that gave you birth? I tell you, my lord, here before these gentlemen, that as chancellor you are betraying those rights which you have sworn to maintain; that you are involving Government in disgrace-a kingdom in consternation; that you are sacrificing to your own avarice and vanity every sacred duty, every solemn engagement which binds you to yourself, your country, and your God!'

'Mr. Curran!' cried the chancellor, drawing back.

But the little man was not to be stopped now; his blood was up, and his eyes flashed fire.

'You are too arrogant to learn a lesson from history. Think why the royal ship of France went down. That of England labours now. "Throw the people overboard," say you, and such as you, "and ballast with abuses." Blind pilot! Throw your abuses overboard, say I, and ballast with your people!'

Lord Clare was getting very much the worst of it. He could not prematurely broach the question of a Union before all these people. He scarce knew how to act.

'You are bent on tieing Ireland to England-I can see through you. What is the price to be?'

'You are forcing a quarrel on me!' stammered the chancellor, who was scarlet. 'I call these gentlemen to witness that it is so; why, I know not, for I never injured you!'

'You are stabbing your mother and mine to death! Is that no injury?' returned the other, sternly crossing his arms. 'If it were possible to collect the innocent blood which you have shed and are shedding into one great reservoir, your lordship might have a good long swim in it. As wicked a game as it is short-sighted. When you guillotine a man you get rid of an individual, it's true, but you make all his friends and relations your enemies for ever.'

Things had gone too far to remain as they were. The wily chancellor, much as he deprecated appearing in open antagonism to the popular demagogue, was obliged for his own sake-for that of the Government which he represented-to take up the gauntlet which was tossed to him. If Lord Glandore, King of Cherokees, had only been present, he would have had the satisfaction of at last superintending the duel, the compromise of which, on a previous occasion, had so mortified him.

All agreed that the trifling matter had better be settled off-hand with as little delay as possible, for the shades of evening were closing in, and it is a pity that pretty bullet-practice should be spoiled by darkness. Terence of course offered himself as second to his ex-chief, while my lord beckoned to our old friend Cassidy, who happened to come upon the scene, and was only too delighted at the honour which was thus conferred by a chancellor of Ireland upon one who, however useful and fascinating, was no better socially than a 'half-mounted.'

Lord Clare proposed an immediate adjournment to Leinster Lawn, where the affair might be quietly concluded without witnesses; but his second would not hear of it. No, indeed! It was not often that he would have the opportunity of showing himself off as best man to so high a dignitary, and was by no means inclined to hide his light under a bushel. Stephen's Green was the place, quite close and handy. Among the trees there was a splendid spot for sport. In his delight he clapped his brother second on the back, vowing that it would be only right for them to have a tilt upon their own account!

To this Terence demurred, however, marvelling why the friendly giant should show such an itching to have a shot at him. That worthy seemed singularly aggrieved at his offer being refused, but consoled himself by grumbling:

'I thought you were more game! No mather-when the principals have done, we might have a turn. I remember when Lord Mountgarret was winged at the first fire, that his son tuk his place, not to disappoint the audience. And we all thought it mighty polite and proper in the gintleman.'

CHAPTER IX.

THE DUEL

When they had had time to reflect, both combatants were equally sorry for the fracas. Curran was specially meek, and apologised humbly to his second, as they walked arm-in-arm to the trysting-place.

'Indeed, and I'm an old fool,' he admitted. 'Nothing, as you said, can come of this sort of thing but noise. I can't afford to be kilt, for I'll be wanted later.' Then a thought came as a gleam of comfort. 'If I could kill my man,' he said, 'that would be doing good service to ould Ireland. But the devil looks after his own. He's much more likely to make daylight through me.'

Lord Clare was more than annoyed; he was seriously disturbed. If he were to kill Curran, his position would be fraught with difficulty. The mob loved Curran; they would certainly tear to pieces the man who slew him. If he, by chance, escaped, he would be able to show his face no more; and, having ceased to be useful, the authorities in London would certainly throw him over. Was this wretched little pigmy always to cross his path? Lord Clare ground out a curse, and determined (with a hasty prayer to his tutelary deity with the horns and hoofs) that if the first fire turned out harmless, he would declare his honour satisfied, and decline a second shot. Meanwhile he improved the shining moments-Cassidy having rushed off to fetch the barking-irons-by sending a special messenger to Ely Place, to order a saddled horse to be brought to the mall in Stephen's Green; a precaution in favour of escape, in case an accident should happen to the popular favourite.

Speedily as challenge had followed insult, he saw with chagrin that there was no hope of keeping the matter secret. The altercation had been witnessed by several gownsmen who happened to be passing out of the Commons, and who, rushing across the road to Trinity, had bawled to all whom it interested that 'Curran was about to pistol the chancellor to Hades.'

The news flew like wildfire from court to court, for the undergraduates bore the latter no goodwill, by reason of the recent visitation. They poured out like a flock of rooks, and were already perched on wall and branch when the interested parties arrived.

There were not two opinions as to which way they hoped the affair would end. Of the chancellor's enemies among the scum, there was no slight sprinkling, Phil having also rushed away to announce to sundry cronies that there was going to be great sport. Lord Clare regretted his choice of a second. He had selected him as likely to obey his principal, instead of leading him, as he had a right to do; but he reckoned without the pugnacity which underlies the Irish character, and which is certain to burst forth on the first symptom of a row. How could Cassidy guess (who was, by nature, blundering and muddle-pated), that my lord chancellor really wished to back out of his challenge? Was he not an Irishman? That he was no coward all the world knew. The giant put down his peculiar manner to an ultra-refinement of courtesy and high-breeding, and was specially anxious to allow him to air his politeness without losing a point. He was extremely obstinate, therefore, declining to listen to anything his principal proposed-so peremptorily, indeed, that he would have marvelled at his own audacity, but for a conviction that he was doing what was expected of him.

'Ground! gintlemen, ground!' he cried in delight, as a sort of salutation. 'Blow measurement! We'll hip the puny babbler, my lord! Hip him-hip-hip! Bedad, your lordship's puce silk coat is in your favour. The daylight's waning. I can hardly distinguish your figure from the grass. Sure it's dewy, and your shoes are thin. Stand on my roquelaure. 'Twill prevent your taking could!'

'Damn his officiousness!' muttered his principal, with a scowl.

Mr. Curran met with such an ovation from the heavy flight of rooks in the trees, as his small figure loomed in the twilight, that his spirits rose again. His temporary humility was gone. He, too, was a Hibernian war-horse, with a love for the clarion's bray, although his bouts were more in the way of arguments than cudgel-playing. The idea of shooting down, with his own dusky hand, Ireland's recreant son, her bitterest foe, might well raise his spirits.

Charlotte Corday, even though she did her country transcendant service, cannot be acquitted of the charge of murder. It is not convenable for a young lady to enter the bath-room of an unprotected gentleman, and, having lodged a knife in his flesh, to retire behind a curtain and await her fate. But here was an analogous case, without its indecorous elements. A frowsy-looking mouse had bearded a gorgeous lion, and told him the simple truth about himself, which more timorous animals were content to whisper behind his back. That lion, taking offence, had challenged his small foe to mortal combat. Well, the mouse would try to slay that lion, and, the combat being on equal terms, there was no murder about the business at all; a case of retribution, simply. David and Goliath-nothing more. Anything more convenable could not possibly be seen.

So Mr. Curran became quite jubilant, and seeming, to his surprise, to detect something which looked like the hesitation of fear, set himself to taunt the fine-looking gentleman opposite, who made really a splendid appearance in his exquisitely-fitting silken clothes, with a large diamond glimmering in a soft fall of lace, another in his hat-loop; while, as for the silver-hilted couteau de chasse which dangled from a silver belt, nothing could be more perfect in workmanship, more chaste and elegant in design.

'Is the State-doctor ready?' shouted Mr. Curran, who was in highest spirits by this time, amid crows of merriment. 'Sure he's always prescribing steel to his patient; bad luck to him!'

'Is it steel?' retorted Cassidy, whose principal pretended not to hear. 'Here's steel for ye! The prettiest irons in all Leinster; a gift to me from Lord Glandore. Twelve inches long they are. Tear and owns! but they're lovely boys; as bright as moonbames. If they could spake, they'd thank ye for giving them their liberty. Why, they've not been aired these six weeks.'

'Take care,' Terence observed, laughing; 'the one ye're flourishing is at full-cock.'

'Then full-cock your own, and let's blaze,' retorted the other, readily; which sally produced a yell from the rookery.

'If Mr. Curran will apologise-' Lord Clare began, glancing nervously round, for it was nearly dark, and the mob was thickening fast.

'Ah! Go on, now; it's joking ye're,' shouted Cassidy, holding his sides. 'Your lordship's too polite entirely. Sure ye couldn't do it. Here are the rules laid down by the Knights of Tara, which you know may not be broke' (taking a small manuscript book out of his voluminous breeches-pocket). 'See No. 7: "No apology can be accepted after the parties meet, without a fire." Come, gintlemin. Proceed, proceed. Ould locks-barrels and stocks! Go on, du now! Here are your pair of bullies, nicely primed, my lord.'

'One will be sufficient, probably,' frowned his principal.

'Rule 33,' retorted the glib fire-eater: '"You may not be satisfied till two shots are fired at least, unless the apologiser hands the other a cane and submits to a good beating."'

'That's a Galway rule, which doesn't obtain in Dublin,' Terence remarked. 'Not that my principal means to apologise; far from it.'

'Irish blackguard is one of our staple manufactures,' suggested Mr. Curran, to keep the ball rolling; but his adversary was imperturbable. He was a cur as well as a tyrant, then?

'Listen to me, my lord,' cried the sturdy advocate, crossing his arms. 'In 1173, MacMurrough betrayed the land to Strongbow, as you are betraying it now to Pitt, and received the wages of sin. Take a lesson from history. Hunted by despair, he died by his own hand. Under Henry II. England and Ireland were for a moment one. But England grew sick of the faint smell of the shambles, and abandoned her slave. Much good did that Union do!'

Lord Clare was stung to desperation. Openly to talk of a Union at this juncture might be productive of incalculable harm.

'Make haste, make haste!' he said pettishly. 'We don't want all the metropolis to look at us.'

The first shot did no mischief. The chancellor fired wide, his wandering bullet creating a transitory excitement in a knot of bystanders. Mr. Curran's pierced his adversary's coat.

'The devil looks after his own, I might have known it,' he muttered, tossing away one pistol and raising the other. 'The gentleman stands too far off. Let him come closer. I can't see him.'

Lord Clare approached nearer, and again fired wildly; while his opponent was so diabolically deliberate, that he could not help observing through the stillness of expectation: 'It won't be your fault if you don't kill me, Curran!'

'Did ye ever hear tell of Moran's collar?' inquired the advocate, as, closing one eye and screwing up his mouth into an O, he covered the chancellor. 'It was worn by justices in ould days, and had the wondrous property of contracting or relaxing according to his just or unjust conduct. How mightily it would have choked your lordship!'

Curran fired at last. The chancellor staggered, but recovered himself.

'A hit!' shouted Curran.

'A hit, a hit!' yelled the rooks, in the gathering darkness. One piping bird-voice cried above the rest, 'Moiley shall eat him!'

A multitude of friends vied with each other in sympathy for the chancellor. Cassidy supported him, despite his struggles, on his knee, while one ripped open his small clothes and another produced a probe.

On the fair skin there was a dark mark-a tiny trickle of blood like a pin's scratch. The sight of it produced a murmur of astonishment. Lord Clare could conceal his fury no longer.

'Damn you all! Damn you, I say! for a pack of donkeys!' he cried, almost foaming. 'It's the gingerbread nuts that I eat in the long debate-they've saved me from a bullet-wound-there-laugh away, and get you gone-I've danced too long already to your asinine piping!'

'One more blaze, my lord?' coaxed Cassidy, unconvinced, amid general tittering.

But he was not long unconvinced. He saw that in his principal's eye which reduced him to lowliness at once, and he bowed his head as the wounded warrior quoted with majesty Rule 22:

'"If a wound agitates the nerves and makes the hand shake, the business must end for that day at least." The gingerbread nuts have made my hand shake: at all events you may take it so, if you please. Provoke me no longer-clear away this rabble of idiots at once, or I tell you plainly, Mr. Cassidy, that you'll be sorry for it.'

The giant could not but perceive that his principal really was frantic, and hastened to obey his behests.

'Well, well,' he meditated. 'I'd rather be badly wounded than be saved by gingerbread nuts! It's an ignominious accident, and laughable, and the chancellor cannot bear being laughed at.'

Cassidy busied himself in 'claring the coorse,' as he termed it; and while he did so, the aggrieved chancellor watched him with a sullen and lowering gaze. It was quite dark by this time.

'Terence,' he said presently, with unaccustomed kindness in his voice, 'come hither. You dislike me, I know; and no wonder, prejudiced as you necessarily are by the company you choose to keep. Yet, for your mother's sake, I fain would be your friend. You are a plucky fellow. I honour pluck, and genuinely like you, for yourself, in spite of you. I'm not so bad as I'm painted. Few people are. I'll give you a bit of advice. Act on it.'

Curran approached to listen (comforted, though he had not killed his enemy, by the axiom he was so fond of quoting, that the devil, who is more powerful than the best of men, looks after his own). He was amazed to behold quite a human look on the dragon's face. The toothsome smile, so redolent of falseness, was gone; the hatchet lines had curled themselves up into a mask which really resembled bonhomie. Can grapes grow on thistles? Was it possible that this adamantine nature could be softened? Wonders will never cease, although some people do say that there's nothing new under the sun. Curran listened, trying to follow the direction of those wandering eyes in the obscurity which he could not pierce.

'Terence,' the chancellor said, 'you have a foe-unscrupulous and bitter-who will ruin you if possible. I know not why. Be very careful, or you will come to ruin. One foe in the dark is worse than a score by day. You have slighted that enemy somehow. You are on the edge of quicksand; once beyond the brink, you must be swallowed up. For your dear mother's sake I will save you while I can. But I may not be here always. A thousand things might happen. It's due to her as well as to yourself to keep yourself free from obloquy. Think how her pride would suffer. Take off that ridiculous necktie.'

Honest Phil was also listening with craned neck and goggle eyes.

'It must be Biddy. She hates Master Terence, does she?' he muttered to himself. 'Why? maybe she thought him comely, and he would have naught to do wid her, being so tight entranced by Mistress Doreen, God bless her! Faix, she's a bad lot-taking to sodgers! And I thought her fit for Paradise. I saw her just now by the quickset beyant, in her velvet hat and feathers, and my lord saw her too, no doubt. I'll tell the masther who 'tis that's working the mischief, and set his mind at rest.'

'Half-confidences are worse than none, my lord,' blurted out Curran. 'If you'd really do the lad a turn, speak out. Why give him a nut to crack?'

'Betwixt you and me, sir,' Clare said with hauteur, 'there can be nothing but animosity. I try to make things as pleasant as I can, and you publicly insult me. I purposely fire wide; you try all you know to kill me. I would gladly have been your friend.'