Written by himself [Charles Lever?].
Originally published in Fraser's Magazine (James Fraser) vol.4 #19 (Aug 1831).
"Lurid smoke and frank suspicion
Hand in hand collective dance;
While the god fulfils his mission,
Chivalry, resign thy lance."
Enormous Reader! were you ever in Clare Castle? 'Tis as vile a hole in the shape of a barrack—as odious a combination of stone, mortar, and rough-cast, as ever the King—God bless him!—put a regiment of the line into. There is most delightful fishing out of the windows—charming shooting at the sparrows that build in the eaves of the houses, and most elegant hunting. If you have a terrier, you may bag twenty brace of rats in a forenoon. If a person is fond of drawing, he has water scenery above the bridge, and water scenery below the bridge, with turf-boats and wild ducks, and two or three schooners with coals, and mud in abundance when the tide is out, and beautiful banks sloping to the water, with charming brown potato gardens and evergreen furze bushes. When tired of this combination of natural beauties, you may turn to the city of Clare, luxuriant in dung and pigs, and take a view of the Protestant school-house without a roof, and the parish clergyman's handsome newly white-washed kennel—by the same token, his was the best pack of hounds I ever saw—and the priest's neat cottage at the back of the public-house, where the best potteen in the country was to be had. Then in the distance is not to be seen the neighbouring abbey of Quin, which presents splendid remains of Gothic architecture; but I can only say from what I have heard, as the hill of Dundrennan happens to intervene between our citadel and the abbey. Ennis, too, in the distance, I am told, would be a fine maritime town, if it had good houses and was nearer the sea, and had trade and some respectable people in it, and a good neighbourhood. Mr. O'Connell thinks a canal from it to Clare would improve it—and I think the "tribute money" might be advantageously laid out in shares in the said canal. This is only a surmise of my own, judging of what I saw from my barrack-window in Clare Castle—for, during the six blessed weeks I spent there, from five o'clock on Ash Wednesday evening, till six o'clock on Good Friday morning, my nose, which is none of the longest, never projected its own length beyond the barrack-gate. The reason of my not visiting the chief city of Clare-shire was also sufficient to prevent me exploring the remains at Quin; and was simply this—Colonel Gauntlet had given positive orders to Captain Vernon, who commanded the company, not to permit Ensign O'Donoghue, on any pretence, to leave the castle.
I was a lad of about seventeen then, and had but a short time before got a commission in the Royal Irish, by raising recruits—which was done in rather an ingenious manner by my old nurse, Judy McLeary. She got some thirty or forty of the Ballybeg hurlers, seven of whom were her own sons—lads that would have cropped an exciseman, or put a tithe-proctor "to keep" in a bog-hole, as soon as they would have peeled a potato, or sooner. Nurse Judy got the boys together—made them blind drunk—locked them up in the barn—made them "drunk again," next morning—enlisted them all before my father, who was a justice of the peace—and a recruiting-sergeant who was at the house, marched them all off ("drunk still") to the county town. They were all soldiers before they came to their senses, and I was recommended for an ensigncy. My heroes remained quiet for a day or two, having plenty of eating and drinking; but swearing, by all the saints in the Almanack, that the Ballybeg boys were, out and out, the tip-top of the country, and would "bate the Curnel, ay, and the Gineral, with the garrison to back him to boot, if Masther Con would only crook his finger and whistle." We were ordered to march to Limerick, which part of the country it did not appear that my recruits liked, for the following Sunday they were all back again playing hurley at Ballybeg.
But to return: I was, as I said before, an ensign in the Royal Irish, and strutting, as proud as a peacock, about the streets of Limerick. To be sure, how I ogled the darlings as they tripped along, and how they used to titter when I gave them a sly look! I was asked to all sorts of parties, as the officers were—save the mark!—so genteel! We had dinner-parties, and tea-parties, and dancing parties, and parties up the river to Castle Connel, and pic-nics down the river to Carrick-Gunnel, and dry drums; in short, the frolicing lads of the Eighteenth never lived in such clover. Three parsons, or rather, I should say, their wives, sundry doctors, the wine merchants, and a banker or two, were all quarreling about who could shew us most attention, and force most claret and whisky punch down our throats. We flirted and jigged, and got drunk every night in the week at the house of one friend or another. I was seventeen times in love, ay and out again, in the first fortnight: such eyes as one young lady had, and such legs had another; Susan had such lips, and Kate had such shoulders; Maria laughed so heartily—to shew her teeth; and Johanna held her petticoats so tidily out of the mud—to shew her ancle. I was fairly bothered with them all, and nearly ruined into the bargain by the amount of my wine bills at the mess. The constant love-making kept me in a fever, and a perpetual unquenchable thirst was the consequence. In vain did I toss off bumper after bumper of port and sherry in honour of the charms of each and all of them; in vain did I sit down with my tumbler of whisky punch (hot) at my elbow, when I invoked the muse and wrote sonnets on the sweet creatures. Every fresh charm called for a fresh bottle, and each new poetical thought cried out for more hot water, sugar, whisky, and lemon-juice! The more I made love, the more feverish I grew; and it was absolutely impossible to keep my pulsations and wine bills under any control. Fortunately, or, perhaps, unfortunately, one young lady began to usurp the place of the many. I was determined to install her as prime and permanent mistress of my affections.
Accordingly, Miss Juliana Hennessy was gazetted to the post, vice a score dismissed. Juliana had beautiful legs, beautiful bust, beautiful shoulders; figure plump, smooth, and shewy; face nothing to boast of, for her nose was a snub, and she was a trifle marked with the small-pox; but her teeth were generally clean, and her eye languishing: so, on the whole, Juliana Hennessy was not to be sneezed at. Half a dozen of our youngsters were already flirting with her: one boasted that he had a lock of her hair, but honour forbade him to shew it; another swore that he had kissed her in her father's scullery, that she was nothing loath, and only said, "Ah, now, Mr. Casey, can't you stop? what a flirt you are!"—but nobody believed him; and Peter Dawson, the adjutant, who was a wag, affirmed, that he heard her mother say, as she crossed the streets, "Juliana, mind your petticoats—spring, Juliana, spring, and shew your 'agility'—the officers are looking."
After this, poor Juliana Hennessy never was known but as Juliana Spring.
Juliana Spring had a susceptible mind, and was partial to delicate attentions; so the first thing I did to shew that my respect for her was particular, was to call out Master Casey about the scullery story; and, after exchanging three shots, (for I was new to the business then, and my pistols none of the best,) I touched him up in the left knee, and spoilt his capering in rather an off-hand style, considering I was but a novice. I now basked in my Juliana's smiles, and was as happy and pleasant as a pig in a potato-garden. I begged Casey's pardon for having hurt him, and he pitched Juliana to Old Nick, for which, by the way, I was near having him out again.
I was now becoming quite a sentimental milk-sop; I got drunk not more than twice a week, I ducked but two watchmen, and broke the head of but one chairman, during the period of my loving Juliana Spring. Wherever her toe left a mark in the gutter, my heel was sure to leave its print by the side of it. Her petticoats never had the sign of a spatter on them; they were always held well out of the mud, and the snow-white cotton stockings, tight as a drum-head, were duly displayed.
Juliana returned my love, and plenty of billing and cooing we had of it. Mrs. Hennessy was as charming a lady of her years as one might see any where; she used to make room for me next Juliana—make us stand back to back, to see how much the taller I was of the two—Juliana used to put on my sash and gorget, and I was obliged to adjust them right; then she was obliged to replace them, with her little fingers fiddling about me. After that the old lady would say, "Juliana, my love, how do the turkeys walk through the grass?"
"Is it through the long grass, ma'am?"
"Yes, Juliana, my love; shew us how the turkeys walk through the long grass."
Then Juliana would rise from her seat, bend forward, tuck up her clothes nearly to her knees, and stride along the room on tip-toe.
"Ah, now! do it again, Juliana," said the mother. So Juliana did it again—and again—and again—till I knew the shape of Juliana's supporters so well, that I can conscientiously declare they were uncommonly pretty.
Juliana and I became thicker and thicker—till at length I had almost made up my mind to marry her. I was very near fairly popping the question at a large ball at the Custom House, when, fortunately, Colonel Gauntlet clapped his thumb upon me, and said, "Stop!" and Dawson stept up to say that I must march next morning, at ten o'clock, for that famous citadel, Clare Castle. I was very near calling out both Dawson and the colonel; but Juliana requested me not, for her sake. Prudence came in time. Gauntlet would have brought me to a court-martial, and I should have gone back to Ballybeg after my recruits.
Leaving the Hennessys without wishing them good-by, would have been unkind and unhandsome; so at nine next morning I left the New Barracks, having told the sergeant of the party who was to accompany me, to call at Arthur's Quay on his way. I scampered along George Street, and in a few minutes arrived at the Hennessys'. How my heart beat when I lifted the knocker! I fancied that, instead of the usual sharp rat-tat-too, it had a sombre, hollow sound; and when Katty Lynch, the hand-maiden of my beloved, came to the door, and hesitated about admitting me, I darted by her, and entered the dining-room on my right hand. Here the whole family were assembled; but certainly not expecting company—not one of the "genteel officers," at least.
The father of the family, who was an attorney, was arranging his outward man. His drab cloth, ink-spotted inexpressibles were unbuttoned at the knee, and but just met a pair of whity-brown worsted stockings, that wrinkled up his thick legs. Coat and waistcoat he had none, and at the open breast of a dirty shirt appeared a still dirtier flannel-waistcoat. He was rasping a thick stubble on his chin, as he stood opposite a handsome pier-glass between the windows. The razor was wiped upon the breakfast-cloth, which ever and anon he scraped clean with the back of the razor, and dabbed the shave into the fire. The lady mother was in a chemise and petticoat, with a large coloured cotton shawl, which did duty as dressing-gown; and she was alternately busy in combing her grizzled locks, and making breakfast.
Miss Juliana,—Juliana of my love—Juliana Spring, sat by the fire in a pensive attitude, dressed as she had turned out of her nest. Her hair still in papers, having just twitched off her night-cap; a red cotton bed-gown clothed her shoulders, a brown flannel petticoat was fastened with a running string round her beautiful waist, black worsted stockings enveloped those lovely legs which I had so often gazed on with admiration, as they, turkey-fashion, tripped across the room; and a pair of yellow slippers, down at heel, covered the greater part of her feet. On the fender stood the teakettle, and on the handle of the teakettle a diminutive shirt had been put to air; while its owner, an urchin of five years old, frequently popped in from an inner room, exhibiting his little natural beauties al fresco, to see if it was fit to put on.
I stared about me as if chaos was come again; but [ could not have been more surprised than they were. The whole family were taken aback. The father stood opposite the mirror with his snub nose held between the finger and thumb of his left hand, and his right grasping the razor—his amazement was so great that he could not stir a muscle. Mrs. Hennessy shifted her seat to the next chair, and the lovely Juliana Spring, throwing down the Sorrows of Werter, with which she had been improving her mind, raised her fingers to get rid of the hair papers. Each individual would have taken to flight; but, unfortunately, the enemy was upon them, and occupied the only means of egress, except the little room, which it seems was the younker's den; so that, like many another body when they could not run away, they boldly stood their ground.
I apologised for the untimely hour of my visit, and pleaded, as an excuse, that, in half an hour, I should be on my way to Clare Castle. My friends say that I have an easy way of appearing comfortable wherever I go, and that it at once makes people satisfied. In less than a minute Mr. Hennessy let his nose go; his wife wreathed her fat face into smiles; and Juliana Spring looked budding into summer, squeezed a tear out of her left eye, and blew her nose in silent anguish at my approaching departure.
Katty brought in a plate of eggs and a pile of buttered toast. Apologies innumerable were made for the state of affairs:—the sweeps had been in the house—the child had been sick—Mr. Hennessy was turned out of his dressing-room by the masons—Mrs. Hennessy herself had been "poorly"—and Juliana was suffering with a nervous headach. Such a combination of misfortunes surely had never fallen upon so small a family at the same time. I began to find my love evaporating rapidly. Still, Juliana was in grief, and between pity for her, and disgust at the colour of the table-cloth, I could not eat. Mr. Hennessy soon rose, said he would be back in the "peeling of an onion," and requested me not to stir till he returned.
He certainly was not long, but he came accompanied, lugging into the room with him a tall, loose-made fellow in a pepper-and-salt coat, and brown corduroys. I had never seen this hero before, and marvelled who the deuce he might prove to be.
"Sit down, Jerry," said Hennessy to his friend—"sit down and taste a dish of tea. Jerry, I am sorry that Juliana has a headach this morning."
"Never mind, man," said Jerry; "I'll go bail she will be better by and by. Sure my darling niece isn't sorry at going to be married."
Here were two discoveries—Jerry was uncle to Juliana, and Juliana was going to be married--to whom, I wondered?
*O, Jerry! she will be well enough by and by," said her father. "But I don't believe you know Ensign O'Donoghue—let me introduce," &c. Accordingly I bowed, but Jerry rose from his chair, and came forward with outstretched paw.
"Good morrow-morning to you, sir, and 'deed and indeed it is mighty glad I am to see you, and wish you joy of so soon becoming my relation."
"Your relation, sir? I am not aware --"
"Not relation," returned Jerry, "not blood relation, but connexion by marriage."
"I am not going to be married," said I.
"You not going to be married?"
"Not that I know of," I replied.
"Ah, be aisy, young gentleman," said uncle Jerry; "sure I know all about it—ar'n't you going to marry my niece, Juliana, there?"
A pretty dénouement this. My love oozed away like Bob Acre's valour—so I answered, "I rather think not, sir."
"Not marry Juliana?" ejaculated the father.
"Not marry my daughter?" yelled the mother.
"Not marry my niece?" shouted the uncle; "but by Saint Peter you shall—didn't you propose for her last night?"
"I won't marry her, that's flat; and I did not propose for her, last night"—I roared. My blood was now up, and I had no notion of being taken by storm.
"You shall marry her, and that before you quit this room, or the d—l is not in Killballyowen!" said Jerry, getting up, and locking the door.
"If you don't, I'll have the law of you," said Mr. Hennessy.
"If you don't, you are no gentleman," said Mrs. Hennessy.
"If I do, call me fool," said I.
"And I am unanimous," said a third person, from the inner door.
"The deuce you are," said I to this new addition to our family-circle; a smooth-faced, hypocritical-looking scoundrel, in black coat and black breeches, and grey pearl stockings—as he issued from the smaller apartment—how he got there, I never knew.
"Don't swear, young gentleman," said he.
"I'll swear from this to Clare Castle, if I like," said I, "and no thanks to any one. Moreover, by this and by that, and by every thing else, I am not in the humour, and I'll marry no one—good, bad, or indifferent—this blessed day." Even this did not satisfy them.
"Then you will marry her after Lent?" said the fellow in the pearl stockings.
"Neither then nor now, upon my oath!" I answered.
"You won't?" said old Hennessy.
"You won't?" echoed the wife.
"You won't?" dittoed Uncle Jerry.
"That I won't, ladies and gentlemen," I rejoined; "I am in a hurry for Clare Castle; so, good morning to you, and I wish you all the compliments of the season."
"Go aisy with your hitching," said Jerry, "you will not be off in that way"—and he disappeared into the small room. The father sat down at a table, and began to write busily—the pearl-stocking'd gentleman twirled his thumbs, and stood between me and the door—Juliana sat snivelling and blowing her nose by the fire—I sprung to the door, but it was not only double-locked, but bolted. I contemplated a leap from the window, but the high iron railing of the area was crowned with spikes. I was debating about being impaled or not, when Jerry returned with a brace of pistols as long as my arm. Mr. Hennessy jumped from his writing-table, flourishing a piece of paper, and Mr. Pearl Stockings pulled a book out of his coat-pocket.
"You have dishonoured me and my pedigree," said Jerry—"If you don't marry Juliana, I will blow you to atoms."
"Stop, Jerry," said the attorney; "may-be the gentleman will sign this scrap of a document."
I felt like the fat man in the play, who would not give a reason upon compulsion—I flatly refused.
"I'd rather not dirty my hands with you," said the uncle; "so just step in here to the closet. Father Twoney will couple you fair and aisy—or just sign the bit of paper—if you don't, I'll pop you to Jericho."
"Ah! do, now, Mr. O'Donoghue," implored the mother.
I turned to the priest:—"Sir, it seems that you, then, are a clergyman. Do you, I ask, think it consistent with your profession thus to sanction an act of violence?"
"Bathershin," interrupted Jerry. "Don't be putting your come-hether on Father Twoney—he knows what he is about; and if he don't I do. So you had better get buckled without any more blarney."
The ruffian then deliberately threw up the pan of one of the pistols, and shook the powder together, in order that I might be convinced he was not jesting; then, slowly cocking it, laid it on the table, within his reach, and did the same with the other.
"Give me one of those pistols, you scoundrel!" I exclaimed, "and I will fight you here—the priest will see fair play."
"Who would be the fool then, I wonder?" said this bully. "I am not such an omadhahaun as you suppose. If I was to shoot you where you stand, who would be the wiser—you spalpeen?"
I seized the poker—Juliana rose and came towards me with extended arms.
"Ah! now, Mr. O'Donoghue! dearest O'Donoghue!—dearest Con, do prevent bloodshed—for my sake, prevent bloodshed—you know that I dote on you beyond any thing. Can't you be led by my relations, who only want your own good—ah! now, do!"
"Ah! do now," said the mother.
"Listen to me, now," cried I, "listen all of you, for fear of a mistake:—you may murder me—my life is in your power—and Father Twoney may give you absolution, if he likes; but, mark me now, Juliana Hennessy—I would not marry you if your eyes were diamonds, and your heels gold, and you were dressed in Roche's five-pound notes. If the priest was administering extreme unction to your father, and your mother kicking the bucket beside him—and your uncle Jerry with a razor at my throat—I would pitch myself head-foremost into the hottest part of purgatory before I would say—Juliana Hennessy, you are my wife. Are you satisfied! Now have you had an answer, Juliana Spring?"
I do not imagine that they thought me so determined. The father seemed to hesitate; Juliana blubbered aloud; the priest half closed his eyes, and twirled his thumbs as if nothing unusual was going on; and Jerry, whose face became livid with rage, levelled the pistol at my head. I believe he would have murdered me on the spot, but for Mrs. Hennessy, who was calculating in her wrath. She clapped her hands with a wild howl, and shook them furiously in my face—"Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear! That I should live to hear my daughter called Juliana Spring!—I that gave her the best of learning—that had her taught singing by Mr. O'Sullivan, straight from Italy, and bought her a bran new forte-piano from Dublin—oh! to hear her called Juliana Spring!—Didn't I walk her up street and down street, and take lodgings opposite the Main Guard? And then, when we came here, wasn't she called the Pride of the Quay? Wouldn't Mr. Casey have married her, only you shot him in the knee? Wasn't that something? And you here late and early, getting the best of every thing, and philandering with her every where—and now you wont marry her! I am ruined entirely with you—oh dear! oh dear!"
A loud ring at the bell, and a rap at the hall-door, astonished the group. Before Katty could be told not to admit any one, I heard Sergeant O'Gorman asking for me—he was no relation to O'Gorman Mahon, but a lad of the same kidney—a thorough-going Irishman—and loved a row better than his prayers.
I shouted to the sergeant, "O'Gorman, they are going to murder me."
"Then, by St. Patrick, your honour, we'll be in at the death," responded the sergeant.
"Katty, shut to the door," roared Jerry.
Katty was one of O'Gorman's sweethearts, so was not so nimble as she might have been; however, before the order could be obeyed, the sergeant had thrust his halberd between the door and the post, which effectually prevented it closing. I heard his whistle, and in a second the whole of his party had forced their way into the hall.
"Break open the door, my lads," I hallooed—"never mind consequences;" and immediately a charming sledge-hammer din was heard, as my men applied the but-ends of their fire-locks to the wood. The attorney ran to the inner room, so did the priest,—and Jerry, dropping the pistols, followed them. Crash went the panels of the door, and in bounced my light-bobs. Mrs. Hennessy cried "fire" and "robbery;" Juliana Spring tried to faint; and I ran to the inner room just in time to catch Jerry by the heel, as he was jumping from the window. Mr. Hennessy and the priest, in their hurry to escape, had impeded each other, so that Uncle Jerry, who was last, had not time to fly before I clutched him. I dragged back the scoundrel, who was loudly bawling for mercy.
"Is there a pump in the neighbourhood, my lads?" I asked.
"Yes, sir, in the back-yard," answered O'Gorman.
"Then don't duck him—"
"No, your honour!" they all said.
I walked out of the house; but, strange to say, my orders were not obeyed; for uncle Jerry was ducked within an inch of his life.
At the corner of the street I waited for my party, who soon joined me. A few minutes afterwards I met Casey.
"Casey," said I, "I am more than ever sorry for your misfortune; and Juliana Spring is at your service."
"She may go to old Nick, for all I care," said Casey.
"With all my heart, too," said I.
"Small difference of opinion to bother our friendships, then!" rejoined the good-humoured boy; and to drown the memory of all connected with the calf-love by which we had both been stultified, we took a hearty stirrup-cup together, and off I set for Clare Castle.