Roland Cashel Volume I Part 44

"But I really do not see as yet how this affects what we were just speaking of?"

"It will do so, however--and ere long. These people, who were immensely rich some time back, are now, by one of the convulsions so frequent in those countries, reduced to absolute poverty. They will, doubtless, follow Cashel here, and seek a fulfilment of his contract. I need not tell you, Mr. Linton, what must ensue on such a demand; it would be hard to say whether acceptance or refusal would be worse. In a word, the father-in-law is a man of such a character, there is only one thing would be more ruinous than his enmity, and that is, any alliance with him. Let him but arrive in this country, and every gentleman of station and cla.s.s will fall back from Cashel's intimacy; and even those--I 'll not mention names," said he, smiling--"who could gloss over some of their prejudices with gold-leaf, will soon discover that a shrewder eye than Cashel's will be on them, and that all attempts to profit by his easiness of temper and reckless nature will be met by one who has never yet been foiled in a game of artifice and deceit."

"Then I perceive we have a very short tether," said Linton, gravely; "when may this worthy gentleman be-looked for?"

"At any moment. I believe early in spring, however, will be the time."

"Well, that gives us a few months; during which I must contrive to get in for this borough of Derraheeny--But hark! is that a carriage at the door?--yes, by Jove! the Kennyf.e.c.ks. I remember, he had asked them to-day to come and see his pictures. I say, h.o.a.re, step out by the back way; we must not be caught together here. I 'll make my escape afterwards."

Already the thundering knock of the footman resounded through lie house, and h.o.a.re, not losing a moment, left the library, and hastened through the garden at the rear of the house; while Linton, seizing some writing materials, hurried upstairs, and established himself in a small boudoir off one of the drawing-rooms, carefully letting down the Venetians as he entered, and leaving the chamber but half lighted; this done, he drew a screen in front of him, and waited patiently.

CHAPTER XXII. VISIT TO THE "CASHEL PICTURE GALLERY."

Ignored the schools of France and Spain, And of the Netherlands not surer, He knew not Cuyp from Claude Lorraine, Nor Dow from Albert Durer.

Bell: Images.

Scarcely had the Kennyf.e.c.ks' carriage driven from the door when the stately equipage of the MacFarlines drew up, which was soon after followed by the very small pony phaeton of Mrs. Leicester White, that lady herself driving, and having for her companion a large high-shouldered, spectacled gentleman, whose glances, at once inquiring and critical, p.r.o.nounced him as one of her numerous _proteges_ in art, science, or letters.

This visit to the "Cashel Gallery," as she somewhat grandiloquently designated the collection, had been a thing of her own planning; first, because Mrs. White was an adept in that skilful diplomacy which so happily makes plans for pleasure at other people's houses--and oh, what numbers there are!--delightful, charming people as the world calls them!

whose gift goes no further than this, that they keep a registry of their friends' accommodation, and know to a nicety the season to dine here, to sup there, to picnic at one place, and to "spend the day"--horrible expression of a more horrible fact--at another. But Mrs. White had also another object in view on the present occasion, which was, to introduce her companion, Mr. Elias Howie, to her Dublin acquaintance.

Mr. Elias Howie was one of a peculiar cla.s.s, which this age, so fertile in inventions, has engendered, a publishers' man-of-all-work, ready for everything, from statistics to satire, and equally prepared to expound prophecy, or write squibs for "Punch."

Not that lodgings were not inhabited in Grub Street before our day, but that it remained for the glory of this century to see that numerous horde of tourist authors held in leash by fas.h.i.+onable booksellers, and every now and then let slip over some country, to which plague, pestilence, or famine, had given a newer and more terrible interest In this novel walk of literature Mr. Howie was one of the chief proficients; he was the creator of that new school of travel which, writing expressly for London readers, refers everything to the standard of "town;" and whether it be a trait of Icelandic life, or some remnant of old-world existence in the far East, all must be brought for trial to the bar of "Seven Dials," or stand to plead in the dock of Pall Mall or Piccadilly. Whatever errors or misconceptions he might fall into respecting his subjects, he made none regarding his readers. He knew them by heart,--their leanings, their weakness, and their prejudices; and how pleasantly could he flatter their town-bred self-sufficiency,--how slyly insinuate their vast superiority over all other citizens, insidiously a.s.suring them that the Thames at Richmond was infinitely finer than the Rhine or the Danube, and that a trip to Margate was richer in repayal than a visit to the Bosphorus! Ireland was, just at the time we speak of, a splendid field for his peculiar talents. The misery-mongers had had their day. The world was somewhat weary of Landlordism, Pauperism, and Protestantism, and all the other "isms" of that unhappy country.

There was nothing that had not been said over the overgrown Church establishment, the devouring Middleman, Cottier misery, and Celtic barbarism; people grew weary of hearing about a nation so endowed with capabilities, and which yet did nothing, and rather than puzzle their heads any further, they voted Ireland a "bore." It was just then that "this inspired c.o.c.kney" determined to try a new phase of the subject, and this was not to counsel nor console, not to lament over nor bewail our varied ma.s.s of errors and misfortunes, but to laugh at us. To hunt out as many incongruities--many real enough, some fict.i.tious--as he could find; to unveil all that he could discover of social anomaly; and, without any reference to, or any knowledge of, the people, to bring them up for judgment before his less volatile and more happily circ.u.mstanced countrymen, certain of the verdict he sought for--a hearty laugh. His mission was to make "Punch" out of Ireland, and none more capable than he for the office.

A word of Mr. Howie in the flesh, and we have done. He was large and heavily built, but neither muscular nor athletic; his frame and all his gestures indicated weakness and uncertainty. His head was capacious, but not remarkable for what phrenologists call moral development; while the sinister expression of his eyes--half submissive, half satirical--suggested doubts of his sincerity. There was nothing honest about him but his mouth; this was large, full, thick-lipped, and sensual,--the mouth of one who loved to dine well, and yet felt that his agreeability was an ample receipt in full for the best entertainment that ever graced Black wall or the "Freres."

It is a heavy infliction that we story-tellers are compelled to lay upon our readers and ourselves, thus to interrupt our narrative by a lengthened description of a character not essentially belonging to our story; we had rather, far rather, been enabled to imitate Mrs. White, as she advanced into the circle in the drawing-room, saying, "Mr. Cashel, allow me to present to your favorable notice my distinguished friend, Mr. Howie. Lady Janet MacFarline, Mr. Howie,--" sotto,--"the author of 'Snooks in the Holy Land,' the wittiest thing of the day; Sir Andrew will be delighted with him--has been all over the scenes of the Peninsular war. Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, Mr. Howie."

Mr. Howie made his round of salutations, and although by his awkwardness tacitly acknowledging that they were palpably more habituated to the world's ways than himself, yet inwardly consoled by remarking certain little traits of manner and accent sufficiently provincial to be treasured up, and become very droll in print or a copper etching.

"It's a vara new pleasure ye are able to confer upon your friends, Mr.

Cashel," said Sir Andrew, "to show them so fine a collection o'

pictures in Ireland, whar, methinks, the arts ha' no enjoyed too mickle encouragement."

"I confess," said Cashel, modestly, "I am but ill qualified to extend the kind of patronage that would be serviceable, had I even the means; I have not the slightest pretension to knowledge or judgment. The few I have purchased have been as articles of furniture, pleasant to look at, without any pretension to high excellence."

"Just as Admiral Dalrymple paid ten pounds for a dunghill when he turned farmer," whispered Mr. Howie in Mrs. White's ear, "and then said, 'he had only bought it because some one said it was a good thing; but that, now, he 'd give any man "twenty" to tell him what to do with it,'"

Mrs. White burst into a loud fit of laughter, exclaiming:

"Oh, how clever, how good! Pray, Mr. Howie, tell Lady Janet--tell Mr.

Cashel that."

"Oh, madam!" cried the terrified tourist, who had not discovered before the very shallow discrimination of his gifted acquaintance.

"If it is so vara good," said Sir Andrew, "we maun insist on hearin'

it."

"No, no! nothing of the kind," interposed Howie; "besides, the observation was only intended for Mrs. White's ear."

"Very true," said that lady, affecting a look of consciousness.

"The odious woman," whispered Miss Kennyf.e.c.k to her sister; "see how delighted she looks to be compromised."

"If we had Linton," said Cashel, politely offering his arm to Lady Janet, as he led her into the so-called gallery, "he could explain everything for us. We have, however, a kind of catalogue here. This large landscape is said to be by Both."

"If she be a coo," said Sir Andrew, "I maun say it's the first time I ever seen ane wi' the head ower the tail."

"Nonsense," said Lady Janet; "don't ye perceive that the animal is fore-shortened, and is represented looking backwards?"

"I ken nothing aboot that; she may be shortened in the fore-parts, an'

ye say, and that may be some peculiar breed, but what brings her head ower her rump?"

Sir Andrew was left to finish his criticism alone, the company moving on to a portrait a.s.signed to Vandyck, as Diedrich von Aevenghem, Burgomaster of Antwerp.

"A fine head!" exclaimed Mrs. White, authoritatively; "don't you think so, Mr. Howie?"

"A very choice specimen of the great master, for which, doubtless, you gave a large sum."

"Four hundred, if I remember aright," said Cashel.

"I think he maught hae a clean face for that money," broke in Sir Andrew.

"What do you mean, sir?" said Miss Kennyf.e.c.k, insidiously, and delighted at the misery Lady Janet endured from his remarks.

"Don't ye mind the s.m.u.t he has on ane cheek?"

"It's the shadow of his nose, Sir Andrew," broke in Lady Janet, with a sharpness of rebuke there was no misunderstanding.

"Eh, my leddy, so it may, but ye need na bite mine off, for a' that!"

And so saying, the discomfited veteran fell back in high dudgeon.

The party now broke into the twos and threes invariable on such occasions, and While Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k and her elder daughter paid their most devoted attentions to Lady Janet, Mrs. White and the author paired off, leaving Olivia Kennyf.e.c.k to the guidance of Cashel.

"So you 'll positively not tell me what it is that preys on your mind this morning?" said she, in the most insinuating of soft accents.

Cashel shook his head mournfully, and said,--

"Why should I tell you of what it is impossible you could give me any counsel in, while your sympathy would only cause uneasiness to yourself?"

"But you forget our compact," said she, archly; "there was to be perfect confidence on both sides, was there not?"