BUCK ENGLISH.
Some eighty years ago, there appeared, in that city of Ireland which iscalled "the beautiful,"[8] a remarkable character, generally known asBuck English. This name--to which he answered--had been given him, itwas said, on account of his fashionable appearance, manners andpursuits, and because his accent clearly indicated that he came fromEngland. At all events, in the year 1770, Buck English was a principalin the fashionable society of Cork--its observed of all observers, itsglass of fashion, if not its very mould of form.
[8] "The beautiful city called Cork."--_Irish Song._
Buck English had abundance of money, that great test and framer ofrespectability, and spent it freely. No man knew whence it came.Inquiries had been cautiously ventured upon by inquisitive people, butthe only result arrived at was that rarely, if ever, did any remittancereach him through a banker. He frequently performed actions which mightbe called generous; but the real objects for benevolence, he used tosay, were those who struggled to maintain appearances--who bore thearrow in their breast, and did not complain--who would rather die thanask for help; for, as there is no energy like that of despair, there isno pride like that of poverty. Gratitude sometimes _would_ speak out;for parties whom his timely, unsought aid had rescued from ruin, meetinghim accidentally in public, could not be restrained from breathingblessings on the benefactor whose name they knew not; and the occasionaloccurrence of such things--which really were _not_ got up fordisplay--seemed to authorize the conjecture that Buck English wasbountiful in many other instances which were not known. This belief,generally received, operated so much in his favour, that many who wouldhave probably disdained intimacy with one whose personal history wasunknown, and who, therefore, might be an adventurer, did not hesitate toreceive him at their houses--a concession which others, of moreunquestioned station and means, vainly endeavoured to obtain. Whenstamped "sterling" by the select, no fear of his readily passing intocurrency with all the rest.
Hence, the conclusion may be arrived at, that Buck English was what afacetious friend calls a "populous character." He might have turned thesharp corner of five-and-thirty, and did not look older, even at hisworst. Now, whatever five-and-thirty may be for a lady,--forcing on her,I fear, the brevet-rank of "a certain age," with Byron'sinterpretation,--it is the very prime of manhood. Thus, in thisrespect, Buck English was as fortunate as others. There was a drawback,it must be confessed--for who can be perfection? This was thecircumstance of his possessing features which, except under particularexcitement, might be pronounced very ordinary. One might have excusedthe compressed lips, the sallow cheek, and the sharp face; but theexpression of the eyes was not always favourable. It appeared as if theywere almost always anxiously on the watch. At times, when stronglyexcited, while the cheeks remained colourless, and no word breathed fromthe lips, the passion which created a heart-quake in the man did notallow its presence to be seen, except that it made the eyesflash--conveying the impression that their possessor must be ratherdangerous under the influence of strong and deep emotions. It was notoften that such manifestations were allowed to become apparent, for BuckEnglish had powerful self-command.
Notwithstanding the absence of what is called "good looks," he hadsucceeded in gaining the favourable opinion of Mary Penrose, a younglady who had recently succeeded to a very considerable property in thevicinity of Cork. Indeed, it was somewhat more than merely herfavourable opinion. I will even admit--on the understanding, of course,that it remain an inviolable secret--that Buck English had made a strongimpression on the young lady's mind; so much so, that, at the especialperiod at which this narrative introduces her, she was deliberatingwhether she should frankly admit to him, or deny for a little timelonger, that he was master of the heart which fluttered--ah, howanxiously--within the soft citadel of her bosom.
She had met him that evening at a _rout_ (so they called theirfashionable parties in those days), and he had ventured to insinuate,rather more boldly than on any previous occasion, how much his happinessdepended upon her. On the point of making a very gentle confession,(have you any idea how admirably blushes can convey what language darenot breathe?) a movement towards the retired part of the saloon in whichthey sat, apart from the dancers, startled the lady, while theexclamation, "Mary Penrose!--where _can_ she be?" informed her thatinquiries were being made for her. So, withdrawing her hand from that ofher suitor, and making an effort to appear calm and unembarrassed, sheawaited the advent of the lady who had spoken. Presently came up her_chaperon_, a woman of high birth and scanty means, who _condescended_to reside with her. This personage--a mixture of black velvet andbugles, pearl-powder and pretence--gravely regarding Buck English, whomshe did not like (because she thought it probable that he might succeedwith Miss Penrose, and thereby make her own occupation "gone," likeOthello's), said, with a low courtesy, "I am sure, sir, that, had youknown what a pleasure you have been depriving Miss Penrose of, youwould scarcely have detained her here. Mary, my dear, only think who hasarrived!--who but your cousin Frank! He has been in the rooms half anhour, and has been anxiously looking for you everywhere."
Before a reply was made the cousin made his appearance, and was receivedrather formally by Mary. However, Frank Penrose was an Irishman and alawyer, and therefore not very likely to be put down or taken aback by acold reception. He was introduced to Buck English, but the greetingbetween the gentlemen was by no means cordial. Buck English saw a rival;one, too, whom it was said Mary Penrose's father had been desirous tohave as a husband for his only child; while cousin Frank, to whom the_chaperon_ had previously communicated the intimacy between the younglady and the dashing stranger, saw at a glance that it would have beenquite as well, perhaps, if he had not left her so much in the way ofbecoming heart-stricken.
"Shall I lead you down to supper?" he said. "You know, Mary, that youand I have a hundred things to talk about."
"I am sorry, Frank," she answered, "that I cannot take the arm which youoffer me gallantly. I had promised my partner, before you came, to availmyself of the advantage of his escort. Madame, I have no doubt, will behappy under your protection, and you can unburthen your mind to her."
Thus it happened that Mary Penrose retained the arm of Buck English,while Frank was handed over to the dowager.
"Confound the fellow!" said he, _sotto voce_, glancing at his rival. "Onwhat a very familiar footing he has established himself with Mary. Canit be that she, who used to be so hard to please, is smitten with such aface?"
"Very likely," said the _chaperon_. "It was not the countenance, but themind of Othello, that the bright Venetian was enamoured of. When themanners are agreeable and the intellect quick, the accident of a homelyface speedily becomes of no importance. Perhaps it may even help tothrow a woman off her guard."
"It is a pity," continued Frank, "that I have delayed my return so long.I thought that your letters had exaggerated, if not invented, thedanger. Assist me in deposing this gentleman, and my gratitude shall bemore than a name. I have always made so certain that Mary was to be mywife, that this over-security had led me to neglect her. At all events,I can tell you that this Mr. English shall not snatch such a prize fromme without a struggle. I confess I do not like him."
"Naturally enough. He is a rival, and apparently on the way to become asuccessful one."
By this time they had reached the supper-table. Frank Penrose behavedwith distant politeness to Buck English, who, as usual, was the centreof conversation. As the hour advanced, Mary said to her cousin,"Can you tell me what o'clock it is, Frank? I have been so careless asto let my watch run down."
Frank, with a smile, answered, "Two months ago I could have done so; butone of the knights of the road met me in a lonely part of KilworthMountain, when last I was going from Cork to Dublin, and relieved me ofall care of purse or watch."
There was a smile at the cool manner in which the young lawyer relatedhis loss, and then followed inquiry into the circumstances.
"A very commonplace highway robbery, I do assure y
ou," said Frank. " AllI have to say is, that I was encountered, as I rode on a lonely part ofthe road, by a gentleman who, taking me quite unprepared, put a pistolto my heart, demanding my cash and other portable property. As I had afoolish desire not to part with it quite so easily, I threw myself offmy horse, and closed with my antagonist. His pistol went off in thestruggle, without doing me any injury, and I drew my sword. My enemy,who proved himself a better master of that weapon than I was, succeededin disarming me; forced me to surrender money, watch, and a few rings;mounted on my horse, and rode off, but speedily returned, with thepolite assurance that as he never saw a gentleman in distress withoutwishing to relieve him, he trusted I would accept a few pieces fromhim, as he presumed I did not intend remaining on the bleak mountain allnight, and he knew, from experience, how disagreeable it was to be in astrange inn without money. He handed me five guineas, kindly addingthat, if I wanted more, _his_ purse--alas! it had been _mine_--wasentirely at my service."
"Would you know the man again?"
"No. His face was partly covered with crape."
Supper ended, Miss Penrose and the rest of the ladies retired, escortedto their carriages by the gentlemen, who then returned (it was the evilfashion of the time) to drink their healths in a brimming bumper. Oneglass led to another, with the usual result--the libations were not tothe Goddess of Concord. By accident, the name of Mary Penrose wasmentioned, with a congratulatory allusion to the good terms on whichBuck English evidently was with her. Frank Penrose started from hischair, and angrily declared that his cousin's name should not be bandiedabout at a public table, and in conjunction, too, with that of a personof whom no one knew anything, and who, he could assert, was notacceptable to her family. He was about speaking further, when he waspulled down by his friends, who strenuously urged him to keep silent.
Buck English remained so quiet under the intentionally offensiveallusion to himself, that some of the company began to think himdeficient in courage. The Irish way of answering an insult, inthose days, was to throw a glass full of wine in the offender's face,and follow that up by flinging the decanter at his head. After a pause,Frank Penrose, whom nobody could restrain, repeated the insult in otherand harsher words. This broke up the party. As they were leaving thetable, Buck English leant across, and said, very quietly, "Mr. Penrose,for the lady's sake, I would not mix up her name with a midnight brawlin a tavern, but you are aware that your words must be withdrawn oratoned for?"
"Take them as you please," said Penrose. "I stand by them."
"Then," answered the other, "I name Captain Cooper as my friend. Whomshall he meet on your part, and where?"
Pausing for a minute, during which he considered his course of action,Penrose said that in two days he expected a friend whose services hecould command on such a business, and hoped the delay would not beinconvenient. His antagonist intimated his assent by a distant bow, andthus, in far less time than I have been writing about it, was appointeda meeting for life or death. The outward show of civility was maintainedduring the short time that they remained in the room, though feelings ofdeadliest enmity rankled beneath that smooth surface.
As they were retiring, Penrose and English again were together, and thelatter took advantage of this contiguity to ask at what time his friendshould call upon Mr. Penrose's second?
"At ten on Thursday morning, at Daly's club-house."
"Very well, and for whom shall he inquire?"
"Let him ask for Mr. D'Arcy Mahon, the barrister."
At that name, English shrunk or swerved as from a blow.
"D'Arcy Mahon!" he repeated.
"Yes," said Penrose. "Have you any objection to the gentleman?"
"None."
On that they separated.
* * * * *
That evening, on returning home, Mary Penrose applied herself, in thesolitude of her chamber--the young heart's confessional--to seriousthought upon that beleaguered and endangered Sebastopol, the state ofher affections. It was evident that her cousin was piqued at the idea ofher having a preference for English, and that his arrival was likely tobring the affair to an issue. Mary paused for some time in doubt as tothe course she should pursue. She had a regard for her cousin Frank; butshe confessed to herself, with conscious blush and sigh, that she hadother and more cherished feelings for English. It is proverbial how awoman's deliberations, in an affair of the heart, invariably end; andso, having made up her mind in favour of Buck English, by far the mostdelightful companion--although not quite the handsomest--fate had thrownin her way, she retired to rest.
As she was unloosing the golden beauty of her luxuriant tresses,glancing now and then at a flower given to her by _him_, and carefullyput into a watervase on her dressing-room table, Mary Penrose heard afaint tap at the window. Withdrawing the curtain, she saw, in the palemoonlight, the face of him who, even then, was occupying her thoughts.He held up a note in his hand, which he placed upon the window-sill, anddisappeared as suddenly as he had come before her.
Opening the casement, she took the _billet_, and eagerly read it. In thestrongest and most beseeching words, it urged her to speak with thewriter for a few minutes;--hinted that this would be the last time theywould ever meet;--and plainly declared that it related to an affair oflife-and-death emergency. The urgency of this appeal, as well as hernatural desire to see one in whom, now more than ever, she felt a deepinterest, prevailed, and Mary Penrose, throwing a large shawl over herhastily-adjusted attire, quitted her chamber, silently proceeded downstairs, and opened the hall-door, at which she found English waiting.Light of body and active of limb, he had found little difficulty inascending to Mary's window, by means of the thick ivy which luxuriantlycovered the front of the house, and his descent had been yet more easilyaccomplished.
When alone with Mary in one of the apartments in which she hadfrequently received him as a visitor, Buck English appeared overwhelmedby emotion. Quickly recovering himself, he addressed her in thismanner:--"I have to thank your kindness, Miss Penrose, for thus givingme the opportunity of taking leave of you. I am a dishonoured man, orshall be, and most publicly, too, if to-morrow sees me near this place.After you had retired this evening, your cousin Frank fixed a personalquarrel upon me, which I endeavoured to avoid by acting and speakingwith the greatest forbearance. I named the friend who would act for mein a matter so unpleasant, and your cousin asked for a slight delayuntil the arrival of the gentleman who would perform the like officesfor him. The person whom he named is D'Arcy Mahon,--one of the few menin this country, under existing circumstances, who must not see me,because I have the very strongest motives for avoiding him. Our meetingwas fixed for Thursday, but I have just heard of Mr. Mahon's arrival,not an hour ago, which is two days earlier than Frank expected him."
"I need not assure you," said Mary, "how very much grieved I am thatthere should be any difference between two persons whom I esteem somuch--between yourself and Frank. But I know that Mr. Mahon is a mosthonourable man, and more likely to pacify than irritate any parties whoare placed in his hands with hostile feelings to each other."
"There lives not the man," replied English, somewhat haughtily, "who cansay that I have at any time shrunk from giving or seeking thesatisfaction which, in our strangely-constituted state of society,gentlemen must sometimes require or grant. But it is impossible that Ican meet D'Arcy Mahon--whose high character I appreciate and esteem--onany terms, or under any circumstances, without his instantly and fatallyrecognizing me as one whom he has met before, under a darker anddifferent aspect of affairs."
"You astonish and alarm me!" said Mary. "Will you not remove the veilfrom this mystery?"
"Yes," said he, after some deliberation. "It is a sad confidence, but_you_ are entitled to it. You have heard of a person who is generallyknown as Captain Spranger?"
Mary said that she certainly had heard of the terror of travellers, thehead of a band of highwaymen, who had infested the South of Ireland forthe previous two years.
"The same. That man, outlawed as he is, with a price upon his head, Ihave reason to know is the younger son of one of the first commoners inEngland. Evil example and youthful impatience of control alienatedhim from his friends early in life, and sent him abroad upon the world,in different countries and among many grades of society, but not alwaysin companionship with those by whom he could profit, in mind, body, orestate. At the close of many wanderings he found himself in Ireland, andaccidentally became the companion or guest of a party of smugglers, whowere banded together in the county of Waterford, and who, by theiraudacity and success, had challenged the notice of the Executive.Unfortunately, at the very period when the Englishman's love of wildadventure had thrown him into the society of these smugglers--as it hadoften led him to spend a night in a gipsy encampment--at that very timetreachery had betrayed the band, who were surrounded by a strongmilitary force before they knew they were in danger. To fight their waythrough this armed array, was what the smugglers determined on at themoment. Unwilling to remain and be captured, the chance-visitor of thenight joined in the sortie, and made a dash for freedom. Some effectedtheir escape without hurt, a few were wounded, some were captured. TheEnglishman was among the prisoners. The Assizes were at hand, and as itwas thought fit to make an example, as it is called, the trial of thesmugglers was hurried on. The evidence against the Englishman wasconclusive. He was found in armed array against the military, and incompany with notorious law-breakers. What could he do? Pride made himconceal his name, he was indicted under that of Spranger (which he hadnever borne), was tried and convicted. When brought up to receivesentence in the assize court of Clonmel (where, for some reason, thetrial took place), he thought he saw the opportunity for a bold effort.Light, active and strong, he vaulted out of the dock. The crowdinstantly opened to conceal him, for there is a strong sympathy forpersons accused of such breaches against the revenue law as he wasbelieved to have committed. Even while he was crouching down in themidst of the crowd, a great-coat, such as the peasantry wear, was thrownaround him by one; another bestowed upon him a cap made of fox-skin; anda third whispered him to keep quiet, as, if he did not betray himself,his disguise was sufficient to defy suspicion and detection.[9]
[9] Such an escape as this was actually made from the dock, during the Clonmel assizes, by the bold and notorious Buck English, who afterwards found his way into the first society in Cork city and county. Indeed, the actual life of this man was parallel in many of its leading points to that of "Paul Clifford," the hero of Bulwer's brilliant fiction. The term "Buck" was usually bestowed on any fashionable bravo, in Ireland, who wore dashing attire, and indulged in all sorts of extravagances of expenditure and excess. There was "Buck Sheehy" of Dublin, as well as our own, "Buck English" of Cork. Indeed, there were sufficient of the _genus_ in Dublin to form the majority of the "Hell-fire Club," who once set fire to their club-room, and remained in it until the flames actually burned the hair from their heads and the clothes from their bodies. This was done to decide the punishments of a future state! Most of the "Bucks" were men of family, education, and wealth. Several peers were members of the community. At one time (the author of "Ireland sixty years ago," relates) there were three noblemen, brothers, so notorious for their outrages, that they acquired singular names, as indicative of their characters. The first was the terror of every one who met him in public places--the second was seldom out of prison--the third was lame, yet no whit disabled from his Buckish achievements. They were universally known by the names of "Hell-gate," "Newgate," and "Cripplegate." There were two brothers, one of whom had shot his friend, and the other stabbed his coachman. They were distinguished as "Kill-Kelly" and "Kill-coachy." This reminds one of the Irish traveller, who said he had been to _Kill-many_ and was going to _Kill-more_.
"Incredible as it may appear--but I perceive that you have already heardsomething of this affair--Spranger remained in the court-house duringthe whole day, while a strict out-of-doors' search was made for him, andfinally walked into the street, unchallenged, with the rest of thecrowd, when the trials ended. He was literally alone, unfriended,penniless, in a strange country. The men who had supplied him, on theimpulse of the moment, with the means of baffling detection, kept theireyes upon, and speedily came in his way, giving him the further aid ofshelter and food. What need I more say than that those men, who livedagainst the law, succeeded in enrolling their guest among them.Recklessness and utter want, in the first instance, and the fear ofbeing given up to the Government in the other, were his motives. Coupledwith this, too, was a strong sense of injury at having been convicted,without crime, upon appearances. Not then, but many times afterwards,did he feel convinced that the Executive had brought him to trial onlyupon obvious and palpable facts. But, long before he came to take thisview of the question, he had become leader of the band--now avowedlyassociated for plunder, smuggling having been broken up, and the nameand the daring of Captain Spranger are sufficiently notorious throughoutthe country now.
"When he had completely identified himself with them, so as to obtaintheir unquestioning obedience, Spranger availed himself of the privilegeof sometimes leaving them for a short time--continuing, however, toregulate their movements, and participate in their gains--one of themalways remaining with him to act as his servant, but actually as anunsuspected channel of communication with the band. Thus this captain ofmen beyond the pale of the law, has resided, at different times, in theprincipal cities in the South of Ireland. His last resting-place washere in Cork, where, under a name rather given to him by common consentthan assumed by him, and with ample pecuniary means at his command, hecontrived to be received into the best society. But he had tired, longsince, of the ruffianly association which he headed. One hoperemained--that of offering his sword to one of the foreign States withwhom he had formerly performed military service, and thus resuming thecondition to which he was born. But, while taking measures to do this,he met, and became deeply enamoured of the loveliest and most engagingof her sex, and delayed his departure--his exile--from a reluctance toquit the heaven of her smiles. Perhaps he even presumed to hope--totrust--that, under better circumstances, he might even have ventured tohope that his suit would not have failed."
Here he paused, to mark how Mary had borne this relation. Her face wascovered with her hands--but he could hear that she was sobbing. Hecontinued:--
"You know, Mary, I perceive, that he who relates this story is the sameSpranger whose name has made many a cheek pale, many a bold hearttremble. D'Arcy Mahon was one of the counsel employed against me atClonmel, and he knows every feature of mine so well that he could notfail to recognize me. He would identify me, also, as Captain Spranger.If I remain, he meets me to-morrow. Shame, disgrace, perhaps even deathwould follow. 'Tis true that circumstances have made me what I am, butthere is a Future, in action, for all who are willing to atone for pastmisconduct. I go forth to try and regain the position I have forfeited.Not in this country, nor yet in my own, can I hope to do this. But thereother lands where Reputation and Fortune may be won, and in one of themI shall make the effort. To have known _you_--to find this wasted heartcapable, even yet, of appreciating the beauty and purity of your mind,will console me in my long and distant exile. Farewell!"
He bent on his knee to take and kiss that delicate hand. Did it reallylinger in his? He looked upon that face of beauty. Did those violet eyessmile upon him through the dew which diamonded their long, dark fringes?He heard a low, earnest whisper. Did it tell him to retrieve the past,nor doubt, while doing so, of the due reward a loving heart will bestow?Did it softly say that he, and none but he, should hold that hand inmarriage? Did it entreat him to write often--always hopingly? A long,long kiss on those ripe lips, on that damasked cheek, on that fair brow,and Buck English was away, as suddenly as he had come.
* * * * *
How improbable! How unfeminine! How utterly at varianc
e with all theconventionalities of society! No doubt. But it is _true_.
As for Mary's avowed love for such a person as--even on his ownshowing--English was, why seek to put it to the test of every-daythought?
"Why did she love him! Curious fool, be still; Is human love the growth of human will?"
* * * * *
The morning after the interview between Mary and her lover, considerableanxiety was caused in the minds of his acquaintance by the fact of hisdisappearance, and the report that he had met with some fatal accident.His horse had returned home riderless, and a hat and glove, known tohave been worn by him, were found on the banks of the Lee, about twomiles from Cork, a place where he was fond of riding at all hours. Itwas believed that he had been drowned. The authorities took possessionof and examined his effects, which were never claimed. There was not oneline of writing among them, giving the slightest clue to his station inlife, family, or identity. In a short time, he passed out of the memoryof most of those who had known him.
It was noticed that Mary Penrose appeared very much unconcerned at theloss of one for whom she was believed to have felt some partiality. Shewas abused, of course, by her own sex, (and the more so, as she was veryhandsome,) for being "a heartless coquette." A few months later, whenshe had attained her legal majority, and with it full possession of herproperty, she unequivocally astonished her cousin Frank, by declininghis proffered hand. Ere the year was ended, her estates were in themarket, and their purchase-money invested in foreign securities. Thisdone, Mary bade a long farewell to the land of her nativity and thefriends of her youth. Nor did any definite account of her subsequentlife ever reach Ireland.
In the fulness of time, there came rumours (which were credited) thatsomebody very like Buck English had obtained rank and reputation in theGerman service, and that, eventually retiring to a distant province ofthe Empire, he had turned his sword into a ploughshare, and cultivated,with much success, a large estate which he had purchased there. It wasadded that a lady, whose personal description tallied with MaryPenrose's appearance, was the wife of this person; that they lived veryhappily with their numerous children around them; that their retainersand dependents almost adored them for their constant and consideratekindness; and that, though they ever condemned crime, they united inquestioning whether he who committed it might not have been led into itby Circumstance rather than Desire.
ECCENTRIC CHARACTERS