Volume Ii Part 28 (2/2)
Though it is clear the serious events in the O'Grady family had not altered Master Ratty's propensities in the least, the case was far different with Gustavus. In that one night of suffering which _he_ had pa.s.sed, the gulf was leaped that divides the boy from the man; and the extra frivolity and carelessness which clung from boyhood up to the age of fifteen was at once, by the sudden disrupture produced by events, thrown off, and as singular a ripening into manhood commenced.
Gustavus was of a generous nature; and even his faults belonged less to his organisation than to the devil-may-care sort of education he received, if education it might be called. Upon his generosity the conduct of Edward O'Connor beside the grave of the boy's father had worked strongly; and though Gustavus could not give his hand beside the grave to the man with whom his father had engaged in deadly quarrel, yet he quite exonerated Edward from any blame; and when, after a night more sleepless than Gustavus had ever known, he rose early on the ensuing morning, he determined to ride over to Edward O'Connor's house to breakfast, and commence that friends.h.i.+p which Edward had so solemnly promised to him, and with which the boy was pleased; for Gustavus was quite aware in what estimation Edward was held; and though the relative circ.u.mstances in which he and the late Squire stood prevented the boy from ”caring a fig” for him, as he often said himself, yet he was not beyond the influence of that thing called ”reputation,” which so powerfully attaches to and elevates the man who wins it; and the price at which Edward was held in the country influenced opinion even in Neck-or-Nothing Hall, albeit though ”against the grain.” Gustavus had sometimes heard, from the lips of the idle and ignorant, Edward sneered at for being ”cruel wise,” and ”too much of a schoolmaster,” and fit for nothing but books or a boudoir, and called a ”piano man,” with all the rest of the hackneyed dirt which jealous inferiority loves to fling at the heights it cannot occupy; for though --as it has been said--Edward, from his manly and sensible bearing, had escaped such sneers better than most men, still some few there were to whom his merit was offensive. Gustavus, however, though he sometimes heard such things, saw with his own eyes that Edward could back a horse with any man in the country--was always foremost in the chace--could bring down as many brace of birds as most men in a day--had saved one or two persons from drowning; and if he did all these things as well as other men, Gustavus (though hitherto too idle to learn much himself) did not see why a man should be sneered at for being an accomplished scholar as well.
Therefore he had good foundation for being pleased at the proffered friends.h.i.+p of such a man, and remembering the poignancy of Edward's anguish on the foregoing eve, Gustavus generously resolved to see him at once and offer him the hand which a nice sense of feeling made him withhold the night before. Mounting his pony, an hour's smart riding brought him to Mount Eskar, for such was the name of Mr. O'Connor's residence.
It was breakfast-time when Gustavus arrived, but Edward had not yet left his room, and the servant went to call him. It need scarcely be said that Edward had pa.s.sed a wretched night; reaching home, as he did, weary in mind and body, and with feelings and imagination both overwrought, it was long before he could sleep; and even then his slumber was disturbed by hara.s.sing visions and frightful images. Spectral shapes and things unimaginable to the waking senses danced and crawled and hissed about him.
The torch flared above the grave, and that horrid coffin, with the name of the dead O'Grady upon it, ”murdered sleep.” It was dawn before anything like refres.h.i.+ng slumber touched his feverish eyelids, and he had not enjoyed more than a couple of hours of what might be called sleep, when the servant called him; and then, after the brief oblivion he had obtained, one may fancy how he started when the first words he heard on waking were, ”Mister O'Grady is below, sir.”
Edward started up from his bed and stared wildly on the man, as he exclaimed, with a look of alarm, ”O'Grady! For G.o.d's sake, you don't say O'Grady?”
”'Tis Master Gustavus, sir,” said the man, wondering at the wildness of Edward's manner.
”Oh, the boy!--ay, ay, the boy!” repeated Edward, drawing his hands across his eyes and recovering his self-possession. ”Say I will be down presently.”
The man retired, and Edward lay down again for some minutes to calm the heavy beating of his heart which the sudden mention of that name had produced; that name so linked with the mental agony of the past night; that name which had conjured up a waking horror of such might as to shake the sway of reason for a time, and which afterwards pursued its reign of terror through his sleep. After such a night, fancy poor Edward doomed to hear the name of O'Grady again the first thing in the morning, and we cannot wonder that he was startled.
A few minutes, however, served to restore his self-possession; and he arose, made his toilet in haste, and descended to the breakfast-parlour, where he was met by Gustavus with an open hand, which Edward clasped with fervour and held for some time as he looked on the handsome face of the boy, and saw in its frank expression all that his heart could desire. They spoke not a word, but they understood one another; and that moment commenced an attachment which increased with increasing intimacy, and became one of those steadfast friends.h.i.+ps which are seldom met with.
After breakfast Edward brought Gustavus to his ”den,” as he called a room which was appropriated to his own particular use, occupied with books and a small collection of national relics. Some long ranges of that peculiar calf binding, with its red label, declared at once the contents to be law and by the dry formal cut of the exterior gave little invitation to reading. The very outside of a law library is repulsive; the continuity of that eternal buff leather gives one a surfeit by antic.i.p.ation, and makes one mentally exclaim in despair, ”Heavens! how can any one hope to get all that into his head?” The only plain honest thing about law is the outside of the books where it is laid down--there all is simple; inside all is complex. The interlacing lines of the binder's patterns find no place on the covers; but intricacies abound inside, where any line is easier found than a straight one. Nor gold leaf nor tool is employed without, but within how many fallacies are enveloped in glozing words; the gold leaf has its representative in ”legal fiction;” and as for ”_tooling_”
there's plenty of that!
Other books, also, bore external evidence of the nature of their contents.
Some old parchment covers indicated the lore of past ages; amidst these the brightest names of Greece and Rome were to be found, as well as those who have adorned our own literature, and implied a cultivated taste on the part of the owner. But one portion of the library was particularly well stored. The works bearing on Irish history were numerous, and this might well account for the ardour of Edward's feelings in the cause of his country; for it is as impossible that a river should run backwards to its source, as that any Irishman of a generous nature can become acquainted with the real history of his country, and not feel that she has been an ill-used and neglected land, and not struggle in the cause of her being righted. Much _has_ been done in the cause since the days of which this story treats, and Edward was amongst those who helped to achieve it; but much has still to be done, and there is glorious work in store for present and future Edward O'Connors.
Along with the books which spoke the cause of Ireland, the mute evidences, also, of her former glory and civilisation were scattered through the room. Various ornaments of elegant form, and wrought in the purest gold, were tastefully arranged over the mantel-piece; some, from their form, indicating their use, and others only affording matter of ingenious speculation to the antiquary, but all bearing evidence of early civilisation. The frontlet of gold indicated n.o.ble estate, and the long and tapering bodkin of the same metal, with its richly enchased k.n.o.b or pendent crescent, implied the robe it once fastened could have been of no mean texture, and the wearer of no mean rank. Weapons were there, too, of elegant form and exquisite workmans.h.i.+p, wrought in that ancient bronze, of such wondrous temper that it carries effective edge and point. The sword was of exact Phoenician mould; the double-eyed spear-head, formed at once for strength and lightness, might have served as the model for a sculptor in arming the hand of Minerva. Could these be the work of an uncultivated people? Impossible! The harp, too, was there, that unfailing mark of polish and social elegance. The bard and barbarism could never be coeval.
But a relic was there, exciting still deeper interest--an ancient crosier, of curious workmans.h.i.+p, wrought in the precious metals and partly studded with jewels; but few of the latter remained, though the empty collets showed it had once been costly in such ornaments. Could this be seen without remembering that the light of Christianity first dawned over the western isles _in Ireland?_ that _there_ the Gospel was first preached, _there_ the work of salvation begun?
There be cold hearts to which these touching recollections do not pertain, and they heed them not; and some there are, who, with a callousness which shocks sensibility, have the ignorant effrontery to ask, ”Of what use are such recollections?” With such frigid utilitarians it would be vain to argue; but this question, at least, may be put in return:--Why should the ancient glories of Greece and Rome form a large portion of the academic studies of our youth?--why should the evidences of _their_ arts and _their_ arms be held precious in museums, and similar evidences of ancient cultivation be despised because they pertain to another nation? Is it because they are Irish they are held in contempt? Alas! in many cases it is so--ay, and even (shame to say) within her own sh.o.r.es. But never may that day arrive when Ireland shall be without enough of true and fond hearts to cherish the memory of her ancient glories, to give to her future sons the evidences of her earliest western civilisation, proving that their forefathers were not (as those say who wronged and therefore would malign them) a rabble of rude barbarians, but that brave kings, and proud princes, and wise lawgivers, and just judges, and gallant chiefs, and chaste and lovely women were among them, and that inspired bards were there to perpetuate such memories!
Gustavus had never before seen a crosier, and asked what it was. On being informed of its name, he then said, ”But what _is_ a crosier?”
”A bishop's pastoral staff,” said Edward.
”And why have you a bishop's staff, and swords, and spears, hung up together?”
”That is not inappropriate,” said Edward. ”Unfortunately, the sword and the crosier have been frequently but too intimate companions.
Preaching the word of peace has been too often the pretext for war.
The Spaniards, for instance, in the name of the gospel, committed the most fearful atrocities.”
”Oh, I know,” said Gustavus, ”that was in the time of b.l.o.o.d.y Mary and the Armada.”
Edward wondered at the boy's ignorance, and saw in an instant the source of his false application of his allusion to the Spaniards. Gustavus had been taught to vaguely couple the name of ”b.l.o.o.d.y Mary” with everything bad, and that of ”good Queen Bess” with all that was glorious; and the word ”Spanish,” in poor Gusty's head, had been hitherto connected with two ideas, namely, ”liquorice” and the ”Armada.”
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