Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon Volume Ii Part 11

Honesty of intention, rect.i.tude of purpose, may be, doubtless they are, admirable supports to a rightly const.i.tuted mind; but even then they must come supported by such claims to probability as make the injured man feel he has not lost the sympathy of all his fellows. Now, I had none of these, had even my temperament, broken by sickness and hara.s.sed by unlucky conjectures, permitted my appreciating them.

I endeavored to call my wounded pride to my aid, and thought over the glance of haughty disdain she gave me as she pa.s.sed on to her carriage; but even this turned against me, and a humiliating sense of my own degraded position sank deeply into my heart. "This impression at least," thought I, "must be effaced. I cannot permit her to believe--"

"His Excellency is waiting dinner, sir," said a lackey, introducing a finely powdered head gently within the door. I looked at my watch, it was eight o'clock; so s.n.a.t.c.hing my sabre, and shocked at my delay, I hastily followed the servant down-stairs, and thus at once cut short my deliberations.

The man must be but little observant or deeply sunk in his own reveries, who, arriving half-an-hour too late for dinner, fails to detect in the faces of the a.s.sembled and expectant guests a very palpable expression of discontent and displeasure. It is truly a moment of awkwardness, and one in which few are found to manage with success; the blus.h.i.+ng, hesitating, blundering apology of the absent man, is scarcely better than the ill-affected surprise of the more practised offender. The bashfulness of the one is as distasteful as the cool impertinence of the other; both are so thoroughly out of place, for we are thinking of neither; our thoughts are wandering to cold soups and rechauffed pates, and we neither care for nor estimate the cause, but satisfy our spleen by cursing the offender.

Happily for me I was clad in a triple insensibility to such feelings, and with an air of most perfect unconstraint and composure walked into a drawing-room where about twenty persons were busily discussing what peculiar amiability in my character could compensate for my present conduct.

"At last, O'Malley, at last!" said Sir George. "Why, my dear boy, how very late you are!"

I muttered something about a long walk,--distance from Lisbon, etc.

"Ah! that was it. I was right, you see!" said an old lady in a spangled turban, as she whispered something to her friend beside her, who appeared excessively shocked at the information conveyed; while a fat, round-faced little general, after eying me steadily through his gla.s.s, expressed a _sotto voce_ wish that I was upon _his_ staff. I felt my cheek reddening at the moment, and stared around me like one whose trials were becoming downright insufferable, when happily dinner was announced, and terminated my embarra.s.sment.

As the party filed past, I perceived that Miss Dashwood was not among them; and with a heart relieved for the moment by the circ.u.mstance, and inventing a hundred conjectures to account for it, I followed with the aides-de-camp and the staff to the dinner-room.

The temperament is very Irish, I believe, which renders a man so elastic that from the extreme of depression to the very climax of high spirits, there is but one spring. To this I myself plead guilty, and thus, scarcely was I freed from the embarra.s.sment which a meeting with Lucy Dashwood must have caused, when my heart bounded with lightness.

When the ladies withdrew, the events of the campaign became the subject of conversation, and upon these, very much to my astonishment, I found myself consulted as an authority. The Douro, from some fortunate circ.u.mstance, had given me a reputation I never dreamed of, and I heard my opinions quoted upon topics of which my standing as an officer, and my rank in the service, could not imply a very extended observation. Power was absent on duty; and happily for my supremacy, the company consisted entirely of generals in the commissariat or new arrivals from England, all of whom knew still less than myself.

What will not iced champagne and flattery do? Singly, they are strong impulses; combined, their power is irresistible. I now heard for the first time that our great leader had been elevated to the peerage by the t.i.tle of Lord Wellington, and I sincerely believe--however now I may smile at the confession--that, at the moment, I felt more elation at the circ.u.mstance than he did. The glorious sensation of being in any way, no matter how remotely, linked with the career of those whose path is a high one, and whose destinies are cast for great events, thrilled through me; and in all the warmth of my admiration and pride for our great captain, a secret pleasure stirred within me as I whispered to myself, "And I, too, am a soldier!"

I fear me that very little flattery is sufficient to turn the head of a young man of eighteen; and if I yielded to the "pleasant incense," let my apology be that I was not used to it; and lastly, let me avow, if I did get tipsy, I liked the liquor. And why not? It is the only tipple I know of that leaves no headache the next morning to punish you for the glories of the past night. It may, like all other strong potations, it is true, induce you to make a fool of yourself when under its influence; but like the nitrous-oxide gas, its effects are pa.s.sing, and as the pleasure is an ecstasy for the time, and your const.i.tution none the worse when it is over, I really see no harm in it.

Then the benefits are manifest; for while he who gives becomes never the poorer for his benevolence, the receiver is made rich indeed. It matters little that some dear, kind friend is ready with his bitter draught to remedy what he is pleased to call its unwholesome sweetness; you betake yourself with only the more pleasure to the "blessed elixir," whose fascinations neither the poverty of your pocket, nor the penury of your brain, can withstand, and by the magic of whose spell you are great and gifted. "_Vive la bagatelle!_" saith the Frenchman. "Long live flattery!"

say I, come from what quarter it will,--the only wealth of the poor man, the only reward of the unknown one; the arm that supports us in failure; the hand that crowns us in success; the comforter in our affliction; the gay companion in our hours of pleasure; the lullaby of the infant; the staff of old age; the secret treasure we lock up in our own hearts, and which ever grows greater as we count it over. Let me not be told that the coin is fict.i.tious, and the gold not genuine; its clink is as musical to the ear as though it bore the last impression of the mint, and I'm not the man to cast an aspersion upon its value.

This little digression, however seemingly out of place, may serve to ill.u.s.trate what it might be difficult to convey in other words,--namely, that if Charles O'Malley became, in his own estimation, a very considerable personage that day at dinner, the fault lay not entirely with himself, but with his friends, who told him he was such. In fact, my good reader, I was the lion of the party, the man who saved Laborde, who charged through a brigade of guns, who performed feats which newspapers quoted, though he never heard of them himself. At no time is a man so successful in society as when his reputation heralds him; and it needs but little conversational eloquence to talk well, if you have but a willing and ready auditory. Of mine, I could certainly not complain; and as, drinking deeply, I poured forth a whole tide of campaigning recital, I saw the old colonels of recruiting districts exchanging looks of wonder and admiration with officers of the ordnance; while Sir George himself, evidently pleased at my _debut_, went back to an early period of our acquaintance, and related the rescue of his daughter in Galway.

In an instant the whole current of my thoughts was changed. My first meeting with Lucy, my boyhood's dream of ambition, my plighted faith, my thought of our last parting in Dublin, when, in a moment of excited madness, I told my tale of love. I remembered her downcast look, as her cheek now flus.h.i.+ng, now growing pale, she trembled while I spoke. I thought of her, as in the crash of battle her image flashed across my brain, and made me feel a rush of chivalrous enthusiasm to win her heart by "doughty deeds."

I forgot all around and about me. My head reeled, the wine, the excitement, my long previous illness, all pressed upon me; and as my temples throbbed loudly and painfully, a chaotic rush of discordant, ill-connected ideas flitted across my mind. There seemed some stir and confusion in the room, but why or wherefore I could not think, nor could I recall my scattered senses, till Sir George Dashwood's voice roused me once again to consciousness.

"We are going to have some coffee, O'Malley. Miss Dashwood expects us in the drawing-room. You have not seen her yet?"

I know not my reply; but he continued:--

"She has some letters for you, I think."

I muttered something, and suffered him to pa.s.s on; no sooner had he done so, however, than I turned towards the door, and rushed into the street.

The cold night air suddenly recalled me to myself, and I stood for a moment endeavoring to collect myself; as I did so, a servant stopped, and saluting me, presented me with a letter. For a second, a cold chill came over me; I knew not what fear beset me. The letter, I at last remembered, must be that one alluded to by Sir George, so I took it in silence, and walked on.

CHAPTER XII.

THE LETTER.

As I hurried to my quarters, I made a hundred guesses from whom the letter could have come; a kind of presentiment told me that it bore, in some measure, upon the present crisis of my life, and I burned with anxiety to read it.

No sooner had I reached the light, than all my hopes on this head vanished; the envelope bore the well-known name of my old college chum, Frank Webber, and none could, at the moment, have more completely dispelled all chance of interesting me. I threw it from me with disappointment, and sat moodily down to brood over my fate.

At length, however, and almost without knowing it, I drew the lamp towards me, and broke the seal. The reader being already acquainted with my amiable friend, there is the less indiscretion in communicating the contents, which ran thus:--

TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN, No. 2,

October 5, 1810.

My Dear O'Malley,--Nothing short of your death and burial, with or without military honors, can possibly excuse your very disgraceful neglect of your old friends here. Nesbitt has never heard of you, neither has Smith. Ottley swears never to have seen your handwriting, save on the back of a protested bill. You have totally forgotten _me_, and the dean informs me that you have never condescended a single line to him; which latter inquiry on my part nearly cost me a rustication.

A hundred conjectures to account for your silence--a new feature in you since you were here--are afloat. Some a.s.sert that your soldiering has turned your head, and that you are above corresponding with civilians. Your friends, however, who know you better and value your worth, think otherwise; and having seen a paragraph about a certain O'Malley being tried by court-martial for stealing a goose, and maltreating the woman that owned it, ascribe your not writing to other motives. Do, in any case, relieve our minds; say, is it yourself, or only a relative that's mentioned?

Herbert came over from London with a long story about your doing wonderful things,--capturing cannon and general officers by scores,--but devil a word of it is extant; and if you have really committed these acts, they have "misused the king's press d.a.m.nably,"

for neither in the "Times" nor the "Post" are you heard of.

Answer this point, and say also if you have got promotion; for what precise sign you are algebraically expressed by at this writing, may serve Fitzgerald for a fellows.h.i.+p question. As for us, we are jogging along, _semper eadem_,--that is, worse and worse. Dear Cecil Cavendish, our gifted friend, slight of limb and soft of voice, has been rusticated for immersing four bricklayers in that green receptacle of stagnant water and duckweed, yeleped the "Haha."

Roper, equally unlucky, has taken to reading for honors, and obtained a medal, I fancy,--at least his friends shy him, and it must be something of that kind. Belson--poor Belson (fortunately for him he was born in the nineteenth, not the sixteenth century, or he'd be most likely ornamenting a pile of f.a.gots) ventured upon some stray excursions into the Hebrew verbs,--the professor himself never having transgressed beyond the declensions, and the consequence is, he is in disgrace among the seniors. And as for me, a heavy charge hangs over my devoted head even while I write. The senior lecturer, it appears, has been for some time inst.i.tuting some very singular researches into the original state of our goodly college at its founding. Plans and specifications showing its extent and magnificence have been continually before the board for the last month; and in such repute have been a smashed door-sill or an old arch, that freshmen have now abandoned conic sections for crowbars, and instead of the "Principia" have taken up the pickaxe. You know, my dear fellow, with what enthusiasm I enter into any scheme for the aggrandizement of our Alma Mater, so I need not tell you how ardently I adventured into the career now opened to me. My time was completely devoted to the matter; neither means nor health did I spare, and in my search for antiquarian lore, I have actually undermined the old wall of the fellows' garden, and am each morning in expectation of hearing that the big bell near the commons-hall has descended from its lofty and most noisy eminence, and is snugly reposing in the mud. Meanwhile accident put me in possession of a most singular and remarkable discovery. Our chambers--I call them ours for old a.s.sociation sake--are, you may remember, in the Old Square. Well, I have been fortunate enough, within the very precincts of my own dwelling, to contribute a very wonderful fact to the history of the University; alone, una.s.sisted, unaided, I labored at my discovery. Few can estimate the pleasure I felt, the fame and reputation I antic.i.p.ated. I drew up a little memoir for the board, most respectfully and civilly worded, having for t.i.tle the following:--

ACCOUNT Of a remarkable Subterranean Pa.s.sage lately discovered in the Old Building of Trinity College, Dublin; With Observations upon its Extent, Antiquity, and Probable Use.

By F. WEBBER, Senior Freshman.

My dear O'Malley, I'll not dwell upon the pride I felt in my new character of antiquarian; it is enough to state, that my very remarkable tract was well considered and received, and a commission appointed to investigate the discovery, consisting of the vice-provost, the senior lecturer, old Woodhouse, the sub-dean, and a few more.

On Tuesday last they came accordingly in full academic costume.

I, being habited most accurately in the like manner, conducted them with all form into my bed-room, where a large screen concealed from view the entrance to the tunnel alluded to. a.s.suming a very John Kembleish att.i.tude, I struck this down with one hand, pointing with the other to the wall, as I exclaimed, "There! look there!"

I need only quote Barret's exclamation to enlighten you upon my discovery as, drawing in his breath with a strong effort, he burst out:--

"May the Devil admire me, but it's a rat-hole!"

I fear, Charley, he's right, and what's more, that the board will think so, for this moment a very warm discussion is going on among that amiable and learned body whether I shall any longer remain an ornament to the University. In fact, the terror with which they fled from my chambers, overturning each other in the pa.s.sage, seemed to imply that they thought me mad, and I do believe my voice, look, and att.i.tude would not have disgraced a blue cotton dressing-gown and a cell in "Swift's." Be this as it may, few men have done more for college than I have. The sun never stood still for Joshua with more resolution than I have rested in my career of freshman; and if I have contributed little to the fame, I have done much for the funds of the University; and when they come to compute the various sums I have paid in, for fines, penalties, and what they call properly "impositions," if they don't place a portrait of me in the examination hall, between Archbishop Ussher and Flood, then do I say there is no grat.i.tude in mankind; not to mention the impulse I have given to the various artisans whose business it is to repair lamps, windows, chimneys, iron railings, and watchmen, all of which I have devoted myself to with an enthusiasm for political economy well known, and registered in the College Street police-office.

After all, Charley, I miss you greatly. Your second in a ballad is not to be replaced; besides, Carlisle Bridge has got low; medical students and young attorneys affect minstrelsy, and actually frequent the haunts sacred to our muse.

Dublin is, upon the whole, I think, worse; though one scarcely ever gets tired laughing at the small celebrities--

Master Frank gets here indiscreet, so I shall skip.

And so the Dashwoods are going too; this will make mine a pitiable condition, for I really did begin to feel tender in that quarter. You may have heard that she refused me; this, however, is not correct, though I have little doubt it might have been,--had I asked her.

Hammersley has, you know, got his dismissal. I wonder how the poor fellow took it when Power gave him back his letters and his picture. How _you_ are to be treated remains to be seen; in any case, you certainly stand first favorite.

I laid down the letter at this pa.s.sage, unable to read farther. Here, then, was the solution of the whole chaos of mystery; here the full explanation of what had puzzled my aching brain for many a night long. These were the very letters I had myself delivered into Hammersley's hands; this the picture he had trodden to dust beneath his heel the morning of our meeting.

I now felt the reason of his taunting allusion to my "success," his cutting sarcasm, his intemperate pa.s.sion. A flood of light poured at once across all the dark pa.s.sages of my history; and Lucy, too,--dare I think of her! A rapid thought shot through my brain. What if she had really cared for me!