My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 2 (of 3)

  CHAPTER VIII.

  MR. CURRAN LEAVES PARLIAMENT.

  Major Sirr's ill-timed mirth rankled in Robert's bosom. He was notworth taking, then! Yet Lord Clare had deemed him dangerous enough tojustify expulsion from Alma Mater. Lord Clare. What did he intenddoing with this last haul of the net? That document which Sirr hadpicked up so carefully would provide him with such a list of countrymembers as would satisfy for awhile even his rapacious gullet.

  Would he hang them all, or be content, for the present, to cage themas he did before? No. Times were changed since then. He wasdeliberately scourging the land with scorpions. No mercy might beexpected at his hands. Was Tom Emmett to be hanged? Was he to sufferan ignominious death before he had had time to strike a blow formotherland? That would be too hard. It must be prevented somehow. Itwas providential that the younger brother should not have beenkidnapped too. It was a miraculous intervention, for duty shone clearbefore him. He must obtain the release of the patriots, even if to doso he should have to kneel at King George's feet. Intercession must bemade. At the thought the lad's courage rose. He would go and consultCurran on the subject.

  As he hurried on down Dame Street, he strove to comb his tangledthoughts into some symmetry. Who could the Judas be who wore his maskso deftly? Sirr's Battalion of Testimony was spreading to hugeproportions; the Staghouse by Kilmainham, where the wolves dwelt,could scarcely hold them now. Doubtless there was a secret service aswell as this public one so insolently flaunted.

  'Of whom does it consist?' Robert kept asking himself. 'Of whom? Thefriends of our hearts--the wives of our bosoms. It is awful to thinkhow, when a country is well stirred up, the mud will rise to thesurface!' Then, ruminating as he went, he thought of Terence, andmurmured mournfully, 'Could it be he? I pray not, for I love him as abrother!'

  A shadow lay stretched before him. With a shudder he turned aside toavoid the effigy of a good man, who by a singular caprice of historyhas been elected high-priest of a mean purblindness, which he aboveall others would himself have most abhorred. William III.'s effigy, inits incongruous classical costume, is no whit more contemptible thansome of his admirers have tried to make his character. But such is theway of the world. We set up a pole, and drape it with our ownsentiments, then kneel down to worship, crying, 'How perfect is ouridol!' Of course it is; for the drapery is woven, as a spider's webis, from out of our own bowels; what can be so perfect as that we haveourselves created, however loosely it may hang on the support we haveselected to bear it?

  Turning away from the Juggernaut of Orangeism, Robert beheld thesubject of his thoughts, and the man of whom he was in search. Mr.Curran and his ex-junior were standing in earnest talk under thecolonnade of the senate-house. The rush of events had changed bothmen even in their externals. The older one seemed shrunken andgrey-skinned. His unkempt elf-locks were more wild, his uncleanlylinen more disordered, his eye more bright and restless, than of yore.

  Those who knew him well perceived that he was torn in sunder by twoantagonistic selves. He yearned in secret for the success of thepopular movement; he peered out anxiously for the first glimmeringwhite sail in the offing; his soul bled for his country's misery; helonged to know precisely the patriot leaders' plan, that his keenbrain might advise upon it--yet he railed at and derided those veryleaders to their faces, spoke scoffingly of France, declared that allwas hopeless; snapped up any incautious delegate who spoke to him tooopenly of the society.

  The reason for his odd conduct is obvious. His judicial mind--expertin weighing evidence--had seen long ago that the combatants wereill-matched--that it was Honesty fighting against Guile. It waspossible--just possible--that Heaven for once would change its usualtactics, and permit Honesty to come off the conqueror. It waspossible--but oh, how improbable! Curran saw that so soon as Honestyhad tumbled into the Slough of Despond, the firm grasp of a friend whowas a paradox would be needed to pull him out; of one who should beprotected by the glamour of his own virtue against the dagger of themurderer, even as medieval saints are mythically supposed to have beenprotected against the torments of the caldron and the wheel. Such apeculiar and delicate position Curran actually occupied.

  As we have seen, he remained in close friendship with Emmett and therest, and also with such important people in the opposite camp as theGlandores, without the faintest suspicion of treachery falling on him.He fearlessly rose and poured forth such denunciations against theexecutive in parliament, as would have brought any other man toKilmainham and its minuet. But for all that, the informer dared notpoint his finger at him; even Lord Clare was convinced that he must beendured or bought--not browbeaten.

  Once or twice he had been hustled in the street, but had curbed hispeppery nature by a sublime effort. His life was of more value to hiscountry than that of many drunken rufflers. He quietly refused tofight now with any such paltry ruffians.

  Councillor Crosbie was more altered than his chief; the expression ofhis face was changed. As Robert surveyed it he endured the compunctionof remorse, in that for an instant he had doubted him. If Doreen hadnot been perversely haughty, she could not have accepted her aunt'sgarbled tale so readily. But then her spirit was wrung awry bylong-continued crooning over wrongs; and being unhealthily sensitive,was predisposed to look out for evil. She had seen so much troublethat she had come to believe there could be nothing else in store.

  Terence's face had lost the open laugh of careless _bonhomie_ whichhad vexed her--which was so well suited to its Irish cast offeatures--by which I do not mean the confined forehead and coarselygaping mouth, which make many of our countrymen so uncomely--but thehighly-coloured, cheery face, with ruddy lips, which when they areparted display a row of dazzling teeth. His eye, whose unruly dancingdefied fate, was strangely at variance now with the moody brow, tilllately so unwrinkled; while a reckless swagger, which was a newcharacteristic, spoke of a bitterness and chafing defiance which agreen tabinet necktie, with bows ostentatively displayed, served butfurther to accentuate. He stood in earnest converse with Mr. Curran,who sourly shook his head. Just out of earshot faithful Phil leanedagainst the wall, firing-iron in hand, watching his master in hisdog-like fashion--sporting also, in humble imitation, a rag of greenabout his neck.

  Rapidly Robert unfolded his budget. The visitation at Trinity was merechild's play; not so this wholesale arrest. Even Curran forgot hiscustomary caution, and put quick sharp questions as his face grewgreyer. Emmett, Russell, Bond, were in prison, then. They would betried--how? The law courts were closed and silent. By court-martial?Hardly. Lord Clare was too clever for that. Given the heads of aconspiracy who had grievously compromised themselves, he would ofcourse get up a pompous series of mock state trials, with 'juries ofthe right sort' to bring the pageant to a predetermined end, and sojustify and whitewash his arbitrary acts in the world's eyes. This waswhat he would do.

  'The patriots should be defended!' Curran swore. He would defend themhimself, no matter at what personal risk; in spite of any amount ofthreatening. The bursts of eloquence which before now had startled hisaudience to conviction, should be nothing to the burning words bywhich he would wring these unselfish lives from the jaws of death.

  It was for this that he had rested on his oars so long. He haddefended many of the proscribed with varying success. But these werethe chiefs, the head and front of the offending. He felt that thepower was there, a precious gift direct from God. He would blast thewitness, whoever he might be, as he sat upon the table, till even ajury of the right sort would not dare to convict upon his evidence; hewould paint in vivid colours what he and his fellows were--wretcheswho, buried as men, had slept in the tomb till their hearts festeredand dissolved--to be dug up thereafter as informers.

  He bade Robert be of good cheer, and listened, with a kindly arm aboutthe lad's neck, to his project of going to England. He would go to thefountain-head, vowed Robert, for no mercy could be expected here; hewould waylay Mr. Pitt himself--would force himself into the Royalp
resence--would compel England to listen to a recital of her sister'stribulations. The English could not know what was going forward--theKing, whom people dubbed good King George, could not know of it. If hedid, he was a hypocrite who ought to be unmasked--but of course he didnot. The ardent lad quivered with excitement and noble fervour, whilethe little lawyer felt himself invaded by pity. The poor boy persistedin believing that Right was sure to triumph. He believed that hisstory would rouse the English to interference--Mr. Pitt to contritionfor excessive sinfulness--that it would melt like snow the prejudicesof the most ignorant and pigheaded monarch who ever occupied a throne.Poor lad! In spite of all he saw, his illusions had not yet been takenfrom him. Some people require an operation with pincers. The dreadfulmoment had yet to come when he would wake up and know with certaintythat his doll's inside was bran.

  'My boy,' the lawyer said, 'the impulse is excellent. Go, and prosper,if the Fates will it so. To tell the truth, I believe more in mypowers of oratory here than yours over yonder. I ought to have specialinterest in you,' he pursued, with a sad smile, 'though it's to thelowering of my own conceit. I made the discovery this morning--whatowls we old fogies are!--that it is not for the sake of my brilliantconversation that you young butterflies choose to flutter about thePriory. Upon my word, I used to think it was, and that your taste wasvastly fine.'

  Robert's face assumed a guilty hue, and he lowered his eyes.

  'Nay--don't blush, man!' returned the elder, whilst Terence lookedfrom one to the other curiously. 'When the spring comes, birds willmate even on battle-fields! The perseverance of nature, despiteobstacles, is incorrigible! Would ye believe it, Terence? A girl towhom I'm a bit partial flung herself into my arms this very morningwith shrieks, declaring that if all a foolish servant told her wastrue, and Ireland doomed to be a slaughter-house, one crathur at leastmust be saved--who was not her papa! She expects me, I suppose, tobuild an ark for this new deluge, and take in of every animal twoafter his kind.'

  'Oh, sir!' Robert murmured timidly. 'If things go well----'

  'No, sir,' returned Curran, with sudden roughness. 'Things aren't liketo go well. Do not deceive yourself or her. You, for one, are nearerto the gallows than the bridal bed! When Ireland is free, when my lordchancellor is higher even than he is--as high as Haman--then maybewe'll talk of such follies, but not till then. Meanwhile, mark you,the gates of the Priory open to you no more. There shall be no moredangling after my Primrose till the crisis is over, for better or forworse. Get ye gone, now, and good luck betide ye! There must be apower of it somewhere, for here we've got ne'er a scrap.'

  Young Robert did as he determined; and so for awhile we shall not lookon him. In London he was kept dallying by a judicious diet of delusivehopes in accordance with a suggestion from the Irish chancellor, whowished him kept well in tow, lest haply he might turn out usefullater. Amuse this baby brand, he wrote; manage him cleverly, and lullhim for a few months to sleep.

  Sara saw him no more. He came no more to the Priory, and she was gladof it. The child was dazed and bewildered by the reports which reachedher through the servants. She made no pretence of comprehendingpolitics. She only knew that so long as Robert remained away, he wouldbe kept safe out of the perilous vortex. She had faith in her father'sgenius, and in his power, if need were, to protect both himself andher; yet woke she up sometimes in the night with a cry, having dreamedthat misfortune had befallen Robert. She could not shake off aforeboding that, young and excitable as he was, he would entanglehimself in the toils; and so it was with a whimsical thankfulness thatshe heard that he whom she worshipped was gone, and joyfully countedthe months of his absence.

  When Robert broke in upon the converse under the colonnade, MasterPhil did not at first take heed of him, for that worthy, who wasalways ready to touch his hunting-cap with good-humour to any of hismaster's friends, was in rueful contemplation of a fact which hadlately come to his knowledge--namely, that red-haired Biddy was nottrue to him--that the colleen who had enthralled his affections wassadly misbehaving herself among the soldiery. Honest Phil was notspecially quick-witted, yet he could put two and two together after aclumsy fashion, and he saw darkly with sorrow that the carroty-polledvirgin could scarcely have been ever true if she could thus brazenlygo over to the enemy. He revolved the facts in his mind that she itwas who had been Miss Wolfe's post-office--that it was she who withhim had carried out the pike-packing in the armoury, which had sooddly been discovered; that she it was who had wormed secrets out ofhim--the honest but incautious youth--which she might or might nothold _in terrorem_ now over the heads of those whom he loved best.There was but too much proof of the frail fair one's delinquency. Whenthe Irish Slave was sacked, she had rushed yelping to the LittleHouse, giving tongue with such vociferous howls that two soldiersspeedily pursued and brought her back, and finally carried her offkicking--a special prize. For a long while her disconsolate adorer(when not on duty in surveillance over his master) searched high andlow for her. Had anybody beheld a beautiful creature with ruddy locksof gold?--to see which would be to adore for ever--and so forth.

  But as time went on, his master's self-appointed duties became soengrossing and erratic that the servant was fain to sacrifice hisprivate interests altogether for the nonce, trusting that some day thefair creature would turn up entrancingly spotless--constant to herswain. It was with no slight pang, then, that on that very morning hehad recognised a well-known back and followed it--a broad square backcovered now with purple velvet, surmounted by the well-known locks,which were shaded by a wondrous hat and feathers. The apparition ledhim to the riding-school!--the dreadful hall of torment which peopleshuddered at as they went by. Too much amazed to realise what he did,he followed still. She entered--so did he. Noisily she was embraced atonce by a dozen half-drunken men in uniform, and returned theirsalutes with strict impartiality. He was thunderstruck! Then withterror, from his sheltered nook, he surveyed the scene.

  Screams for mercy made his blood run cold. Two men lay panting on aheap of straw; one quite old and feeble, released but recently fromthe lash. The elder would evidently soon be quit of his destroyers,for his lips were blue and his eyes glazed. The other, roused by ashout of laughter, stirred his head to curse his tormentors. This wasenough for them. What a fine opportunity for a newly-developed joke!Quick--some gunpowder! Biddy poured some into two outstretched, palms.Rub it well into his hair--with a will now, Biddy--for it's shock, andwill hold a prime dose. Now, stand well aside while we fire it with along match. Horror-stricken, Phil escaped--his slow brains chaotic inunaccustomed whirl. What should he do? His charmer had developed intoa fiend. Was she who had enthralled his affections the one who was atthe bottom of all the mischief--the arch-betrayer of secrets? She hadbeen in everybody's confidence--Miss Wolfe's (God bless her!), Mr.Cassidy's, Master Terence's--all! The snake in the grass, whoseexistence puzzled the gentry so. Could it be she? Had he not betterspeak out and tell them? No. They were conversing so earnestly. It wasnot his place to interrupt his betters. The intelligence would keep.He would make a clean breast of all he suspected to his master inprivate.

  And his betters had good cause for the earnestness of their talk. WhenMr. Grattan threw up his parliamentary seat, Curran had twitted himfor loss of temper. But now his turn was come. He had spoken outrashly in the debate, which was still droning on--had distributedrhetorical slaps in the face, which caused the friends of Governmentto wince. Then one, bolder than the rest, interrupted the flow of hiseloquence by saying:

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

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

  'I charged them openly,' was the simple reply, 'with their corruptpractices. I charged them with a systematic end
eavour to undermine theconstitution in violation of the law of the land. I charged them withbeing public malefactors, public criminals. Then I was called toorder, 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? Goingout, I will repeat the accusation, and the winds shall carry it--thatthe ministers are traitors, who should be publicly impeached--and,advancing to the bar of the Lords, I will repeat it there. If I am tosuffer in the public cause, I will go further than my prosecutors invirtue as in danger."'

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

  'It may happen,' returned the other gently, 'that the boys of actionmay come to need the help of a silver tongue--after all! I know notfor certain how far ye're in it, Terence; and it's best I shouldn'tknow. Any way, I'm glad ye're not like your brother, who's ahalf-caste in character, more than half Englishman. You, at any rate,are not ashamed,' he continued slily, 'of going to _tay_ with yourmammy, or of perambulating by the _say_ with a colleen asthore! I wishye'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 beenkidnapped? No--I know you would not,' Terence said, looking in thelittle lawyer's eyes (into which the tears started) with a hand placedon 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 willfoolhardiness avail us. Why will you wear that gorgeous scarf ofgreen? If you are to do man's work, do not act like a baby. There'sonly you and Cassidy left now to give directions to the countrydelegates. I don't know much, and it's not my business; but I can seenow the tail of the Erin-go-bragh order sparkling within your vest.Two hands fraternally gripped. How lamentably childish, when so muchmay depend on you! Erin's cause will be none the less well served, Iwarrant, for fewer gewgaws on the persons of her sons. Too much greenribbon, Terence! Every man among you sports a green ribbon, and hassome 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 haveshown to-day to our friends. It was a mercy, certainly, that youdetained me here, or else----'

  'You would have fallen a sacrifice to overweening prudence! Thereinlies 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 traitorswalk among us, that no one can swear any day whether he's like tosleep 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 hiscohorts.'

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

  'Ah! Mr. Curran. Taking the air? You're looking well, Terence,' hecried in his rasping voice, holding out a hand to each. 'Anythingdoing 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. 'Tyrantsshould remember that secret murder is the special weapon of the weakagainst the strong.'

  The chancellor bit his lip, then showed his teeth again. He would notlose his temper. But it was singularly ill-mannered of this demagogueto 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. Takecare 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, Isuppose, like wise men, the risks of their position against itsadvantages. We are quits. For I have warned you too. You'll getnothing by your present attitude, I do assure you. It is lamentable tosee a clever man so waste his opportunity. I am sure if Terence'smother 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, 'toraise myself to wealth and to remorse? The envy of fools--the contemptof 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 assureyou 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 thatthe finest gunpowder might be dried on it!'

  This was uphill work; but the chancellor still smiled, though a hecticspot showed upon his cheekbone; for the squireens around werebeginning to hee-haw, and he felt he was playing _le role ridicule_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Lord Clare was getting very much the worst of it. He could notprematurely broach the question of a Union before all these people. Hescarce 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 wasscarlet. 'I call these gentlemen to witness that it is so; why, I knownot, 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 tocollect the innocent blood which you have shed and are shedding intoone 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 youget rid of an individual, it's true, but you make all his friends andrelations 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 populardemagogue, was obliged for his own sake--for that of the Governmentwhich he represented--to take up the gauntlet which was tossed to him.If Lord Glandore, King of Cherokees, had only been present, he wouldhave had the satisfaction of at last superintending the duel, thecompromise of which, on a previous occasion, had so mortified him.

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

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

  To this Terence demurred, however, marvelling why the friendly giantshould show such an itching to have a shot at him. That worthy seemedsingularly aggrieved at his offer being refused, but consoled himselfby grumbling:

  'I thought you were more game! No mather--when the principals havedone, we might have a turn. I remember when Lord Mountgarret waswinged at the first fire, that his son tuk his place, not todisappoint the audience. And we all thought it mighty polite andproper in the gintleman.'