Tales and Novels Volume VI Part 13

But Sir James Brooke this day received orders for his regiment to march to quarters in a distant part of Ireland. His head was full of arms, and ammunition, and knapsacks, and billets, and routes; and there was no possibility, even in the present chivalrous disposition of our hero, to enter upon the defence of the Lady Isabel. Indeed, in the regret he felt for the approaching and unexpected departure of his friend, Lord Colambre forgot the fair lady. But just when Sir James had his foot in the stirrup, he stopped.

"By-the-bye, my dear lord, I saw you at the play last night. You seemed to be much interested. Don't think me impertinent if I remind you of our conversation when we were riding home from Tusculum; and if I warn you," said he, mounting his horse, "to beware of counterfeits--for such are abroad." Reining in his impatient steed, Sir James turned again, and added "_Deeds, not words_, is my motto.

Remember, we can judge better by the conduct of people towards others than by their manner towards ourselves."

CHAPTER VII.

Our hero was quite convinced of the good sense of his friend's last remark, that it is safer to judge of people by their conduct to others than by their manners towards ourselves; but as yet, he felt scarcely any interest on the subject of Lady Dashfort's or Lady Isabel's characters: however, he inquired and listened to all the evidence he could obtain respecting this mother and daughter.

He heard terrible reports of the mischief they had done in families; the extravagance into which they had led men; the imprudence, to say no worse, into which they had betrayed women. Matches broken off, reputations ruined, husbands alienated from their wives, and wives made jealous of their husbands. But in some of these stories he discovered exaggeration so flagrant as to make him doubt the whole; in others, it could not be positively determined whether the mother or daughter had been the person most to blame.

Lord Colambre always followed the charitable rule of believing only half what the world says, and here he thought it fair to believe which half he pleased. He farther observed, that, though all joined in abusing these ladies in their absence, when present they seemed universally admired. Though every body cried "shame!" and "shocking!"

yet every body visited them. No parties so crowded as Lady Dashfort's; no party deemed pleasant or fas.h.i.+onable where Lady Dashfort or Lady Isabel was not. The bon-mots of the mother were every where repeated; the dress and air of the daughter every where imitated. Yet Lord Colambre could not help being surprised at their popularity in Dublin, because, independently of all moral objections, there were causes of a different sort, sufficient, he thought, to prevent Lady Dashfort from being liked by the Irish, indeed by any society. She in general affected to be ill-bred, and inattentive to the feelings and opinions of others; careless whom she offended by her wit or by her decided tone. There are some persons in so high a region of fas.h.i.+on, that they imagine themselves above the thunder of vulgar censure. Lady Dashfort felt herself in this exalted situation, and fancied she might

"Hear the innocuous thunder roll below."

Her rank was so high that none could dare to call her vulgar: what would have been gross in any one of meaner note, in her was freedom or originality, or Lady Dashfort's way. It was Lady Dashfort's pleasure and pride to show her power in perverting the public taste. She often said to those English companions with whom she was intimate, "Now see what follies I can lead these fools into. Hear the nonsense I can make them repeat as wit." Upon some occasion, one of her friends _ventured_ to fear that something she had said was _too strong_. "Too strong, was it? Well, I like to be strong--woe be to the weak!" On another occasion she was told that certain visitors had seen her ladys.h.i.+p yawning. "Yawn, did I?--glad of it--the yawn sent them away, or I should have snored;--rude, was I? they won't complain. To say I was rude to them, would be to say, that I did not think it worth my while to be otherwise. Barbarians! are not we the civilized English, come to teach them manners and fas.h.i.+ons? Whoever does not conform, and swear allegiance too, we shall keep out of the English pale."

Lady Dashfort forced her way, and she set the fas.h.i.+on: fas.h.i.+on, which converts the ugliest dress into what is beautiful and charming, governs the public mode in morals and in manners; and thus, when great talents and high rank combine, they can debase or elevate the public taste.

With Lord Colambre she played more artfully: she drew him out in defence of his beloved country, and gave him opportunities of appearing to advantage; this he could not help feeling, especially when the Lady Isabel was present. Lady Dashfort had dealt long enough with human nature to know, that to make any man pleased with her, she should begin by making him pleased with himself.

Insensibly the antipathy that Lord Colambre had originally felt to Lady Dashfort wore off; her faults, he began to think, were a.s.sumed; he pardoned her defiance of good-breeding, when he observed that she could, when she chose it, be most engagingly polite. It was not that she did not know what was right, but that she did not think it always for her interest to practise it.

The party opposed to Lady Dashfort affirmed that her wit depended merely on unexpectedness; a characteristic which may be applied to any impropriety of speech, manner, or conduct. In some of her ladys.h.i.+p's repartees, however, Lord Colambre now acknowledged there was more than unexpectedness; there was real wit; but it was of a sort utterly unfit for a woman, and he was sorry that Lady Isabel should hear it. In short, exceptionable as it was altogether, Lady Dashfort's conversation had become entertaining to him; and though he could never esteem, or feel in the least interested about her, he began to allow that she could be agreeable.

"Ay, I knew how it would be," said she, when some of her friends told her this. "He began by detesting me, and did I not tell you that, if I thought it worth my while to make him like me, he must, sooner or later? I delight in seeing people begin with me as they do with olives, making all manner of horrid faces, and silly protestations that they will never touch an olive again as long as they live; but, after a little time, these very folk grow so desperately fond of olives, that there is no dessert without them. Isabel, child, you are in the sweet line--but sweets cloy. You never heard of any body living on marmalade, did ye?"

Lady Isabel answered by a sweet smile.

"To do you justice, you play Lydia Languish vastly well," pursued the mother; "but Lydia, by herself, would soon tire; somebody must keep up the spirit and bustle, and carry on the plot of the piece, and I am that somebody--as you shall see. Is not that our hero's voice which I hear on the stairs?"

It was Lord Colambre. His lords.h.i.+p had by this time become a constant visitor at Lady Dashfort's. Not that he had forgotten, or that he meant to disregard his friend Sir James Brooke's parting words. He promised himself faithfully, that if any thing should occur to give him reason to suspect designs, such as those to which the warning pointed, he would be on his guard, and would prove his generals.h.i.+p by an able retreat. But to imagine attacks where none were attempted, to suspect ambuscades in the open country, would be ridiculous and cowardly.

"No," thought our hero; "Heaven forefend I should be such a c.o.xcomb as to fancy every woman who speaks to me has designs upon my precious heart, or on my more precious estate!" As he walked from his hotel to Lady Dashfort's house, ingeniously wrong, he came to this conclusion, just as he ascended the stairs, and just as her ladys.h.i.+p had settled her future plan of operations.

After talking over the nothings of the day, and after having given two or three _cuts_ at the society of Dublin, with two or three compliments to individuals, who she knew were favourites with his lords.h.i.+p, she suddenly turned to him. "My lord, I think you told me, or my own sagacity discovered, that you want to see something of Ireland, and that you don't intend, like most travellers, to turn round, see nothing, and go home content."

Lord Colambre a.s.sured her ladys.h.i.+p that she had judged him rightly, for that nothing would content him but seeing all that was possible to be seen of his native country. It was for this special purpose he came to Ireland.

"Ah!--well--very good purpose--can't be better; but now how to accomplish it. You know the Portuguese proverb says, 'You go to h.e.l.l for the good things you _intend_ to do, and to heaven for those you do.' Now let us see what you will do. Dublin, I suppose, you've seen enough of by this time; through and through--round and round--this makes me first giddy, and then sick. Let me show you the country--not the face of it, but the body of it--the people.--Not Castle this, or Newtown that, but their inhabitants. I know them; I have the key, or the pick-lock to their minds. An Irishman is as different an animal on his guard and off his guard, as a miss in school from a miss out of school. A fine country for game, I'll show you; and if you are a good marksman, you may have plenty of shots 'at folly as it flies.'"

Lord Colambre smiled.

"As to Isabel," pursued her ladys.h.i.+p, "I shall put her in charge of Heathc.o.c.k, who is going with us. She won't thank me for that, but you will. Nay, no fibs, man; you know, I know, as who does not that has seen the world? that, though a pretty woman is a mighty pretty thing, yet she is confoundedly in one's way, when any thing else is to be seen, heard,--or understood."

Every objection antic.i.p.ated and removed, and so far a prospect held out of attaining all the information he desired, with more than all the amus.e.m.e.nt he could have expected, Lord Colambre seemed much tempted to accept the invitation; but he hesitated, because, as he said, her ladys.h.i.+p might be going to pay visits where he was not acquainted.

"Bless you! don't let that be a stumbling-block in the way of your tender conscience. I am going to Killpatricks-town, where you'll be as welcome as light. You know them, they know you; at least you shall have a proper letter of invitation from my Lord and my Lady Killpatrick, and all that. And as to the rest, you know a young man is always welcome every where, a young n.o.bleman kindly welcome--I won't say such a young man, and such a young n.o.bleman, for that might put you to your bows or your blushes--but _n.o.bilitas_ by itself, n.o.bility is virtue enough in all parties, in all families, where there are girls, and of course b.a.l.l.s, as there are always at Killpatricks-town.

Don't be alarmed; you shall not be forced to dance, or asked to marry.

I'll be your security. You shall be at full liberty; and it is a house where you can do just what you will. Indeed, I go to no others. These Killpatricks are the best creatures in the world; they think nothing good or grand enough for me. If I'd let them, they would lay down cloth of gold over their bogs for me to walk upon. Good-hearted beings!" added Lady Dashfort, marking a cloud gathering on Lord Colambre's countenance. "I laugh at them, because I love them. I could not love any thing I might not laugh at--your lords.h.i.+p excepted. So you'll come--that's settled."

And so it was settled. Our hero went to Killpatricks-town.

"Every thing here sumptuous and unfinished, you see," said Lady Dashfort to Lord Colambre, the day after their arrival. "All begun as if the projectors thought they had the command of the mines of Peru, and ended as if the possessors had not sixpence. Luxuries enough for an English prince of the blood: comforts not enough for an English yeoman. And you may be sure that great repairs and alterations have gone on to fit this house for our reception, and for our English eyes!--Poor people!--English visitors, in this point of view, are horribly expensive to the Irish. Did you ever hear, that in the last century, or in the century before the last, to put my story far enough back, so that it shall not touch any body living; when a certain English n.o.bleman, Lord Blank A----, sent to let his Irish friend, Lord Blank B----, know that he and all his train were coming over to pay him a visit; the Irish n.o.bleman, Blank B----, knowing the deplorable condition of his castle, sat down fairly to calculate whether it would cost him most to put the building in good and sufficient repair, fit to receive these English visitors, or to burn it to the ground.

He found the balance to be in favour of burning, which was wisely accomplished next day.[1] Perhaps Killpatrick would have done well to follow this example. Resolve me which is worst, to be burnt out of house and home, or to be eaten out of house and home. In this house, above and below stairs, including first and second table, housekeeper's room, lady's maids' room, butler's room, and gentleman's, one hundred and four people sit down to dinner every day, as Pet.i.to informs me, besides kitchen boys, and what they call _char_-women, who never sit down, but who do not eat or waste the less for that; and retainers and friends, friends to the fifth and sixth generation, who 'must get their bit and their sup;' for 'sure, it's only Biddy,' they say;" continued Lady Dashfort, imitating their Irish brogue. "And 'sure, 'tis nothing at all, out of all his honour my lord has. How could he _feel_ it[2]?--Long life to him!--He's not that way: not a couple in all Ireland, and that's saying a great dale, looks less after their own, nor is more off-handeder, or open-hearteder, or greater openhouse-keeper, _nor_[3] my Lord and my Lady Killpatrick.'

Now there's encouragement for a lord and a lady to ruin themselves."

[Footnote 1: Fact.]

[Footnote 2: _Feel_ it, become sensible of it, know it.]

[Footnote 3: _Nor_, than.]

Lady Dashfort imitated the Irish brogue in perfection; boasted that "she was mistress of fourteen different brogues, and had brogues for all occasions." By her mixture of mimicry, sarcasm, exaggeration, and truth, she succeeded continually in making Lord Colambre laugh at every thing at which she wished to make him laugh; at every _thing_, but not at every _body_: whenever she became personal, he became serious, or at least endeavoured to become serious; and if he could not instantly resume the command of his risible muscles, he reproached himself.

"It is shameful to laugh at these people, indeed, Lady Dashfort, in their own house--these hospitable people, who are entertaining us."

"Entertaining us! true, and if we are _entertained_, how can we help laughing?"

All expostulation was thus turned off by a jest, as it was her pride to make Lord Colambre laugh in spite of his better feelings and principles. This he saw, and this seemed to him to be her sole object; but there he was mistaken. _Off-handed_ as she pretended to be, none dealt more in the _impromptu fait a loisir_; and, mentally short-sighted as she affected to be, none had more _longanimity_ for their own interest.

It was her settled purpose to make the Irish and Ireland ridiculous and contemptible to Lord Colambre; to disgust him with his native country; to make him abandon the wish of residing on his own estate.

To confirm him an absentee was her object, previously to her ultimate plan of marrying him to her daughter. Her daughter was poor, she would therefore be glad to _get_ an Irish peer for her; but would be very sorry, she said, to see Isabel banished to Ireland; and the young widow declared she could never bring herself to be buried alive in Clonbrony Castle.

In addition to these considerations, Lady Dashfort received certain hints from Mrs. Pet.i.to, which worked all to the same point.

"Why, yes, my lady; I heard a great deal about all that, when I was at Lady Clonbrony's," said Pet.i.to, one day, as she was attending at her lady's toilette, and encouraged to begin chattering. "And I own I was originally under the universal error that my Lord Colambre was to be married to the great heiress, Miss Broadhurst; but I have been converted and reformed on that score, and am at present quite in another way of thinking."

Pet.i.to paused, in hopes that her lady would ask what was her present way of thinking? But Lady Dashfort, certain that she would tell her without being asked, did not take the trouble to speak, particularly as she did not choose to appear violently interested on the subject.

"My present way of thinking," resumed Pet.i.to, "is in consequence of my having, with my own eyes and ears, witnessed and overheard his lords.h.i.+p's behaviour and words, the morning he was coming away from _Lunnun_ for Ireland; when he was morally certain n.o.body was up, nor overhearing nor overseeing him, there did I notice him, my lady, stopping in the antechamber, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. over one of Miss Nugent's gloves, which he had picked up. 'Limerick!' said he, quite loud enough to himself; for it was a Limerick glove, my lady--'Limerick!--dear Ireland! she loves you as well as I do!'--or words to that effect; and then a sigh, and down stairs and off. So, thinks I, now the cat's out of the bag. And I wouldn't give much myself for Miss Broadhurst's chance of that young lord, with all her Bank stock, scrip, and _omnum_. Now, I see how the land lies, and I'm sorry for it; for she's no _fortin_; and she's so proud, she never said a hint to me of the matter: but my Lord Colambre is a sweet gentleman; and--"

"Pet.i.to! don't run on so; you must not meddle with what you don't understand: the Miss Killpatricks, to be sure, are sweet girls, particularly the youngest."

Her ladys.h.i.+p's toilette was finished; and she left Pet.i.to to go down to my Lady Killpatrick's woman, to tell, as a very great secret, the schemes that were in contemplation, among the higher powers, in favour of the youngest of the Miss Killpatricks.

"So Ireland is at the bottom of his heart, is it?" repeated Lady Dashfort to herself: "it shall not be long so."

From this time forward, not a day, scarcely an hour pa.s.sed, but her ladys.h.i.+p did or said something to depreciate the country, or its inhabitants, in our hero's estimation. With treacherous ability, she knew and followed all the arts of misrepresentation; all those injurious arts which his friend, Sir James Brooke, had, with such honest indignation, reprobated. She knew how, not only to seize the ridiculous points, to make the most respectable people ridiculous, but she knew how to select the worst instances, the worst exceptions; and to produce them as examples, as precedents, from which to condemn whole cla.s.ses, and establish general false conclusions respecting a nation.

In the neighbourhood of Killpatrick's-town, Lady Dashfort said, there were several _squireens_, or little squires; a race of men who have succeeded to the _buckeens_, described by Young and Crumpe.

_Squireens_ are persons who, with good long leases, or valuable farms, possess incomes from three to eight hundred a year, who keep a pack of hounds; _take out_ a commission of the peace, sometimes before they can spell (as her ladys.h.i.+p said), and almost always before they know any thing of law or justice. Busy and loud about small matters; _jobbers at a.s.sizes_; combining with one another, and trying upon every occasion, public or private, to push themselves forward, to the annoyance of their superiors, and the terror of those below them.

In the usual course of things, these men are not often to be found in the society of gentry except, perhaps, among those gentlemen or n.o.blemen who like to see hangers-on at their, tables: or who find it for their convenience to have underling magistrates, to _protect_ their favourites, or to propose and _carry_ jobs for them on grand juries. At election times, however, these persons rise into sudden importance with all who have views upon the county. Lady Dashfort hinted to Lord Killpatrick, that her private letters from England spoke of an approaching dissolution of parliament: she knew that, upon this hint, a round of invitations would be sent to the squireens; and she was morally certain that they would be more disagreeable to Lord Colambre, and give him a worse idea of the country, than any other people who could be produced. Day after day some of these personages made their appearance; and Lady Dashfort took care to draw them out upon the subjects on which she knew that they would show the most self-sufficient ignorance, and the most illiberal spirit. They succeeded beyond her most sanguine expectations.

"Lord Colambre! how I pity you, for being compelled to these permanent sittings after dinner!" said Lady Isabel to him one night, when he came late to the ladies from the dining-room.