Davenport Dunn, a Man of Our Day. Volume 1

Jack disappeared the next morning, and the day following brought a letter, stating that he had enlisted in the “Rifles,” and was off to the Crimea. Old Kellett concealed the sorrow that smote him for the loss of his boy, by affecting indignation at being thus deserted. So artfully did he dress up this self-deception that Bella was left in doubt as to whether or not some terrible scene had not occurred between the father and son before he left the house. In a tone that she never ventured to dispute, he forbade her to allude to Jack before him; and thus did he treasure up this grief for himself alone and his own lonely hours, cheating his sorrow by the ingenious devices of that constraint he was thus obliged to practise on himself. Like a vast number of men with whom the world has gone hardly, he liked to brood over his misfortunes, and magnify them to himself. In this way he opened a little bank of compassion that answered every draft he drew on it. Over and over to himself – like a miser revelling over his hoarded wealth – did he count all the hardships of his destiny. He loved thus to hug his misery in solitude, while he whispered to his heart, “You are a courageous fellow, Paul Kellett; there are not many who could carry your cheerful face, or walk with a head as high as you do to-day. The man that owned Kellett’s Court, and was one of the first in his county, living in a poor cottage, with sixty pounds a year! – that’s the test of what stuff a man’s made of. Show me another man in Ireland could do it! Show me one that could meet the world as uncomplainingly, and all the while never cease to be what he was born, – a gentleman.” This was the philosophy he practised; this the lesson he taught; this the paean he chanted in his own heart The various extremities to which he might – being anything other than what he was – have been tempted, the excesses he might have fallen into, the low associates he might have kept, the base habits he might have contracted, all the possible and impossible contingencies that might have befallen him, and all his difficulties therein, formed a little fiction world that he gloried to lose himself in contemplating.

It is not often that selfishness can take a form so blameless; nor is it always that self-deception can be so harmless. In this indulgence we now leave him.

CHAPTER V. THE WORLD’S CHANGES

While Mr. Davenport Dunn’s residence was in Merrion Square, his house of business was in Henrietta Street, – one of those roomy old mansions which, before the days of the Union, lodged the aristocracy of Ireland, but which have now fallen into utter neglect and decay. Far more spacious in extent, and more ornate in decoration, than anything modern Dublin can boast, they remain, in their massive doors of dark mahogany, their richly stuccoed ceilings, and their handsome marble chimney-pieces, the last witnesses of a period when Dublin was a real metropolis.

From the spacious dinner-room below to the attics above, all this vast edifice was now converted into offices, and members of Mr. Dunn’s staff were located even in the building at the rear, where the stables once had stood. Nothing can so briefly convey the varied occupations of his life as a glance at some of the inscriptions which figured on the different doors: “Inland Navigation Office,” “Grand Munster Junction Drainage,” “Compressed Fuel Company,” “Reclaimed Lands,” “Encumbered Estates,” “Coast Fishery,” “Copper and Cobalt Mining Association,” “Refuge Harbor Company,” “Slate and Marble Quarries,” “Tyrawley and Erris Bank of Deposit,” “Silver and Lead Mines.” These were but a few of the innumerable “associations,” “companies,” and “industrial speculations” which denoted the cares and employments of that busy head. Indeed, the altered fortunes of that great mansion itself presented no bad type of the changed destinies of the land. Here, once, was the abode of only too splendid hospitality, of all that refined courtesy and polished manners could contribute to make society as fascinating as it was brilliant Here were wit and beauty, and a high, chivalrous tone of manners, blended, it is true, with wildest extravagance and a general levity of thought, that imparted to intercourse the glowing tints of an orgy; and in their stead were now the active signs of industry, all the means by which wealth is amassed and great fortunes acquired, every resource of the country explored, every natural advantage consulted and developed, – the mountains, the valleys, the rivers, the sea-coasts, the vast tracts of bog and moss, the various mines and quarries, the products once deemed valueless, the districts formerly abandoned as irreclaimable, all brought out into strong light, and all investigated in a spirit which hitherto had been unknown to Ireland. What a change was here, and what necessities must have been the fate of those who had so altered all their habits and modes of thought as to conform to a system so widely different from all they had hitherto followed! It was like re-colonizing an empire, so subversive were all the innovations of what had preceded them.

“Eh, Barton, we used to trip up these stairs more flippantly once on a time,” said a very handsome old man, whose well-powdered hair and queue were rather novelties in modern appearance, to a feeble figure who, assisted by his servant, was slowly toiling his way upwards.

“How d’ ye do, Glengariff?” said the other, with a weak smile. “So we used; and they were better days in every sense of the word.”

“Not a doubt of it,” said the other. “Is that your destination?” And he pointed to a door inscribed with the title “Encumbered Estates.”

“Ay!” said Barton, sighing.

“It ‘s mine, too, I ‘m sorry to say,” cried Lord Glengariff; “as I suppose, erelong, it will be that of every country gentleman in the land!”

“We might have known it must come to this!” muttered the other, in a weak voice.

“I don’t think so,” broke in his Lordship, quickly. “I see no occasion at all for what amounts to an act of confiscation; why not give us time to settle with our creditors? Why not leave us to deal with our encumbrances in our own way? The whole thing is a regular political swindle, Barton; they wanted a new gentry that could be more easily managed than the old fellows, who had no station, no rank, but right ready to buy both one and the other by supporting – ”

“Can I be of any service to your Lordship?” interrupted a very over-dressed and much-gold-chained man, of about forty, with a great development of chest, set off to advantage by a very pretentious waistcoat.

“Ah, Hankes! is Dunn come back yet?” asked Lord Glengariff.

“No, my Lord; we expect him on Saturday. The telegraph is dated St. Cloud, where he is stopping with the Emperor.”

Glengariff gave Barton a slight pinch in the arm, and a look of intense meaning at the words.

“Nothing has been done in that matter of mine?” said Barton, feebly. “Jonas Barton is the name,” added he, coloring at the necessity of announcing himself.

“Jonas Barton, of Curryglass House?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Sold yesterday, under the Court, sir – for, let me see – ” And he opened a small memorandum-book. “Griffith’s valuation,” muttered he between his teeth, “was rather better than the Commissioner’s, – yes, sir, they got a bargain of that property yesterday; it went for twenty-two thousand six hundred – ”

“Great God, sir; the whole estate?”

“The whole estate; there is a tithe-rent charge – ”

“There, there, don’t you see he does not hear you?” said Lord Glengariff, angrily. “Have you no room where he can sit down for half an hour or so?” And so saying, he assisted the servant to carry the now lifeless form into a small chamber beside them. The sick man rallied soon, and as quickly remembered where he was.

“This is bad news, Glengariff,” said he, with a sickly effort at a smile. “Have you heard who was the buyer?”

“No, no; what does it matter? Take my arm and get out of this place. Where are you stopping in town? Can I set you down?” said the other, in hurry and confusion.

“I’m with my son-in-law at Ely Place; he is to call for me here, so you can leave me, my dear friend, for I see you are impatient to get away.”

Lord Glengariff pressed his hand cordially, and descended the stairs far more rapidly than he had mounted them.

“Lord Glengariff, – one word, my Lord,” cried Mr. Hankes, hastening after him, and just catching him at the door.

“Not now, sir, – not now,” said Lord Glengariff.

“I beg a thousand pardons, my Lord, but Mr. Dunn writes me peremptorily to say that it cannot be effected – ”

“Not raise the money, did you say?” asked he, growing suddenly pale.

“Not in the manner he proposed, my Lord. If you will allow me to explain – ”

“Come over to my hotel. I am at Bilton’s,” said Lord Glengariff. “Call on me there in an hour.” And so saying, he got into his carriage and drove off.

In the large drawing-room of the hotel sat a lady working, and occasionally reading a book which lay open before her. She was tall and thin, finely featured, and though now entered upon that period of life when every line and every tint confess the ravage of time, was still handsome. This was Lady Augusta Arden, Lord Glengariff’s only unmarried daughter, the very type of her father in temperament as well as appearance.

“By George! it is confiscation. It is the inauguration of that Communism the French speak of,” cried Lord Glengariff, as he entered the room. “There ‘s poor Barton of Curryglass, one of the oldest names in his county, sold out, and for nothing, – absolutely nothing. No man shall persuade me that this is just or equitable; no man shall tell me that the Legislature shall step in and decide at any moment how I am to deal with my creditors.”

“I never heard of that Burton.”

“I said Barton, – not Burton; a man whose estate used to be called five thousand a year,” said he, angrily. “There he is now, turned out on the world. I verily believe he has n’t a guinea left! And what is all this for? To raise up in the country a set of spurious gentry, – fellows that were never heard of, whose names are only known over shop-boards, – as if the people should be better treated or more kindly dealt with by them than by us, their natural protectors! By George! if Ireland should swarm with Davenport Dunns, I ‘d call it a sorry exchange for the good blood she had lost in exterminating her old gentry.”

“Has he come back?” asked Lady Augusta, as she bent her head more deeply over her work, and her cheeks grew a shade more red.

“No; he’s dining with royalties, and driving about in princely carriages on the Continent Seeing what the pleasures of his intimacy have cost us here at home, I’d say that these great personages ought to look sharp, or, by George! he’ll sell them out, as he has done us.” He laughed a bitter laugh at his jest, but his daughter did not join in the emotion.

“I scarcely think it fair,” said she, at length, “to connect Mr. Dunn with a legislation which he is only called upon to execute.”

“With all my heart. Acquit him as much as you will; but, for my part, I feel very little tenderness for the hand that accomplishes the last functions of the law against me. These fellows have displayed a zeal and an alacrity in their work that shows how they relish the sport. After all,” said he, after a pause, “this Dunn is neither better nor worse than the rest of them, and in one respect he has the advantage over them, – he has not forgotten himself quite so much as the others. To be sure, we knew him in his very humblest fortunes, Augusta; he was meek enough then.”

She stooped to pick up her work, which had fallen, and her neck and face were crimson as she resumed it.

“Wonderful little anticipation had he then of the man he was to become one of these days. Do you know, Augusta, that they say he is actually worth two millions? – two millions!”

She never spoke; and after an interval Lord Glengariff burst out into a strange laugh.

“You ‘d scarcely guess what I was laughing at, Augusta. I was just remembering the wretched hole he used to sleep in. It was a downright shame to put him there over the stable, but the cottage was under repair at the time, and there was no help for it. ‘I can accommodate myself anywhere, my Lord,’ he said. Egad, he has contrived to fulfil the prediction in a very different sense. Just fancy – two millions sterling!”

It was precisely what Lady Augusta was doing at the moment, though, perhaps, not quite in the spirit his Lordship suspected.

“Suppose even one half of it be true, with a million of money at command, what can’t a man have nowadays?”

And so they both fell a-thinking of all that same great amount of riches could buy, – what of power, respect, rank, flattery, political influence, fine acquaintance, fine diamonds, and fine dinners.

“If he play his cards well, he might be a peer,” thought my Lord.

“If he be as ambitious as he ought to be, he might aspire to a peer’s daughter,” was the lady’s reflection.

“He has failed in my negotiation, however,” said Lord Glengariff, peevishly; “at least, Hankes just told me that it can’t be done. I detest that fellow Hankes. It shows great want of tact in Dunn having such a man in his employment, – a vulgar, self-sufficient, over-dressed fellow, who can’t help being familiar out of his own self-satisfaction. Now, Dunn himself knows his place. Don’t you think so?”

She muttered something not very intelligible, but which sounded like concurrence.

“Yes,” he resumed, “Dunn does not forget himself, – at least, with me.” And to judge from the carriage of his head as he spoke, and the air with which he earned the pinch of snuff to his nose, he had not yet despaired of seeing the world come back to the traditions which once had made it worth living in.

“I am willing to give him every credit for his propriety of conduct, Augusta,” added he, in a still more lofty tone; “for we live in times when really wealth and worldly prosperity have more than their rightful supremacy, and such men as Dunn are made the marks of an adulation that is actually an outrage, – an outrage upon us!”

And the last little monosyllable was uttered with an emphasis of intense significance.

Just as his Lordship had rounded his peroration, the servant presented him with a small three-cornered note. He opened it and read, —

“My Lord, – I think the bearer of this, T. Driscoll, might possibly do what you wish for; and I send him, since I am sure that a personal interview with your Lordship would be more efficacious than any negotiation.

“By your Lordship’s most obedient to command,

“Simpson Hankes.”

“Is the person who brought this below?” asked Lord Glengariff.

“Yes, my Lord; he is waiting for the answer.”

“Show him into my dressing-room.”

Mr. Terence Driscoll was accordingly introduced into that sanctum; and while he employs his few spare moments in curious and critical examination of the various gold and silver objects which contribute to his Lordship’s toilet, and wonderingly snuffs at essences and odors of whose existence he had never dreamed, let us take the opportunity of a little examination of himself. He was a short, fat old man, with a very round red face, whose jovial expression was rather heightened than marred by a tremendous squint; for the eyes kept in incessant play and movement, which intimated a restless drollery that his full, capacious mouth well responded to. In dress and general appearance he belonged to the class of the comfortable farmer, and his massive silver watch-chain and huge seal displayed a consciousness of his well-to-do condition in life.

“Are you Mr. Driscoll?” said Lord Glengariff, as he looked at the letter to prompt him to the name. “Pray take a seat!”

“Yes, my Lord, I ‘m that poor creature Terry Driscoll; the neighbors call me Tearin’ Terry, but that ‘s all past and gone, Heaven be praised! It was a fever I had, my Lord, and my rayson wandered, and I did many a thing that desthroyed me entirely; I tore up the lease of my house, I tore up Peter Driscoll’s, my uncle’s, will; ay, and worse than all, I tore up all my front teeth!”

And, in evidence of this feat of dentistry, Mr. Driscoll gave a grin that exposed his bare gums to view.

“Good heavens, how shocking!” exclaimed Lord Glen-gariff, though, not impossibly, the expression was extorted by the sight rather than the history of the calamity.

“Shocking indeed, my Lord, – that’s the name for it!” said Terry, sighing; “but ye see I was n’t compos when I did it. I thought they were a set of blackguards that I could n’t root out of the land, – squatters that would n’t pay sixpence, nor do a day’s work. That was the delusion that was upon me!”

“I hold here a letter from Mr. Hankes,” said his Lordship, pompously, and in a tone that was meant to recall Mr. Driscoll from the personal narrative he had entered upon with such evident self-satisfaction. “He mentions you as one likely – that is to say – one in a position – a person, in fact – ”

“Yes, my Lord, yes,” interrupted Terry, with a grin of unbounded acquiescence.

“And adds,” continued his Lordship, “your desire to communicate personally with myself.” The words were very few and not very remarkable, and yet Lord Glengariff contrived to throw into them an amount of significance really great. They seemed to say, “Bethink thee well, Terry Driscoll, of the good fortune that this day has befallen thee. Thy boldness has been crowned with success, and there thou sittest now, being the poor worm that thou art, in converse with one who wears a coronet.”

And so, indeed, in all abject humility, did Mr. Driscoll appear to feel the situation. He drew his feet closer together, and stole his hands up the wide sleeves of his coat, as though endeavoring to diminish, as far as might be, his corporeal presence.

His Lordship saw that enough had been done for subjection, and blandly added, “And I could have no objection to the interview; none whatever.”

“It’s too good you are, my Lord; too good and too gracious to the like of me,” said Terry, barely raising his eyes to throw a glance of mingled shame and drollery on his Lordship; “but I come by rayson of what Mr. Hankes tould me, that it was a trifle of a loan, – a small matter of money your Lordship was wantin’ just at this moment.”

“I prefer doing these kind of things through my solicitors. I know nothing of business, sir, absolutely nothing,” said his Lordship, haughtily. “The present case, however, might form an exception. The sum I require is, as you justly remark, a mere trifle, and the occasion is not worthy of legal interference.”

“Yes, my Lord,” chimed in Driscoll, who had a most provoking habit of employing the affirmative in all situations.

“I suppose he mentioned to you the amount?” asked his Lordship, quickly.

“No, indeed, my Lord; all he said was, ‘Terry,’ says he, ‘go over to Bilton’s Hotel with this note, and ask for Lord Glengariff. He wants a little ready cash,’ says he, ‘and I tould him you ‘re a likely man to get it for him. It’s too small a matter for us here,’ says he, ‘to be bothered about.’”

“He had n’t the insolence to make use of these words towards me!” said Lord Glengariff, growing almost purple with passion.

“Faix, I ‘m afeard he had, my Lord,” said Terry, looking down; “but I ‘m sure he never meant any harm in it; ‘t was only as much as to say, ‘There, Terry, there ‘s something for you; you ‘re a poor strugglin’ man, and are well plazed to turn a penny in a small way. If you can accommodate my Lord there,’ says he, ‘he ‘ll not forget it to you.’”

The conclusion of this speech was far more satisfactory to his Lordship than its commencement seemed to promise; and Lord Glengariff smiled half graciously as he said, “I ‘m not in the habit of neglecting those who serve me.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Driscoll, again.

“I may safely say that any influence I possess has always been exercised in favor of those who have been, so to say, supporters of my family.”

Had his Lordship uttered a sentiment of the most exalted and self-denying import, he could not have assumed a prouder air than when he had finished these words. “And now, Mr. Driscoll, to business. I want five thousand pounds – ”

A long, low whistle from Terry, as he threw up both his hands in the air, abruptly stopped his Lordship.

“What do you mean? Does the sum appear so tremendous, sir?”

“Five thousand! Where would I get it? Five thousand pounds? By the mortial man! your Lordship might as well ax me for five millions. I thought it was a hundred; or, maybe, a hundred and fifty; or, at the outside, two hundred pounds, just to take you over to London for what they call the sayson, or to cut a figure at Paris; but, five thousand! By my conscience, that’s the price of an estate nowadays!”

“It is upon estated property I intend to raise this loan, sir,” said his Lordship, angrily.

“Not Cushnacreena, my Lord?” asked Terry, eagerly.

“No, sir; that is secured by settlement.”

“Nor Ballyrennin?”

“No; the townland of Ballyrennin is, in a manner, tied up.”

“Tory’s Mill, maybe?” inquired Terry, with more eagerness.

“Well, sir,” said his Lordship, drawing himself up, “I must really make you my compliments upon the very accurate knowledge you appear to possess about my estate. Since what period, may I venture to ask, have you conceived this warm interest in my behalf?”

“The way of it was this, my Lord,” said Driscoll, drawing his chair closer, and dropping his voice to a low, confidential tone. “After I had the fever, – the fever and ague I told you about, – I got up out of bed the poor crayture you see me, not able to think of anything, or do a hand’s turn for myself, but just a burden on my friends or anybody that would keep me. Well, I tried all manner of ways to make myself useful, and I used to go errands here and there over the country for any one that wanted to know what land was to be sold, where there was a lot of good sheep, who had a drove of bullocks or a fancy bull; and, just getting into the habit of it, I larned a trifle of what was doing in the three counties, so that the people call me ‘Terry’s Almanack,’ – that’s the name they gave me, better than Tearin’ Terry, anyhow! At all events, I got a taste for finding out the secrets of all the great families; and, to be sure, if I only had the memory, I’d know a great deal, but my head is like a cullender, and everything runs out as fast as you put it in. That’s how it is, my Lord, and no lie in it.” And Terry wiped his forehead and heaved a heavy sigh, like a man who had just accomplished a very arduous task.

“So, then, I begin to understand how Hankes sent you over here to me,” said his Lordship.

“Yes, my Lord,” muttered Terry, with a bow.

“I had been under the impression – the erroneous impression – that you were yourself prepared to advance this small sum.”

“Me! Terry Driscoll lend five thousand pounds! Arrah, look at me, my Lord, – just take a glance at me, and you ‘ll see how likely it is I ‘d have as many shillings! ‘T was only by rayson of being always about – on the tramp, as they call it – that Mr. Hankes thought I could be of use to your Lordship. ‘Go over,’ says he, ‘and just tell him who and what you are.’ There it is now!”

Lord Glengariff made no reply, but slowly walked the room in deep meditation; a passing feeling of pity for the poor fellow before him had overcome any irritation his own disappointment had occasioned, and for the moment the bent of his mind was compassionate.

“Well, Driscoll,” said he, at length, “I don’t exactly see how you can serve me in this matter.”

“Yes, my Lord,” said Terry, with a pleasant leer of his restless eyes.

“I say I don’t perceive that you can contribute in any way to the object I have in view,” said his Lordship, half peevish at being, as he thought, misapprehended. “Hankes ought to have known as much himself.”

“Yes, my Lord,” chimed in Terry.

“And you may tell him so from me. He is totally unfitted for his situation, and I am only surprised that Dunn, shrewd fellow that he is, should have ever placed a man of this stamp in a position of such trust. The first requisite in such a man is to understand the deference he owes to us.”

There was an emphasis on the last monosyllable that pretty clearly announced how little share Terry Driscoll enjoyed in this co-partnery.

“That because I have a momentary occasion for a small sum of ready money, he should send over to confer with me a half-witted – I mean a man only half recovered from a fever – a poor fellow still suffering from – ”