Charles O'Malley; the Irish Dragoon (Rackham, 1897)/Chapter 3
Chapter III
Mr. Blake
Nothing but the exigency of the ease could ever have persuaded my uncle to stoop to the humiliation of canvassing the individual to whom I was now about to proceed as envoy-extraordinary, with full powers to make any or every amende, provided only his interest, and that of his followers, should be thereby secured to the O’Malley cause. The evening before I set out was devoted to giving me all the necessary instructions how I was to proceed, and what difficulties I was to avoid.
“Say your uncle’s in high feather with the Government party,” said Sir Harry, “and that he only votes against them as a ruse de guerre, as the French call it.”
“Insist upon it, that I am sure of the election without him; but that for family reasons he should not stand aloof from me; that people are talking of it in the country.”
“And drop a hint,” said Considine, “that O’Malley is greatly improving in his shooting.”
“And don’t get drunk too early in the evening, for Phil Blake has beautiful claret,” said another.
“And be sure you don’t make love to the red-headed girls,” added a third “he has four of them, each more sinfully ugly than the other.”
“You’ll be playing whist, too,” said Boyle; “and never mind losing a few pounds, Mrs. B., long life to her, has a playful way of turning the king.”
“Charley will do it all well,” said my uncle—“leave him alone; and now let us have in the supper.”
It was only on the following morning, as the tandem came round to the door, that I began to feel the importance of my mission, and certain misgivings came ever me as to my ability to fulfil it. Mr. Blake and his family, though estranged from my uncle for several years past, had been always most kind and good-natured to me; and although I could not, with propriety, have cultivated any close intimacy with them, I had every reason to suppose that they entertained towards me nothing but sentiments of goodwill. The head of the family was a Galway squire of the oldest and most genuine stock; a great sportsman, a negligent farmer, a most careless father; he looked upon a fox as an infinitely more precious part of the creation than a French governess, and thought that riding well with hounds was a far better gift than all the learning of a Porson, His daughters were after his own heart—the best-tempered, least-educated, most high-spirited, gay, dashing, ugly girls in the country-ready to ride over a four-foot paling without a saddle, and to dance the “Wind that shakes the barley,” for four consecutive hours, against all the officers that their hard fate, and the Horse Guards, ever condemned to Galway.
The mamma was only remarkable for her liking for whist, and her invariable good fortune thereat; a circumstance the world were agreed in ascribing less to the blind goddess than her own natural endowments.
Lastly, the heir of the house was a stripling of about my own age, whose accomplishments were limited to selling spavined and broken-winded horses to the infantry officers, playing a safe game at billiards, and acting as jackal-general to his sisters at balls, providing them with a sufficiency of partners, and making a strong fight for a place at the supper-table for his mother, These fraternal and filial traits, more honoured at home than abroad, had made Mr. Matthew Blake a rather well-known individual in the neighbourhood where he lived.
Though Mr. Blake’s property was ample, and, strange to say for his country, unencumbered, the whole air and appearance of his house and grounds betrayed anything rather than a sufficiency of means. The gate lodge was a miserable mud hovel, with a thatched and falling roof; the gate itself a wooden contrivance, one-half of which was boarded, and the other railed; the avenue was covered with weeds, and deep with ruts; and the clumps of young plantation, which had been planted and fenced with care, were now open to the cattle, and either totally uprooted or denuded of their bark, and dying. The lawn, a handsome one of some forty acres, had been devoted to an exercise ground for training horses, and was cut up by their feet, beyond all semblance of its original destination; and the house itself, a large and venerable structure of above a century old, displayed every variety of contrivance, as well as the usual one of glass, to exclude the weather from the windows. The hall door hung by a single hinge, and required three persons, each morning and evening, to open and shut it; the remainder of the day it lay pensively open; the steps which led to it were broken and falling; and the whole aspect of things without was ruinous in the extreme. Within, matters were somewhat better, for, though the furniture was old, and none of it clean, yet an appearance of comfort was evident; and the large grate blazing with its pile of red-hot turf, the deep-cushioned chairs, the old black mahogany dinner-table, and the soft carpet, albeit deep with dust, were not to be despised on a winter’s evening after a hard day's run with the “Blazers.” Here it was, however, that Mr. Philip Blake had dispensed his hospitalities for above fifty years, and his father before him; and here, with a retinue of servants as gauche and ill-ordered as all about them, was he accustomed to invite all that the country possessed of rank and wealth, among which the officers quartered in his neighbourhood were never neglected, the Misses Blake having as decided a taste for the army as any young ladies of the West of Ireland; and, while the Galway squire with his cords and tops was detailing the last news from Ballinasloe in one corner, the dandy from St. James's Street might be seen displaying more arts of seductive flattery in another, than his most accurate insouciance would permit him to exercise in the elegant saloons of London or Paris; and the same man who would have “cut his brother,” for a solecism of dress or eguipage, in Bond Street, was now to be seen quietly domesticated, eating family dinners, rolling silk for the young ladies, going down the middle in a country dance, and even descending to the indignity of long whist at “tenpenny” points, with only the miserable consolation that the company were not honest.
It was upon a clear frosty morning, when a bright blue sky and a sharp but bracing air seemed to exercise upon the feelings a sense no less pleasurable than the balmiest breeze and warmest sun of summer, that I whipped my leader short round, and entered the precincts of “Gurt-na-Morra” As I proceeded along the avenue, 1 was struck by the slight traces of repairs here and there evident: a gate or two that formerly had been parallel to the horizon, had been raised to the perpendicular; some ineffectual efforts at paint were also perceptible upon the palings; and, in short, everything seemed to have undergone a kind of attempt at improvement.
When I reached the door, instead of being surrounded, as of old, by a tribe of menials frieze-coated, bare-headed, and bare-legged, my presence was announced by a tremendous ringing of bells from the hands of an old functionary, in a very formidable livery, who peeped at me through the hall-window, and whom, with the greatest difficulty, I recognised as my quondam acquaintance, the butler. His wig alone would have graced a king’s counsel; and the high collar of his coat, and the stiff pillory of his cravat, denoted an eternal adieu to so humble a vocation as drawing a cork. Before I had time for any conjecture as to the altered circumstances about, the activity of my friend at the bell had surrounded me with “four others worse than himself”—at least, they were exactly similarly attired; and, probably, from the novelty of their costume, and the restraints of so unusual a thing as dress, were as perfectly unable to assist themselves or others as the Court of Aldermen would be were they to rig out in plate armour of the fourteenth century. How much longer I might have gone on conjecturing the reasons for the masquerade around, I cannot say; but my servant, an Irish disciple of my uncle’s, whispered in my ear, “It’s a red-breeches day, Master Charles—they’ll have the hoith of company in the house.” From the phrase, it needed little explanation to inform me, that it was one of those occasions on which Mr. Blake attired all the hangers-on of his house in livery, and that great preparations were in progress for a more than usually splendid reception.
In the next moment I was ushered into the breakfast-room, where a party of above a dozen persons were most gaily enjoying all the good cheer for which the house had a well-deserved repute. After the usual shaking of hands and hearty greetings were over, I was introduced in all form to Sir George Dashwood, a tall and singularly handsome man of about fifty, with an undress military frock and ribbon. His reception of me was somewhat strange, for, as they mentioned my relationship to Godfrey O'Malley, he smiled slightly and whispered something to Mr. Blake, who replied, “Oh! no, no, not the least, a mere boy—and, besides”—what he added I lost, for at that moment Nora Blake was presenting me to Miss Dashwood.
If the sweetest blue that ever beamed beneath a forehead of snowy whiteness, over which dark brown and waving hair fell, less in curls than masses of locky richness, could only, have known what wild work they were making of my poor heart, Miss Dashwood, I trust, would have looked at her teacup or her muffin, rather than at me, as she actually did on that fatal morning. If I were to judge from her costume, she had only just arrived, and the morning air had left upon her cheek a bloom that contributed greatly to the effect of her lovely countenance. Although very young, her form had all the roundness of womanhood; while her gay and sprightly manner indicated all the sans géue which only very young girls possess, and which, when tempered with perfect good taste, and accompanied by beauty and no small share of talent, form an irresistible power of attraction.
Beside her sat a tall handsome man of about five-and-thirty, or perhaps forty years of age, with a most soldierly air, who, as I was presented to him, scarcely turned his head, and gave me a half-nod of very unequivocal coldness. There are moments in life in which the heart is, as it were, laid bare to any chance, or casual impression, with a wondrous sensibility of pleasure, or its opposite. This to me was one of those; and, as I turned from the lovely girl who had received me with a marked. courtesy, to the cold air and repelling hauteur of the dark-browed Captain, the blood rushed throbbing to my forehead; and, as I walked to my place at the table, I eagerly sought his eye to return him a look of defiance and disdain, proud and contemptuous as his even. Captain Hammersly, however, never took further notice of me, but continued to recount, for the amusement of those about, several excellent stories of his military career, which I confess were heard with every test of delight by all save me. One thing galled me particularly—and how easy is it, when you have begun by disliking a person, to supply food for your antipathy—all his allusions to his military life were coupled with half-hinted and ill-concealed sneers at civilians of every kind, as though every man not a soldier were absolutely unfit for common intercourse with the world—still more, for any favourable reception in ladies’ society.
The young ladies of the family were a well-chosen auditory, for their admiration of the army extended from the Life Guards to the Veteran Battalion, the Sappers and Miners included; and, as Miss Dashwood was the daughter of a soldier, she, of course, coincided in many, if not all his opinions. I turned towards my neighbour, a Clare gentleman, and tried to engage him in conversation, but he was breathlessly attending to the Captain. On my left sat Matthew Blake, whose eyes were firmly riveted upon the same person, and heard his marvels with an interest scarcely inferior to that of his sisters. Annoyed, and in ill-temper, I ate my breakfast in silence, and resolved that the first moment I could obtain a hearing from Mr. Blake I should open my negotiation and take my leaye at once of “Gurt-na-Morra.”
We all assembled in a large room, called, by courtesy, the library, when breakfast was over; and then it was that Mr. Blake, taking me aside, whispered, “Charley, it’s right I should inform you that Sir George Dashwood there is the Commander of the Forces; and is come down here at this moment to” What for, or how it should concern me, I was not to learn, for at that critical instant my informant’s attention was called off by Captain Hammersly asking if the hounds were to hunt that day.
“My friend Charley, here, is the best authority upon that matter,” said Mr, Blake, turning towards me.
“They are to try the Priest’s meadows,” said I, with an air of some importance; “but, if your guests desire a day's sport, I’ll send word over to Brackely to bring the dogs over here, and we are sure to find a fox in your cover.”
“Oh, then, by all means,” said the Captain, turning towards Mr. Blake, and addressing himself to him—“by all means; and Miss Dashwood, I’m sure, would like to see the hounds thrown of.”
Whatever chagrin the first part of his speech caused me, the latter set my heart a-throbbing, and I hastened from the room to despatch a messenger to the huntsman to come over to Gurt-na-Morra, and also another to O’Malley Castle, to bring my best horse and my siding equipments, as quickly as possible.
“Matthew, who is this Captain?” said I, as young Blake met me in the hall.
“Oh! he is the aide-de-camp of General Dashwood. A nice fellow, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you may think,” said I, “but I take him for the most impertinent, impudent, supercilious”
The rest of my civil speech was cut short by the appearance of the very individual in question, who, with his hands in his packets, and a cigar in bis mouth, sauntered forth down the steps, taking no more notice of Matthew Blake and myself than of the two fox-terriers that followed at his heels.
However anxious I might be to open negotiations on the subject of my mission, for the present the thing was impossible, for I found that Sir George Dashwood was closeted closely with Mr. Blake; and resolved to wait till evening, when chance might afford me the opportunity I desired.
As the ladies had entered to dress for the hunt, and as I felt no peculiar desire to ally myself with the unsocial Captain, I accompanied Matthew to the stable to look after the cattle and make preparations for the coming sport.
“There’s Captain Hammersly’s horse,” said Matthew, as he pointed out a highly bred but powerful English hunter; “she came last night, for, as he expected some sport, he sent his horses from Dublin on purpose. The other will be here to-day.”
“What is his regiment?” said I, with an appearance of carelessness, but in reality feeling curious to know if the Captain was a cavalry or infantry officer.
“The th Light Dragoons,” said Matthew.
“You never saw him ride?” said I.
“Never; but his groom there says he leads the way in his own county.”
“And where may that be?”
“In Leicestershire, no less,” said Matthew.
“Does he know Galway?”
“Never was in it before; it’s only this minute he asked Mosey Daly if the ox-fences were high here.”
“Ox-fences! then he does not know what a wall is?”
“Devil a bit; but we’ll teach him.”
“That we will,” said I, with as bitter a resolution to impart the instruction as ever schoolmaster did to whip Latin grammar into one of the great unbreeched.
“But had better send the horses down to the Mill,” said Matthew; “we’ll draw that cover first.”
So saying, he turned towards the stable, while I sauntered alone towards the road by which I expected the huntsman, I had not walked half a mile before I heard the yelping of the dogs, and a little farther on I saw old Brackely coming along at a brisk trot, cutting the hounds on each side, calling after the stragglers.
“Did you see my horse on the road, Brackely?” said I.
“I did, Misther Charles, and troth I’m sorry to see him; sure yerself knows better than to take out the Badger, the best steeple-chaser in Ireland, in such a country as this—nothing but awkward stone-fences, and not a foot of sure ground in the whole of it.”
“I know it well, Brackely; but I have my reasons for it.”
“Well, maybe you have; what cover will yer honour try first?”
“They talk of the Mill,” said I, “but I’d much rather try ‘Morran-a-Gowl.’”
“Morran-a-Gowl! do you want to break your neck entirely?”
“No, Brackely, not mine.”
“Whose then, alannah?”
“An English Captain’s, the devil fly away with him! he’s come down here to-day, and from all I can see is a most impudent fellow; so, Brackely”
“I understand; well, leave it to me, and, though I don’t like the ould deer-park wall on the hill, we’ll try it this morning with the blessing: I’ll take him down by Woodford, over the ‘Devil’s Mouth’—it’s eighteen feet wide this minute with the late rains—into the four callows, then over the stone walls, down to Dangan; then take a short cast up the hill, blow him a bit, and give him the park wall at the top. You must come in then fresh, and give him the whole ran home over Sleibbmich—the Badger knows it all, and takes the road always in a fly; a mighty distressing thing for the horse that follows, more particularly if he does not understand a stone country, Well, if he lives through this, give him the sunk fence and the stone wall at Mr. Blake’s clover-field, for the hounds will run into the fox about there; and though we never ride that leap since Mr. Malone broke his neck at it, last October, yet, upon an occasion like this, and for the honour of Galway”
“To be sure, Brackely, and here’s a guinea for you; and now trot on towards the house—they must not see us together, or they might suspect something. But, Brackely,” said I, calling out after him, “if he rides at all fair, what’s to be done?”
“Truth, then, myself doesn’t know; there’s nothing so bad west of Athlone. Have ye a great spite agin him?”
“I have,” said I fiercely.
“Could ye coax a fight out of him?”
“That’s true,” said I, “and now ride on as fast as you can,”
Brackely’s last words imparted a lightness to my heart and my step, and I strode along a very different man from what I had left the house half-en-hour previously.