<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
<h4>SHOWING HOW TWO GENTLEMEN MAY MISUNDERSTAND ONE ANOTHER, WITHOUT
ENABLING THE COMPANY TO UNDERSTAND THEIR QUARREL.</h4>
<div class="figleft"><ANTIMG src="images/img009.jpg" alt="ORNAMENTAL CAPITAL 'L'" title="ORNAMENTAL CAPITAL 'L'" /></div>
<p>oftus had by this time climbed to the savage lair of his garret,
overstrewn with tattered papers and books; and Father Roach, in the
sanctuary of his little parlour, was growling over the bones of a
devilled-turkey, and about to soothe his fretted soul in a generous
libation of hot whiskey punch. Indeed, he was of an appeasable nature,
and on the whole a very good fellow.</p>
<p>Dr. Toole, whom the young fellows found along with Nutter over the
draught-board in the club-room, forsook his game to devour the story of
Loftus's Lenten Hymn, and poor Father Roach's penance, rubbed his hands,
and slapped his thigh, and crowed and shouted with ecstasy. O'Flaherty,
who called for punch, and was unfortunately prone to grow melancholy and
pugnacious over his liquor, was now in a saturnine vein of sentiment,
discoursing of the charms of his peerless mistress, the Lady Magnolia
Macnamara—for he was not one of those maudlin shepherds, who pipe their
loves in lonely glens and other sequestered places, but rather loved to
exhibit his bare scars, and roar his tender torments for the edification
of the market-place.</p>
<p>While he was descanting on the attributes of that bewitching 'crature,'
Puddock, not two yards off, was describing, with scarcely less unction,
the perfections of 'pig roast with the hair on:' and the two made a
medley like 'The Roast Beef of Old England,' and 'The Last Rose of
Summer,' arranged in alternate stanzas. O'Flaherty suddenly stopped
short, and said a little sternly to Lieutenant Puddock—</p>
<p>'Does it very much signify, Sir (or as O'Flaherty pronounced it "Sorr,")
whether the animal has hair upon it or not?'</p>
<p><i>'Every</i> thing, Thir, in thith particular retheipt,' answered Puddock, a
little loftily.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>'But,' said Nutter, who, though no great talker, would make an effort to
prevent a quarrel, and at the same time winking to Puddock in token that
O'Flaherty was just a little 'hearty,' and so to let him alone; 'what
signifies pigs' hair, compared with human tresses?'</p>
<p>'Compared with <i>human</i> tresses?' interrupted O'Flaherty, with stern
deliberation, and fixing his eyes steadily and rather unpleasantly upon
Nutter (I think he saw that wink and perhaps did not understand its
import.)</p>
<p>'Ay, Sir, and Mrs. Magnolia Macnamara has as rich a head of hair as you
could wish to see,' says Nutter, thinking he was drawing him off very
cleverly.</p>
<p>'As <i>I</i> could wish to see?' repeated O'Flaherty grimly.</p>
<p>'As <i>you</i> could desire to see, Sir,' reiterated Nutter, firmly, for he
was not easily put down; and they looked for several seconds in silence
a little menacingly, though puzzled, at one another.</p>
<p>But O'Flaherty, after a short pause, seemed to forget Nutter, and
returned to his celestial theme.</p>
<p>'Be the powers, Sir, that young leedy has the most beautiful dimple in
her chin I ever set eyes on!'</p>
<p>'Have you ever put a marrow fat pea in it, Sir?' enquired Devereux,
simply, with all the beautiful rashness of youth.</p>
<p>'No, Sorr,' replied O'Flaherty, in a deep tone, and with a very
dangerous glare; 'and I'd like to see the man who, in my presence, id
preshum to teeke that libertee.'</p>
<p>'What a glorious name Magnolia is!' interposed little Toole in great
haste; for it was a practice among these worthies to avert
quarrels—very serious affairs in these jolly days—by making timely
little diversions, and it is wonderful, at a critical moment, what may
be done by suddenly presenting a trifle; a pin's point, sometimes—at
least, a marvellously small one—will draw off innocuously, the
accumulating electricity of a pair of bloated scowling thunder-clouds.</p>
<p>'It was her noble godmother, when the family resided at Castlemara, in
the county of Roscommon, the Lady Carrick-o'-Gunniol, who conferred it,'
said O'Flaherty, grandly, 'upon her god-daughter, as who had a better
right—I say, <i>who</i> had a better right?' and he smote his hand upon the
table, and looked round inviting contradiction. 'My godmothers, in my
baptism—that's catechism—and all the town of Chapelizod won't put that
down—the Holy Church Catechism—while Hyacinth O'Flaherty, of
Coolnaquirk, Lieutenant Fireworker, wears a sword.'</p>
<p>'Nobly said, lieutenant!' exclaimed Toole, with a sly wink over his
shoulder.</p>
<p>'And what about that leedy's neeme, Sir?' demanded the enamoured
fireworker.</p>
<p>'By Jove, Sir, it is quite true, Lady Carrick-o'-Gunniol <i>was</i><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</SPAN></span> her
godmother:' and Toole ran off into the story of how that relationship
was brought about; narrating it, however, with great caution and
mildness, extracting all the satire, and giving it quite a dignified and
creditable character, for the Lieutenant Fireworker smelt so
confoundedly of powder that the little doctor, though he never flinched
when occasion demanded, did not care to give him an open. Those who had
heard the same story from the mischievous merry little doctor before,
were I dare say, amused at the grand and complimentary turn he gave it
now.</p>
<p>The fact was, that poor Magnolia's name came to her in no very gracious
way. Young Lady Carrick-o'-Gunniol was a bit of a wag, and was planting
a magnolia—one of the first of those botanical rarities seen in
Ireland—when good-natured, vapouring, vulgar Mrs. Macnamara's note, who
wished to secure a peeress for her daughter's spiritual guardian,
arrived. Her ladyship pencilled on the back of the note, 'Pray call the
dear babe Magnolia,' and forthwith forgot all about it. But Madam
Macnamara was charmed, and the autograph remained afterwards for two
generations among the archives of the family; and, with great smiles and
much complacency, she told Lord Carrick-o'-Gunniol all about it, just
outside the grand jury-room, where she met him during the assize week;
and, being a man of a weak and considerate nature, rather kind, and very
courteous—although his smile was very near exploding into a laugh, as
he gave the good lady snuff out of his own box—he was yet very much
concerned and vexed, and asked his lady, when he went home, how she
could have induced old Mrs. Macnamara to give that absurd name to her
poor infant; whereat her ladyship, who had not thought of it since, was
highly diverted; and being assured that the babe was actually
christened, and past recovery Magnolia Macnamara, laughed very merrily,
kissed her lord, who was shaking his head gravely, and then popped her
hood on, kissed him again, and, laughing still, ran out to look at her
magnolia, which, by way of reprisal, he henceforth, notwithstanding her
entreaties, always called her 'Macnamara;' until, to her infinite
delight, he came out with it, as it sometimes happens, at a wrong time,
and asked old Mac—a large, mild man—then extant, Madame herself,
nurse, infant Magnolia, and all, who had arrived at the castle, to walk
out and see Lady Carrick-o'-Gunniol's 'Macnamara,' and perceived not the
slip, such is the force of habit, though the family stared, and Lady C.
laughed in an uncalled-for-way, at a sudden recollection of a tumble she
once had, when a child, over a flower-bed; and broke out repeatedly, to
my lord's chagrin and bewilderment, as they walked towards the exotic.</p>
<p>When Toole ended his little family anecdote, which, you may be sure, he
took care to render as palatable to Magnolia's knight as possible, by
not very scrupulous excisions and interpolations<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</SPAN></span> he wound all up,
without allowing an instant for criticism or question, by saying
briskly, though incoherently.</p>
<p>'And so, what do you say, lieutenant, to a Welsh rabbit for supper?'</p>
<p>The lieutenant nodded a stolid assent.</p>
<p>'Will <i>you</i> have one, Nutter?' cried Toole.</p>
<p>'No,' said Nutter.</p>
<p>'And why not?' says Toole.</p>
<p>'Why, I believe Tom Rooke's song in praise of oysters,' answered Nutter,
'especially the verse—</p>
<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;">'"The youth will ne'er live to scratch a gray head,</span><br/>
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On a supper who goes of Welsh rabbit to bed."'</span><br/></p>
<p>How came it to pass that Nutter hardly opened his lips this evening—on
which, as the men who knew him longest all remarked, he was
unprecedentedly talkative—without instantaneously becoming the mark at
which O'Flaherty directed his fiercest and most suspicious scowls? And
now that I know the allusion which the pugnacious lieutenant
apprehended, I cannot but admire the fatality with which, without the
smallest design, a very serious misunderstanding was brought about.</p>
<p>'As to <i>youths</i> living to scratch gray heads or not, Sir,' said the
young officer, in most menacing tones; 'I don't see what concern persons
of your age can have in that. But I'll take leave to tell you, Sir, that
a gentleman, whether he be a "youth" as you <i>say</i>, or aged, as you
<i>are</i>, who endayvours to make himself diverting at the expense of
others, runs a murdhering good risk, Sir, of getting himself scratched
where he'll like it least.'</p>
<p>Little Nutter, though grave and generally taciturn, had a spirit of his
own, and no notion whatever of knocking under to a bully. It is true, he
had not the faintest notion why he was singled out for the young
gentleman's impertinence; but neither did he mean to enquire. His
mahogany features darkened for a moment to logwood, and his eyes showed
their whites fiercely.</p>
<p>'We are not accustomed, Sir, in this part of the world, to your Connaught
notions of politeness; we meet here for social—a—a—sociality, Sir;
and the long and the short of it is, young gentleman, if you don't change
your key, you'll find two can play at that game—and—and, I tell you,
Sir, there will be wigs on the green, Sir.'</p>
<p>Here several voices interposed.</p>
<p>'Silence, gentlemen, and let me speak, or I'll assault him,' bellowed
O'Flaherty, who, to do him justice, at this moment looked capable of
anything. 'I believe, Sir,' he continued, ad<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</SPAN></span>dressing Nutter, who
confronted him like a little game-cock, 'it is not usual for one
gentleman who renders himself offensive to another to oblige him to
proceed to the length of manually malthrating his person.'</p>
<p>'Hey! eh?' said Nutter, drawing his mouth tight on one side with an ugly
expression, and clenching his hands in his breeches pockets.</p>
<p>'Manually malthrating his person, Sir,' repeated O'Flaherty, 'by
striking, kicking, or whipping any part or mimber of his body; or
offering a milder assault, such as a pull by the chin, or a finger-tap
upon the nose. It is usual, Sir, for the purpose of avoiding
ungentlemanlike noise, inconvenience, and confusion, that one gentleman
should request of another to suppose himself affronted in the manner,
whatever it may be, most intolerable to his feelings, which request I
now, Sir, teeke the libertee of preferring to you; and when you have
engaged the services of a friend, I trust that Lieutenant Puddock, who
lodges in the same house with me, will, in consideration of my being an
officer of the same honourable corps, a sthranger in this part of the
counthry, and, above all, a gentleman who can show paydagree like
himself [here a low bow to Puddock, who returned it]; that Lieutenant
Puddock will be so feelin' and so kind as to receive him on my behalf,
and acting as <i>my</i> friend to manage all the particulars for settling, as
easily as may be, this most unprovoked affair.'</p>
<p>With which words he made another bow, and a pause of enquiry directed to
Puddock, who lisped with dignity—</p>
<p>'Sir, the duty is, for many reasons, painful; but I—I can't refuse,
Sir, and I accept the trust.'</p>
<p>So O'Flaherty shook his hand, with another bow; bowed silently and
loftily round the room, and disappeared, and a general buzz and a clack
of tongues arose.</p>
<p>'Mr. Nutter—a—I hope things may be settled pleasantly,' said Puddock,
looking as tall and weighty as he could; 'at present I—a—that is, at
the moment, I—a—don't quite see—[the fact is, he had not a notion
what the deuce it was all about]—but your friend will find me—your
friend—a—at my lodgings up to one o'clock to-night, if necessary.'</p>
<p>And so Puddock's bow. For the moment an affair of this sort presented
itself, all concerned therein became reserved and official, and the
representatives merely of a ceremonious etiquette and a
minutely-regulated ordeal of battle. So, as I said, Puddock bowed
grandly and sublimely to Nutter, and then magnificently to the company,
and made his exit.</p>
<p>There was a sort of a stun and a lull for several seconds. Something
very decisive and serious had occurred. One or two countenances wore
that stern and mysterious smile, which implies no hilarity, but a kind
of reaction in presence of the astounding and the slightly horrible.
There was a silence; the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</SPAN></span> gentlemen kept their attitudes too, for some
moments, and all eyes were directed toward the door. Then some turned to
Charles Nutter, and then the momentary spell dissolved itself.</p>
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