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9. 


s.». 


CASHEL  BYRON'S 
PROFESSION 


Cashel  Byron's  Profession, 
by  Bernard  Shaw,  being 
No.  4  of  the  Novels  of  his 
Nonage.  Also  The  Admir- 
able Bash ville,  and  an  Essay 
on  Modern  Prizefighting. 


Archibald  Constable  &  Co. 
Ltd.  London:  1905. 


PR 
53 

C3 


Original  edition  in  serial  form  1885 

Reprinted  1886 
First  revised  edition  1889 

Second  revised  edition  with  The  Admirable  Bashville  1901 
Reprinted  1905 


3$t*s,r. 

938078 


PREFACE 


NOVELS  OF  MY  NONAGE 

I  NEVER  think  of  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  without  a 
shudder  at  the  narrowness  of  my  escape  from  becoming 
a  successful  novelist  at  the  age  of  twenty-six.  At  that 
moment  an  adventurous  publisher  might  have  ruined  me. 
Fortunately  for  me,  there  were  no  adventurous  publishers 
at  that  time  ;  and  I  was  forced  to  fight  my  way,  instead 
of  being  ingloriously  bought  off  at  the  first  brush.  Not 
that  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  was  my  very  first  novel. 
It  was  my  fourth,  and  was  followed  by  yet  another.  I 
recall  these  five  remote  products  of  my  nonage  as  five 
heavy  brown  paper  parcels  which  were  always  coming  back 
to  me  from  some  publisher,  and  raising  the  very  serious 
financial  question  of  the  sixpence  to  be  paid  to  Messrs 
Carter,  Paterson,  and  Co.,  the  carriers,  for  passing  them 
on  to  the  next  publisher.  Eventually,  Carter,  Paterson, 
and  Co.  were  the  only  gainers  ;  for  the  publishers  had 
to  pay  their  readers'  fees  for  nothing  but  a  warning  not 
to  publish  me ;  and  I  had  to  pay  the  sixpences  for  sending 
my  parcels  on  a  bootless  errand.  At  last  I  grew  out  of 
novel- writing,  and  set  to  work  to  find  out  what  the  world 
was  really  like.  The  result  of  my  investigations,  so  far, 
entirely  confirms  the  observation  of  Goethe  as  to  the 


vi  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

amazement,  the  incredulity,  the  moral  shock  with  which 
the  poet  discovers  that  what  he  supposed  to  be  the  real 
world  does  not  exist,  and  that  men  and  women  are  made 
by  their  own  fancies  in  the  image  of  the  imaginary 
creatures  in  his  youthful  fictions,  only  much  stupider. 

Unfortunately  for  the  immature  poet,  he  has  not  in 
his  nonage  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  his  guesses 
at  life  are  true.  Bring  a  peasant  into  a  drawing-room, 
and  though  his  good  sense  may  lead  him  to  behave  very 
properly,  yet  he  will  suffer  torments  of  misgiving  that 
everything  he  does  must  be  a  solecism.  In  my  earlier 
excursions  into  literature  I  confess  I  felt  like  the  peasant 
in  the  drawing-room.  I  was,  on  the  whole,  glad  to  get 
out  of  it.  Looking  back  now  with  the  eyes  of  experience, 
I  find  that  I  certainly  did  make  blunders  in  matters  out- 
side the  scope  of  poetic  divination.  To  take  a  very  mild 
example,  I  endowed  the  opulent  heroine  of  this  very  book 
with  a  park  of  thirty  acres  in  extent,  being  then  fully 
persuaded  that  this  was  a  reasonable  estimate  of  the  size 
of  the  Isle  of  Wight  or  thereabouts.  But  it  is  not  by  the 
solecisms  of  ignorance  that  the  young  man  makes  himself 
most  ridiculous.  Far  more  unnatural  than  these  were 
my  proprieties  and  accuracies  and  intelligences.  I  did 
not  know  my  England  then.  I  was  young,  raw  from 
eighteenth  century  Ireland,  modest,  and  anxious  lest  my 
poverty  and  provinciality  should  prevent  me  from 
correctly  representing  the  intelligence,  refinement,  con- 
science, and  good  breeding  which  I  supposed  to  be  as 
natural  and  common  in  English  society  as  in  Scott's 
novels.  I  actually  thought  that  educated  people  con- 
scientiously learnt  their  manners  and  studied  their  opinions 
— were  really  educated,  in  short — instead  of  merely  picking 
up  the  habits  and  prejudices  of  their  set,  and  confidently 
presenting  the  resultant  absurd  equipment  of  class  solecisms 
to  the  world  as  a  perfect  gentility.  Consequently  the 


Preface  vii 

only  characters  which  were  natural  in  my  novels  were  the 
comic  characters,  because  the  island  was  (and  is)  populated 
exclusively  by  comic  characters.  Take  them  seriously  in 
fiction,  and  the  result  is  the  Dickens  heroine  or  the  Sarah 
Grand  hero  :  pathetically  unattractive  figments  both  of 
them.  Thus  my  imaginary  persons  of  quality  became 
quite  unlike  any  actual  persons  at  large  in  England,  being 
superior  to  them  in  a  priggish  manner  which  would 
nowadays  rouse  the  humor  of  our  younger  publishers' 
readers  very  inopportunely.  In  1882,  however,  the 
literary  fashion  which  distinguished  the  virtuous  and 
serious  characters  in  a  novel  by  a  decorous  stylishness 
and  scrupulousness  of  composition,  as  if  all  their  speeches 
had  been  corrected  by  their  governesses  and  schoolmasters, 
had  not  yet  been  exploded  by  "  the  New  Journalism  "  of 
1888  and  the  advent  of  a  host  of  authors  who  had 
apparently  never  read  anything,  catering  for  a  proletariat 
newly  made  literate  by  the  Education  Act.  The  dis- 
tinction between  the  naturalness  of  Caleb  Balderstone 
and  the  artificiality  of  Edgar  and  Lucy  was  still  regarded 
as  one  of  the  social  decencies  by  the  seniors  of  literature  ; 
and  this  probably  explains  the  fact  that  the  only  in- 
timations I  received  that  my  work  had  made  some 
impression,  and  had  even  been  hesitatingly  condemned, 
were  from  the  older  and  more  august  houses  whose 
readers  were  all  grave  elderly  lovers  of  literature.  And 
the  more  I  progressed  towards  my  own  individual  style 
and  ventured  upon  the  freeer  expression  of  my  own  ideas, 
the  more  I  disappointed  them.  As  to  the  regular  novel- 
publishing  houses,  whose  readers  were  merely  on  the 
scent  of  popularity,  they  gave  me  no  quarter  at  all.  And 
so  between  the  old  stool  of  my  literary  conscientiousness 
and  the  new  stool  of  a  view  of  life  that  did  not  reach 
publishing-point  in  England  until  about  ten  years  later, 
when  Ibsen  drove  it  in,  my  novels  fell  to  the  ground. 


viii  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

I  was  to  find  later  on  that  a  book  is  like  a  child :  it  is 
easier  to  bring  it  into  the  world  than  to  control  it  when 
it  is  launched  there.  As  long  as  I  kept  sending  my 
novels  to  the  publishers,  they  were  as  safe  from  publicity 
as  they  would  have  been  in  the  fire,  where  I  had  better, 
perhaps,  have  put  them.  But  when  I  flung  them  aside  as 
failures  they  almost  instantly  began  to  shew  signs  of  life. 
The  Socialist  revival  of  the  eighties,  into  which  I 
had  plunged,  produced  the  usual  crop  of  propagandist 
magazines,  in  the  conduct  of  which  payment  of  the  printer 
was  the  main  problem,  payment  of  contributors  being 
quite  out  of  the  question.  The  editor  of  such  a  magazine 
can  never  count  on  a  full  supply  of  live  matter  to  make  up 
his  tale  of  pages.  But  if  he  can  collect  a  stock  of  unread- 
able novels,  the  refuse  of  the  publishing  trade,  and  a  stock 
of  minor  poems  (the  world  is  full  of  such  trash),  an 
instalment  of  serial  novel  and  a  few  verses  will  always 
make  up  the  magazine  to  any  required  size.  And  this 
was  how  I  found  a  use  at  last  for  my  brown  paper  parcels. 
It  seemed  a  matter  of  no  more  consequence  than  stuffing 
so  many  broken  window-panes  with  them  ;  but  it  had 
momentous  consequences  ;  for  in  this  way  four  of  the 
five  got  printed  and  published  in  London,  and  thus 
incidentally  became  the  common  property  of  the  citizens 
of  the  United  States  of  America.  These  pioneers  did 
not  at  first  appreciate  their  new  acquisition  ;  and  nothing 
particular  happened  except  that  the  first  novel  (No.  5  ; 
for  I  ladled  them  out  to  the  Socialist  magazine  editors  in 
inverse  order  of  composition)  made  me  acquainted  with 
William  Morris,  who,  to  my  surprise,  had  been  reading 
the  monthly  instalments  with  a  certain  relish.  But  that 
only  proved  how  much  easier  it  is  to  please  a  great  man 
than  a  little  one,  especially  when  you  share  his  politics. 
No.  5,  called  an  An  Unsocial  Socialist,  was  followed  by 
No.  4,  Cashel  Byron's  Profession ;  and  Cashel  Byron 


Preface  ix 

would  not  lie  quiet  in  his  serial  grave,  but  presently  rose 
and  walked  as  a  book. 

It  happened  in  this  way.  The  name  of  the  magazine 
was  To-Day,  not  the  present  paper  of  that  name,  but 
one  of  the  many  To-Days  which  are  now  Yesterdays. 
It  had  several  editors,  among  them  Mr  Belfort  Bax  and 
the  late  James  Leigh  Joynes  ;  but  all  the  editors  were 
in  partnership  with  Mr  Henry  Hyde  Champion,  who 
printed  the  magazine,  and  consequently  went  on  for  ever, 
whilst  the  others  came  and  went.  It  was  a  fantastic 
business,  Joynes  having  thrown  up  an  Eton  mastership, 
and  Champion  a  commission  in  the  army,  at  the  call  of 
Socialism.  But  Champion's  pugnacity  survived  his 
abdicated  adjutancy  :  he  had  an  unregenerate  taste  for 
pugilism,  and  liked  Cashel  Byron  so  much  that  he 
stereotyped  the  pages  of  To-Day  which  it  occupied,  and 
in  spite  of  my  friendly  remonstrances,  hurled  on  the 
market  a  misshapen  shilling  edition.  My  friend  Mr 
William  Archer  reviewed  it  prominently  ;  the  Saturday 
Review,  always  susceptible  in  those  days  to  the  arts  of 
self-defence,  unexpectedly  declared  it  the  novel  of  the  age  ; 
Mr  W.  E.  Henley  wanted  to  have  it  dramatized ; 
Stevenson  wrote  a  letter  about  it,  of  which  more  presently  ; 
the  other  papers  hastily  searched  their  waste-paper  baskets 
for  it  and  reviewed  it,  mostly  rather  disappointedly  ;  and 
the  public  preserved  its  composure  and  did  not  seem  to 
care. 

That  shilling  edition  began  with  a  thousand  copies  ; 
but  it  proved  immortal.  I  never  got  anything  out  of  it ; 
and  Mr.  Champion  never  got  anything  out  of  it ;  for  he 
presently  settled  in  Australia,  and  his  printing  presses  and 
stereo  plates  were  dispersed.  But  from  that  time  forth  the 
book  was  never  really  out  of  print ;  and  though  Messrs 
Walter  Scott  soon  placed  a  revised  shilling  edition  on  the 
market,  I  suspect  that  still,  in  some  obscure  printing 


x  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

office,  those  old  plates  of  Mr  Champion's  from  time  to 
time  produce  a  "remainder"  of  the  original  "Modern 
Press  "  edition,  which  is  to  the  present  what  the  Quarto 
Hamlet  is  to  the  Folio. 

On  the  passing  of  To-Day,  I  became  novelist  in 
ordinary  to  a  magazine  called  Our  Corner,  edited  by  Mrs 
Annie  Besant.  It  had  the  singular  habit  of  paying  for  its 
contributions,  and  was,  I  am  afraid,  to  some  extent  a 
device  of  Mrs.  Besant's  for  relieving  necessitous  young 
propagandists  without  wounding  their  pride  by  open 
almsgiving.  She  was  an  incorrigible  benefactress,  and 
probably  revenged  herself  for  my  freely  expressed  scorn  for 
this  weakness  by  drawing  on  her  private  account  to  pay 
me  for  my  jejune  novels.  At  last  Our  Corner  went  the 
way  of  all  propagandist  magazines,  completing  a  second 
nonage  novel  and  its  own  career  at  the  same  moment. 
This  left  me  with  only  one  unprinted  masterpiece,  my 
Opus  I,  which  had  cost  me  an  unconscionable  quantity  of 
paper,  and  was  called,  with  merciless  fitness,  "  Immaturity." 
Part  of  it  had  by  this  time  been  devoured  by  mice,  though 
even  they  had  not  been  able  to  finish  it.  To  this  day  it 
has  never  escaped  from  its  old  brown  paper  travelling  suit ; 
and  I  only  mention  it  because  some  of  its  characters 
appear,  Trollope  fashion,  in  the  later  novels.  I  do  not 
think  any  of  them  got  so  far  as  Cashel  Byron's 
Profession  ;  but  the  Mrs.  Hoskyn  and  her  guests  who 
appear  in  that  absurd  Chapter  VI.  are  all  borrowed  from 
previous  works. 

The  unimportance  of  these  particulars  must  be  my 
apology  for  detailing  them  to  a  world  that  finds  something 
romantic  in  what  are  called  literary  struggles.  However, 
I  must  most  indignantly  deny  that  I  ever  struggled.  I 
wrote  the  books  :  it  was  the  publishers  who  struggled 
with  them,  and  struggled  in  vain.  The  public  now  takes 
up  the  struggle,  impelled,  not  by  any  fresh  operations  of 


Preface  xi 

mine,  but  by  Literary  Destiny.     For  there  is  a  third  act 
to  my  tragedy. 

Not  long  ago,  when  the  memory  of  the  brown  paper 
parcels  of  1879-1883  had  been  buried  under  twenty  years 
of  work,  I  learnt  from  the  American  papers  that  the  list 
of  book  sales  in  one  of  the  United  States  was  headed  by 
a  certain  novel  called  An  Unsocial  Socialist,  by  Bernard 
Shaw.  This  was  unmistakeably  Opus  5  of  the  Novels 
of  My  Nonage.  Columbia  was  beginning  to  look  after 
her  hitherto  neglected  acquisition.  Apparently  the  result 
was  encouraging  ;  for  presently  the  same  publisher  pro- 
duced a  new  edition  of  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  (Opus  4), 
in  criticising  which  the  more  thoughtful  reviewers,  un- 
aware that  the  publisher  was  working  backwards  through 
the  list,  pointed  out  the  marked  advance  in  my  style,  the 
surer  grip,  the  clearer  form,  the  finer  art,  the  maturer 
view  of  the  world,  and  so  forth.  As  it  was  clearly  unfair 
that  my  own  American  publishers  should  be  debarred  by 
delicacy  towards  me  from  exploiting  the  new  field  of 
derelict  fiction,  I  begged  them  to  make  the  most  of  their 
national  inheritance  ;  and  with  my  full  approval,  Opus  3, 
called  Love  Among  the  Artists  (a  paraphrase  of  the  for- 
gotten line  Love  Among  the  Roses)  followed.  No  doubt 
it  will  pay  its  way  :  people  who  will  read  An  Unsocial 
Socialist  will  read  anything.  But  the  new  enthusiasm 
for  Cashel  Byron  did  not  stop  here.  American  ladies 
were  seized  with  a  desire  to  go  on  the  stage  and  be  Lydia 
Carew  for  two  thrilling  hours.  American  actors  "saw 
themselves"  as  Cashel.  One  gentleman  has  actually 
appeared  on  the  New  York  stage  in  the  part.  At  the 
end  of  this  volume  will  be  found  a  stage  version  of  my 
own  ;  and  I  defer  further  particulars  as  to  Cashel  Byron 
on  the  stage  until  we  come  to  that  version.  Suffice  it  to 
say  here  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  now  that  the  novels 
so  long  left  for  dead  in  the  forlorn-hope  magazines  of  the 


xii  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

eighties,  have  arisen  and  begun  to  propagate  themselves 
vigorously  throughout  the  new  world  at  the  rate  of  a 
dollar  and  a  half  per  copy,  free  of  all  royalty  to  the 
flattered  author. 

Blame  not  me,  then,  reader,  if  these  exercises  of  a  raw 
apprentice  break  loose  again  and  insist  on  their  right  to 
live.  The  world  never  did  know  chalk  from  cheese  in 
matters  of  art ;  and,  after  all,  since  it  is  only  the  young 
and  the  old  who  have  time  to  read,  the  rest  being  too 
busy  living,  my  exercises  may  be  fitter  for  the  market 
than  my  masterpieces. 

THE  MORALS  OF  PUGILISTIC  FICTION 

Cashel  Byron's  Profession  is  not  a  very  venturesome 
republication,  because,  as  I  have  said,  the  story  has  never 
been  really  out  of  print.  But  for  some  years  after  the 
expiration  of  my  agreement  with  Messrs  Walter  Scott 
I  did  my  best  to  suppress  it,  though  by  that  time  it  had 
become  the  subject  of  proposals  from  a  new  generation  of 
publishers.  The  truth  is,  the  preference  for  this  par- 
ticular novel  annoyed  me.  In  novel-writing  there  are 
two  trustworthy  dodges  for  capturing  the  public.  One  is 
to  slaughter  a  child  and  pathosticate  over  its  deathbed  for 
a  whole  chapter.  The  other  is  to  describe  either  a  fight- 
er a  murder.  There  is  a  fight  in  Cashel  Byron's  Pro- 
fession: that  profession  itself  is  fighting;  and  here  lay 
the  whole  schoolboy  secret  of  the  book's  little  vogue.  I 
had  the  old  grievance  of  the  author :  people  will  admire 
him  for  the  feats  that  any  fool  can  achieve,  and  bear 
malice  against  him  for  boring  them  with  better  work. 
Besides,  my  conscience  was  not  quite  easy  in  the  matter. 
In  spite  of  all  my  pains  to  present  the  prizefighter  and  his 
pursuits  without  any  romantic  glamor  (for  indeed  the 
true  artistic  material  of  the  story  is  the  comedy  of  the 


Preface  xiii 

contrast  between  the  realities  of  the  ring  and  the  common 
romantic  glorification  or  sentimental  abhorrence  of  it), 
yet  our  non-combatant  citizens  are  so  fond  of  setting 
other  people  to  fight  that  the  only  effect  of  such  descrip- 
tions as  I  have  incidentally  given  of  CashePs  professional 
performances  is  to  make  people  want  to  see  something  of 
the  sort  and  take  steps  accordingly.  This  tendency  of  the 
book  was  repugnant  to  me ;  and  if  prizefighting  were  a 
sleeping  dog,  I  should  certainly  let  it  lie,  in  spite  of  the 
American  editions. 

Unfortunately  the  dog  is  awake,  barking  and  biting 
vigorously.  Twenty  years  ago  prizefighting  was  sup- 
posed to  be  dead.  Few  living  men  remembered  the 
palmy  days  when  Tom  and  Jerry  went  to  Jackson's 
rooms  (where  Byron — not  Cashel,  but  the  poet — studied 
"  the  noble  art ")  to  complete  their  education  as  Corin- 
thians ;  when  Cribb  fought  Molyneux  and  was  to  Tom 
Spring  what  Skene  was  to  Cashel  Byron  ;  when  Kemble 
engaged  Dutch  Sam  to  carry  on  the  war  with  the  O.P. 
rioters  ;  when  Sharpies'  portraits  of  leading  bruisers  were 
engraved  on  steel ;  when  Bell's  Life  was  a  fashionable 
paper,  and  Pierce  Egan's  Boxiana  a  more  expensive  pub- 
lishing enterprise  than  any  modern  Badminton  volume. 
The  sport  was  supposed  to  have  died  of  its  own  black- 
guardism by  the  second  quarter  of  the  century  ;  but  the 
connoisseur  who  approaches  the  subject  without  moral 
bias  will,  I  think,  agree  with  me  that  it  must  have  lived  by 
its  blackguardism  and  died  of  its  intolerable  tediousness  ; 
for  all  prizefighters  are  not  Cashel  Byrons,  and  in  barren 
dreariness  and  futility  no  spectacle  on  earth  can  contend 
with  that  of  two  exhausted  men  trying  for  hours  to  tire 
one  another  out  at  fisticuffs  for  the  sake  of  their  backers. 
The  Sayers  revival  in  the  sixties  only  left  the  ring  more 
discredited  than  ever,  since  the  injuries  formerly  reserved 
for  the  combatants  began,  after  their  culmination  in  the 


xiv  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

poisoning  of  Heenan,  to  be  showered  on  the  referee ; 
and  as  the  referee  was  usually  the  representative  of  the 
Bell's  Life  type  of  paper,  which  naturally  organized  the 
prizefights  it  lived  by  reporting,  the  ring  went  under 
again,  this  time  undoubtedly  through  its  blackguardism 
and  violence  driving  away  its  only  capable  organizers. 

In  the  eighties  many  apparently  lost  causes  and 
dead  enthusiasms  unexpectedly  revived :  Imperialism, 
Patriotism,  Religion,  Socialism,  and  many  other  things, 
including  prizefighting  in  an  aggravated  form,  and  on 
a  scale  of  commercial  profit  and  publicity  which  soon 
made  its  palmy  days  insignificant  and  ridiculous  by 
contrast.  A  modern  American  pugilist  makes  more  by 
a  single  defeat  than  Cribb  made  by  all  his  victories.  It 
is  this  fact  that  has  decided  me  to  give  up  my  attempt  to 
suppress  Cashel  Byron's  Profession.  Silence  may  be  the 
right  policy  on  a  dropped  subject ;  but  on  a  burning  one 
every  word  that  can  cool  the  fervor  of  idolatry  with  a 
dash  of  cold  fact  has  its  value. 

I  propose,  therefore,  to  reissue  this  book  with  a  state- 
ment of  the  truth  about  the  recent  development  of  prize- 
fighting as  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  ascertain  it.  I 
should  make  this  statement  here  and  now  if  it  were  a 
subject  of  general  interest.  But  as  it  is  really  a  technical 
one,  and  would  probably  bore  and  even  disgust  those  wha 
buy  books  from  love  of  literature,  I  transfer  it  to  the  end 
of  the  volume,  and  recommend  a  perusal  and  consideration 
of  it  to  law -givers,  electors,  members  of  watch  com- 
mittees, Justices  of  the  Peace,  Commissioners  of  Police, 
and  amateur  pugilists  who  would  rather  read  anything 
about  boxing  than,  say,  Spenser's  Fairy  Oueen. 

I  need  not,  however,  postpone  a  comment  on  the  vast 
propaganda  of  pugnacity  in  modern  fiction :  a  propaganda 
that  must  be  met,  not  by  shocked  silence,  but  by  counter- 
propaganda.  And  this  counter-propaganda  must  not  take 


Preface  xv 

the  usual  form  of  "painting  the  horrors."  Horror  is 
fascinating :  the  great  criminal  is  always  a  popular  hero. 
People  are  seduced  by  romance  because  they  are  ignorant 
of  reality  ;  and  this  is  as  true  of  the  prize  ring  as  of 
the  battlefield.  The  intelligent  prizefighter  is  not  a 
knight-errant :  he  is  a  disillusioned  man  of  business 
trying  to  make  money  at  a  certain  weight  and  at  certain 
risks,  not  of  bodily  injury  (for  a  bruise  is  soon  cured), 
but  of  pecuniary  loss.  When  he  is  a  Jew,  a  negro,  a  gypsy, 
or  a  recruit  from  that  gypsified,  nomadic,  poaching, 
tinkering,  tramping  class  which  exists  in  all  countries, 
he  differs  from  the  phlegmatic  John  Bull  pugilist  (an 
almost  extinct  species)  exactly  as  he  would  differ  from 
him  in  any  other  occupation  :  that  is,  he  is  a  more 
imaginative  liar,  a  more  obvious  poser,  a  more  plausible 
talker,  a  vainer  actor,  a  more  reckless  gambler,  and  more 
easily  persuaded  that  he  is  beaten  or  even  killed  when 
he  has  only  received  an  unusually  hard  punch.  The 
unintelligent  prizefighter  is  often  the  helpless  tool  of  a 
gang  of  gamblers,  backers,  and  showmen,  who  set  him 
on  to  fight  as  they  might  set  on  a  dog.  And  the 
spectacle  of  a  poor  human  animal  fighting  faithfully 
for  his  backers,  like  a  terrier  killing  rats,  or  a  racehorse 
doing  its  best  to  win  a  race  for  its  owner,  is  one  which 
ought  to  persuade  any  sensible  person  of  the  folly  of 
treating  the  actual  combatants  as  "the  principals"  in  a 
prizefight.  Cockfighting  was  not  suppressed  by  im- 
prisoning the  cocks ;  and  prizefighting  will  not  be 
suppressed  by  imprisoning  the  pugilists.  But,  intelligent 
or  unintelligent,  first  rate  like  Cashel  Byron,  second  rate 
like  Skene,  or  third  rate  like  William  Paradise  in  this 
story,  the  prizefighter  is  no  more  what  the  spectators 
imagine  him  to  be  than  the  lady  with  the  wand  and  star 
in  the  pantomime  is  really  a  fairy  queen.  And  since 
Cashel  Byron's  Profession,  on  its  prizefighting  side,  is 


xvi  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

an  attempt  to  take  the  reader  behind  the  scenes  without 
unfairly  confusing  professional  pugilism  with  the  black- 
guardly environment  which  is  no  more  essential  to  it  than 
to  professional  cricket,  and  which  is  now  losing  its  hold 
on  the  pugilist  through  the  substitution  of  gate-money 
at  boxing  exhibitions  for  stakes  at  prizefights  as  his 
means  of  living,  I  think  I  may  let  it  go  its  way  with  a 
reasonable  prospect  of  seeing  it  do  more  good  than  harm. 
It  may  even  help  in  the  Herculean  task  of  eliminating 
romantic  fisticuffs  from  English  novels,  and  so  clear  them 
from  the  reproach  of  childishness  and  crudity  which  they 
certainly  deserve  in  this  respect.  Even  in  the  best  nine- 
teenth century  novels  the  heroes  knock  the  villains  down. 
Bulwer  Lytton's  Kenelm  Chillingly  was  a  "scientific" 
pugilist,  though  his  technique  will  hardly  be  recognized 
by  experts.  Thackeray,  who,  when  defeated  in  a  parlia- 
mentary election,  publicly  compared  himself  to  Gregson 
beaten  by  Gully,  loved  a  fight  almost  as  much  as  he  loved 
a  fool.  Even  the  great  Dickens  himself  never  quite  got 
away  from  this  sort  of  schoolboyishness  ;  for  though  Jo 
Gargery  knocking  down  Orlick  is  much  more  plausible 
than  Oliver  Twist  punching  the  head  of  Noah  Claypole, 
still  the  principle  is  the  same :  virtue  still  insists  on 
victory,  domination,  and  triumphant  assault  and  battery. 
It  is  true  that  Dombey  and  Son  contains  a  pious  attempt- 
to  caricature  a  prizefighter ;  but  no  qualified  authority 
will  pretend  that  Dickens  caught  The  Chicken's  point 
of  view,  or  did  justice  to  the  social  accomplishments  of 
the  ring.  Mr.  Toots's  silly  admiration  of  the  poor 
boxer,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  Chicken  and  other 
professors  of  the  art  of  self-defence  used  to  sponge  on 
him,  is  perfectly  true  to  life ;  but  in  the  real  pugilistic 
world  so  profitable  a  gull  would  soon  have  been  taken 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  Chicken  and  preyed  upon  by 
much  better  company.  It  is  true  that  if  the  Chicken 


Preface  xvii 

had  been  an  unconquerable  fighter,  he  might  have 
maintained  a  gloomy  eminence  in  spite  of  his  dulness 
and  disagreeable  manners  ;  but  Dickens  gave  away  this 
one  possible  excuse  by  allowing  The  Larky  Boy  to 
defeat  the  Chicken  with  ignominy.  That  is  what  is 
called  poetic  justice.  It  is  really  poetic  criminal  law  5 
and  it  is  almost  as  dishonest  and  vindictive  as  real 
criminal  law.  In  plain  fact,  the  pugilistic  profession 
is  like  any  other  profession :  common  sense,  good 
manners,  and  a  social  turn  count  for  as  much  in  it 
as  they  do  elsewhere ;  and  as  the  pugilist  makes  a 
good  deal  of  money  by  teaching  gentlemen  to  box,  he 
has  to  learn  to  behave  himself,  and  often  succeeds  very 
much  better  than  the  average  middle-class  professional 
man.  Shakespear  was  much  nearer  the  mark  when 
he  made  Autolycus  better  company,  and  Charles  the 
Wrestler  a  better-mannered  man,  than  Ajax  or  Cloten. 
If  Dickens  had  really  known  the  ring,  he  would  have 
made  the  Chicken  either  a  Sayers  in  professional  ability 
or  a  Sam  Weller  in  sociability.  A  successful  combination 
of  personal  repulsiveness  with  professional  incompetence 
is  as  impossible  there  as  at  the  bar  or  in  the  faculty. 
The  episode  of  the  Chicken,  then,  must  be  dismissed,  in 
spite  of  its  hero's  tempting  suggested  remedy  for  Mr 
Dombey's  stiffness,  as  a  futile  atonement  for  the  heroic 
fisticuffs  of  Oliver  Twist  and  Co. 

There  is  an  abominable  vein  of  retaliatory  violence  all 
through  the  literature  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Whether 
it  is  Macaulay  describing  the  flogging  of  Titus  Gates, 
or  Dickens  inventing  the  scene  in  which  old  Martin 
Chuzzlewit  bludgeons  Pecksniff,  the  curious  childishness 
of  the  English  character,  its  naughty  relish  for  primitive 
brutalities  and  tolerance  of  physical  indignities,  its  un- 
reasoning destructiveness  when  incommoded,  crop  up  in 
all  directions.  The  childishness  has  its  advantages :  its 

* 


xviii         Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

want  of  foresight  prevents  the  individual  from  carrying 
weapons,  as  it  prevents  the  nation  from  being  prepared 
for  war  ;  its  forgetfulness  prevents  vendettas  and  pro- 
longed malice-bearing ;  its  simplicity  and  transparency 
save  it  from  the  more  ingenious  and  complicated  forms  of 
political  corruption.  In  short,  it  has  those  innocences  of 
childhood  which  are  a  necessary  result  of  its  impotences. 
But  it  has  no  true  sense  of  human  dignity.  The  son  of 
a  Russian  noble  is  not  flogged  at  school,  because  he 
commits  suicide  sooner  than  survive  the  outrage  to  his  self- 
respect.  The  son  of  an  English  noble  has  no  more  sense 
of  dignity  than  the  master  who  flogs  him  :  flogging  may 
be  troublesome  to  the  flogger  and  painful  to  the  floggee  ; 
but  the  notion  that  the  transaction  is  disgusting  to  the 
public  and  dishonorable  and  disgraceful  to  the  parties  is  as 
unintelligible  and  fantastic  in  England  as  it  is  in  a  nursery 
anywhere.  The  moment  the  Englishman  gets  away 
from  Eton,  he  begins  to  enjoy  and  boast  of  flogging  as 
an  institution.  A  school  where  boys  are  flogged  and 
where  they  settle  their  quarrels  by  fighting  with  their 
fists  he  calls,  not,  as  one  might  expect,  a  school  of  child- 
ishness, but  a  school  of  manliness.  And  he  gradually 
persuades  himself  that  all  Englishmen  can  use  their  fists, 
which  is  about  as  true  as  the  parallel  theory  that  every 
Frenchman  can  handle  a  foil  and  that  every  Italian  carries 
a  stiletto.  And  so,  though  he  himself  has  never  fought  a 
pitched  battle  at  school,  and  does  not,  pugilistically  speak- 
ing, know  his  right  hand  from  his  left ;  though  his 
neighbors  are  as  peaceful  and  as  nervous  as  he  ;  though  if 
he  knocked  a  man  down  or  saw  one  of  his  friends  do  it, 
the  event  would  stand  out  in  his  history  like  a  fire  or  a 
murder  ;  yet  he  not  only  tolerates  unstinted  knockings- 
down  in  fiction,  but  actually  founds  his  conception  of  his 
nation  and  its  destiny  on  these  imaginary  outrages,  and 
at  last  comes  to  regard  a  plain  statement  of  the  plain  fact 


Preface  xix 

that  the  average  respectable  Englishman  knows  rather 
less  about  fighting  than  he  does  about  flying,  as  a 
paradoxical  extravagance. 

And  so  every  popular  English  novel  becomes  a 
gospel  of  pugilism.  Cashel  Byron's  Profession,  then, 
is  like  any  other  novel  in  respect  of  its  hero  punch- 
ing people's  heads.  Its  novelty  consists  in  the  fact  that 
an  attempt  is  made  to  treat  the  art  of  punching  seriously, 
and  to  detach  it  from  the  general  elevation  of  moral 
character  with  which  the  ordinary  novelist  persists  in 
associating  it. 

Here,  therefore,  the  prizefighter  is  not  idolized.  I  have 
given  Cashel  Byron  every  advantage  a  prizefighter  can 
have  :  health  and  strength  and  pugilistic  genius.  But  by 
pugilistic  genius  I  mean  nothing  vague,  imaginary,  or 
glamorous.  In  all  walks  of  life  men  are  to  be  found  who 
seem  to  have  powers  of  divination.  For  example,  you 
propound  a  complicated  arithmetical  problem  :  say  the 
cubing  of  a  number  containing  four  digits.  Give  me  a 
slate  and  half  an  hour's  time,  and  I  will  produce  a  wrong 
answer.  But  there  are  men  to  whom  the  right  answer  is 
instantly  obvious  without  any  consciousness  of  calculation 
on  their  part.  Ask  such  a  man  to  write  a  description 
or  put  a  somewhat  complicated  thought  into  words; 
and  he  will  take  my  slate  and  blunder  over  it  in 
search  of  words  for  half  an  hour,  finally  putting 
down  the  wrong  ones ;  whilst  for  a  Shakespear  the 
words  are  there  in  due  style  and  measure  as  soon  as 
the  consciousness  of  the  thing  to  be  described  or  the 
formation  of  the  thought.  Now  there  are  pugilists  to 
whom  the  process  of  aiming  and  estimating  distance  in 
hitting,  of  considering  the  evidence  as  to  what  their 
opponent  is  going  to  do,  arriving  at  a  conclusion,  and 
devising  and  carrying  out  effective  counter-measures, 
is  as  instantaneous  and  unconscious  as  the  calculation  of 


xx  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

the  born  arithmetician  or  the  verbal  expression  of  the 
born  writer.  This  is  not  more  wonderful  than  the  very 
complicated  and  deeply  considered  feats  of  breathing  and 
circulating  the  blood,  which  everybody  does  continually 
without  thinking;  but  it  is  much  rarer,  and  so  has  a 
miraculous  appearance.  A  man  with  this  gift,  and  with 
no  physical  infirmities  to  disable  him,  is  a  born  prize- 
fighter. He  need  have  no  other  exceptional  qualities, 
courage  least  of  all :  indeed  there  are  instances  on  record 
of  prizefighters  who  have  only  consented  to  persevere 
with  a  winning  fight  when  a  mirror  has  been  brought  to 
convince  them  that  their  faces  were  undamaged  and  their 
injuries  and  terrors  imaginary.  "Stage  fright"  is  as 
common  in  the  ring  as  elsewhere  :  I  have  myself  seen 
a  painful  exhibition  of  it  from  a  very  rough  customer 
who  presently  knocked  out  his  opponent  without  effort, 
by  instinct.  The  risks  of  the  ring  are  limited  by  rules 
and  conditions  to  such  an  extent  that  the  experienced 
prizefighter  is  much  more  afraid  of  the  blackguardism  of 
the  spectators  than  of  his  opponent :  he  takes  care  to 
have  a  strong  body  of  supporters  in  his  corner,  and  to 
keep  carefully  away  from  the  opposite  corner.  Courage 
is  if  anything  rather  scarcer,  because  less  needed,  in  the 
ring  than  out  of  it ;  and  there  are  civil  occupations 
which  many  successful  prizefighters  would  fail  in,  or. 
fear  to  enter,  for  want  of  nerve.  For  the  ring,  like  all 
romantic  institutions,  has  a  natural  attraction  for  hysterical 
people. 

When  a  pugilistic  genius  of  the  Cashel  Byron  type 
appeared  in  the  ring  of  his  day,  it  soon  became  evident 
to  the  betting  men  on  whom  the  institution  depended, 
that  it  was  useless  to  back  clever  boxers  against  him  ; 
for,  as  the  younger  Lytton  said  (I  quote  from  memory)— 

Talk  not  of  genius  baffled  :  genius  is  master  of  man. 
Genius  does  what  it  must ;  and  Talent  does  what  it  can. 


Preface  xxi 

But  there  is  a  well-known  way  of  defeating  the  pugilistic 
genius.  There  are  hard-fisted,  hard-hitting  men  in  the 
world,  who  will,  with  the  callousness  of  a  ship's  figure- 
head, and  almost  with  its  helplessness  in  defence,  take  all 
the  hammering  that  genius  can  give  them,  and,  when 
genius  can  hammer  no  more  from  mere  exhaustion,  give  it 
back  its  blows  with  interest  and  vanquish  it.  All  pugilism 
lies  between  these  two  extremes — between  Cashel  Byron 
and  William  Paradise  ;  and  it  is  because  the  Paradises  are 
as  likely  to  win  as  the  Byrons,  and  are  by  no  means  so 
scarce,  that  the  case  for  fist  fighting,  with  gloves  or 
without,  as  a  discipline  in  the  higher  athletic  qualities, 
moral  and  physical,  imposes  only  on  people  who  have  no 
practical  knowledge  of  the  subject. 


STEVENSON'S  EULOGIUM 

On  a  previous  page  I  have  alluded  to  a  letter  from 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson  to  Mr  William  Archer  about 
Cashel  Byron's  Profession.  Part  of  that  letter  has  been 
given  to  the  public  in  the  second  volume  of  Mr  Sidney 
Colvin's  edition  of  Stevenson's  letters  (Methuen,  1900). 
But  no  document  concerning  a  living  person  of  any  con- 
sequence (by  which  I  mean  a  person  with  money  enough 
to  take  an  action  for  libel)  is  ever  published  in  England 
unless  its  contents  are  wholly  complimentary.  Stevenson's 
letters  were  probably  all  unfit  for  publication  in  this  respect. 
Certainly  the  one  about  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  was ;  and 
Mr  Sidney  Colvin,  out  of  consideration  for  me  and  for  his 
publishers  and  printers,  politely  abbreviated  it.  Fortu- 
nately the  original  letter  is  still  in  the  hands  of  Mr 
Archer.  I  need  not  quote  the  handsome  things  which 
Mr  Colvin  selected,  as  they  have  been  extensively 


xxii          Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

reprinted  in  America  to  help  the  sale  of  the  reprints 
there.  But  here  is  the  suppressed  portion,  to  which  I 
leave  the  last  word,  having  no  more  to  say  than  that  the 
book  is  now  reprinted,  not  from  the  old  Modern  Press 
edition  which  Stevenson  read,  but  from  the  revised  text 
issued  afterwards  by  Messrs  Walter  Scott,  from  which 
certain  "  little  bits  of  Socialism  daubed  in  "  for  the  edifica- 
tion of  the  readers  of  To- Day  were  either  painted  out  or 
better  harmonized  with  the  rest.  I  had  intended  to  make 
no  further  revision ;  and  I  have  in  fact  made  none  of  any 
importance ;  but  in  reading  the  proofs  my  pen  positively 
jumped  to  humanize  a  few  passages  in  which  the  literary 
professionalism  with  which  my  heroine  expresses  herself 
(this  professionalism  is  usually  called  "style"  in  England) 
went  past  all  bearing.  I  have  also  indulged  myself  by 
varying  a  few  sentences,  and  inserting  one  or  two  new 
ones,  so  as  to  enable  the  American  publisher  to  secure 
copyright  in  this  edition.  But  I  have  made  no  attempt 
to  turn  an  1882  novel  into  a  twentieth  century  one;  and 
the  few  alterations  are,  except  for  legal  purposes,  quite 
negligeable. 

And  now  for  the  suppressed  part  of  Stevenson's  verdict, 
which  is  in  the  form  of  an  analysis  of  the  book's  com- 
position : — 

"  Charles  Reade  .         .         .         .         .  I  part 
Henry  James  or  some  kindred  author, 

badly  assimilated  I  part 

Disraeli  (perhaps  unconscious)    .  -|  part 

Struggling,  overlaid  original  talent       .  l-|  part 

Blooming  gaseous  folly  I  part 

"  That  is  the  equation  as  it  stands.  What  it  may  become, 
I  dont  know,  nor  any  other  man.  Vixere  fortes — O,  let  him 
remember  that — let  him  beware  of  his  damned  century  :  his 
gifts  of  insane  chivalry  and  animated  narration  are  just  those 


Preface  xxiii 

that  might  be  slain  and  thrown  out  like  an  untimely  birth  by 
the  Daemon  of  the  Epoch. 

"  And  if  he  only  knew  how  I  had  enjoyed  the  chivalry ! 
Bashville  —  O  Bashville  !  fen  chortle !  (which  is  finely 
polyglot)." 


CASHEL    BYRON'S    PROFESSION 

PROLOGUE 


MONCRIEF  House,  Panley  Common.  Scholastic  estab- 
lishment for  the  sons  of  gentlemen,  etc. 

Panley  Common,  viewed  from  the  back  windows  of 
Moncrief  House,  is  a  tract  of  grass,  furze,  and  rushes, 
stretching  away  to  the  western  horizon. 

One  wet  spring  afternoon  the  sky  was  full  of  broken 
clouds  ;  and  the  common  was  swept  by  their  shadows, 
between  which  patches  of  green  and  yellow  gorse  were 
bright  in  the  broken  sunlight.  The  hills  to  the  north- 
ward were  obscured  by  a  heavy  shower,  traces  of  which 
were  drying  off  the  slates  of  the  school,  a  square  white 
building,  formerly  a  gentleman's  country  house.  In 
front  of  it  was  a  well-kept  lawn  with  a  few  dipt  holly 
trees  :  at  the  rear,  quarter  of  an  acre  of  land  enclosed  for 
the  use  of  the  boys.  Strollers  on  the  common  could 
hear,  at  certain  hours,  a  hubbub  of  voices  and  racing 
footsteps  within  the  boundary  wall.  Sometimes,  when 
the  strollers  were  boys  themselves,  they  climbed  to  the 
coping,  and  saw  on  the  other  side  a  piece  of  common 
trampled  bare  and  brown,  with  a  few  square  yards  of 


2  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

concrete,  so  worn  into  hollows  as  to  be  unfit  for  its 
original  use  as  a  ball  alley.  Also  a  long  shed,  a  pump, 
a  door  defaced  by  innumerable  incised  inscriptions,  the 
back  of  the  house  in  much  worse  repair  than  the  front, 
and  about  fifty  boys  in  tailless  jackets  and  broad  turned- 
down  collars.  Whenever  the  fifty  boys  perceived  a 
young  stranger  on  the  wall,  they  rushed  to  the  spot  with 
a  wild  halloo ;  overwhelmed  him  with  insult  and  de- 
fiance j  and  dislodged  him  by  a  volley  of  clods,  stones, 
lumps  of  bread,  and  such  other  projectiles  as  were  at 
hand. 

On  this  rainy  spring  afternoon,  a  brougham  stood  at 
the  door  of  Moncrief  House.  The  coachman,  enveloped 
in  a  white  india-rubber  coat,  was  bestirring  himself  a 
little  after  the  recent  shower.  Withindoors,  in  the 
drawing-room,  Dr.  Moncrief  was  conversing  with  a 
stately  lady  aged  about  thirty-five,  elegantly  dressed,  of 
attractive  manner,  and  beautiful  at  all  points  except  her 
complexion,  which  was  deficient  in  freshness. 

"  No  progress  whatever,  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  the  doctor 
was  remarking. 

"That  is  very  disappointing,"  said  the  lady,  contract- 
ing her  brows. 

ult  is  natural  that  you  should  feel  disappointed," 
replied  the  doctor.  "I  should  myself  earnestly  advise 

you  to  try  the  effect  of  placing  him  at  some  other " 

The  doctor  stopped.  The  lady's  face  had  lit  with  a 
wonderful  smile  ;  and  her  hand  was  up  with  a  bewitching 
gesture  of  protest. 

"  Oh  no,  Dr.  Moncrief,"  she  said  :  "  I  am  not  disap- 
pointed with  you;  but  I  am  all  the  more  angry  with 
Cashel  because  I  know  that  if  he  makes  no  progress  here, 
it  must  be  his  own  fault.  As  to  taking  him  away,  that 
is  out  of  the  question.  I  should  not  have  a  moment's 
peace  if  he  were  out  of  your  care.  I  will  speak  to  him 


Prologue  3 

very  seriously  about  his  conduct  before  I  leave  to-day. 
You  will  give  him  another  trial,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"Certainly.  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  said  the 
doctor,  confusing  himself  by  an  inept  attempt  at  gallantry. 
"  He  shall  stay  as  long  as  you  please.  But  " — here  the 
doctor  became  grave  again — "you  cannot  too  strongly 
urge  upon  him  the  importance  of  hard  work  at  the 
present  time,  which  may  be  said  to  be  the  turning  point 
of  his  career  as  a  student.  He  is  now  nearly  seventeen  ; 
and  he  has  so  little  inclination  for  study  that  I  doubt 
whether  he  could  pass  the  examination  necessary  to  enter 
one  of  the  universities.  You  probably  wish  him  to  take 
a  degree  before  he  chooses  a  profession." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  said  the  lady  vaguely,  evidently 
assenting  to  the  doctor's  remark  rather  than  expressing  a 
conviction  of  her  own.  "What  profession  would  you 
advise  for  him  ?  You  know  so  much  better  than  I." 

"  Hum  !  "  said  Dr.  Moncrief,  puzzled.  "  That  would 
doubtless  depend  to  some  extent  on  his  own  taste " 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  lady,  interrupting  him  viva- 
ciously. "What  does  he  know  about  the  world,  poor 
boy  ?  His  own  taste  is  sure  to  be  something  ridiculous. 
Very  likely  he  would  want  to  go  on  the  stage,  like  me." 

"Oh  !  Then  you  would  not  encourage  any  tendency 
of  that  sort  ?  " 

"Most  decidedly  not.     I  hope  he  has  no  such  idea." 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.  He  shews  so  little  ambi- 
tion to  excel  in  any  particular  branch,  that  I  should  say 
his  choice  of  a  profession  may  be  best  determined  by  his 
parents.  I  am,  of  course,  ignorant  whether  his  relatives 
possess  influence  likely  to  be  of  use  to  him.  That  is 
often  the  chief  point  to  be  considered,  particularly  in 
cases  like  your  son's,  where  no  special  aptitude  manifests 
itself." 

"  I  am  the  only  relative  he  ever  had,  poor  fellow,"  said 


4  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

the  lady,  with  a  pensive  smile.  Then,  seeing  an  expres- 
sion of  astonishment  on  the  doctor's  face,  she  added 
quickly,  "They  are  all  dead." 

"Dear  me!" 

"  However,"  she  continued,  "  I  have  no  doubt  I  can 
make  plenty  of  interest  for  him.  But  I  suppose  it  is 
difficult  to  get  anything  nowadays  without  passing 
competitive  examinations.  He  really  must  work.  If  he 
is  lazy  he  ought  to  be  punished." 

The  doctor  looked  perplexed.  "  The  fact  is,"  he  said, 
"  your  son  can  hardly  be  dealt  with  as  a  child  any  longer. 
He  is  still  quite  a  boy  in  his  habits  and  ideas ;  but 
physically  he  is  rapidly  springing  up  into  a  young  man. 
That  reminds  me  of  another  point  on  which  I  will  ask 
you  to  speak  earnestly  to  him.  I  must  tell  you  that  he 
has  attained  some  distinction  among  his  school- fellows 
here  as  an  athlete.  Within  due  bounds  I  do  not  dis- 
courage bodily  exercises :  they  are  a  recognized  part  of 
our  system.  But  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Cashel  has  not 
escaped  that  tendency  to  violence  which  sometimes 
results  from  the  possession  of  unusual  strength  and 
dexterity.  He  actually  fought  with  one  of  the  village 
youths  in  the  main  street  of  Panley  some  months  ago,  I 
am  told,  though  the  matter  did  not  come  to  my  ears 
immediately.  He  was  guilty  of  a  much  more  serious 
fault  a  little  later.  He  and  a  companion  of  his  obtained 
leave  from  me  to  walk  to  Panley  Abbey  together  ;  but  I 
afterwards  found  that  their  real  object  was  to  witness  a 
prizefight  that  took  place — illegally,  of  course — on  the 
common.  Apart  from  the  deception  practised,  I  think 
the  taste  they  betrayed  a  dangerous  one ;  and  I  felt 
bound  to  punish  them  by  a  severe  imposition,  and 
restriction  to  the  grounds  for  six  weeks.  I  do  not  hold, 
however,  that  everything  has  been  done  in  these  cases 
when  a  boy  has  been  punished.  I  set  a  high  value  on  a 


Prologue  5 

mother's  influence  for  softening  the  natural  roughness  of 
boys." 

"I  dont  think  he  minds  what  I  say  to  him  in  the 
least,"  said  the  lady,  with  a  sympathetic  air,  as  if  she 
pitied  the  doctor  in  a  matter  that  chiefly  concerned  him. 
"I  will  speak  to  him  about  it,  certainly.  Fighting  is 
an  unbearable  habit.  His  father's  people  were  always 
fighting ;  and  they  never  did  any  good  in  the  world." 

"If  you  will  be  so  kind.  There  are  just  the  three 
points:  the  necessity  for  greater  —  much  greater  — 
application  to  his  studies  ;  a  word  to  him  on  the  subject 
of  rough  habits  ;  and  to  sound  him  as  to  his  choice  of  a 
career.  I  agree  with  you  in  not  attaching  much  import- 
ance to  his  ideas  on  that  subject  as  yet.  Still,  even  a 
boyish  fancy  may  be  turned  to  account  in  rousing  the 
energies  of  a  lad." 

"  Quite  so,"  assented  the  lady.  "  I  shall  take  care  to 
give  him  a  lecture." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  mistrustfully,  thinking 
perhaps  that  she  herself  would  be  the  better  for  a  lecture 
on  her  duties  as  a  mother.  But  he  did  not  dare  to  tell 
her  so  :  indeed,  having  a  prejudice  that  actresses  were 
deficient  in  natural  feeling,  he  doubted  the  use  of  daring. 
He  also  feared  that  the  subject  of  her  son  was  beginning 
to  bore  her  ;  and,  though  a  doctor  of  divinity,  he  was  as 
reluctant  as  other  men  to  be  found  wanting  in  address 
by  a  pretty  woman.  So  he  rang  the  bell,  and  bade  the 
servant  send  Master  Cashel  Byron.  Presently  a  door 
was  heard  to  open  below  ;  and  a  buzz  of  distant  voices 
became  audible.  The  doctor  fidgeted  and  tried  to  think 
of  something  to  say  ;  but  his  invention  failed  him  :  he 
sat  in  silence  whilst  the  inarticulate  buzz  rose  into  a 
shouting  of  "  By-ron  !  Cash  !  "  the  latter  cry  imitated 
from  the  summons  usually  addressed  to  cashiers  in  haber- 
dashers' shops.  Finally  there  was  a  piercing  yell  of 


6  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Mam-ma-a-a-a-ah  !  "  apparently  in  explanation  of  the 
demand  for  Byron's  attendance  in  the  drawing-room. 
The  doctor  reddened.  Mrs.  Byron  smiled.  Then  the 
door  below  closed,  shutting  out  the  tumult ;  and  footsteps 
were  heard  on  the  stairs. 

"  Come  in,"  cried  the  doctor  encouragingly. 

Master  Cashel  Byron  entered  blushing  ;  made  his  way 
awkwardly  to  his  mother ;  and  kissed  the  critical 
expression  which  was  on  her  upturned  face  as  she 
examined  his  appearance.  Being  only  seventeen,  he  had 
not  yet  acquired  a  taste  for  kissing.  He  inexpertly  gave 
Mrs.  Byron  quite  a  shock  by  the  collision  of  their  teeth. 
Conscious  of  the  failure,  he  drew  himself  upright,  and 
tried  to  hide  his  hands,  which  were  exceedingly  dirty,  in 
the  scanty  folds  of  his  jacket.  He  was  a  well-grown 
youth,  with  strong  neck  and  shoulders,  and  short  auburn 
hair  curling  in  little  rings  close  to  his  scalp.  He  had 
blue  eyes,  and  an  expression  of  boyish  good  humour, 
which,  however,  did  not  convey  any  assurance  of  good 
temper. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Cashel  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Byron,  with 
queenly  patronage,  after  a  prolonged  look  at  him. 

"  Very  well,  thanks,"  said  he,  grinning  and  avoiding 
her  eye. 

"  Sit  down,  Byron,"  said  the  doctor.  Byron  suddenly 
forgot  how  to  sit  down,  and  looked  irresolutely  from  one 
chair  to  another.  The  doctor  made  a  brief  excuse,  and 
left  the  room,  much  to  the  relief  of  his  pupil. 

"  You  have  grown  greatly,  Cashel.  And  I  am  afraid 
you  are  very  awkward."  Cashel  colored  and  looked 
gloomy. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  you,"  continued 
Mrs.  Byron.  "  Dr.  Moncrief  tells  me  that  you  are  very 
idle  and  rough." 

"  I  am  not,"  said  Cashel  sulkily.     "  It  is  bee— 


Prologue  7 

"  There  is  no  use  in  contradicting  me  in  that  fashion," 
said  Mrs.  Byron,  interrupting  him  sharply.  "  I  am  sure 
that  whatever  Dr.  Moncrief  says  is  perfectly  true." 

"  He  is  always  talking  like  that,"  said  Cashel  plain- 
tively. "  I  cant  learn  Latin  and  Greek  ;  and  I  dont  see 
what  good  they  are.  I  work  as  hard  as  any  of  the  rest 
— except  the  regular  stews  perhaps.  As  to  my  being 
rough,  that  is  all  because  I  was  out  one  day  with  Gully 
Molesworth  ;  and  we  saw  a  crowd  on  the  common  ;  and 
when  we  went  to  see  what  was  up  it  was  two  men 
fighting.  It  wasnt  our  fault  that  they  came  there  to 

fight." 

"  Yes  :  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  have  fifty  good 
excuses,  Cashel.  But  I  will  not  allow  any  fighting  ;  and 
you  really  must  work  harder.  Do  you  ever  think  of  how 
hard  /  have  to  work  to  pay  Dr.  Moncrief  one  hundred 
and  twenty  pounds  a  year  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  work  as  hard  as  I  can.  Old  Moncrief  seems  to 
think  that  a  fellow  ought  to  do  nothing  else  from 
morning  till  night  but  write  Latin  verses.  Tatham,  that 
the  doctor  thinks  such  a  genius,  does  all  his  constering 
from  cribs.  If  I  had  a  crib  I  could  conster  as  well — 
very  likely  better." 

"  You  are  very  idle,  Cashel :  I  am  sure  of  that.  It  is 
too  provoking  to  throw  away  so  much  money  every  year 
for  nothing.  Besides,  you  must  soon  be  thinking  of  a 
profession." 

"  I  shall  go  into  the  army,"  said  Cashel.  "  It  is  the 
only  profession  for  a  gentleman." 

Mrs.  Byron  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  if  amazed 
at  his  presumption.  But  she  checked  herself  and  only 
said,  "  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  choose  some  less 
expensive  profession  than  that.  Besides,  you  would  have 
to  pass  an  examination  to  enable  you  to  enter  the  army  ; 
and  how  can  you  do  that  unless  you  study  ?  " 


8  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  Oh,  I  shall  do  that  all  right  enough  when  the  time 
comes." 

"  Dear,  dear  !  You  are  beginning  to  speak  so  coarsely, 
Cashel.  After  all  the  pains  I  took  with  you  at  home  !  " 

"  I  speak  the  same  as  other  people,"  he  replied  sullenly. 
"  I  dont  see  the  use  of  being  so  jolly  particular  over  every 
syllable.  I  used  to  have  to  stand  no  end  of  chaff  about 
my  way  of  speaking.  The  fellows  here  know  all  about 
you,  of  course." 

c<  All  about  me  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Byron,  looking  at 
him  curiously. 

"All  about  your  being  on  the  stage,  I  mean,"  said 
Cashel.  "  You  complain  of  my  being  rough ;  but  I 
should  have  a  precious  bad  time  of  it  if  I  didnt  lick  the 
chaff  out  of  some  of  them." 

Mrs,  Byron  smiled  doubtfully  to  herself,  and  remained 
silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  moment.  Then  she  rose  and 
said,  glancing  at  the  weather,  "  I  must  go  now,  Cashel, 
before  another  shower  begins.  And  do,  pray,  try  to 
learn  something,  and  to  polish  your  manners  a  little. 
You  will  have  to  go  to  Cambridge  soon,  you  know." 

"  Cambridge  !  "  exclaimed  Cashel,  excited.  "  When, 
mamma  ?  When  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  dont  know.  Not  yet.  As  soon  as  Dr. 
Moncrief  says  you  are  fit  to  go." 

"That  will  be  long  enough,"  said  Cashel,  much 
dejected  by  this  reply.  "He  will  not  turn  £120  a  year 
out  of  doors  in  a  hurry.  He  kept  big  Inglis  here  until 
he  was  past  twenty.  Look  here,  mamma :  might  I  go 
at  the  end  of  this  half?  I  feel  sure  I  should  do  better  at 
Cambridge  than  here." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  decidedly.  "  I  do  not 
expect  to  have  to  take  you  away  from  Dr.  Moncrief  for 
the  next  eighteen  months  at  least,  and  not  then  unless 
you  work  properly.  Now  dont  grumble,  Cashel :  you 


Prologue  9 

annoy   me  exceedingly   when    you    do.      I   am    sorry   I 
mentioned  Cambridge  to  you." 

"  I  would  rather  go  to  some  other  school,  then,"  said 
Cashel  ruefully.  "  Old  Moncrief  is  so  awfully  down  on  me." 

"  You  only  want  to  leave  because  you  are  expected  to 
work  here ;  and  that  is  the  very  reason  I  wish  you  to  stay." 

Cashel  made  no  reply ;  but  his  face  darkened 
ominously. 

"  I  have  a  word  to  say  to  the  doctor  before  I  go,"  she 
added,  reseating  herself.  "  You  may  return  to  your  play 
now.  Good-bye,  Cashel."  And  she  again  raised  her 
face  to  be  kissed. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Cashel  huskily,  as  he  turned  towards 
the  door,  pretending  that  he  had  not  noticed  her  action. 

"  Cashel !  "  she  said,  with  emphatic  surprise.  "  Are 
you  sulky  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  retorted  angrily.  "  I  havent  said  anything. 
I  suppose  my  manners  are  not  good  enough.  I'm  very 
sorry  ;  but  I  cant  help  it." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  firmly.  a  You  can  go. 
I  am  not  pleased  with  you." 

Cashel  walked  out  of  the  room  and  slammed  the  door. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  was  stopped  by  a  boy  about  a 
year  younger  than  himself,  who  accosted  him  eagerly. 

"  How  much  did  she  give  you  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Not  a  halfpenny,"  replied  Cashel,  grinding  his  teeth. 

"  Oh,  I  say  !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  deeply  disappointed. 
"  That  was  beastly  mean." 

"  She's  as  mean  as  she  can  be,"  said  Cashel.  "  It's  all 
old  Monkey's  fault.  He  has  been  cramming  her  with 
lies  about  me.  But  she's  just  as  bad  as  he  is.  I  tell 
you,  Gully,  I  hate  my  mother." 

"Oh,  come  !  "  said  Gully,  shocked.  "That's  a  little 
too  strong,  old  chap.  But  she  certainly  ought  to  have 
stood  something." 


io  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

"  I  dont  know  what  you  intend  to  do,  Gully  ;  but  I 
mean  to  bolt.  If  she  thinks  I  am  going  to  stick  here  for 
the  next  two  years,  she  is  jolly  much  mistaken." 

"  It  would  be  an  awful  lark  to  bolt,"  said  Gully  with 
a  chuckle.  "But,"  he  added  seriously,  "if  you  really 
mean  it ;  by  George,  I'll  go  too  !  Wilson  has  just  given 
me  a  thousand  lines ;  and  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do  them." 

"  Gully,"  said  Cashel,  his  frown  deepening  and  fixing 
itself  forbiddingly  :  "  I  should  like  to  see  one  of  those 
chaps  we  saw  on  the  common  pitch  into  the  doctor — get 
him  on  the  ropes,  you  know." 

Gully's  mouth  watered.  "Yes,"  he  said  breathlessly; 
"particularly  the  fellow  they  called  the  Fibber.  Just 
one  round  would  be  enough  for  the  old  beggar.  Let's 
come  out  into  the  playground  :  I  shall  catch  it  if  I  am 
found  here." 

II 

That  night  there  was  just  sufficient  light  struggling 
through  the  clouds  to  make  Panley  Common  visible  as  a 
black  expanse,  against  the  lightest  tone  of  which  a  piece 
of  ebony  would  have  appeared  pale.  Not  a  human  being 
was  stirring  within  a  mile  of  Moncrief  House,  the 
chimneys  of  which,  ghostly  white  on  the  side  next  the 
moon,  threw  long  shadows  on  the  silver-grey  slates. 
The  stillness  had  just  been  broken  by  the  stroke  of  a 
quarter-past  twelve  from  a  distant  church  tower,  when, 
from  the  obscurity  of  one  of  these  chimney  shadows, 
a  head  emerged.  It  belonged  to  a  boy,  whose  body 
presently  came  wriggling  through  an  open  skylight. 
When  his  shoulders  were  through,  he  turned  himself  face 
upwards ;  seized  the  miniature  gable  in  which  the  skylight 
was  set ;  drew  himself  completely  out ;  and  made  his  way 
stealthily  down  to  the  parapet.  He  was  immediately 
followed  by  another  boy. 


Prologue  1 1 

The  door  of  Moncrief  House  was  at  the  left  hand 
corner  of  the  front,  and  was  surmounted  by  a  tall  porch, 
the  top  of  which  was  flat  and  could  be  used  as  a  balcony. 
A  wall,  of  the  same  height  as  the  porch,  connected 
the  house  front  with  the  boundary  wall,  and  formed 
part  of  the  inclosure  of  a  fruit  garden  which  lay  at  the 
side  of  the  house  between  the  lawn  and  the  playground. 
When  the  two  boys  had  crept  along  the  parapet  to  a 
point  directly  above  the  porch,  they  stopped  ;  and  each 
lowered  a  pair  of  boots  to  the  balcony  by  means  of  fishing 
lines.  When  the  boots  were  safely  landed,  their  owners 
let  the  lines  drop,  and  re-entered  the  house  by  another 
skylight.  A  minute  elapsed.  Then  they  reappeared  on 
the  top  of  the  porch,  having  come  out  through  the 
window  to  which  it  served  as  a  balcony.  Here  they 
put  on  their  boots,  and  made  for  the  wall  of  the  fruit 
garden.  As  they  crawled  along  it,  the  hindmost  boy 
whispered, 

"  I  say,  Cashy." 

"Shut  up,  will  you,"  replied  the  other  under  his 
breath.  "  What's  wrong  ?  " 

"I  should  like  to  have  one  more  go  at  old  mother 
Moncrief's  pear  tree  :  that's  all." 

"  There  are  no  pears  on  it  at  this  time  of  year,  you  fool." 

cc  I  know.  This  is  the  last  time  we  shall  go  this  road, 
Cashy.  Usent  it  to  be  a  lark  ?  Eh  ?  " 

"  If  you  dont  shut  up,  it  wont  be  the  last  time  ;  for 
youll  be  caught.  Now  for  it." 

Cashel  had  reached  the  outer  wall ;  and  he  finished 
his  sentence  by  dropping  from  the  coping  to  the  common. 
Gully  held  his  breath  for  some  moments  after  the  noise 
made  by  his  companion's  striking  the  ground.  Then  he 
demanded  in  a  whisper  whether  all  was  right. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Cashel  impatiently.  "  Drop  as  soft 
as  you  can." 


1 2  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Gully  obeyed  ;  and  was  so  careful  lest  his  descent 
should  shake  the  earth  and  awake  the  doctor,  that  his 
feet  shrank  from  the  concussion.  He  alighted  in  a 
sitting  posture,  and  remained  there,  looking  up  at  Cashel 
with  a  stunned  expression. 

"  Crickey  !  "  he  ejaculated  presently.  "  That  was  a 
buster." 

"  Get  up,  I  tell  you,"  said  Cashel.  "  I  never  saw  such 
a  jolly  ass  as  you  are.  Here,  up  with  you  !  Have  you 
got  your  wind  back  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  so.  Bet  you  twopence  I'll  be  first  at 
the  cross  roads.  I  say  :  let's  pull  the  bell  at  the  front 
gate  and  give  an  awful  yell  before  we  start.  They'll 
never  catch  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Cashel  ironically  :  "  I  fancy  I  see  myself 
doing  it,  or  you  either.  Now  then.  One,  two,  three, 
and  away." 

They  ran  off  together,  and  reached  the  cross  roads 
about  eight  minutes  later :  Gully  completely  out  of 
breath,  and  Cashel  nearly  so.  Here,  according  to  their 
plan,  Gully  was  to  take  the  north  road  and  run  to 
Scotland,  where  he  felt  sure  his  uncle's  gamekeeper 
would  hide  him.  Cashel  was  to  go  to  sea,  so  that  if  his 
affairs  became  desperate,  he  could  at  least  turn  pirate, 
and  achieve  eminence  in  that  profession  by  adding  a 
chivalrous  humanity  to  the  ruder  virtues  for  which  it  is 
already  famous. 

Cashel  waited  until  Gully  had  recovered  from  his  race. 
Then  he  said, 

u  Now,  old  fellow.     Weve  got  to  separate." 

Gully,  confronted  with  the  lonely  realities  of  his 
scheme,  did  not  like  the  prospect.  After  a  moment's 
reflection  he  exclaimed, 

"Damme,  old  chap,  I'll  come  with  you.  Scotland 
may  go  and  be  hanged." 


Prologue  1 3 

But  Cashel,  being  the  stronger  of  the  two,  was  as 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  Gully  as  Gully  was  to  cling  to 
him.  "  No,"  he  said,  "  I'm  going  to  rough  it ;  and 
you  wouldnt  be  able  for  that.  Youre  not  strong  enough 
for  a  sea  life.  Why,  man,  those  sailor  fellows  are  as 
hard  as  nails ;  and  even  they  can  hardly  stand  it." 

"Well,  then,  do  you  come  with  me,"  urged  Gully. 
"  My  uncle's  gamekeeper  wont  mind.  He's  a  jolly  good 
sort ;  and  we  shall  have  no  end  of  shooting." 

"  That's  all  very  well  for  you,  Gully ;  but  I  dont 
know  your  uncle ;  and  I'm  not  going  to  put  myself  under 
a  compliment  to  his  gamekeeper.  Besides,  we  should  run 
too  much  risk  of  being  caught  if  we  went  through  the 
country  together.  Of  course  I  should  be  only  too  glad 
if  we  could  stick  to  one  another ;  but  it  wouldnt  do :  I 
feel  certain  we  should  be  nabbed.  Good-bye." 

"But  wait  a  minute,"  pleaded  Gully.  "Suppose  they 
do  try  to  catch  us :  we  shall  have  a  better  chance  against 
them  if  there  are  two  of  us." 

"Stuff!"  said  Cashel.  "That's  all  boyish  nonsense. 
There  will  be  at  least  six  policemen  sent  after  us ;  and 
even  if  I  did  my  very  best,  I  could  barely  lick  two  if 
they  came  on  together.  And  you  would  hardly  be  able 
for  one.  You  just  keep  moving,  and  dont  go  near  any 
railway  station;  and  you  will  get  to  Scotland  all  safe 
enough.  Look  here :  weve  wasted  five  minutes  already. 
Ive  got  my  wind  now ;  and  I  must  be  off.  Good-bye." 

Gully  disdained  to  press  his  company  on  Cashel  any 
further.  "Good-bye,"  he  said,  mournfully  shaking  his 
hand.  "  Success,  old  chap." 

"  Success  ! "  echoed  Cashel,  grasping  Gully's  hand  with 
a  pang  of  remorse  for  leaving  him.  "  I'll  write  to  you  as 
soon  as  I  have  anything  to  tell  you.  I  may  be  some 
months,  you  know,  before  I  get  regularly  settled." 

He  gave  Gully  a  final  squeeze  ;  released  him  ;  and 


14  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

darted  off  along  the  road  leading  to  Panley  Village. 
Gully  looked  after  him  a  moment,  and  then  ran  away 
Scotlandwards. 

Panley  Village  is  nothing  but  a  High  Street,  with  an 
old-fashioned  inn  at  one  end,  a  modern  railway  station 
and  bridge  at  the  other,  and  a  pump  and  pound  midway 
between.  Cashel  stood  for  a  while  in  the  shadow  under 
the  bridge  before  venturing  along  the  broad  moonlit 
street.  Seeing  no  one,  he  stepped  out  at  a  brisk  walking 
pace  ;  for  he  had  by  this  time  reflected  that  it  was  not 
possible  to  run  all  the  way  to  the  Spanish  main.  There 
was,  however,  another  person  stirring  in  the  village 
besides  Cashel.  This  was  Mr.  Wilson,  Dr.  MoncriePs 
professor  of  mathematics,  who  was  returning  from  a 
visit  to  the  theatre.  Mr.  Wilson  believed  that  theatres 
were  wicked  places,  to  be  visited  by  respectable  men 
only  on  rare  occasions  and  by  stealth.  The  only  plays 
he  went  openly  to  witness  were  those  of  Shakespear ; 
and  his  favourite  was  "  As  you  like  it " :  Rosalind  in 
tights  having  an  attraction  for  him  which  he  missed 
from  Lady  Macbeth  in  petticoats.  This  evening  he  had 
seen  Rosalind  impersonated  by  a  famous  actress,  who  had 
come  to  a  neighboring  town  on  a  starring  tour.  After 
the  performance  he  had  returned  to  Panley  to  sup  there 
with  a  friend,  and  was  now  making  his  way  back  to 
Moncrief  House.  He  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  favorable 
for  the  capture  of  a  runaway  boy.  An  habitual  delight  in 
being  too  clever  for  his  pupils,  fostered  by  frequently  over- 
reaching them  in  mathematics,  was  just  now  stimulated  by 
the  effect  of  a  liberal  supper  and  the  roguish  consciousness 
of  having  been  to  the  play.  He  saw  and  recognized  Cashel 
as  he  approached  the  village  pound.  Understanding  the 
situation  at  once,  he  hid  behind  the  pump;  waited  until  the 
unsuspecting  truant  was  passing  within  arm's  length  ;  and 
then  pounced  out  and  seized  him  by  the  collar  of  his  jacket. 


Prologue  1 5 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said.  "  What  are  you  doing  here  at 
this  hour  ?  Eh  ?  " 

Cashel,  scared  and  white,  looked  at  him,  and  could 
not  answer  a  word. 

"  Come  along  with  me,"  said  Wilson  sternly. 

Cashel  suffered  himself  to  be  led  some  twenty  yards. 
Then  he  stopped  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  my  going  back,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  never  done  any  good  there.  I  cant  go  back." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Wilson,  with  magisterial  sarcasm. 
"  We  shall  try  to  make  you  do  better  in  future."  And 
he  forced  the  fugitive  to  resume  his  march. 

Cashel,  bitterly  humiliated  by  his  own  tears,  and 
exasperated  by  a  certain  cold  triumph  which  Wilson 
evinced  on  witnessing  them,  did  not  go  many  steps 
further  without  protest. 

"  You  neednt  hold  me,"  he  said  angrily :  "  I  can 
walk  without  being  held."  The  master  tightened  his 
grasp  and  pushed  his  captive  forward.  "I  wont  run 
away,  sir,"  said  Cashel  more  humbly,  shedding  fresh 
tears.  "Please  let  me  go,"  he  added  in  a  suffocated 
voice,  trying  to  turn  his  face  towards  his  captor.  But 
Wilson  twisted  him  back  again,  and  still  urged  him 
onward.  Cashel  cried  out  passionately,  "Let  me  go," 
and  struggled  to  break  loose. 

"Come,  come,  Byron,"  said  the  master,  controlling 
him  with  a  broad  strong  hand  :  "  none  of  your  nonsense, 
sir." 

Then  Cashel  suddenly  slipped  out  of  his  jacket  ; 
turned  on  Wilson  ;  and  struck  up  at  him  savagely  with 
his  right  fist.  The  master  received  the  blow  just  beside 
the  point  of  his  chin  ;  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  Cashel  to 
roll  up  and  fall  back  into  his  head  with  the  shock.  He 
drooped  forward  for  a  moment,  and  fell  in  a  heap  face 
downwards.  Cashel  recoiled,  wringing  his  hand  to 


1 6  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

relieve  the  tingling  of  his  knuckles,  and  terrified  by  the 
possibility  that  he  had  committed  murder.  But  Wilson 
presently  moved  and  dispelled  that  misgiving.  Some  of 
Cashel's  fury  returned  as  he  shook  his  fist  at  his  prostrate 
adversary,  and,  exclaiming,  "  You  wont  brag  much  of 
having  seen  me  cry,"  wrenched  the  jacket  from  him  with 
unnecessary  violence,  and  darted  away  at  full  speed. 

Mr.  Wilson,  though  he  was  soon  conscious  and  able 
to  rise,  did  not  at  first  feel  disposed  to  stir.  He  began 
to  moan,  with  a  dazed  faith  that  some  one  would  eventu- 
ally come  to  him  with  sympathy  and  assistance.  But 
the  lapse  of  time  brought  nothing  but  increased  cold  and 
pain.  It  occurred  to  him  that  if  the  police  found  him 
they  might  suppose  him  to  be  drunk  \  also  that  it  was 
his  duty  to  go  to  them  and  give  the  alarm.  He  rose, 
and,  after  a  struggle  with  dizziness  and  nausea,  concluded 
that  his  most  pressing  duty  was  to  get  to  bed,  and  leave 
Dr.  Moncrief  to  recapture  his  ruffianly  pupil  as  best  he 
could. 

At  half-past  one  o'clock  the  doctor  was  roused  by  a 
knocking  at  his  chamber-door,  outside  which  he  found 
his  professor  of  mathematics,  bruised,  muddy,  and  appar- 
ently inebriated.  Some  minutes  were  lost  before  Wilson 
could  get  his  principal's  mind  on  the  right  track.  Then 
the  boys  were  awakened  and  the  roll  called.  Byron  and 
Molesworth  were  reported  absent.  No  one  had  seen 
them  go  :  no  one  had  the  least  suspicion  of  how  they 
had  got  out  of  the  house.  One  little  boy  mentioned  the 
skylight ;  but,  observing  a  threatening  expression  on  the 
faces  of  a  few  of  the  bigger  boys,  who  were  fond  of  fruit, 
he  did  not  press  his  suggestion,  and  submitted  to  be 
snubbed  by  the  doctor  for  having  made  it.  It  was  nearly 
three  o'clock  before  the  alarm  reached  the  village,  where 
the  authorities  tacitly  declined  to  trouble  themselves 
about  it  until  morning.  The  doctor,  convinced  that 


Prologue  17 

the  lad  had  gone  to  his  mother,  did  not  believe  that  any 
search  was  necessary,  and  contented  himself  with  writing 
a  note  to  Mrs.  Byron  describing  the  attack  on  Mr. 
Wilson,  and  expressing  regret  that  no  proposal  having 
for  its  object  the  readmission  of  Master  Byron  to  the 
academy  could  be  entertained. 

The  pursuit  was  now  directed  entirely  after  Moles- 
worth,  as  it  was  plain,  from  Mr.  Wilson's  narrative,  that 
he  had  separated  from  Cashel  outside  Panley.  Informa- 
tion was  soon  forthcoming.  Peasants  in  all  parts  of  the 
country  had  seen,  they  said,  "  a  lad  that  might  be  him." 
The  search  lasted  until  five  o'clock  next  afternoon,  when 
it  was  terminated  by  the  appearance  of  Gully  in  person, 
footsore  and  repentant.  After  parting  from  Cashel  and 
walking  two  miles,  he  had  lost  heart  and  turned  back. 
Half  way  to  the  cross  roads  he  had  reproached  himself 
with  cowardice,  and  resumed  his  flight.  This  time  he 
placed  eight  miles  betwixt  himself  and  Moncrief  House. 
Then  he  left  the  road  to  make  a  short  cut  through  a 
plantation,  and  went  astray.  After  wandering  dejectedly 
until  morning,  he  saw  a  woman  working  in  a  field,  and 
asked  her  the  shortest  way  to  Scotland.  She  had  never 
heard  of  Scotland  ;  and  when  he  asked  the  way  to  Panley, 
she  grew  suspicious  and  threatened  to  set  her  dog  at  him. 
This  discouraged  him  so  much  that  he  was  afraid  to 
speak  to  the  other  strangers  whom  he  met.  Steering  by 
the  sun,  he  oscillated  between  Scotland  and  Panley 
according  to  the  fluctuation  of  his  courage.  At  last  he 
yielded  to  hunger,  fatigue,  and  loneliness  ;  devoted  his 
remaining  energy  to  the  task  of  getting  back  to  school  ; 
struck  the  common  at  last  j  and  hastened  to  surrender 
himself  to  the  doctor,  who  menaced  him  with  immediate 
expulsion.  Gully  was  greatly  concerned  at  the  prospect 
of  being  compelled  to  leave  the  place  he  had  just  run 
away  from  ;  and  earnestly  begged  the  doctor  to  give  him 

c 


1 8  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

another  chance.  His  prayer  was  granted.  After  a  pro- 
longed lecture,  the  doctor,  in  consideration  of  the  facts 
that  Gully,  though  corrupted  by  the  example  of  a 
desperate  associate,  had  proved  the  sincerity  of  his  re- 
pentance by  coming  back  of  his  own  accord,  and  had 
not  been  accessory  to  the  concussion  of  the  brain  from 
which  Mr.  Wilson  supposed  himself  to  be  suffering, 
accepted  his  promise  of  amendment  and  gave  him  a  free 
pardon.  Gully  accordingly  attempted  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  to  play  the  part  of  the  studious  and  sensible 
boy  ;  and  was  so  much  struck  by  the  safety,  credit,  and 
self-satisfaction  which  it  gained  for  him,  that  he  kept  it 
up  to  the  end  of  his  schooldays.  Yet  he  did  not  lose 
the  esteem  of  his  comrades ;  for  he  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing them,  by  the  license  of  his  private  conversation, 
that  his  reformation  was  only  a  consummate  imposture, 
of  which  that  common  enemy,  the  principal,  was  the  un- 
pitied  dupe. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Byron,  not  suspecting  the  import- 
ance of  the  doctor's  note,  and  happening  to  be  in  a  hurry 
when  it  arrived,  laid  it  by  unopened,  intending  to  read  it 
at  her  leisure.  She  would  have  forgotten  it  altogether 
but  for  a  second  note  which  came  two  days  later,  re- 
questing some  acknowledgment  of  the  previous  com- 
munication. On  learning  the  truth  she  immediately 
drove  to  Moncrief  House,  and  there  abused  the  doctor 
as  he  had  never  been  abused  in  his  life  before ;  after 
which  she  begged  his  pardon,  and  implored  him  to  assist 
her  to  recover  her  darling  boy.  When  he  suggested  that 
she  should  offer  a  reward  for  information  and  capture, 
she  indignantly  refused  to  spend  a  farthing  on  the  little 
ingrate  ;  wept  and  accused  herself  of  having  driven  him 
away  by  her  unkindness ;  stormed  and  accused  the 
doctor  of  having  treated  him  harshly  ;  and  finally  said 
that  she  would  give  ^100  to  have  him  back,  but  that  she 


Prologue  1 9 

would  never  speak  to  him  again.  The  doctor  promised 
to  undertake  the  search,  and  would  have  promised  any- 
thing to  get  rid  of  his  visitor.  A  reward  of  ^50  was 
offered.  But  whether  the  fear  of  falling  into  the  clutches 
of  the  law  for  murderous  assault  stimulated  Cashel  to 
extraordinary  precaution,  or  whether  he  had  contrived 
to  leave  the  country  in  the  four  days  betv/een  his  flight 
and  the  offer  of  the  reward,  the  doctor's  efforts  were 
unsuccessful ;  and  he  had  to  confess  their  failure  to 
Mrs.  Byron.  She  agreeably  surprised  him  by  writing  a 
pleasant  letter  to  the  effect  that  it  was  very  provoking, 
and  that  she  could  never  thank  him  sufficiently  for  all 
the  trouble  he  had  taken.  And  so  the  matter  dropped. 


Ill 

There  was  at  this  time  in  the  city  of  Melbourne,  in 
Australia,  a  wooden  building,  above  the  door  of  which 
was  a  board  inscribed  GYMNASIUM  AND  SCHOOL 
OF  ARMS.  In  the  long  narrow  entry  hung  a  framed 
manuscript  which  set  forth  that  Ned  Skene,  ex-champion 
of  England  and  the  Colonies,  was  to  be  heard  of  within 
by  gentlemen  desirous  of  becoming  proficient  in  the  art 
of  self-defence.  Also  the  terms  on  which  Mrs.  Skene, 
assisted  by  a  competent  staff  of  professors,  would  give 
lessons  in  dancing,  deportment,  and  calisthenics. 

One  evening  a  man  sat  smoking  on  a  common  kitchen 
chair  on  the  threshold  of  this  establishment.  Beside 
him  were  some  tin  tacks  and  a  hammer.  He  had  just 
nailed  to  the  doorpost  a  card  on  which  was  written  in  a 
woman's  handwriting  :  "  Wanted^  a  male  attendant  who 
can  keep  accounts.  Inquire  within."  The  smoker  was  a 
powerful  man,  with  a  thick  neck  that  swelled  out  beneath 
his  broad  flat  ear-lobes.  He  had  small  eyes,  and  large 


2o  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

teeth  over  which  his  lips  were  slightly  parted  in  a  smile, 
good-humored  but  affectedly  cunning.  His  hair  was 
black  and  close  cut,  his  skin  indurated,  and  the  bridge 
of  his  nose  smashed  level  with  his  face.  The  tip,  how- 
ever, was  uninjured.  It  was  squab  and  glossy,  and,  by 
giving  the  whole  feature  an  air  of  being  on  the  point  of 
expanding  to  its  original  shape,  produced  a  snubbed 
expression  which  relieved  the  otherwise  formidable  aspect 
of  the  man,  and  recommended  him  as  probably  a  modest 
and  affable  fellow  when  sober  and  unprovoked.  He 
seemed  about  fifty  years  of  age,  and  was  clad  in  a  straw 
hat  and  a  suit  of  white  linen. 

Before  he  had  finished  his  pipe,  the  card  on  the  door- 
post attracted  the  attention  of  a  youth  attired  in  a  coarse 
sailor's  jersey  and  a  pair  of  grey  tweed  trousers  which  he 
had  outgrown. 

"  Looking  for  a  job  ?  "  inquired  the  ex-champion  of 
England  and  the  Colonies. 

The  youth  blushed  and  replied,  "  Yes.  I  should  like 
to  get  something  to  do." 

Mr.  Skene  stared  at  him  with  stern  curiosity.  His 
professional  pursuits  had  familiarized  him  with  the 
manners  and  speech  of  English  gentlemen  ;  and  he 
immediately  recognized  the  shabby  sailor  lad  as  one  of 
that  class. 

"  Perhaps  youre  a  scholar,"  said  the  prizefighter,  after 
a  moment's  reflection. 

"  I  have  been  at  school ;  but  I  didnt  learn  much 
there.  I  think  I  could  book-keep  by  double  entry." 

"  Double  entry  !     What's  that  ?  " 

"  It's  the  way  merchants'  books  are  kept.  It  is  called 
so  because  everything  is  entered  twice  over." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Skene,  unfavorably  impressed  by  the 
system:  "once  is  enough  for  me.  What's  your  weight?" 

"  I  dont  know,"  said  the  lad  with  a  grin. 


Prologue  21 

"  Not  know  your  own  weight  !  That  aint  the  way 
to  get  on  in  life." 

"  I  havent  been  weighed  since  a  long  time  ago  in 
England,"  said  the  other,  beginning  to  get  the  better  of 
his  shyness.  "  I  was  eight  stone  four  then  ;  so  you  see 
I  am  only  a  light  weight." 

"  And  what  do  you  know  about  light  weights  ? 
Perhaps,  being  so  well  educated,  you  know  how  to 
fight.  Eh  ?  " 

"  I  dont  think  I  could  fight  you,"  said  the  youth,  with 
another  grin. 

Skene  chuckled  ;  and  the  stranger,  with  boyish 
communicativeness,  gave  him  an  account  of  a  real  fight 
(meaning  apparently  one  between  professional  pugilists) 
which  he  had  seen  in  England.  He  went  on  to  describe 
how  he  had  himself  knocked  down  a  master  with  one 
blow  when  running  away  from  school.  Skene  received 
this  sceptically,  and  cross-examined  the  narrator  as  to  the 
manner  and  effect  of  the  blow,  with  the  result  of  con- 
vincing himself  that  the  story  was  true.  At  the  end  of 
quarter  of  an  hour,  the  lad  had  commended  himself  so 
acceptably  by  his  conversation  that  the  champion  took 
him  into  the  gymnasium,  where  he  weighed  him ; 
measured  him  ;  and  finally  handed  him  a  pair  of  boxing 
gloves  and  invited  him  to  shew  what  he  was  made  of. 
The  youth,  though  impressed  by  the  prizefighter's 
attitude  with  a  hopeless  sense  of  the  impossibility  of 
reaching  him,  rushed  boldly  at  him  several  times,  knock- 
ing his  face  on  each  occasion  against  Skene's  left  fist, 
which  seemed  to  be  ubiquitous,  and  to  have  the  power 
of  imparting  the  consistency  of  iron  to  padded  leather. 
At  last  the  novice  directed  a  frantic  assault  at  the 
champion's  nose,  rising  on  his  toes  in  that  aspiration. 
Skene  stopped  the  blow  with  a  jerk  of  his  right  elbow ; 
and  the  impetuous  youth  spun  and  stumbled  away  until 


22  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

he  fell  supine  in  a  corner,  rapping  his  head  smartly  on 
the  floor  at  the  same  time.  He  rose  with  unabated 
cheerfulness  and  offered  to  continue  the  combat ;  but 
Skene  declined  any  further  exercise  just  then,  though  he 
was  so  much  pleased  with  his  novice's  game  that  he 
promised  to  give  him  a  scientific  education  and  make  a 
man  of  him. 

The  champion  now  sent  for  his  wife,  whom  he  revered 
as  a  pre-eminently  sensible  and  well-mannered  woman. 
The  new  comer  could  see  in  her  only  a  ridiculous 
dancing  mistress ;  but  he  treated  her  with  great  defer- 
ence, and  thereby  improved  the  high  opinion  which 
Skene  had  already  formed  of  him.  He  related  to  her 
how,  after  running  away  from  school,  he  had  made  his 
way  to  Liverpool ;  gone  to  the  docks  ;  and  contrived  to 
hide  himself  on  board  a  ship  bound  for  Australia.  Also 
how  he  had  suffered  severely  from  hunger  and  thirst 
before  he  discovered  himself;  and  how,  notwithstanding 
his  unpopular  position  as  stowaway,  he  had  been  fairly 
treated  as  soon  as  he  had  shewn  that  he  was  willing  to 
work.  And  in  proof  that  he  was  still  willing,  and  had 
profited  by  his  maritime  experience,  he  offered  to  sweep 
the  floor  of  the  gymnasium  then  and  there.  This 
proposal  convinced  the  Skenes,  who  had  listened  to  his 
story  like  children  listening  to  a  fairy  tale,  that  he  was 
not  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  do  rough  work  ;  and  it 
was  presently  arranged  that  he  should  thenceforth  board 
and  lodge  with  them  ;  have  five  shillings  a  week  for 
pocket  money  ;  and  be  man  of  all  work,  servant,  gym- 
nasium attendant,  clerk,  and  apprentice  to  the  ex- 
champion  of  England  and  the  Colonies. 

He  soon  found  his  bargain  no  easy  one.  The  gym- 
nasium was  open  from  nine  in  the  morning  until  eleven 
at  night ;  and  the  athletic  gentlemen  who  came  there  not 
only  ordered  him  about  without  ceremony,  but  varied 


Prologue  23 

the  monotony  of  vainly  opposing  the  invincible  Skene, 
by  practising  what  he  taught  them  on  the  person  of  his 
apprentice,  whom  they  pounded  with  great  relish,  and 
threw  backwards,  forwards,  and  over  their  shoulders  as 
though  he  had  been  but  a  senseless  effigy  provided  for 
that  purpose.  The  champion  looked  on  and  laughed, 
being  too  lazy  to  redeem  his  promise  of  teaching  the 
novice  to  defend  himself.  The  latter,  however,  watched 
the  lessons  he  saw  daily  given  to  the  others ;  and 
before  the  end  of  the  month  he  so  completely  turned  the 
tables  on  the  amateur  pugilists  of  Melbourne  that  Skene 
one  day  took  occasion  to  remark  that  he  was  growing 
uncommon  clever,  but  that  gentlemen  liked  to  be  played 
easy  with,  and  that  he  should  be  careful  not  to  knock 
them  about  too  much.  Besides  these  bodily  exertions, 
he  had  to  keep  account  of  gloves  and  foils  sold  and 
bought,  and  of  the  fees  due  both  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Skene. 
This  was  the  most  irksome  part  of  his  duty;  for  he  wrote 
a  large  schoolboy  hand,  and  was  not  quick  at  figures. 
When  he  at  last  began  to  assist  his  master  in  giving 
lessons,  the  accounts  had  fallen  into  arrear  ;  and  Mrs. 
Skene  had  to  resume  her  former  care  of  them  :  a  circum- 
stance which  gratified  her  husband,  who  regarded  it  as 
a  fresh  triumph  of  her  superior  intelligence.  Then  a 
Chinaman  was  engaged  to  do  the  more  menial  work  of 
the  establishment.  "Skene's  Novice,"  as  he  was  now 
generally  called,  was  elevated  to  the  rank  of  assistant 
professor  to  the  champion,  and  became  a  person  of  some 
consequence  in  the  gymnasium. 

He  had  been  there  more  than  nine  months,  and  had 
developed  into  an  athletic  young  man  of  eighteen  with  a 
keen  eye  for  a  tip,  and  a  scale  of  "  Thank  you,  sirs " 
nicely  graduated  from  half-a-crown  to  a  sovereign,  when 
an  important  conversation  took  place  between  him  and 
his  principal.  It  was  evening  ;  and  the  only  persons  in 


24  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

the  gymnasium  were  Ned  Skene,  who  sat  smoking  at  his 
ease  with  his  coat  off,  and  the  novice,  who  had  just 
come  downstairs  from  his  bedroom,  where  he  had  been 
preparing  for  a  visit  to  the  theatre. 

"Well,  my  gentleman,"  said  Skene  mockingly: 
"  youre  a  fancy  man,  you  are.  Gloves,  too  !  Theyre 
too  small  for  you.  Dont  you  get  hittin  nobody  with 
them  on,  or  youll  mebbe  sprain  your  wrist." 

"  Not  much  fear  of  that,"  said  the  novice,  looking  at 
his  watch.  Finding  that  he  had  some  minutes  to  spare, 
he  sat  down  opposite  Skene. 

"  No,"  assented  the  champion.  "  When  you  rise  to 
be  a  regular  professional,  you  wont  care  to  spar  with 
nobody  without  youre  well  paid  for  it." 

cc  I  may  say  I  am  in  the  profession  already.  You  dont 
call  me  an  amateur,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Skene :  "  not  so  bad  as  that.  But 
mind  you,  my  boy,  I  dont  call  no  man  a  fighting  man 
what  aint  been  in  the  ring.  Youre  a  sparrer,  and  a 
clever,  pretty  sparrer  ;  but  sparring  aint  the  real  thing. 
Some  day,  please  God,  we'll  make  up  a  little  match  for 
you,  and  shew  what  you  can  do  without  the  gloves." 

"  I  would  just  as  soon  have  the  gloves  off  as  on,"  said 
the  novice,  a  little  sulkily. 

"  That's  because  you  have  a  heart  as  big  as  a  lion," 
said  Skene,  soothingly.  But  the  novice,  accustomed  to 
hear  his  master  pay  the  same  compliment  to  his  patrons 
whenever  they  were  seized  with  fits  of  boasting  (which 
usually  happened  when  they  got  worsted),  looked  obdurate 
and  said  nothing. 

"  Sam  Ducket  of  Milltown  was  here  to-day  while  you 
was  out  giving  Captain  Noble  his  lesson,"  continued 
Skene,  watching  his  apprentice's  face.  "  Now  Sam  is  a 
real  fighting  man,  if  you  like."  , 

"  I  dont  think  much  of  him.    He's  a  liar,  for  one  thing." 


Prologue  25 

"That's  a  failing  of  the  profession.  I  dont  mind 
telling  you  so,"  said  Skene  mournfully.  Now  the  novice 
had  found  out  this  for  himself  already.  He  never,  for 
instance,  believed  the  accounts  which  his  master  gave  of 
the  accidents  and  conspiracies  which  had  led  to  his  being 
defeated  three  times  in  the  ring.  However,  as  Skene 
had  won  fifteen  battles,  his  next  remark  was  undeniable. 
"  Men  fight  none  the  worse  for  being  liars.  Sam  Ducket 
bet  Ebony  Muley  in  twenty  minutes." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  novice  scornfully ;  "  and  what  is 
Ebony  Muley  ?  A  wretched  old  nigger  nearly  sixty 
years  old,  who  is  drunk  seven  days  in  the  week,  and 
would  sell  a  fight  for  a  glass  of  brandy  !  Ducket  ought 
to  have  knocked  him  out  of  time  in  twenty  seconds. 
Ducket  has  no  science." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Ned.     "  But  he  has  lots  of  game." 

"  Pshaw  !  That's  what  they  always  try  to  make  out. 
If  a  fellow  knows  how  to  box,  they  say  he  has  science 
but  no  pluck.  If  he  doesnt  know  his  right  hand  from 
his  left,  they  say  that  he  isnt  clever,  but  that  he's  full  of 
game." 

Skene  looked  with  secret  wonder  at  his  pupil,  whose 
powers  of  observation  and  expression  sometimes  seemed 
to  him  almost  to  rival  those  of  Mrs.  Skene.  "  Sam  was 
sayin  something  like  that  to-day,"  he  remarked.  "  He 
says  youre  only  a  sparrer,  and  that  youd  fall  down  with 
fright  if  you  was  put  into  a  twenty-four  foot  ring." 

The  novice  flushed.  "  I  wish  I  had  been  here  when 
Sam  Ducket  said  that." 

"Why,  what  could  you  ha'  done  to  him?"  said 
Skene,  his  small  eyes  twinkling. 

"  I'd  have  punched  his  head  :  that's  what  I  could  and 
would  have  done  to  him." 

"Why,  man,  he'd  eat  you." 

"  He  might.     And  he  might  eat  you  too,  Ned,  if  he 


26  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

had  salt  enough  with  you.  He  talks  big  because  he 
knows  I  have  no  money  ;  and  he  pretends  he  wont  strip 
for  less  than  fifty  pounds  a  side." 

"  No  money  ! "  cried  Skene.  "  I  know  them  as'll 
make  up  fifty  pound  before  twelve  to-morrow  for  any 
man  as  I  will  answer  for.  There  d  be  a  start  for  a  young 
man  !  Why,  my  fust  fight  was  for  five  shillings  in 
Tott'nam  Fields  ;  and  proud  I  was  when  I  won  it.  I 
dont  want  to  set  you  on  to  fight  a  crack  like  Sam 
Ducket  anyway  against  your  inclinations  ;  but  dont  go 
to  say  that  money  isnt  to  be  had.  Let  Ned  Skene  pint 
to  a  young  man  and  say,  'That's  the  young  man  that 
Ned  backs ' ;  and  others'll  come  forard  with  the  stakes 
— aye,  crowds  of  em." 

The  novice  hesitated.  "  Do  you  think  I  ought  to, 
Ned  ?  "  he  said. 

"  That  aint  for  me  to  say,"  said  Skene  doggedly.  "  I 
know  what  I  would  ha'  said  at  your  age.  But  perhaps 
youre  right  to  be  cautious.  I  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
wouldnt  care  to  see  you  whipped  by  the  like  of  Sam 
Ducket." 

"  Will  you  train  me  if  I  challenge  him  ?  " 

"  Will  I  train  you  ! "  echoed  Skene,  rising  with 
enthusiasm.  "  Aye  will  I  train  you,  and  put  my  money 
on  you  too  ;  and  you  shall  knock  fireworks  out  of  him, 
my  boy,  as  sure  as  my  name's  Ned  Skene." 

"  Then,"  cried  the  novice,  reddening  with  excitement, 
"I'll  fight  him.  And  if  I  lick  him,  you  will  have  to 
hand  over  your  belt  as  champion  of  the  colonies  to  me." 

"  So  I  will,"  said  Skene  affectionately.  "  Dont  stay 
out  late  ;  and  dont  for  your  life  touch  a  drop  of  liquor. 
You  must  go  into  training  to-morrow." 

This  was  Cashel  Byron's  first  professional  engagement. 

END    OF    THE    PROLOGUE 


CHAPTER   1 

WILTSTOKEN  CASTLE  was  a  square  building  with  circular 
bastions  at  the  corners  :  each  bastion  terminating  skyward 
in  a  Turkish  minaret.  The  south-west  face  was  the 
front,  pierced  by  a  Moorish  arch  fitted  with  glass  doors, 
which  could  be  secured  on  occasion  by  gates  of  fantastic- 
ally hammered  iron.  The  arch  was  enshrined  by  a 
Palladian  portico,  which  rose  to  the  roof,  and  was  sur- 
mounted by  an  open  pediment,  in  the  cleft  of  which 
stood  a  black  marble  figure  of  an  Egyptian,  erect,  and 
gazing  steadfastly  at  the  midday  sun.  On  the  ground 
beneath  was  an  Italian  terrace  with  two  great  stone 
elephants  at  the  ends  of  the  balustrade.  The  windows 
of  the  upper  storey  were,  like  the  entrance,  Moorish  ; 
but  the  principal  ones  below  were  square  bays,  mullioned. 
The  castle  was  considered  grand  by  the  illiterate  ;  but 
architects,  and  readers  of  books  on  architecture,  con- 
demned it  as  a  nondescript  mixture  of  styles  in  the  worst 
possible  taste.  It  stood  on  an  eminence  surrounded  by 
hilly  woodland,  thirty  acres  of  which  were  enclosed  as 
Wiltstoken  Park.  Half  a  mile  south  was  the  little  town 
of  Wiltstoken,  accessible  by  rail  from  London  in  about 
two  hours. 

Most  of  the  inhabitants  of  Wiltstoken  were  Con- 
servatives. They  stood  in  awe  of  the  Castle  ;  and  some 
of  them  would  at  any  time  have  cut  half  a  dozen  of 


28  Cashel  Byron's  Profession        Chap.  I 

their  oldest  friends  to  obtain  an  invitation  to  dinner,  or 
even  a  bow  in  public,  from  Miss  Lydia  Carew,  its  orphan 
mistress.  This  Miss  Carew  was  a  remarkable  person. 
She  had  inherited  the  Castle  and  park  from  her  aunt, 
who  had  considered  her  niece's  large  fortune  in  railways 
and  mines  incomplete  without  land.  So  many  other 
legacies  had  Lydia  received  from  kinsfolk  who  hated 
poor  relations,  that  she  was  now,  in  her  twenty- fifth 
year,  the  independent  possessor  of  an  annual  income 
equal  to  the  year's  earnings  of  five  hundred  workmen, 
and  under  no  external  compulsion  to  do  anything  in 
return  for  it.  In  addition  to  the  advantage  of  being  a 
single  woman  with  unusually  large  means,  she  enjoyed 
a  reputation  for  vast  learning  and  exquisite  culture.  It 
was  said  in  Wiltstoken  that  she  knew  forty-eight  living 
languages  and  all  the  dead  ones  ;  could  play  on  every 
known  musical  instrument;  was  an  accomplished  painter; 
and  had  written  poetry.  All  this  might  as  well  have 
been  true  as  far  as  the  Wiltstokeners  were  concerned, 
since  she  knew  more  than  they.  She  had  spent  her  life 
travelling  with  her  father,  a  man  of  active  mind  and  bad 
digestion,  with  an  independent  income,  and  a  taste  for 
sociology,  science  in  general,  and  the  fine  arts.  On 
these  subjects  he  had  written  books,  mostly  about  the 
Renaissance,  by  which  he  had  earned  a  reputation  as  a 
sort  of  culture  merchant  for  tourists.  They  involved 
much  reading,  travelling,  sight-seeing,  and  theorizing,  of 
all  which,  except  the  theorizing,  his  daughter  had  done 
her  share,  and  indeed,  as  she  grew  more  competent,  and 
he  weaker  and  older,  more  than  her  share.  Having  had 
to  combine  health-hunting  with  culture-distillation,  and 
being  very  irritable  and  fastidious,  he  had  schooled 
her  in  self-control  and  endurance  by  harder  lessons 
than  those  which  had  made  her  acquainted  with  the 
works  of  Greek  and  German  philosophers  long  before 


Chap.  I  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  29 

she  understood  the  English  into  which  she  translated 
them. 

When  Lydia  was  in  her  twenty-first  year,  her  father's 
health  failed  seriously.  He  became  more  dependent  on 
her ;  and  she  anticipated  that  he  would  also  become 
more  exacting  in  his  demands  on  her  time.  But  one 
day,  at  Naples,  she  had  arranged  to  go  riding  with  a 
newly  arrived  and  rather  pleasant  English  party.  Shortly 
before  the  appointed  hour,  he  asked  her  to  make  a 
translation  of  a  long  extract  from  Lessing.  Lydia, 
in  whom  self- questionings  as  to  the  justness  of  her 
father's  yoke  had  for  some  time  been  stirring,  paused 
thoughtfully  for  perhaps  two  seconds  before  she  con- 
sented. Carew  said  nothing  ;  but  he  presently  inter- 
cepted a  servant  who  was  bearing  an  apology  to  the 
English  party;  read  the  note;  and  went  back  to  his 
daughter,  who  was  already  busy  at  Lessing. 

"  Lydia,"  he  said,  with  a  certain  hesitation  which  she 
would  have  ascribed  to  shyness  had  that  been  at  all 
credible  of  her  father  when  addressing  her  :  cc  I  wish  you 
never  to  postpone  your  business  to  literary  trifling." 

She  looked  at  him  with  the  vague  fear  that  accom- 
panies a  new  and  doubtful  experience  ;  and  he,  dissatisfied 
with  his  way  of  putting  the  case,  added,  "  It  is  of  greater 
importance  that  you  should  enjoy  yourself  for  an  hour 
than  that  my  book  should  be  advanced.  Far  greater  ! " 

Lydia,  after  some  consideration,  put  down  her  pen 
and  said,  "I  shall  not  enjoy  riding  if  there  is  anything 
else  left  undone." 

"  I  shall  not  enjoy  your  writing  if  your  excursion  is 
given  up  for  it,"  he  said.  "  I  prefer  your  going." 

Lydia  obeyed  silently.  An  odd  thought  struck  her 
that  she  might  end  the  matter  gracefully  by  kissing  him. 
But  they  were  unaccustomed  to  make  demonstrations  of 
this  kind  ;  so  nothing  came  of  the  impulse.  She  spent 


30  Cashel  Byron's  Profession        Chap.  I 

the  day  on  horseback  ;  reconsidered  her  late  rebellious 
thoughts  ;  and  made  the  translation  in  the  evening. 

Thenceforth,  Lydia  had  a  growing  sense  of  the  power 
she  had  unwittingly  been  acquiring  during  her  long 
subordination.  Timidly  at  first,  and  more  boldly  as  she 
became  used  to  dispense  with  the  parental  leading  strings, 
she  began  to  follow  her  own  bent  in  selecting  subjects 
for  study,  and  even  to  defend  certain  recent  develop- 
ments in  music  and  painting  against  her  father's  con- 
servatism. He  approved  of  this  independent  mental 
activity  on  her  part,  and  repeatedly  warned  her  not  to 
pin  her  faith  more  on  him  than  on  any  other  critic. 
She  once  told  him  that  one  of  her  incentives  to  dis- 
agree with  him  was  the  pleasure  it  gave  her  to  find  out 
ultimately  that  he  was  right.  He  replied  gravely, 

"That  pleases  me,  Lydia,  because  I  believe  you.  But 
such  things  are  better  left  unsaid.  They  seem  to  belong 
to  the  art  of  pleasing,  which  you  will  perhaps  soon  be 
tempted  to  practise,  because  it  seems  to  all  young  people 
easy,  well-paid,  amiable,  and  a  mark  of  good  breeding. 
In  truth  it  is  vulgar,  cowardly,  egotistical,  and  insincere : 
a  virtue  in  a  shopman :  a  vice  in  a  free  woman.  It  is 
better  to  leave  genuine  praise  unspoken  than  to  expose 
yourself  to  the  suspicion  of  flattery." 

Shortly  after  this,  at  his  desire,  she  spent  a  season  in 
London,  and  went  into  English  polite  society,  which 
she  found  to  be  in  the  main  a  temple  for  the  worship 
of  riches  and  a  market  for  the  sale  of  virgins.  Having 
become  familiar  with  both  the  cult  and  the  trade  else- 
where, she  found  nothing  to  interest  her  except  the 
English  manner  of  conducting  them  ;  and  the  novelty 
of  this  soon  wore  off.  She  was  also  incommoded  by  her 
involuntary  power  of  inspiring  affection  in  her  own  sex. 
Impulsive  girls  she  could  keep  in  awe  ;  but  old  women, 
notably  two  aunts  who  had  never  paid  her  any  attention 


Chap.  I       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  31 

during  her  childhood,  now  persecuted  her  with  slavish 
fondness,  and  tempted  her  by  mingled  entreaties  and 
bribes  to  desert  her  father  and  live  with  them  for  the 
remainder  of  their  lives.  Her  reserve  fanned  their  long- 
ing to  have  her  for  a  pet ;  and,  to  escape  them,  she 
returned  to  the  continent  with  her  father,  and  ceased 
to  hold  any  correspondence  with  London.  Her  aunts 
declared  themselves  deeply  hurt  ;  and  Lydia  was  held  to 
have  treated  them  very  injudiciously  ;  but  when  they 
died,  and  their  wills  became  public,  it  was  found  that 
they  had  vied  with  one  another  in  enriching  her. 

When  she  was  twenty-five  years  old,  the  first  startling 
event  of  her  life  took  place.  This  was  the  death  of  her 
father  at  Avignon.  No  endearments  passed  between 
them  even  on  that  occasion.  She  was  sitting  opposite 
to  him  at  the  fireside  one  evening,  reading  aloud,  when 
he  suddenly  said,  "  My  heart  has  stopped,  Lydia.  Good- 
bye !  "  and  immediately  died.  She  had  some  difficulty 
in  quelling  the  tumult  that  arose  when  the  bell  was 
answered.  The  whole  household  felt  bound  to  be  over- 
whelmed, and  took  it  rather  ill  that  she  seemed  neither 
grateful  to  them  nor  disposed  to  imitate  their  behaviour. 

Carew's  relatives  agreed  that  he  had  made  a  most 
unbecoming  will.  It  was  a  brief  document,  dated  five 
years  before  his  death,  and  was  to  the  effect  that  he 
bequeathed  to  his  dear  daughter  Lydia  all  he  possessed. 
He  had,  however,  left  her  certain  private  instructions. 
One  of  these,  which  excited  great  indignation  in  his 
family,  was  that  his  body  should  be  conveyed  to  Milan, 
and  there  cremated.  Having  disposed  of  her  father's 
remains  as  he  had  directed,  she  came  to  set  her  affairs 
in  order  in  England,  where  she  inspired  much  hopeless 
passion  in  the  toilers  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  and  Chancery 
Lane,  and  disconcerted  her  solicitors  by  evincing  a 
capacity  for  business  hardly  compatible  with  the  docility 


32  Cashel  Byron's  Profession        Chap.  I 

they  expected  from  a  rich  and  unprotected  young  lady. 
When  all  was  arranged,  and  she  was  once  more  able  to 
enjoy  a  settled  tranquillity,  she  returned  to  Avignon,  and 
there  discharged  her  last  duty  to  her  father.  This  was 
to  open  a  letter  she  had  found  in  his  desk,  inscribed  by 
his  hand,  "For  Lydia.  To  be  read  by  her  at  leisure 
when  I  and  my  affairs  shall  be  finally  disposed  of."  The 
letter  ran  thus  : — 

"  MY  DEAR  LYDIA, 

"  I  belong  to  the  great  company  of  dis- 
appointed men.  But  for  you,  I  should  now  write 
myself  down  a  failure  like  the  rest.  It  is  only  a  few 
years  since  it  first  struck  me  that  although  I  had  failed 
in  many  vain  ambitions  with  which  (having  failed)  I 
need  not  trouble  you  now,  I  had  been  of  some  use  as  a 
father.  Upon  this  it  came  into  my  mind  that  you  could 
draw  no  other  conclusion  from  the  course  of  our  life 
together  than  that  I  have,  with  entire  selfishness,  used 
you  throughout  as  my  mere  amanuensis  and  clerk,  and 
that  you  are  under  no  more  obligation  to  me  for  your 
attainments  than  a  slave  is  to  his  master  for  the  strength 
which  enforced  labor  has  given  to  his  muscles.  Lest 
I  should  leave  you  suffering  from  so  mischievous  and 
oppressive  an  influence  as  a  sense  of  injustice,  I  now 
justify  myself  to  you. 

"  I  have  never  asked  you  whether  you  remember  your 
mother.  Had  you  at  any  time  broached  the  subject, 
I  should  have  spoken  quite  freely  to  you  on  it ;  but  as 
some  wise  instinct  led  you  to  avoid  it,  I  was  content  to 
let  it  rest  until  circumstances  such  as  the  present  should 
render  further  reserve  unnecessary.  If  any  regret  at 
having  known  so  little  of  the  woman  who  gave  you 
birth  troubles  you,  shake  it  off  without  remorse.  She 
was  an  egotist  who  could  keep  neither  husband,  child, 


Chap.  I        Cashel  Byron's  Profession  33 

servant,  nor  friend,  under  the  same  roof  with  her.  I 
speak  dispassionately.  All  my  bitter  personal  feeling 
against  her  is  as  dead  whilst  I  write  as  it  will  be  when 
you  read.  I  have  even  come  to  regard  tenderly  certain 
of  her  characteristics  which  you  inherit ;  so  that  I  can 
confidently  say  that  I  never,  since  the  perishing  of  the 
infatuation  in  which  I  married,  felt  more  kindly  towards 
her  than  I  do  now.  I  made  the  best,  and  she  the  worst, 
of  our  union  for  six  years ;  and  then  we  parted.  I 
permitted  her  to  give  what  account  of  the  separation  she 
pleased,  and  made  her  a  much  more  liberal  allowance 
than  she  had  any  right  to  expect.  By  these  means  I 
induced  her  to  leave  me  in  undisturbed  possession  of 
you,  whom  I  had  already,  as  a  measure  of  precaution, 
carried  off  to  Belgium.  The  reason  why  we  never 
visited  England  during  her  lifetime  was  that  she  could, 
and  probably  would,  have  made  my  previous  conduct 
and  my  hostility  to  popular  religion  an  excuse  for  wrest- 
ing you  from  me.  I  need  say  no  more  of  her,  and  am 
sorry  it  was  necessary  to  mention  her  at  all. 

u  I  will  now  tell  you  what  induced  me  to  secure  you 
for  myself.  It  was  not  natural  affection  :  I  did  not  love 
you  then  ;  and  I  knew  that  you  would  be  a  serious 
encumbrance  to  me.  But  having  brought  you  into  the 
world,  and  then  broken  through  my  engagements  with 
your  mother,  I  felt  bound  to  see  that  you  should  not 
suffer  for  my  mistake.  Gladly  would  I  have  persuaded 
myself  that  she  was  (as  the  gossips  said)  the  fittest  person 
to  have  charge  of  you  ;  but  I  knew  better,  and  made  up 
my  mind  to  discharge  my  responsibility  as  well  as  I  could 
In  course  of  time  you  became  useful  to  me  ;  and,  as  you 
know,  I  made  use  of  you  without  scruple,  but  never 
without  regard  to  your  own  advantage.  I  always  kept 
a  secretary  to  do  whatever  I  considered  mere  copyist's 
work.  Much  as  you  did  for  me,  I  think  I  may  say  with 

D 


34  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.i 

truth  that  I  never  imposed  a  task  of  no  educational  value 
on  you.  I  fear  you  found  the  hours  you  spent  over  my 
money  affairs  very  irksome  ;  but  I  need  not  apologize  for 
that  now  :  you  must  already  know  by  experience  how 
necessary  a  knowledge  of  business  is  to  the  possessor  of  a 
large  fortune. 

"  I  did  not  think,  when  I  undertook  your  education, 
that  I  was  laying  the  foundation  of  any  comfort  for  my- 
self. For  a  long  time  you  were  only  a  good  girl,  and 
what  ignorant  people  called  a  prodigy  of  learning.  In 
your  circumstances  a  commonplace  child  might  have  been 
both.  I  subsequently  came  to  contemplate  your  existence 
with  a  pleasure  which  I  never  derived  from  the  con- 
templation of  my  own.  I  have  not  succeeded,  and  shall 
not  succeed  in  expressing  the  affection  I  feel  for  you,  or 
the  triumph  with  which  I  find  that  what  I  undertook  as 
a  distasteful  and  thankless  duty  has  rescued  my  life  and 
labor  from  waste.  My  literary  travail,  much  as  it  has 
occupied  us  both,  I  now  value  only  for  the  share  it  has 
had  in  educating  you  ;  and  you  will  be  guilty  of  no  dis- 
loyalty to  me  when  you  come  to  see  that  though  I  sifted 
as  much  sand  as  most  men,  I  found  no  gold.  I  ask  you 
to  remember  then  that  I  did  my  duty  to  you  long  before 
it  became  pleasurable  or  even  hopeful.  And,  when  you 
are  older  and  have  learned  from  your  mother's  friends  how 
I  failed  in  my  duty  to  her,  you  will  perhaps  give  me  some 
credit  for  having  conciliated  the  world  for  your  sake  by 
abandoning  habits  and  acquaintances  which,  whatever 
others  may  have  thought  of  them,  did  much  whilst  they 
lasted  to  make  life  endurable  to  me. 

"  Although  your  future  will  not  concern  me,  I  often 
find  myself  thinking  of  it.  I  fear  you  will  soon  find 
that  the  world  has  not  yet  provided  a  place  and  a  sphere 
of  action  for  well-instructed  women.  In  my  younger 
days,  when  the  companionship  of  my  fellows  was  a 


Chap.  I        Cashel  Byron's  Profession  35 

necessity  to  me,  I  tried  to  set  aside  my  culture  ;  relax  my 
principles  ;  and  acquire  common  tastes,  in  order  to  fit 
myself  for  the  society  of  the  only  men  within  my  reach  ; 
for,  if  I  had  to  live  among  bears,  I  had  rather  be  a  bear 
than  a  man.  The  effort  made  me  more  miserable  than 
any  other  mistake  I  have  ever  made.  It  was  lonely  to  be 
myself;  but  not  to  be  myself  was  death  in  life.  Take 
warning,  Lydia :  do  not  be  tempted  to  accommodate 
yourself  to  the  world  by  moral  suicide. 

"  Some  day,  I  expect  and  hope,  you  will  marry.  You 
will  then  have  an  opportunity  of  making  an  irremediable 
mistake,  against  the  possibility  of  which  no  advice  of 
mine  or  subtlety  of  yours  can  guard  you.  I  think  you 
will  not  easily  find  a  man  able  to  satisfy  in  you  that 
desire  to  be  relieved  of  the  responsibility  of  thinking  out 
and  ordering  our  course  of  life  that  makes  us  each  long 
for  a  guide  whom  we  can  thoroughly  trust.  If  you  fail, 
remember  that  your  father,  after  suffering  a  bitter  and 
complete  disappointment  in  his  wife,  yet  came  to  regard 
his  marriage  as  the  only  fruitful  event  in  his  career.  Let 
me  remind  you  also,  since  you  are  so  rich,  that  you  need 
not,  in  jealousy  of  your  own  income,  limit  your  choice  of 
a  husband  to  those  already  too  rich  to  marry  for  money. 
No  vulgar  adventurer,  I  hope,  will  be  able  to  recommend 
himself  to  you  ;  and  better  men  will  be  at  least  as  much 
frightened  as  attracted  by  your  wealth.  The  only  class 
against  which  I  need  warn  you  is  that  to  which  I  myself 
am  supposed  to  belong.  Never  think  that  a  man  must 
prove  a  suitable  and  satisfying  friend  for  you  merely 
because  he  has  read  much  criticism ;  that  he  must  feel 
the  influences  of  Art  as  you  do,  because  he  knows  and 
adopts  the  classification  of  names  and  schools  with  which 
you  are  familiar ;  or  that  because  he  agrees  with  your 
favourite  authors  he  must  necessarily  interpret  their  words 
to  himself  as  you  understand  them.  Beware  of  men  who 


36  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.l 

have  read  more  than  they  have  worked,  or  who  love  to 
read  better  than  to  work.  Do  not  forget  that  where  the 
man  is  always  at  home,  the  woman  is  never  happy. 
Beware  of  painters,  poets,  musicians,  and  artists  of  all 
sorts,  except  very  great  artists  ;  beware  even  of  them  as 
husbands  and  fathers.  Self-satisfied  workmen  who  have 
learnt  their  business  well,  whether  they  be  chancellors  of 
the  exchequer  or  farmers,  I  recommend  to  you  as,  on  the 
whole,  the  most  tolerable  class  of  men  I  have  met. 

"  I  shall  make  no  further  attempt  to  advise  you.  As 
fast  as  my  counsels  rise  to  my  mind  follow  reflections 
that  convince  me  of  their  futility. 

"  You  may  perhaps  wonder  why  I  never  said  to  you 
what  I  have  written  down  here.  I  have  tried  to  do  so 
and  failed.  If  I  understand  myself  aright,  I  have  written 
these  lines  mainly  to  relieve  a  craving  to  express  my 
affection  for  you.  The  awkwardness  which  an  over- 
civilized  man  experiences  in  admitting  that  he  is  some- 
thing more  than  an  educated  stone  prevented  me  from 
confusing  you  by  demonstrations  of  a  kind  I  had  never 
accustomed  you  to.  Besides,  I  wish  this  assurance  of  my 
love — my  last  word — to  reach  you  when  no  further 
commonplaces  to  blur  the  impressiveness  of  its  simple 
truth  are  possible. 

"  I  know  I  have  said  too  much  ;  and  I  feel  that  I 
have  not  said  enough.  But  the  writing  of  this  letter  has 
been  a  difficult  task.  Practised  as  I  am  with  my  pen,  I 
have  never,  even  in  my  earliest  efforts,  composed  with 
such  labor  and  sense  of  inadequacy " 

Here  the  manuscript  broke  off.  The  letter  had  never 
been  finished. 


CHAPTER    II 

IN  the  month  of  May,  seven  years  after  the  flight  of  the 
two  boys  from  Moncrief  House,  a  lady  sat  in  an  island 
of  shadow  made  by  a  cedar  tree  in  the  midst  of  a  glitter- 
ing green  lawn.  She  did  womanly  to  avoid  the  sun  ;  for 
her  complexion  was  as  delicately  tinted  as  mother-of- 
pearl.  She  was  a  small,  graceful  woman  with  sensitive 
lips  and  nostrils,  green  eyes  with  quiet  unarched  brows, 
and  ruddy  gold  hair,  now  shaded  by  a  large  untrimmed 
straw  hat.  Her  dress  of  Indian  muslin,  with  half  sleeves 
ending  in  wide  ruffles  at  the  elbows,  hardly  covered  her 
shoulders,  where  it  was  supplemented  by  a  fleecy  white 
scarf  which  made  a  nest  of  soft  woollen  lace  for  her 
throat.  She  was  reading  a  little  ivory-bound  volume — 
a  miniature  edition  of  the  second  part  of  Goethe's 
"Faust." 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on  and  the  light  mellowed,  the 
lady  dropped  her  book  and  began  to  think  and  dream, 
unconscious  of  a  prosaic  black  object  crossing  the  lawn 
towards  her.  This  was  a  young  gentleman  in  a  frock 
coat.  He  was  dark,  and  had  a  long,  grave  face,  with  a 
reserved  expression,  but  not  ill-looking. 

"  Going  so  soon,  Lucian  ?  "  said  the  lady,  looking  up 
as  he  came  into  the  shadow. 

Lucian  looked  at  her  wistfully.  His  name,  as  she 
uttered  it,  always  stirred  him  vaguely.  He  was  fond  of 


38  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  II 

finding  reasons  for  things,  and  had  long  ago  decided  that 
this  inward  stir  was  due  to  her  fine  pronunciation.  His 
other  intimates  called  him  Looshn. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  have  arranged  everything,  and 
have  come  to  give  an  account  of  my  stewardship,  and  to 
say  good-bye." 

He  placed  a  garden  chair  near  her  and  sat  down.  She 
laid  her  hands  one  on  the  other  in  her  lap,  and  composed 
herself  to  listen. 

"  First,"  he  said,  "  as  to  the  Warren  Lodge.  It  is  let 
for  a  month  only  ;  so  you  can  allow  Mrs.  GofF  to  have 
it  rent  free  in  July  if  you  wish  to.  I  hope  you  will  not 
act  so  unwisely." 

She  smiled,  and  said,  "  Who  are  the  present  tenants  ? 
I  hear  that  they  object  to  the  dairymaids  and  men  cross- 
ing the  elm  vista." 

"We  must  not  complain  of  that.  It  was  expressly 
stipulated  when  they  took  the  lodge  that  the  vista  should 
be  kept  private  for  them.  I  had  no  idea  at  that  time 
that  you  were  coming  to  the  castle,  or  I  should  of  course 
have  declined  such  a  condition." 

"But  we  do  keep  it  private  tor  them  :  strangers  are 
not  admitted.  Our  people  pass  and  repass  once  a  day  on 
their  way  to  and  from  the  dairy  :  that  is  all." 

"  It  seems  churlish,  Lydia  ;  but  this  is  a  special  case — 
a  young  gentleman  who  has  come  to  recruit  his  health. 
He  needs  daily  exercise  in  the  open  air ;  but  he  cannot 
bear  observation:  indeed  I  have  not  seen  him  myself; 
and  he  has  only  a  single  attendant  with  him.  Under 
these  circumstances,  I  agreed  that  they  should  have  the 
sole  use  of  the  elm  vista.  In  fact  they  are  paying  more 
rent  than  would  be  reasonable  without  this  privilege." 

"  I  hope  the  young  gentleman  is  not  mad." 

"  I  satisfied  myself,  before  I  let  the  lodge  to  him,  that 
he  would  be  a  proper  tenant,"  said  Lucian,  with  reproach- 


Chap.  II       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  39 

ful  gravity.  "  He  was  strongly  recommended  to  me  by 
Lord  Worthington,  who  spoke  quite  warmly  of  him.  As 
it  happens,  I  expressed  to  him  the  suspicion  you  have  just 
suggested.  Worthington  vouched  for  the  tenant's  sanity 
as  well  as  for  his  solvency,  and  offered  to  take  the  lodge 
in  his  own  name  and  be  personally  responsible  for  the 
good  behavior  of  the  invalid.  You  need  have  no  fear  :  it 
is  only  some  young  fellow  who  has  upset  his  nerves  by 
hard  reading.  Probably  some  college  friend  of  Worth- 
ington's." 

"Perhaps  so.  But  I  should  expect  a  college  friend 
of  Lord  Worthington's  to  be  a  hard  rider  or  drinker 
rather  than  a  hard  reader." 

"You  may  be  quite  at  ease,  Lydia.  I  took  Lord 
Worthington  at  his  word  so  far  as  to  make  the  letting  to 
him." 

"  I  am  quite  satisfied,  Lucian ;  and  I  am  greatly 
obliged  to  you.  I  will  give  orders  that  no  one  is  to  go 
to  the  dairy  by  way  of  the  warren." 

"The  next  point,"  resumed  Lucian,  "is  more  im- 
portant, as  it  concerns  you  personally.  Miss  Goff  is 
willing  to  accept  your  offer.  And  a  most  unsuitable 
companion  she  will  be  for  you  !  " 

"Why,  Lucian?" 

"On  all  accounts.  She  is  younger  than  you,  and 
therefore  cannot  chaperone  you.  She  has  received  only 
an  ordinary  education  ;  and  her  experience  of  society  is 
derived  from  local  subscription  balls.  And  as  she  is  not 
unattractive,  and  is  considered  a  beauty  in  Wiltstoken, 
she  is  self-willed,  and  will  probably  take  your  patronage 
in  bad  part." 

"Is  she  more  self-willed  than  I  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  self-willed,  Lydia  ;  except  that  you  are 
deaf  to  advice." 

"You  mean  that  I  seldom  follow  it.     And  so  you 


40  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.  II 

think  I  had  better  employ  a  professional  companion — a 
decayed  gentlewoman — than  save  this  young  girl  from 
going  out  as  a  governess  and  beginning  to  decay  at 
twenty-three  ? " 

"  The  business  of  getting  a  suitable  companion,  and 
the  duty  of  relieving  poor  people,  are  two  different  things, 
Lydia." 

"  True,  Lucian.     When  will  Miss  Goff  call  ?  " 

"  This  evening.  Mind  :  nothing  is  settled  as  yet.  If 
you  think  better  of  it  on  seeing  her,  you  have  only  to 
treat  her  as  an  ordinary  visitor,  and  the  subject  will  drop. 
For  my  own  part,  I  prefer  her  sister ;  but  she  will  not 
leave  Mrs.  Goff,  who  has  not  yet  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  her  husband's  death." 

Lydia  looked  reflectively  at  the  little  volume  in  her 
hand,  and  seemed  to  think  out  the  question  of  Miss 
Goff.  When  she  looked  up  again  it  was  evidently  settled  ; 
but  she  said  nothing. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Lucian  presently,  embarrassed  by  her 
silence. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Lydia,  not  at  all  embarrassed. 

"  You  have  not  said  anything." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say." 

"  Then,"  said  Lucian  shortly,  giving  way  to  a  sense 
of  injury,  "  I  had  better  go." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Lydia.  "I  am  enjoying  your 
company  in  the  Wiltstoken  way.  When  two  of  our 
laborers  here  are  friends,  how  do  they  shew  it  ?  They 
lean  on  the  same  gate  for  hours  together  every  Sunday 
morning  without  exchanging  a  word.  Surely  thats 
better  than  the  nervous  horror  of  silence  and  self-con- 
sciousness called  society  in  our  unfortunate  circle." 

"  You  have  such  extraordinary  ideas,  Lydia !  An 
agricultural  laborer  is  silent  just  as  a  dog  is  silent." 

"  Dogs  are  very  good  company,"  said  Lydia. 


Chap.  II       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  41 

To  this  he  found  nothing  to  say.  The  only  relation 
to  a  woman  in  which  he  felt  happy  was  one  of  intellectual 
condescension  and  explanation.  Lydia  never  questioned 
his  explanations  ;  but  as  she  did  not  draw  the  same  moral 
from  them,  he  seldom  felt  that  they  had  been  successful. 
As  to  maintaining  a  silence  with  her  on  the  agricultural 
laborers'  lines,  that  was  beyond  his  utmost  power  of 
self-possession.  He  had  to  plead  his  train  and  say  good- 
bye. 

She  gave  him  her  hand ;  and  a  dull  glow  came  into 
his  gray  jaws  as  he  took  it.  Then  he  buttoned  his  coat 
and  walked  gravely  away.  As  he  went,  she  watched  the 
sun  flashing  from  his  glossy  hat,  and  drowning  in  his 
respectable  coat.  She  sighed,  and  took  up  Goethe  again. 

But  after  a  little  while  she  tired  of  sitting  still,  and 
rose  and  wandered  through  the  park  for  nearly  an  hour, 
trying  to  find  the  places  where  she  had  played  in  her 
childhood  during  a  visit  to  her  late  aunt.  She  recognized 
a  great  toppling  Druid's  altar  that  had  formerly  reminded 
her  of  Mount  Sinai  threatening  to  fall  on  the  head  of 
Christian  in  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress."  Further  on  she 
saw  and  avoided  a  swamp  in  which  she  had  once  earned  a 
scolding  from  her  nurse  by  filling  her  stockings  with 
mud.  Then  she  found  herself  in  a  long  avenue  of  green 
turf,  running  east  and  west,  and  apparently  endless. 
This  seemed  the  most  delightful  of  all  her  possessions  ; 
and  she  had  begun  to  plan  a  pavilion  to  build  near  it, 
when  she  suddenly  recollected  that  this  must  be  the  elm 
vista  of  which  the  privacy  was  so  stringently  insisted 
upon  by  her  invalid  tenant  at  the  Warren  Lodge.  She 
fled  into  the  wood  at  once,  and,  when  she  was  safe  there, 
laughed  at  the  oddity  of  being  a  trespasser  in  her  own 
domain.  A  wide  detour  was  needed  to  avoid  intruding 
again  :  consequently,  after  walking  a  little  time,  she  lost 
herself.  The  trees  seemed  never-ending :  she  began  to 


42  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.  II 

think  she  must  possess  a  forest  as  well  as  a  park.  At  last 
she  saw  an  opening.  Hastening  towards  it,  she  came 
again  into  the  sunlight,  and  stopped,  dazzled  by  an 
apparition  which  she  at  first  took  to  be  a  beautiful  statue, 
but  presently  recognized,  with  a  strange  glow  of  delight, 
as  a  living  man. 

To  so  mistake  a  gentleman  exercising  himself  in  the 
open  air  on  a  nineteenth  century  afternoon  would,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  imply  incredible  ignorance  either 
of  men  or  statues.  But  the  circumstances  in  Miss  Carew's 
case  were  not  ordinary  ;  for  the  man  was  clad  in  a  jersey 
and  knee  breeches  of  white  material ;  and  his  bare  arms 
shone  like  those  of  a  gladiator.  His  broad  pectoral 
muscles,  in  their  white  covering,  were  like  slabs  of 
marble.  Even  his  hair,  short,  crisp,  and  curly,  seemed 
like  burnished  bronze  in  the  evening  light.  It  came  into 
Lydia's  mind  that  she  had  disturbed  an  antique  god  in 
his  sylvan  haunt.  The  fancy  was  only  momentary  ;  for 
her  next  glance  fell  on  a  third  person,  a  groom-like  man, 
impossible  to  associate  with  classic  divinity,  contemplat- 
ing his  companion  much  as  a  groom  might  contemplate 
an  exceptionally  fine  horse.  He  was  the  first  to  see 
Lydia  ;  and  his  expression  as  he  did  so  plainly  shewed 
that  he  regarded  her  as  a  most  unwelcome  intruder.  The 
statue-man,  following  his  sinister  look,  saw  her  too,  but 
with  different  feelings  ;  for  his  lips  parted  j  his  color 
rose ;  and  he  stared  at  her  with  undisguised  admiration 
and  wonder.  Lydia's  first  impulse  was  to  turn  and  fly  ; 
her  next,  to  apologize  for  her  presence.  Finally  she 
went  away  quietly  through  the  trees. 

The  moment  she  was  out  of  their  sight,  she  increased 
her  pace  almost  to  a  run.  The  day  was  warm  for  rapid 
movement ;  and  she  soon  stopped  and  listened.  There 
were  the  usual  woodland  sounds  :  leaves  rustling,  grass- 
hoppers chirping,  and  birds  singing  j  but  not  a  human 


Chap.  II       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  43 

voice  or  footstep.  She  began  to  think  that  the  god-like 
figure  was  only  the  Hermes  of  Praxiteles,  suggested  to 
her  by  Goethe's  classical  Sabbat,  and  changed  by  a  day- 
dream into  the  semblance  of  a  living  reality.  The  groom 
must  have  been  one  of  those  incongruities  characteristic 
of  dreams — probably  a  reminiscence  of  Lucian's  state- 
ment that  the  tenant  of  the  Warren  Lodge  had  a  single 
male  attendant.  It  was  impossible  that  this  glorious 
vision  of  manly  strength  and  beauty  could  be  sub- 
stantially a  student  broken  down  by  excessive  study. 
That  irrational  glow  of  delight  too  was  one  of  the 
absurdities  of  dreamland  :  otherwise  she  should  have  been 
ashamed  of  it. 

Lydia  made  her  way  back  to  the  Castle  in  some  alarm 
as  to  the  state  of  her  nerves,  but  dwelling  on  her  vision 
with  a  pleasure  that  she  would  not  have  ventured  to 
indulge  had  it  concerned  a  creature  of  flesh  and  blood. 
Once  or  twice  it  recurred  to  her  so  vividly  that  she  asked 
herself  whether  it  could  have  been  real.  But  a  little 
reasoning  convinced  her  that  it  must  have  been  an 
hallucination. 

u  If  you  please,  madam,"  said  one  of  her  staff  of 
domestics,  a  native  of  Wiltstoken,  who  stood  in  deep 
awe  of  the  lady  of  the  Castle,  "Miss  Goff  is  waiting  for 
you  in  the  drawing-room." 

The  drawing-room  of  the  Castle  was  a  circular  apart- 
ment, with  a  dome- shaped  ceiling  broken  into  gilt 
ornaments  resembling  thick  bamboos,  which  projected 
vertically  downward  like  stalagmites.  The  heavy 
chandeliers  were  loaded  with  flattened  brass  balls, 
magnified  facsimiles  of  which  crowned  the  uprights  of 
the  low,  broad,  massively -framed  chairs,  covered  in 
leather  stamped  with  Japanese  dragon  designs  in  copper- 
coloured  metal.  Near  the  fireplace  was  a  bronze  bell 
of  Chinese  shape,  mounted  like  a  mortar  on  a  black 


44  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  II 

wooden  carriage  for  use  as  a  coal-scuttle.  The  wall 
was  decorated  with  large  gold  crescents  on  a  ground  of 
light  blue. 

In  this  barbaric  rotunda  Miss  Carew  found  awaiting 
her  a  young  lady  of  twenty-three,  with  a  well-developed, 
resilient  figure,  and  a  clear  complexion,  porcelain  surfaced, 
and  with  a  fine  red  in  the  cheeks.  The  lofty  pose  of  her 
head  expressed  the  habitual  sense  of  her  own  consequence 
given  her  by  the  admiration  of  the  youth  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, which  was  also,  perhaps,  the  cause  of  the  neatness 
of  her  inexpensive  black  dress  and  of  her  irreproachable 
gloves,  boots,  and  hat.  She  had  been  waiting  to  introduce 
herself  to  the  lady  of  the  Castle  for  ten  minutes  in  a  state 
of  nervousness  that  culminated  as  Lydia  entered. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Goff?  Have  I  kept  you 
waiting  ?  I  was  out." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Miss  GofF,  with  a  confused  im- 
pression that  red  hair  was  aristocratic,  and  dark  brown 
(the  color  of  her  own)  vulgar.  She  had  risen  to  shake 
hands,  and  now,  after  hesitating  a  moment  to  consider 
what  etiquette  required  her  to  do  next,  resumed  her  seat. 
Miss  Carew  sat  down  too,  and  gazed  thoughtfully  at  her 
visitor,  who  held  herself  rigidly  erect,  and,  striving  to 
mask  her  nervousness,  unintentionally  looked  disdainfuL 

"  Miss  GofF,"  said  Lydia,  after  a  silence  that  made  her 
speech  impressive :  "  will  you  come  to  me  on  a  long  visit  ? 
In  this  lonely  place,  I  am  greatly  in  want  of  a  friend  and 
companion  of  my  own  age  and  position.  I  think  you 
must  be  equally  so." 

Alice  GorF  was  very  young,  and  very  determined  to 
accept  no  credit  that  she  did  not  deserve.  She  proceeded 
to  set  Miss  Carew  right  as  to  her  social  position,  not 
considering  that  the  lady  of  the  Castle  probably  under- 
stood it  better  than  she  did  herself,  and  indeed  thinking 
it  quite  natural  that  she  should  be  mistaken. 


Chap.  II       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  45 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  replied  stiffly  ;  "  but  our 
positions  are  quite  different,  Miss  Carew.  The  fact  is 
that  I  cannot  afford  to  live  an  idle  life.  We  are  very 
poor ;  and  my  mother  is  partly  dependent  on  my 
exertions." 

"  I  think  you  will  be  able  to  exert  yourself  to  good 
purpose  if  you  come  to  me,"  said  Lydia,  unimpressed. 
"  It  is  true  that  I  shall  give  you  very  expensive  habits  ; 
but  I  will  also  enable  you  to  support  them." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  contract  expensive  habits,"  said 
Alice,  reproachfully.  "  I  shall  have  to  content  myself 
with  frugal  ones  throughout  my  life." 

"  Not  necessarily.  Tell  me  frankly :  how  had  you 
proposed  to  exert  yourself  ?  As  a  teacher,  was  it  not  ?  " 

Alice  flushed,  but  assented. 

"  You  are  not  at  all  fitted  for  it ;  and  you  will  end  by 
marrying.  As  a  teacher  you  could  not  marry  well.  As 
an  idle  lady,  with  expensive  habits,  you  will  marry  very 
well  indeed.  It  is  quite  an  art  to  know  how  to  be  rich — 
an  indispensable  art,  if  you  mean  to  marry  a  rich  man." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  marrying,"  said  Alice  loftily. 
She  thought  it  time  to  check  this  cool  aristocrat.  "  If  I 
come  at  all,  I  shall  come  without  any  ulterior  object." 

"That  is  just  what  I  had  hoped.  Come  without 
conditions  or  second  thought  of  any  kind." 

"But "  began  Alice,  and  stopped,  bewildered  by 

the  pace  at  which  the  negotiation  was  proceeding.  She 
murmured  a  few  words,  and  waited  for  Lydia  to  proceed. 
But  Lydia  had  said  her  say,  and  evidently  expected  a 
reply,  though  she  seemed  assured  of  having  her  own  way, 
whatever  Alice's  views  might  be. 

"I  do  not  quite  understand,  Miss  Carew.  What 
duties  ? — what  would  you  expect  of  me  ?  " 

"A  great  deal,"  said  Lydia  gravely.  "Much  more 
than  I  should  from  a  mere  professional  companion." 


46  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.  II 

"  But  I  shall  be  a  professional  companion,"  protested 
Alice. 

"Whose?" 

Alice   flushed  again,  angrily  this   time.     "I  did   not 


mean  to  sa- 


IV- 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  me,"  said  Lydia,  stopping  her  quietly. 
"Why  are  you  so  scrupulous,  Miss  GofF?  You  will 
be  close  to  your  home,  and  can  return  to  it  at  any 
moment  if  you  become  dissatisfied  with  your  position 
here." 

Fearful  that  she  had  disgraced  herself  by  bad  manners  ; 
loth  to  be  taken  possession  of  as  if  her  wishes  were  of  no 
consequence  when  a  rich  lady's  whim  was  to  be  gratified ; 
suspicious — since  she  had  often  heard  gossiping  tales  of 
the  dishonesty  of  people  in  high  positions — lest  she  should 
be  cheated  out  of  the  substantial  salary  she  had  come 
resolved  to  demand  ;  and  withal  unable  to  defend  herself 
against  Miss  Carew,  Alice  caught  at  the  first  excuse  that 
occurred  to  her. 

"  I  should  like  a  little  time  to  consider,"  she  said. 

"  Time  to  accustom  yourself  to  me,  is  it  not  ?  You 
can  have  as  long  as  you  plea " 

"Oh,  I  can  let  you  know  to-morrow,"  interrupted 
Alice,  officiously. 

"  Thank  you.  I  will  send  a  note  to  Mrs.  GofF  to  say 
that  she  need  not  expect  you  back  until  to-morrow." 

"  But  I  did  not  mean I  am  not  prepared  to  stay," 

remonstrated  Alice,  feeling  more  and  more  entangled  in 
Lydia's  snare. 

"  We  shall  take  a  walk  after  dinner,  then,  and  call  at 
your  house,  where  you  can  make  your  preparations.  But 
I  think  I  can  lend  you  all  you  will  require." 

Alice  dared  make  no  further  objection.  "I  am 
afraid,"  she  stammered,  "you  will  think  me  horribly 


Chap.  II  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  47 

rude ;  but  I  am  so  useless,  and  you  are  so  sure  to  be 
disappointed,  that — that — 

"  You  are  not  rude,  Miss  Goff ;  but  I  find  you  very 
shy.  You  want  to  run  away  and  hide  from  new  faces 
and  new  surroundings." 

Alice,  who  was  self-possessed  and  even  overbearing  in 
Wiltstoken  society,  felt  that  she  was  misunderstood,  but 
did  not  know  how  to  vindicate  herself. 

Lydia  resumed.  "  I  have  formed  my  habits  in  the 
course  of  my  travels,  and  so  live  without  ceremony.  We 
dine  early — at  six." 

Alice  had  dined  at  two,  but  did  not  feel  bound  to 
confess  it. 

"  Let  me  shew  you  your  room,"  said  Lydia,  rising. 
"  This  is  a  curious  drawing-room,"  she  added,  glancing 
around.  UI  have  never  used  it  before."  She  looked 
about  her  again  with  some  interest,  as  if  the  apartment 
belonged  to  some  one  else  ;  and  then  led  the  way  to  a 
room  on  the  first  floor,  furnished  as  a  lady's  bed-chamber. 
"If  you  dislike  this,"  she  said,  "or  cannot  arrange  it  to 
suit  you,  there  are  others,  of  which  you  can  have  your 
choice.  Come  to  my  boudoir  when  you  are  ready." 

"  Where  is  that  ?  "  said  Alice  anxiously. 

"  It  is — You  had  better  ring  for  some  one  to  shew 
you.  I  will  send  you  my  maid." 

Alice,  even  more  afraid  of  the  maid  than  of  the 
mistress,  declined  hastily.  "I  am  accustomed  to 
attend  to  myself,  Miss  Carew,"  she  added,  with  proud 
humility. 

"  You  will  find  it  more  convenient  to  call  me  Lydia," 
said  Miss  Carew.  "  Otherwise  you  will  be  supposed  to 
refer  to  my  grand-aunt,  a  very  old  lady."  She  then  left 
the  room. 

Alice  was  fond  of  thinking  that  she  had  a  womanly 
taste  and  touch  in  making  a  room  pretty.  She  was 


48  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  II 

accustomed  to  survey  with  pride  her  mother's  drawing- 
room,  which  she  had  garnished  with  cheap  cretonnes, 
Japanese  paper  fans,  and  nic-nacs  in  ornamental  pottery. 
She  felt  now  that  if  she  slept  once  in  the  bed  before  her, 
she  could  never  be  content  in  her  mother's  house  again. 
All  that  she  had  read  and  believed  of  the  beauty  of  cheap 
and  simple  ornament,  and  the  vulgarity  of  costliness, 
recurred  to  her  as  a  paraphrase  of  the  "  Sour  grapes  "  of 
the  fox  in  the  fable.  She  pictured  to  herself  with  a 
shudder  the  effect  of  a  sixpenny  Chinese  umbrella  in  that 
fireplace,  a  cretonne  valance  to  that  bed,  or  chintz 
curtains  to  those  windows.  There  was  in  the  room  a 
series  of  mirrors  consisting  of  a  great  glass  in  which  she 
could  see  herself  at  full  length,  another  framed  in  the 
carved  oaken  dressing  table,  and  smaller  ones  of  various 
shapes  fixed  to  jointed  arms  that  turned  every  way.  To 
use  them  for  the  first  time  was  like  having  eyes  in  the 
back  of  one's  head.  She  had  never  seen  herself  from  all 
points  of  view  before.  As  she  gazed,  she  strove  not  to 
be  ashamed  of  her  dress  ;  but  even  her  face  and  figure, 
which  usually  afforded  her  unqualified  delight,  seemed 
robust  and  middle-class  in  Miss  Carew's  mirrors. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  seating  herself  on  a  chair  that  was 
even  more  luxurious  to  rest  in  than  to  look  at ;  "  putting 
the  lace  out  of  the  question — and  my  old  lace  that 
belongs  to  mamma  is  quite  as  valuable — her  whole  dress 
cannot  have  cost  much  more  than  mine.  At  any  rate,  it 
is  not  worth  much  more,  whatever  she  may  have  chosen 
to  pay  for  it." 

But  Alice  was  clever  enough  to  envy  Miss  Carew  her 
manners  more  than  her  dress.  She  would  not  admit  to 
herself  that  she  was  not  thoroughly  a  lady  ;  but  she  felt 
that  Lydia,  in  the  eye  of  a  stranger,  would  answer  that 
description  better  than  she.  Still,  as  far  as  she  had 
observed,  Miss  Carew  was  exceedingly  cool  in  her  pro- 


Chap.  II       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  49 

ceedings,  and  did  not  take  any  pains  to  please  those  with 
whom  she  conversed.  Alice  had  often  made  compacts  of 
friendship  with  young  ladies,  and  had  invited  them  to 
call  her  by  her  Christian  name ;  but  on  such  occasions 
she  had  always  called  them  "  dear "  or  "  darling,"  and, 
whilst  the  friendship  lasted,  which  was  often  longer  than 
a  month,  had  never  met  them  without  exchanging  an 
embrace  and  a  hearty  kiss. 

"  And  nothing,"  she  said,  springing  from  the  chair  as 
she  thought  of  this,  and  speaking  very  resolutely,  "  shall 
tempt  me  to  believe  that  there  is  anything  vulgar  in 
sincere  affection.  I  shall  be  on  my  guard  against  this 
woman." 

Having  settled  that  matter  for  the  present,  she  went 
on  with  her  examination  of  the  room,  and  was  more  and 
more  attracted  by  it  as  she  proceeded.  For,  thanks  to 
her  eminence  as  a  local  beauty,  she  had  not  that  fear  of 
beautiful  and  rich  things  which  renders  abject  people  in- 
capable of  associating  costliness  with  comfort.  Had  the 
counterpane  of  the  bed  been  her  own,  she  would  un- 
hesitatingly have  converted  it  into  a  ball  dress.  There 
were  toilet  appliances  of  which  she  had  never  felt  the 
need,  and  could  only  guess  the  use.  She  looked  with 
despair  into  the  two  large  closets,  thinking  how  poor  a 
show  her  three  dresses,  her  ulster,  and  her  few  old 
jackets  would  make  there.  There  was  also  a  dressing- 
room  with  a  marble  bath  that  made  cleanliness  a  luxury 
instead  of,  as  it  seemed  at  home,  one  of  the  sternest  of 
the  virtues.  Everything  was  appropriately  elegant ;  but 
nothing  had  been  placed  in  the  rooms  for  the  sake  of 
ornament  alone.  Miss  Carew,  judged  by  her  domestic 
arrangements,  was  a  utilitarian  before  everything.  There 
was  a  very  handsome  chimneypiece ;  but  as  there  was 
nothing  on  the  mantelshelf,  Alice  made  a  faint  effort  to 
believe  that  it  was  inferior  in  point  of  taste  to  that  in  her 

£ 


50  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.  II 

own  bedroom,  which  was  covered  with  blue  cloth,  bordered 
by  a  fringe  and  a  row  of  brass-headed  nails,  and  laden 
with  photographs  in  plush  frames. 

The  striking  of  the  hour  reminded  her  that  she  had 
forgotten  to  prepare  for  dinner.  She  hastily  took  off  her 
hat ;  washed  her  hands  ;  spent  another  minute  among 
the  mirrors  ;  and  was  summoning  courage  to  ring  the 
bell,  when  a  doubt  occurred  to  her.  Ought  she  to  put 
on  her  gloves  before  going  down  or  not  ?  This  kept  her 
in  perplexity  for  many  seconds.  At  last  she  resolved  to 
put  her  gloves  in  her  pocket,  and  be  guided  as  to  their 
further  disposal  by  the  example  of  her  hostess.  Not 
daring  to  hesitate  any  longer,  she  rang  the  bell,  and  was 
presently  joined  by  a  French  lady  of  polished  manners — 
Miss  Carew's  maid — who  conducted  her  to  the  boudoir, 
an  hexagonal  apartment  that,  Alice  thought,  a  sultana 
might  have  envied.  Lydia  was  there,  reading.  Alice 
noted  with  relief  that  she  had  not  changed  her  dress,  and 
was  ungloved. 

Miss  Goff  did  not  enjoy  the  dinner.  There  was  a 
butler  who  seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  stand  at 
a  buffet  and  watch  her.  There  was  also  a  swift,  noiseless 
footman  who  presented  himself  at  her  elbow  at  intervals, 
and  compelled  her  to  choose  on  the  instant  between  un- 
familiar things  to  eat  and  drink.  She  envied  these  men 
their  knowledge  of  society,  and  shrank  from  their 
criticism.  Once,  after  taking  a  piece  of  asparagus  in 
her  hand,  she  was  deeply  mortified  to  see  her  hostess 
consume  the  vegetable  with  the  aid  of  a  knife  and  fork  ; 
but  the  footman's  back  was  turned  to  her  just  then  ;  and 
the  butler,  oppressed  by  the  heat  of  the  weather,  was  in 
a  state  of  abstraction  bordering  on  slumber.  On  the 
whole,  by  dint  of  imitating  Miss  Carew,  who  did  not 
plague  her  with  any  hostess-like  vigilance,  she  came  off 
without  discredit  to  her  breeding. 


Chap.  II       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  51 

Lydia,  on  her  part,  acknowledged  no  obligation  to 
entertain  her  guest  by  chatting,  and  enjoyed  her  thoughts 
and  her  dinner  in  silence.  Alice  began  to  be  fascinated 
by  her,  and  to  wonder  what  she  was  thinking  about. 
She  fancied  that  the  footman  was  not  quite  free  from  the 
same  influence.  Even  the  butler  might  have  been 
meditating  himself  to  sleep  on  the  subject.  Alice  felt 
tempted  to  offer  her  a  penny  for  her  thoughts  ;  but  she 
dared  not  be  so  familiar  as  yet.  Had  the  offer  been  made 
and  accepted,  butler,  footman,  and  guest  would  have  been 
plunged  into  equal  confusion  by  the  explanation,  which 
would  have  run  thus  : 

"  I  had  a  vision  of  the  Hermes  of  Praxiteles  in  a  sylvan 
haunt  to-day  ;  and  I  am  thinking  of  that  " 


CHAPTER   III 

NEXT  day  Alice  accepted  Miss  Carew's  invitation. 
Lydia,  who  seemed  to  regard  all  conclusions  as  foregone 
when  she  had  once  signified  her  approval  of  them,  took 
the  acceptance  as  a  matter  of  course.  Alice  thereupon 
thought  fit  to  remind  her  that  there  were  other  persons 
to  be  considered.  She  said, 

u  I  should  not  have  hesitated  yesterday  but  for  my 
mother.  It  seems  so  heartless  to  leave  her." 

"  You  have  a  sister  at  home,  have  you  not  ?  " 

cc  Yes.  But  she  is  not  very  strong  -,  and  my  mother 
requires  a  great  deal  of  attention."  Alice  paused,  and 
added  in  a  lower  voice,  "  She  has  never  recovered  from 
the  shock  of  my  father's  death." 

"  Your  father  is  then  not  long  dead  ?  "  said  Lydia  in 
her  usual  tone. 

"Only  two  years,"  said  Alice  coldly.  "I  hardly 
know  how  to  tell  my  mother  that  I  am  going  to  desert 
her." 

"  Go  and  tell  her  to-day,  Alice.  You  need  not  be 
afraid  of  hurting  her.  Grief  of  two  years'  standing  is 
only  a  bad  habit." 

Alice  started,  outraged.  Her  mother's  grief  was 
sacred  to  her ;  and  yet  it  was  by  her  experience  of  her 
mother  that  she  recognized  the  truth  of  Lydia's  remark, 
and  felt  that  it  was  unanswerable.  She  frowned  ;  but 


Chap.  Ill     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  53 

the  frown  was  lost :  Miss  Carew  was  not  looking  at  her. 
Then  she  rose  and  went  to  the  door,  where  she  stopped 
to  say, 

"  You  do  not  know  our  family  circumstances.  I  will 
go  now  and  try  to  prevail  on  my  mother  to  let  me  stay 
with  you." 

"Please  come  back  in  good  time  for  dinner,"  said 
Lydia,  unmoved.  "  I  will  introduce  you  to  my  cousin 
Lucian  Webber :  I  have  just  received  a  telegram  from 
him.  He  is  coming  down  with  Lord  Worthington.  I 
do  not  know  whether  Lord  Worthington  will  come  to 
dinner  or  not.  He  has  an  invalid  friend  at  the  Warren 
Lodge  ;  and  Lucian  does  not  make  it  clear  whether  he  is 
coming  to  visit  him  or  me.  However,  it  is  of  no  conse- 
quence :  Lord  Worthington  is  only  a  young  sportsman. 
Lucian  is  a  clever  man,  and  will  be  a  well-known  one  some 
day.  He  is  secretary  to  a  Cabinet  Minister,  and  is  very 
busy ;  but  we  shall  probably  see  him  often  whilst  the 
Whitsuntide  holidays  last.  Excuse  my  keeping  you 
waiting  at  the  door  to  hear  that  long  history.  Adieu  !  " 
She  waved  her  hand ;  and  Alice  suddenly  felt  that 
it  might  be  possible  to  become  very  fond  of  Miss 
Carew. 

She  spent  an  unhappy  afternoon  with  her  mother.  It 
had  been  Mrs.  GofFs  fortune  to  marry  a  man  of  whom 
she  was  afraid,  and  who  made  himself  very  disagreeable 
whenever  his  house  or  his  children  were  neglected  in  the 
least  particular.  Making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  she  had 
come  to  be  regarded  in  Wiltstoken  as  a  model  wife  and 
mother.  At  last,  when  a  drag  ran  over  Mr.  Goff  and 
killed  him,  she  was  left  almost  penniless,  with  two 
daughters  on  her  hands.  In  this  extremity,  she  took 
refuge  in  grief,  and  did  nothing.  Her  daughters  settled 
their  father's  affairs  as  best  they  could ;  moved  into  a 
cheap  house ;  and  procured  a  strange  tenant  for  that  in 


54  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  Ill 

which  they  had  lived  during  many  years.  Janet,  the 
elder  sister,  a  student  by  disposition,  employed  herself  as 
a  teacher  of  the  latest  fashions  in  female  education, 
rumors  of  which  had  already  reached  Wiltstoken. 
Alice  was  unable  to  teach  mathematics  and  moral 
science  ;  but  she  formed  a  dancing  class,  and  gave  lessons 
in  singing  and  in  a  language  which  she  believed  to  be 
current  in  France,  but  which  was  not  intelligible  to 
natives  of  that  country  travelling  through  Wiltstoken. 
Both  sisters  were  devoted  to  one  another  and  to  their 
mother.  Alice,  who  had  enjoyed  the  special  affection  of 
her  self-indulgent  father,  preserved  some  regard  for  his 
memory,  though  she  could  not  help  wishing  that  his 
affection  had  been  strong  enough  to  induce  him  to  save  a 
provision  for  her.  She  was  ashamed,  too,  of  the  very 
recollection  of  his  habit  of  getting  drunk  at  races, 
regattas,  and  other  national  festivals,  by  an  accident  at 
one  of  which  he  had  met  his  death. 

Alice  went  home  from  the  Castle  expecting  to  leave 
her  family  divided  between  joy  at  her  good  fortune  and 
grief  at  losing  her ;  for  her  views  of  human  nature  and 
parental  feeling  were  as  yet  purely  romantic.  But  Mrs. 
Goff,  at  once  becoming  envious  of  the  luxury  her  daughter 
was  about  to  enjoy,  overwhelmed  her  with  accusa- 
tions of  want  of  feeling,  eagerness  to  desert  her  mother, 
and  vain  love  of  pleasure.  Alice,  who,  in  spite  of  a 
stubborn  sense  of  the  duty  of  truth  telling,  had  often  told 
Mrs.  Goff  half  a  dozen  lies  in  one  afternoon  to  spare  her 
some  unpleasant  truth,  and  would  have  scouted  as  in- 
famous any  suggestion  that  her  parent  was  more  selfish 
than  saintly,  soon  burst  into  tears,  declaring  that  she 
would  not  return  to  the  Castle,  and  that  nothing  would 
have  induced  her  to  stay  there  the  night  before  had  she 
thought  that  her  doing  so  could  give  pain  at  home. 
This  alarmed  Mrs.  Goff,  who  knew  by  experience  that 


Chap.  Ill     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  55 

it  was  easier  to  drive  Alice  upon  rash  resolves  than  to 
shake  her  in  them  afterwards.  Fear  of  incurring  blame 
in  Wiltstoken  for  wantonly  opposing  her  daughter's 
interests,  and  of  losing  her  share  of  Miss  Carew's  money 
and  countenance,  got  the  better  of  her  jealousy.  She 
lectured  Alice  severely  for  her  headstrong  temper,  and 
commanded  her  on  her  duty  not  only  to  her  mother,  but 
also  and  chiefly  to  her  God,  to  accept  Miss  Carew's  offer 
with  thankfulness,  and  to  insist  upon  a  definite  salary  as 
soon  as  she  had,  by  good  behavior,  made  her  society 
indispensable  at  the  Castle.  Alice,  dutiful  as  she  was, 
reduced  Mrs.  Goff  to  entreaties,  and  even  to  symptoms 
of  an  outburst  of  violent  grief  for  the  late  Mr.  Goff, 
before  she  consented  to  obey  her.  She  would  wait,  she 
said,  until  Janet,  who  was  absent  teaching,  came  in,  and 
promised  to  forgive  her  for  staying  away  the  previous 
night  (Mrs.  Goff  had  falsely  represented  that  Janet, 
deeply  hurt,  had  lain  awake  weeping  during  the  small 
hours  of  the  morning).  The  mother,  seeing  nothing  for 
it  but  either  to  get  rid  of  Alice  before  Janet's  return,  or 
be  detected  in  a  spiteful  untruth,  had  to  pretend  that 
Janet  was  spending  the  evening  with  some  friends,  and 
to  urge  the  unkindness  of  leaving  Miss  Carew  lonely. 
At  last  Alice  washed  away  the  traces  of  her  tears, 
and  returned  to  the  Castle,  feeling  very  miserable,  and 
trying  to  comfort  herself  with  the  reflection  that 
her  sister  had  been  spared  the  scene  which  had  just 
passed. 

Lucian  Webber  had  not  arrived  when  she  reached  the 
Castle.  Miss  Carew  glanced  at  her  melancholy  face  as 
she  entered,  but  asked  no  questions*  Presently,  however, 
she  put  down  her  book ;  considered  for  a  moment ;  and 
said, 

"  It  is  nearly  three  years  since  I  have  had  a  new  dress." 
Alice  looked  up  with  interest.  "  Now  that  I  have  you 


56  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  Ill 

to  help  me  to  choose,  I  think  I  will  be  extravagant 
enough  to  renew  my  entire  wardrobe.  I  wish  you 
would  take  this  opportunity  to  get  some  things  for 
yourself.  You  will  find  that  my  dressmaker,  Madame 
Smith,  is  to  be  depended  on  for  work,  though  she 
is  expensive  and  dishonest.  When  we  are  tired  of 
Wiltstoken  we  can  go  to  Paris,  and  be  millinered 
there  ;  but  in  the  meantime  we  can  resort  to  Madame 
Smith." 

"  I  cannot  afford  expensive  dresses,"  said  Alice. 

u  I  should  not  ask  you  to  get  them  if  you  could  not 
afford  them.  I  warned  you  that  I  should  give  you 
expensive  habits." 

Alice  hesitated.  She  had  a  healthy  inclination  to  take 
whatever  she  could  get  on  all  occasions  ;  and  she  had 
suffered  too  much  from  poverty  not  to  be  more  thankful 
for  her  good  fortune  than  humiliated  by  Miss  Carew's 
bounty.  But  the  thought  of  being  driven,  richly  attired, 
in  one  of  the  Castle  carriages,  and  meeting  Janet 
trudging  about  her  daily  tasks  in  a  cheap  black  serge  and 
mended  gloves,  made  Alice  feel  that  she  deserved  all  her 
mother's  reproaches.  However,  it  was  obvious  that  a 
refusal  would  be  of  no  material  benefit  to  Janet ;  so  she 
said, 

"Really  I  could  not  think  of  imposing  on  your 
kindness  in  this  wholesale  fashion.  You  are  too  good 
to  me." 

"  I  will  write  to  Madame  Smith  this  evening,"  said 
Lydia. 

Alice  was  about  to  renew  her  protest  more  faintly, 
when  Mr.  Webber  was  announced.  She  stiffened  herself 
to  receive  the  visitor.  Lydia's  manner  did  not  alter  in 
the  least.  Lucian,  whose  demeanour  resembled  Miss 
GofPs  rather  than  his  cousin's,  went  through  the 
ceremony  of  introduction  with  solemnity,  and  was 


Chap.  Ill     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  57 

received  with  a  dash  of  scorn  ;  for  Alice,  though  secretly 
awe-stricken,  bore  herself  tyrannically  towards  men  from 
habit. 

In  reply  to  Alice,  Mr.  Webber  thought  the  day  cooler 
than  yesterday.  In  reply  to  Lydia,  he  admitted  that  the 
resolution  of  which  the  Leader  of  the  Opposition  had 

e'ven  notice  was  tantamount  to  a  vote  of  censure  on  the 
overnment.  He  was  confident  that  Ministers  would 
have  a  majority.  He  had  no  news  of  any  importance. 
He  had  made  the  journey  down  with  Lord  Worthington, 
who  had  come  to  Wiltstoken  to  see  the  invalid  at  the 
Warren  Lodge.  He  had  promised  to  return  with  Lucian 
in  the  seven-thirty  train. 

When  they  went  down  to  dinner,  Alice,  profiting  by 
her  experience  of  the  day  before,  faced  the  servants  with 
composure,  and  committed  no  solecisms.  Unable  to  take 
part  in  the  conversation,  as  she  knew  nothing  of  politics, 
which  were  the  staple  of  Lucian's  discourse,  she  sat 
silent,  and  reconsidered  an  old  opinion  of  hers  that  it  was 
ridiculous  and  ill-bred  in  a  lady  to  discuss  anything  that 
was  in  the  newspapers.  She  was  impressed  by  Lucian's 
cautious  and  somewhat  dogmatic  style  of  conversation, 
and  concluded  that  he  knew  everything.  Lydia  seemed 
interested  in  his  information,  but  quite  indifferent  to  his 
opinions. 

Towards  half-past  seven,  Lydia  proposed  that  they 
should  walk  to  the  railway  station,  adding,  as  a  reason  for 
going,  that  she  wished  to  learn  bookmaking  from  Lord 
Worthington.  Lucian  looked  grave  at  this  j  and  Alice, 
to  shew  that  she  shared  his  notions  of  propriety,  looked 
shocked.  Neither  demonstration  had  the  slightest  effect 
on  Lydia.  She  led  the  way  to  the  hall  $  took  her 
untrimmed  straw  hat  and  her  scarf  from  a  stand  there ; 
and  walked  out,  gloveless,  into  the  fresh  spring  evening. 
Alice,  aghast  at  these  manlike  proceedings,  and  deprived 


58  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  Ill 

of  the  ten  minutes  upon  which  she  had  counted  to  pin 
on  her  hat  and  equip  herself  for  public  inspection,  had  to 
rush  upstairs  and  down  again  with  undignified  haste. 
When  she  overtook  them  on  the  lawn,  Lucian  was 
saying, 

"  Worthington  is  afraid  of  you,  Lydia — needlessly,  as 
it  seems." 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  know  so  much  more  than  he  does," 
said  Lucian,  rejoiced  by  an  invitation  to  explain.  a  But 
perhaps  you  have  more  sympathy  with  his  tastes  than  he 
supposes." 

"  I  may  explain  to  you,  Alice,  that  Lord  Worthington 
is  a  young  gentleman  whose  calendar  is  the  racing 
calendar,  and  who  interests  himself  in  favorites  and 
outsiders  much  as  Lucian  does  in  prime  ministers  and 
independent  radicals.  He  never  reads  anything,  and  never 
associates  with  people  who  read  anything ;  so  his  con- 
versation is  bearable.  Would  you  like  to  go  to  Ascot, 
Alice  ?  " 

Alice  answered,  as  she  felt  Lucian  expected  her  to 
answer,  that  she  had  never  been  to  a  race,  and  that  she 
had  no  desire  to  go  to  one. 

"  You  will  change  your  mind  in  time  for  next  year's 
meeting.  A  race  interests  every  one,  which  is  more  than 
can  be  said  for  the  opera  or  the  Academy." 

"  I  have  been  at  the  Academy,"  said  Alice,  who  had 
been  once  with  her  father  to  London. 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Lydia.  "  Were  you  in  the  National 
Gallery  ? " 

"  The  National  Gallery  !     I  think  not.     I  forget." 

"  Did  you  enjoy  the  pictures  ?  " 

"  Oh,  very  much  indeed." 

"  You  will  find  Ascot  far  more  amusing." 

"  Let  me  warn  you,"  said  Lucian  to  Alice,  "  that  my 


Chap.  Ill      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  59 

cousin's  pet  caprice  is  to  affect  a  distaste  for  art,  to  which 
she  is  passionately  devoted  ;  and  for  literature,  in  which 
she  is  profoundly  read." 

"  Cousin  Lucian,"  said  Lydia :  "  should  you  ever  be 
cut  off  from  your  politics,  and  disappointed  in  your  ambi- 
tion, you  will  have  an  opportunity  of  living  upon  art  and 
literature.  Then  I  shall  respect  your  opinion  of  their 
satisfactoriness  as  a  staff  of  life.  As  yet  you  have  only 
tried  them  as  a  sauce." 

"  Discontented,  as  usual  ?  "  said  Lucian. 

"Your  one  idea  respecting  me,  as  usual,"  replied 
Lydia  with  patient  impatience,  as  they  entered  the 
station. 

The  train,  three  carriages  and  a  van,  was  waiting  at 
the  platform.  The  engine  was  humming  subduedly ;  and 
the  driver  and  fireman  were  leaning  out :  the  latter,  a 
young  man,  eagerly  watching  two  gentlemen  standing 
before  the  first-class  carriage  ;  whilst  the  driver  shared 
his  curiosity  in  an  elderly,  preoccupied  manner.  One  of 
the  persons  thus  observed  was  a  bullet-headed  little  man 
of  about  twenty-five,  in  the  afternoon  costume  of  metro- 
politan fashion.  Lydia  instantly  recognized  the  other  as 
the  Hermes  of  the  day  before,  in  spite  of  his  straw  hat, 
canary-coloured  scarf,  and  a  suit  of  minute  black-and- 
white  chessboard  pattern,  with  a  crimson  silk  handkerchief 
overflowing  the  breast  pocket  of  the  coat.  His  hands 
were  unencumbered  by  stick  or  umbrella ;  he  carried 
himself  smartly,  balancing  himself  so  accurately  that  he 
seemed  to  have  no  weight ;  and  his  expression  was  self- 
satisfied  and  good-humoured.  But —  !  Lydia  felt  that 
there  was  a  But  somewhere  about  this  handsome,  power- 
ful, and  light-hearted  young  man. 

"There  is  Lord  Worthington,"  she  said,  indicating 
the  bullet-headed  gentleman.  "  Surely  that  cannot  be  his 
invalid  friend  with  him  ? " 


60  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  Ill 

"  That  is  the  man  that  lives  at  the  Warren  Lodge," 
said  Alice.  "  I  know  his  appearance." 

"  Which  is  certainly  not  suggestive  of  a  valetudinarian," 
remarked  Lucian,  looking  hard  at  the  stranger. 

They  had  now  come  close  to  the  two,  and  could 
hear  Lord  Worthington,  as  he  opened  the  carriage 
door  to  get  in,  saying,  "Take  care  of  yourself,  like 
a  good  fellow,  wont  you  ?  Remember !  if  it  lasts  a 
second  over  the  fifteen  minutes,  I  shall  drop  five  hundred 
pounds." 

Hermes  placed  his  arm  round  the  shoulders  of  the 
young  lord,  and  gave  him  an  elder-brotherly  roll.  Then 
he  said  with  correct  accent  and  pronunciation,  but  with  a 
certain  rough  quality  of  voice,  and  louder  than  English 
gentlemen  usually  speak  :  "  Your  money  is  as  safe  as  the 
Mint,  my  boy." 

Evidently,  Alice  thought,  the  stranger  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  Lord  Worthington.  She  resolved  to  be  par- 
ticular in  her  behavior  before  him,  if  introduced. 

"  Lord  Worthington,"  said  Lydia. 

Startled,  he  turned  and  climbed  hastily  down  from  the 
step  of  the  carriage,  saying  in  some  confusion,  "  How  de 
do,  Miss  Carew  ?  Lovely  country  and  lovely  weather — 
must  agree  awfully  well  with  you.  You  look  as  if  it  did." 

cc  Thank  you :  I  dare  say  I  do.  Your  friend  is  a 
tenant  of  mine,  I  think." 

Lord  Worthington  looked  at  her  with  a  countenance 
that  expressed  a  sudden  and  vivid  dread  of  detection,  and 
answered  not  a  word. 

"You  are  going  to  introduce  him  to  me,  are  you 
not." 

*  You  give  me  leave  to  ?  "  he  stipulated. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Lydia.    "  Is  there  any  reason " 

"  Oh,  not  the  least  in  the  world,  since  you  wish  it," 
he  replied  quickly,  his  eyes  twinkling  mischievously 


Chap.  Ill     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  61 

as  he  turned  to  his  companion,  who  was  standing  at 
the  carriage  door  admiring  Lydia,  and  being  himself 
admired  by  the  stoker.  "  Mr.  Cashel  Byron :  Miss 
Carew." 

Mr.  Cashel  Byron  reddened  a  little  as  he  raised  his 
straw  hat,  but,  on  the  whole,  bore  himself  like  an  eminent 
man  who  was  not  proud.  As,  however,  he  seemed  to 
have  nothing  to  say  for  himself,  Lydia  set  Lord  Worth- 
ington  talking  about  Ascot,  and  listened  to  him  whilst 
she  looked  at  her  new  acquaintance.  Now  that  the 
constraint  of  society  had  banished  his  former  expression 
of  easy  good  humor,  there  was  something  formidable  in 
him  that  gave  her  an  unaccountable  thrill  of  pleasure. 
The  same  impression  of  latent  danger  had  occurred,  less 
agreeably,  to  Lucian,  who  was  affected  much  as  he  might 
have  been  by  the  proximity  of  a  large  dog  of  doubtful 
temper.  Lydia  thought  that  Mr.  Byron  did  not,  at  first 
sight,  like  her  cousin ;  for  he  was  looking  at  him 
obliquely,  as  though  stealthily  measuring  him. 

The  group  was  broken  up  by  the  guard  calling  to 
the  passengers  to  take  their  seats.  Farewells  were 
exchanged  ;  and  Lord  Worthington  cried,  "  Take  care 
of  yourself/'  to  Cashel  Byron,  who  replied  somewhat 
impatiently,  and  with  an  apprehensive  glance  at  Miss 
Carew,  "  All  right,  all  right :  never  you  fear,  sir."  Then 
the  train  went  off;  and  he  was  left  on  the  platform  with 
the  two  ladies. 

"  We  are  returning  to  the  Park,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron," 
said  Lydia. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  he.     "  Perhaps "     Here  he  broke 

down,  and  looked  at  Alice  to  avoid  Lydia's  eye.  Then 
they  went  out  together. 

When  they  had  walked  some  distance  in  silence : 
Alice  looking  rigidly  before  her,  recollecting  with  sus- 
picion that  he  had  just  addressed  Lord  Worthington 


62  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap,  ill 

as  "  sir  "  j  whilst  Lydia  was  observing  his  light  step  and 
perfect  balance,  and  trying  to  read  his  troubled  face, 
he  said, 

"  I  saw  you  in  the  park  yesterday  ;  and  I  thought  you 
were  a  ghost.  Old  Mellish — my  man,  I  mean — saw  you 
too.  I  knew  by  that  that  you  were  genuine." 

"  Strange  ! "  said  Lydia.  "  I  had  the  same  fancy 
about  you." 

"  What  !  You  had  !  "  he  exclaimed,  looking  at  her. 
Whilst  thus  unmindful  of  his  steps,  he  stumbled,  and 
recovered  himself  with  a  stifled  oath.  Then  he  became 
very  red,  and  remarked,  to  Miss  Goff,  that  it  was  a  warm 
evening. 

Alice  assented.  "  I  hope,"  she  added, cc  that  you  are 
better." 

He  looked  puzzled.  Concluding,  after  consideration, 
that  she  had  referred  to  his  stumble,  he  said, 

"  Thank  you  :   I  didnt  hurt  myself." 

"  Lord  Worthington  has  been  telling  us  about  you," 
said  Lydia.  He  halted  suddenly,  evidently  deeply  morti- 
fied. She  hastened  to  add,  "He  mentioned  that  you 
had  come  down  here  to  recruit  your  health :  that 
is  all." 

Cashel's  features  relaxed  into  a  curious  smile  ;  and  he 
walked  on  again.  But  presently  he  became  suspicious, 
and  said  anxiously,  "  He  didnt  tell  you  anything  else 
about  me,  did  he  ?  " 

Alice  stared  at  him  superciliously.  Lydia  replied, 
"  No.  Nothing  else." 

"  I  thought  you  might  have  heard  my  name  some- 
where," he  persisted. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  ;  but  I  cannot  recall  in  what  con- 
nexion. Why  ?  Do  you  know  any  friends  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Oh  no.     Only  Lord  Worthington." 

"I  conclude  then  that  you  are  celebrated,  and  that  I 


Chap.  Ill      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  63 

have  the  misfortune  not  to  know  it,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron. 
Is  it  so  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  replied  hastily.  "  There's  no 
reason  why  you  should  ever  have  heard  of  me.  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  inquiries,"  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  Alice.  "  I'm  quite  well  now,  thank 
you.  The  country  has  set  me  right  again." 

Alice,  who  was  beginning  to  have  her  doubts  of  Mr. 
Byron,  smiled  falsely  and  drew  herself  up  a  little.  He 
turned  away  from  her,  hurt  by  her  manner,  and  so  ill 
able  to  conceal  his  feelings  that  Miss  Carew,  always 
watching  him,  saw  what  he  felt,  and  knew  with  delight 
that  he  was  turning  to  her  for  consolation.  He  looked 
at  Lydia  wistfully,  as  if  trying  to  guess  her  thoughts, 
which  seemed  to  be  with  the  setting  sun,  or  in  some 
equally  beautiful  and  mysterious  region.  But  he  could 
see  that  there  was  no  reflection  of  Miss  Goff's  scorn  in 
her  face. 

"  And  so  you  really  took  me  for  a  ghost  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes.     At  first  I  thought  you  were  a  statue." 

« A  statue!" 

"  You  do  not  seem  flattered  by  that." 

"  It  is  not  flattering  to  be  taken  for  a  lump  of  stone," 
he  replied  ruefully. 

Here  was  a  man  whom  she  had  mistaken  for  the  finest 
image  of  manly  strength  and  beauty  known  to  her ;  and 
he  was  so  void  of  artistic  culture  that  he  held  a  statue 
to  be  a  distasteful  lump  of  stone. 

"  I  believe  I  was  trespassing  then,"  she  said  ;  u  but  I 
did  so  unintentionally.  I  had  gone  astray  ;  for  I  am 
comparatively  a  stranger  here,  and  cannot  find  my  way 
about  my  park  yet." 

"It  didnt  matter  a  bit,"  said  Cashel  impetuously. 
"  Come  as  often  as  you  want.  Mellish  fancies  that  if 
any  one  gets  a  glimpse  of  me  he  wont  get  any  odds. 


64  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  Ill 

You  see  he  would  like  people  to  think "  Here 

Cashel,  recollecting  himself,  broke  off,  and  added  in  con- 
fusion, "  Mellish  is  mad :  thats  about  where  it  is." 

Alice  glanced  significantly  at  Lydia.  She  had  already 
suggested  that  madness  was  the  real  reason  for  the  seclu- 
sion of  the  tenants  at  the  Warren  Lodge.  Cashel  saw 
the  glance,  and  intercepted  it  by  turning  to  her,  and 
saying,  with  an  attempt  at  conversational  ease, 

"  How  do  you  young  ladies  amuse  yourselves  in  the 
country  ?  Do  you  play  billiards  ever  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Alice  indignantly.  The  question,  she 
thought,  implied  that  she  was  capable  of  spending  her 
evenings  on  the  first  floor  of  a  public-house.  To  her 
surprise,  Lydia  remarked, 

"  I  play — a  little.  I  do  not  care  sufficiently  for  the 
game  to  make  myself  proficient.  You  were  equipped  for 
lawn-tennis,  I  think,  when  I  saw  you  yesterday.  Miss 
GofF  is  a  celebrated  lawn-tennis  player.  She  vanquished 
the  Australian  champion  last  year." 

It  seemed  that  Byron,  after  all,  was  something  of  a 
courtier  ;  for  he  displayed  great  astonishment  at  this  feat. 
"  The  Australian  champion  !  "  he  repeated.  "  And  who 

may  he Oh  !  you  mean  the  lawn-tennis  champion. 

To  be  sure.  Well,  Miss  GofF,  I  congratulate  you.  It 
is  not  every  ammichoor  [amateur]  that  can  brag  of  having 
shewn  a  professional  champion  to  a  back  seat." 

Alice,  outraged  by  the  imputation  of  bragging,  and 
certain  that  slang  was  vulgar,  whatever  billiards  might  be, 
bore  herself  still  more  loftily,  and  resolved  to  snub  him 
explicitly  if  he  addressed  her  again.  But  he  did  not ; 
for  they  came  just  then  to  a  narrow  iron  gate  in  the  wall 
of  the  park,  at  which  Lydia  stopped. 

"Let  me  open  it  for  you,"  said  Cashel.  She  gave 
him  the  key ;  and  he  seized  one  of  the  bars  of  the  gate 
with  his  left  hand,  and  stooped  as  though  he  wanted  to 


Chap.  Ill      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  65 

look  into  the  keyhole.  Yet  he  opened  it  smartly 
enough. 

Alice  was  about  to  pass  in  with  a  cool  bow  when  she 
saw  Miss  Carew  offer  Cashel  her  hand.  Whatever  Lydia 
did  was  done  so  that  it  seemed  the  right  thing  to  do. 
He  took  the  hand  timidly,  and  gave  it  a  little  shake,  not 
daring  to  meet  her  eyes.  Alice  put  out  her  glove  stiffly. 
Cashel  immediately  stepped  forward  with  his  right  foot 
and  enveloped  her  fingers  with  the  hardest  clump  of 
knuckles  she  had  ever  felt.  Glancing  down  at  this 
remarkable  fist,  she  saw  that  it  was  discoloured  almost 
to  blackness.  Then  she  went  in  through  the  gate, 
followed  by  Lydia,  who  turned  to  close  it  behind  her. 
As  she  pushed,  Cashel,  standing  outside,  grasped  a  bar 
and  pulled.  She  at  once  relinquished  to  him  the  shutting 
of  the  gate,  and  smiled  her  thanks  as  she  turned  away  ; 
but  in  that  moment  he  plucked  up  courage  to  look  at  her. 
The  sensation  of  being  so  looked  at  was  quite  novel,  and 
very  curious.  She  was  even  a  little  out  of  countenance, 
but  not  so  much  so  as  Cashel,  who  nevertheless  could  not 
take  his  eyes  away. 

"Do  you  think,"  said  Alice,  as  they  crossed  the 
orchard,  "  that  that  man  is  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  possibly  tell  ?     We  hardly  know  him." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  ?  There  is  always  a  certain 
something  about  a  gentleman  that  one  recognizes  by 
instinct." 

"  Is  there  ?     I  have  never  observed  it." 

"  Have  you  not  ?  "  said  Alice,  surprised,  and  beginning 
uneasily  to  fear  that  her  superior  perception  of  gentility 
was  in  some  way  the  effect  of  her  social  inferiority  to  Miss 
Carew.  "  I  thought  one  could  always  tell." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Lydia.  "  For  my  own  part  I  have 
found  the  same  varieties  of  address  in  every  class.  Some 
people,  no  matter  what  the  style  of  their  particular 

F 


66  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap,  ill 

set  may  be,  have  a  native  distinction  and  grace  of 
manner — " 

"That  is  what  I  mean,"  said  Alice. 

" — but  you  find  that  as  often  among  actors,  gipsies, 
and  peasants,  as  among  ladies  and  gentlemen.  One  can 
make  a  fair  guess  with  most  people,  but  not  with  this 
Mr.  Cashel  Byron.  Are  you  curious  about  him  ? " 

"  I  !  "  exclaimed  Alice  superbly.     "  Not  in  the  least." 

"  I  am.  He  interests  me.  I  seldom  see  anything 
novel  in  humanity  ;  and  he  is  a  very  singular  man." 

"I  meant,"  said  Alice,  crestfallen,  "that  I  take  no 
special  interest  in  him." 

Lydia,  not  being  concerned  as  to  the  exact  degree  of 
Alice's  interest,  merely  nodded,  and  continued,  "He 
may,  as  you  suppose,  be  a  man  of  humble  origin,  who 
has  seen  something  of  society  j  or  he  may  be  a  gentleman 
unaccustomed  to  society.  I  feel  no  conviction  either 
way." 

"  But  he  speaks  very  roughly  ;  and  his  slang  is  dis- 
gusting. His  hands  are  hard  and  quite  black.  Did  you 
not  notice  them  ?  " 

"I  noticed  it  all ;  and  I  think  that  if  he  were  a  man 
of  low  condition  he  would  be  careful  not  to  use  slang. 
Self-made  persons  are  usually  precise  in  their  language : 
they  rarely  break  the  formulated  laws  of  society,  whereas 
he  breaks  every. one  of  them.  His  pronunciation  of  some 
words  is  so  distinct  that  an  idea  crossed  me  once  that  he 
might  be  an  actor.  But  then  it  is  not  uniformly  distinct. 
I  am  sure  that  he  has  some  object  or  occupation  in  life  : 
he  has  not  the  air  of  an  idler.  Yet  I  have  thought  of  all 
the  ordinary  professions ;  and  he  does  not  fit  one  of  them. 
That  is  perhaps  what  makes  him  interesting.  He  is  un- 
accountable." 

a  He  must  have  some  position.  He  was  very  familiar 
with  Lord  Worthington." 


Chap.  Ill     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  67 

"Lord  Worthington  is  a  sportsman,  and  is  familiar 
with  all  sorts  of  people." 

"  Yes  ;  but  surely  he  would  not  let  a  jockey,  or  any- 
body of  that  class,  put  his  arm  round  his  neck,  as  we  saw 
Mr.  Byron  do." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Lydia  thoughtfully.  "  Still,"  she 
added,  clearing  her  brow  and  laughing,  "  I  dont  believe 
he  is  an  invalid  student." 

"I  will  tell  you  what  he  is,"  said  Alice  suddenly. 
"  He  is  companion  and  keeper  to  the  man  with  whom 
he  lives.  Do  you  recollect  his  saying  'Mellish  is 
mad '  ? " 

"That  is  possible,"  said  Lydia.  "At  all  events  we 
have  got  somebody  to  talk  about ;  and  that  is  an  important 
home-comfort  in  the  country." 

Just  then  they  reached  the  Castle.  Lydia  lingered  for 
a  moment  on  the  terrace.  The  tall  Tudor  chimneys  of 
the  Warren  Lodge  stood  up  against  the  long  crimson  cloud 
into  which  the  sun  was  sinking.  She  smiled  as  if  some 
quaint  idea  had  occurred  to  her  ;  raised  her  eyes  for  a 
moment  to  the  black  marble  Egyptian  gazing  with 
unwavering  eyes  into  the  sky ;  and  followed  Alice 
indoors. 

Later  on,  when  it  was  quite  dark,  Cashel  sat  in  a 
spacious  kitchen  at  the  lodge,  thinking.  His  companion, 
who  had  laid  his  coat  aside,  was  at  the  fire,  smoking,  and 
watching  a  saucepan  that  simmered  there.  He  broke  the 
silence  by  remarking,  after  a  glance  at  the  clock,  "  Time 
to  go  to  roost." 

"  Time  to  go  to  the  devil,"  said  Cashel.  "I  am  going 
out." 

"  Yes,  and  get  a  chill.     Not  if  I  know  it,  you  dont." 

"  Well,  go  to  bed  yourself ;  and  then  you  wont  know 
it.  I  want  to  take  a  walk  round  the  place." 

"  If  you  put  your  foot  outside  that  door  to-night,  Lord 


68  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  Ill 

Worthington  will  lose  his  five  hundred  pounds.  You 
cant  lick  any  one  in  fifteen  minutes  if  you  train  on  night 
air.  Get  licked  yourself,  more  likely." 

"Will  you  lay  two  to  one  that  I  dont  sleep  on  the 
grass  and  knock  the  Flying  Dutchman  out  of  time  in  the 
first  round  afterwards  ?  " 

"Come,"  said  Mellish  coaxingly  :  "have  some  com- 
mon sense.  I'm  advising  you  for  your  good." 

"Suppose  I  dont  want  to  be  advised  for  my  good. 
Eh  ?  Hand  me  over  that  lemon.  You  neednt  start  a 
speech  :  I'm  not  going  to  eat  it." 

"  Blest  if  he  aint  rubbin  is  ands  with  it !  "  exclaimed 
Mellish,  after  watching  him  for  some  moments.  "  Why, 
you  bloomin  fool,  lemon  wont  arden  your  ands.  Aint 
I  took  enough  trouble  with  them  ?  " 

"I  want  to  whiten  them,"  said  Cashel,  impatiently 
throwing  the  lemon  under  the  grate ;  "  but  it's  no  use. 
I  cant  go  about  with  my  fists  like  this.  I'll  go  up  to 
London  to-morrow  and  buy  a  pair  of  gloves." 

"  What  !     Real  gloves  ?     Wearin  gloves  ?  " 

"  You  thundering  old  lunatic,"  said  Cashel,  rising  and 
putting  on  his  hat :  "  is  it  likely  that  I  want  a  pair  of 
mufflers  ?  Perhaps  you  think  you  could  teach  me  some- 
thing with  them.  Ha  !  ha  !  By  the  bye — now  mind 
this_>  Mellish — dont  let  it  out  down  here  that  I'm  a  fighting 
man.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Me  let  it  out  !  "  cried  Mellish  indignantly.  "  Is 
it  likely  ?  Now,  I  asts  you,  Cashel  Byron,  is  it 
likely  ? " 

"Likely  or  not,  dont  do  it,"  said  Cashel.  "You 
might  get  talking  with  some  of  the  chaps  about  the 
Castle  stables.  They  are  free  with  their  liquor  when 
they  can  get  sporting  news  for  it." 

Mellish  looked  at  him  reproachfully ;  and  Cashel 
turned  towards  the  door.  The  movement  reminded 


Chap.  Ill      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  69 

the  trainer  of  his  professional  duties.  He  renewed  his 
remonstrances  as  to  the  folly  of  venturing  into  the  night 
air,  citing  many  examples  of  pugilists  who  had  suffered 
defeat  through  neglecting  the  counsel  of  their  trainers. 
Cashel  expressed  his  disbelief  in  these  anecdotes  in  brief 
and  personal  terms  ;  and  at  last  Mellish  had  to  content 
himself  with  proposing  to  limit  the  duration  of  the  walk 
to  half  an  hour. 

"Perhaps  I  shall  come  back  in  half  an  hour,"  said 
Cashel.  "And  perhaps  I  shant." 

"  Well,  look  here,"  said  Mellish.  "  Dont  let  us  two 
pals  quarrel  about  a  minute  or  so.  I  feel  the  want  of  a 
walk  myself ;  and  I'll  come  with  you." 

"  I'm  damned  if  you  shall,"  said  Cashel.  "  Here  :  let 
me  out ;  and  shut  up.  I'm  not  going  further  than  the 
park,  I  have  no  intention  of  making  a  night  of  it  in  the 
village,  which  is  what  you  are  afraid  of.  I  know  you, 
you  old  dodger.  If  you  dont  get  out  of  my  way,  I'll 
seat  you  on  the  fire." 

"But  dooty,  Cashel,  dooty,"  pleaded  Mellish  per- 
suasively. "  Every  man  oughter  do  his  dooty.  Consider 
your  dooty  to  your  backers." 

"Are  you  going  to  get  out  of  my  way;  or  must  I  put 
you  out  of  it  ?  "  said  Cashel,  reddening  ominously. 

Mellish  went  back  to  his  chair  ;  bowed  his  head  on 
his  hands  ;  and  wept.  "  I'd  sooner  be  a  dog  nor  a  trainer," 
he  sobbed.  "  Oh  !  the  cussedness  o  bein  shut  up  for 
weeks  with  a  fightin  man  !  For  the  fust  two  days  theyre 
as  sweet  as  treacle  ;  and  then  their  contrairyness  comes 
out.  Their  tempers  is  puffict  ell." 

Cashel,  additionally  enraged  by  a  sting  of  remorse, 
went  out  and  slammed  the  door.  He  made  straight 
towards  the  Castle,  and  watched  its  windows  for  nearly 
half  an  hour,  keeping  in  constant  motion  so  as  to  avert  a 
chill.  At  last  a  bell  struck  the  hour  from  one  of  the 


70  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  Ill 

minarets.  To  Cashel,  accustomed  to  the  coarse  jangling 
of  ordinary  English  bells  in  too  low  belfries,  the  sound 
seemed  to  belong  to  fairyland.  He  went  slowly  back  to 
the  Warren  Lodge,  and  found  his  trainer  standing  at  the 
open  door,  smoking,  and  anxiously  awaiting  his  return. 
Cashel  rebuffed  his  conciliatory  advances  with  a  haughty 
reserve  more  dignified  but  much  less  acceptable  to  Mr. 
Mellish  than  his  former  profane  familiarity,  and  went 
thoughtfully  to  bed. 


CHAPTER   IV 

Miss  CAREW  sat  on  the  bank  of  a  great  pool  in  the  park, 
throwing  pebbles  two  by  two  into  the  water,  and  intently 
watching  the  intersection  of  the  circles  they  made  on  its 
calm  surface.  Alice,  who  had  rashly  begun  her  com- 
panionship by  a  parade  of  all  her  accomplishments,  was 
sketching  the  Castle.  The  woodland  rose  round  them 
like  the  sides  of  an  amphitheatre ;  but  the  trees  did 
not  extend  to  the  water's  edge :  there  was  an  ample 
margin  of  bright  greensward  and  a  narrow  belt  of  gravel, 
from  which  Lydia  was  picking  her  pebbles. 

Hearing  a  footstep,  she  looked  back,  and  saw  Cashel 
Byron  standing  behind  Alice,  apparently  much  interested 
in  her  drawing.  He  was  dressed  as  she  had  last  seen 
him,  except  that  he  wore  gorgeous  primrose  gloves  and 
an  Egyptian  red  scarf.  Alice  turned,  and  surveyed  him 
with  haughty  surprise ;  but  he  stood  at  ease  with  an 
inept  swagger  ;  and  she,  after  glancing  at  Lydia  to 
reassure  herself  that  she  was  not  alone,  bade  him  good 
morning,  and  resumed  her  work. 

"  Queer  place,"  he  remarked,  after  a  pause,  alluding 
to  the  Castle.  "  Chinese  looking,  isnt  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  considered  a  very  fine  building,"  said  Alice. 

"  Oh,  hang  what  it  is  considered  ! "  said  Cashel. 
"  What  is  it  ?  That  is  the  point  to  look  to." 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  taste,"  said  Alice,  very  coldly. 


72  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  IV 

"Mr.  Cashel  Byron." 

Cashel  started  and  hastened  to  the  bank.  "  How  d'ye 
do,  Miss  Carew,"  he  said.  "  I  didnt  see  you  until 
you  called  me."  She  looked  at  him  quietly  ;  and  he 
quailed,  convicted  of  a  foolish  falsehood.  "There  is 
a  splendid  view  of  the  Castle  from  here,"  he  continued, 
to  change  the  subject.  "Miss  Goff  and  I  have  just 
been  talking  about  it." 

"  Yes.     Do  you  admire  it  ?  " 

"  Very  much  indeed.  It  is  a  beautiful  place.  Every 
one  must  acknowledge  that." 

"  It  is  considered  kind  to  praise  my  house  to  me,  and 
to  ridicule  it  to  other  people.  You  do  not  say,  '  Hang 
what  it  is  considered,'  now." 

Cashel,  with  an  unaccustomed  sense  of  getting  the 
worst  of  an  encounter,  almost  lost  heart  to  reply.  Then 
he  brightened,  and  said,  "I  can  tell  you  how  that  is.  As 
far  as  being  a  place  to  sketch,  or  for  another  person  to 
look  at,  it  is  Chinese  enough.  But  somehow  your  living 
in  it  makes  a  difference.  That  is  what  I  meant :  upon 
my  soul  it  is." 

Lydia  smiled  ;  but  he,  looking  down  at  her,  did  not 
see  the  smile  because  of  her  coronet  of  red  hair,  which 
seemed  to  flame  in  the  sunlight.  The  obstruction  was 
unsatisfactory  to  him  :  he  wanted  to  see  her  face.  He  - 
hesitated,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  ground  beside  her 
cautiously,  as  if  getting  into  a  very  hot  bath. 

"I  hope  you  wont  mind  my  sitting  here,"  he  said 
timidly.  "  It  seems  rude  to  talk  down  at  you  from  a 
height." 

She  shook  her  head  and  threw  two  more  stones  into 
the  pool.  He  could  think  of  nothing  further  to  say  ; 
and  as  she  did  not  speak,  but  gravely  watched  the  circles 
in  the  water,  he  began  to  stare  at  them  too  ;  and  they 
sat  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  steadfastly  regarding  the 


Chap.  IV      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  73 

waves :  she  as  if  there  were  matter  for  infinite  thought  in 
them :  he  as  though  the  spectacle  wholly  confounded  him. 
At  last  she  said, 

"  Have  you  ever  realized  what  a  vibration  is  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Cashel,  after  a  blank  look  at  her. 

cc  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  confess  that.  We  have 
reduced  everything  nowadays  to  vibration.  Light — 
sound — sensation — all  are  either  vibrations  or  interference 
of  vibrations.  There,"  she  said,  throwing  another  pair 
of  pebbles  in,  and  pointing  to  the  two  sets  of  widening 
rings  as  they  overlapped  one  another  :  "  the  twinkling 
of  a  star,  and  the  pulsation  in  a  chord  of  music,  are  that. 
But  I  cannot  picture  the  thing  in  my  own  mind.  I 
wonder  whether  the  hundreds  of  writers  of  text-books  on 
physics,  who  talk  so  glibly  of  vibrations,  realize  them 
any  better  than  I  do." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Not  one  of  them.  Not  half  so 
well,"  said  Cashel  cheerfully,  replying  to  as  much  of  her 
speech  as  he  understood. 

"  Perhaps  the  subject  does  not  interest  you,"  she  said, 
turning  to  him. 

"  On  the  contrary  :  I  like  it  of  all  things,"  said  he 
boldly. 

"  I  can  hardly  say  as  much  for  my  own  interest  in  it. 
[  am  told  that  you  are  a  student,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron. 
What  are  your  favourite  studies  ? — or  rather,  since  that 
is  generally  a  hard  question  to  answer,  what  are  your 
pursuits  ?  " 

Alice  listened. 

Cashel  looked  doggedly  at  Lydia,  his  color  slowly 
deepening.  "  I  am  a  professor,"  he  said. 

"  A  professor  of  what  ?  I  know  I  should  ask  of 
where  ;  but  that  would  only  elicit  the  name  of  a  college, 
which  would  convey  no  real  information  to  me." 

"  I  am  a  professor  of  science,"  said  Cashel  in  a  low 


74  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  IV 

voice,  looking  down  at  his  left  fist,  which  he  was 
balancing  in  the  air  before  him,  and  stealthily  hitting 
his  bent  knee  as  if  it  were  another  person's  face. 

"Physical  or  moral  science  ?  "  persisted  Lydia. 

"  Physical  science,"  said  Cashel.  "  But  there's  more 
moral  science  in  it  than  people  think." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia  seriously.  "  Though  I  have  no 
real  knowledge  of  physics,  I  can  appreciate  the  truth  of 
that.  Perhaps  all  the  science  that  is  not  at  bottom 
physical  science,  is  only  formal  nescience.  I  have  read 
much  of  physics,  and  have  often  been  tempted  to  make 
the  experiments  with  my  own  hands — to  furnish  a 
laboratory — to  wield  the  scalpel  even.  For  to  master 
science  thoroughly,  I  suppose  one  must  take  one's  gloves 
off.  Is  that  your  opinion  ?  " 

Cashel  looked  hard  at  her.  "You  never  spoke  a 
truer  word,"  he  said.  "  But  you  can  become  a  very 
respectable  amateur  by  working  with  the  gloves." 

"  /  never  should.  The  many  who  believe  they  are 
the  wiser  for  reading  accounts  of  experiments,  deceive 
themselves.  It  is  as  impossible  to  learn  science  from 
hearsay  as  to  gain  wisdom  from  proverbs.  Ah,  it  is  so 
easy  to  follow  a  line  of  argument,  and  so  difficult  to 
grasp  the  facts  that  underlie  it !  Our  popular  lecturers 
on  physics  present  us  with  chains  of  deductions  so  highly 
polished  that  it  is  a  luxury  to  let  them  slip  from  end  to 
end  through  our  fingers.  But  they  leave  nothing  behind 
but  a  vague  memory  of  the  sensation  they  afforded." 

"I  wish  I  could  talk  like  that,"  said  Cashel:  "—like 
a  book,  I  mean." 

"  Heaven  forbid ! "  said  Lydia.  "  I  beg  your  pardon 
for  it.  Will  you  give  me  some  lessons  if  I  set  to  work 
in  earnest  at  science  ?  " 

"Well,"  said  Cashel  with  a  covert  grin,  "I  would 
rather  you  came  to  me  than  to  another  professor  j  but  I 


Chap.  IV      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  75 

dont  think  it  would  suit  you.  I  should  like  to  try  my 
hand  on  your  friend  there.  She's  stronger  and  straighter 
than  nine  out  of  ten  men." 

"You  set  a  high  value  on  physical  qualifications,  then. 
So  do  I." 

"  Only  from  a  practical  point  of  view,  mind  you,"  said 
Cashel  earnestly.  "  It  isnt  right  to  be  always  looking  at 
men  and  women  as  you  look  at  horses.  If  you  want 
to  back  them  in  a  race  or  in  a  fight,  thats  one  thing ; 
but  if  you  want  a  friend  or  a  sweetheart,  thats  another." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  Lydia,  smiling.  "  You  do  not  wish 
to  commit  yourself  to  any  warmer  feeling  towards  Miss 
Goff  than  a  critical  appreciation  of  her  form  and 
condition." 

"  Just  that,"  said  Cashel,  satisfied.  "  You  understand 
me,  Miss  Carew.  There  are  some  people  that  you 
might  talk  to  all  day,  and  theyd  be  no  wiser  at  the  end 
of  it  than  they  were  at  the  beginning.  Youre  not  one 
of  that  sort." 

"  I  wonder  do  we  ever  succeed  really  in  communi- 
cating our  thoughts  to  one  another.  A  thought  must 
take  a  new  shape  to  fit  itself  into  a  strange  mind.  You, 
Mr.  Professor,  must  have  acquired  special  experience  of 
the  incommunicability  of  ideas  in  the  course  of  your 
lectures  and  lessons." 

Cashel  looked  uneasily  at  the  water,  and  said  in  a 
lower  voice,  "  Of  course  you  may  call  me  just  whatever 
you  like  ;  but — if  it's  all  the  same  to  you — I  wish  you 
wouldnt  call  me  Professor." 

"I  have  lived  so  much  in  countries  where  people 
expect  to  be  addressed  by  even  the  most  trivial  titles  on 
all  occasions,  that  I  may  claim  to  be  excused  for  having 
offended  on  that  point.  Thank  you  for  telling  me. 
But  I  am  to  blame  for  discussing  science  with  you. 
Lord  Worthington  told  us  that  you  had  come  down  here 


j6  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.iv 

expressly  to  escape  from  it — to  recruit  yourself  after  an 
excess  of  work." 

"It  doesnt  matter,"  said  Cashel. 

"I  have  not  done  harm  enough  to  be  greatly  con- 
cerned ;  but  I  will  not  offend  again.  To  change  the 
subject,  let  us  look  at  Miss  GofPs  sketch." 

Miss  Carew  had  hardly  uttered  this  suggestion,  when 
Cashel,  in  a  business-like  manner,  and  without  the 
slightest  air  of  gallantry,  expertly  lifted  her  and  placed 
her  on  her  feet.  This  unexpected  attention  gave  her  a 
shock,  followed  by  a  thrill  that  was  not  disagreeable. 
She  turned  to  him  with  a  faint  mantling  in  her  cheeks. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  ;  "  but  pray  do  not  do  that 
again.  It  is  a  little  humiliating  to  be  lifted  like  a  child. 
You  are  very  strong." 

"There  is  not  much  strength  needed  to  lift  such  a 
feather-weight  as  you.  Seven  stone  two,  I  should  judge 
you  to  be  about.  But  there's  a  great  art  in  doing  these 
things  properly.  I  have  often  had  to  carry  off  a  man  of 
fourteen  stone,  resting  him  all  the  time  as  if  he  was  in 
bed." 

"  Ah,"  said  Lydia  :  "  I  see  you  have  had  some  hospital 
practice.  I  have  often  admired  the  skill  with  which 
trained  nurses  handle  their  patients." 

Cashel,  without  a  word,  followed  her  to  where  Alice  sat. 

"  It  is  very  foolish  of  me,  I  know,"  said  Alice  pre- 
sently ;  "  but  I  never  can  draw  when  any  one  is  looking 
at  me." 

"You  fancy  that  everybody  is  thinking  about  how 
youre  doing  it,"  said  Cashel,  encouragingly.  "Thats 
always  the  way  with  amateurs.  But  the  truth  is  that 
not  a  soul  except  yourself  is  a  bit  concerned  about  it. 
Ex-cuse  me,"  he  added,  taking  up  the  drawing,  and 
proceeding  to  examine  it  leisurelv. 

"  Please  give  me  my  sketch,  Mr.  Byron,"  she  said,  her 


Chap.  IV     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  77 

cheeks  red  with  anger.  Puzzled,  he  turned  to  Lydia  for 
an  explanation,  whilst  Alice  seized  the  sketch  and  packed 
it  in  her  portfolio. 

"  It  is  getting  rather  warm,"  said  Lydia.  "  Shall  we 
return  to  the  castle  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  had  better,"  said  Alice,  trembling  with 
resentment  as  she  walked  away  quickly,  leaving  Lydia 
alone  with  Cashel,  who  exclaimed, 

"  What  in  thunder  have  I  done  ?  " 

"You  have  made  an  inconsiderate  remark  with 
unmistakeable  sincerity." 

"I  only  tried  to  cheer  her  up.  She  must  have 
mistaken  what  I  said." 

"  I  think  not.  Do  you  believe  that  young  ladies  like 
to  be  told  that  there  is  no  occasion  for  them  to  be 
ridiculously  self-conscious  ?  " 

"  I  say  that !  I'll  take  my  oath  I  never  said  anything 
of  the  sort." 

"You  worded  it  differently.  But  you  assured  her 
that  she  need  not  object  to  have  her  drawing  overlooked, 
as  it  is  of  no  importance  to  any  one." 

"  Well,  if  she  takes  offence  at  that,  she  must  be  a  born 
fool.  Some  people  cant  bear  to  be  told  anything.  But 
they  soon  get  all  that  thin-skinned  nonsense  knocked  out 
of  them." 

"  Have  you  any  sisters,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  ?  " 

«  No.     Why  ?  " 

"  Or  a  mother  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  mother ;  but  I  havent  seen  her  for  years  ; 
and  I  dont  much  care  if  I  never  see  her.  It  was  through 
her  that  I  came  to  be  what  I  am." 

"Are  you  then  dissatisfied  with  your  profession  ?  " 

"  No  :  I  dont  mean  that.  I  am  always  saying  stupid 
things." 

"  Yes.     That  comes  of  your  ignorance  of  a  sex  accus- 


78  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  IV 

tomed  to  have  its  silliness  respected.  You  will  find  it 
hard  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  my  friend  without 
learning  a  little  more  of  womanly  ways." 

"  As  to  her,  I  wont  give  in  that  I'm  wrong  unless  I 
am  wrong.  The  truth's  the  truth." 

"  Not  even  to  please  Miss  Goff?  " 

"Not  even  to  please  you.  Youd  only  think  the 
worse  of  me  afterwards." 

"  Quite  true,  and  quite  right,"  said  Lydia  cordially. 
"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron.  I  must  go  back  to  Miss 
Goff." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  take  her  part  if  she  keeps  a  down 
on  me  for  what  I  said  to  her." 

«  What  is  a  down  ?     A  grudge  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Something  of  that  sort." 

u  Colonial,  is  it  not  ?  "  pursued  Lydia,  with  the  air  of 
a  philologist. 

<c  Yes,  I  believe  I  picked  it  up  in  the  colonies."  Then 
he  added  sullenly,  "  I  suppose  I  shouldnt  use  slang  in 
speaking  to  you.  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  like  finding  out  about  things,  especially 
about  words.  And  I  want  to  find  out  about  you.  You 
were  not  born  in  Australia,  were  you  ?  " 

u  Good  Lord !  no.  But  are  you  out  with  me  because  I 
annoyed  Miss  Goff?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  sympathize  with  her  annoyance 
at  the  manner,  if  not  the  matter,  of  your  rebuke :  that  is 
all." 

"I  cant,  for  the  life  of  me,  see  what  there  was  in 
what  I  said  to  raise  such  a  fuss  about.  I  wish  you  would 
give  me  a  nudge  whenever  you  see  me  making  a  fool  of 
myself.  I  will  shut  up  at  once  and  ask  no  questions." 

"  So  that  it  will  be  understood  that  my  nudge  means 
c  Shut  up,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  :  you  are  making  a  fool  of 
yourself  ?  " 


Chap.  IV     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  79 

"Just  so.  Tou  understand  me.  I  told  you  that 
before,  didnt  I  ?  " 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Lydia,  her  face  bright  with 
laughter,  "that  I  cannot  take  charge  of  your  manners 
until  we  are  a  little  better  acquainted." 

He  seemed  disappointed.  Then  his  face  clouded ; 
and  he  began,  "  If  you  regard  it  as  a  liberty " 

"  Of  course  I  regard  it  as  a  liberty,"  she  said,  neatly 
interrupting  him.  "  My  own  conduct  gives  me  quite 
enough  to  take  care  of.  Do  you  know  that  for  so  very 
strong  a  man  and  learned  a  professor,  you  seem  to  have 
very  little  sense  ?  " 

"  By  Jingo  !  "  exclaimed  Cashel,  with  sudden  excite- 
ment, "  I  dont  care  what  you  say  to  me.  You  have  a 
way  of  giving  things  a  turn  that  makes  it  a  pleasure  to 
be  shut  up  by  you  ;  and  if  I  were  a  gentleman  as  I 
ought  to  be,  instead  of  a  poor  devil  of  a  professional  pug, 

I  would "  He  recollected  himself,  and  turned  quite 

pale.  There  was  a  pause. 

"  Let  me  remind  you,"  said  Lydia  composedly,  though 
she  too  had  changed  color  at  the  beginning  of  his  out- 
burst, "  that  we  are  both  wanted  elsewhere  at  present : 
I  by  Miss  Goff;  and  you  by  your  servant,  who  has  been 
hovering  about  us  and  looking  at  you  anxiously  for  some 
minutes." 

Cashel  turned  fiercely,  and  saw  Mellish  standing  a 
little  way  off,  sulkily  watching  them.  Lydia  took  the 
opportunity,  and  left  the  place.  As  she  retreated,  she 
could  hear  that  they  were  at  high  words  together ; 
but  she  could  not  distinguish  what  they  were  saying. 
This  was  fortunate  ;  for  their  knguage  was  abominable. 

She  found  Alice  in  the  library,  seated  bolt  upright  in 
a  chair  that  would  have  tempted  a  good-humored  person 
to  recline.  Lydia  sat  down  in  silence.  Alice,  looking 
at  her,  discovered  that  she  was  in  a  fit  of  noiseless 


8o  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.iv 

laughter.  The  effect,  in  contrast  to  her  habitual  self- 
possession,  was  so  strange  that  Alice  almost  forgot  to  be 
offended. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  it  is  not  hard  to  amuse  you," 
she  said. 

Lydia  waited  to  recover  herself  thoroughly,  and  then 
replied,  "  I  have  not  laughed  so  three  times  in  my  life. 
Now,  Alice,  put  aside  your  resentment  of  our  neighbor's 
impudence  for  the  moment  ;  and  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  him." 

"  I  have  not  thought  about  him  at  all,  I  assure  you," 
said  Alice  disdainfully. 

"  Then  think  about  him  for  a  moment  to  oblige  me  j 
and  let  me  know  the  result." 

"  Really,  you  have  had  much  more  opportunity  of 
judging  than  I.  /  have  hardly  spoken  to  him." 

Lydia  rose  patiently  and  went  to  the  bookcase.  "You 
have  a  cousin  at  one  of  the  universities,  have  you  not  ?  " 
she  said,  seeking  along  the  shelf  for  a  volume. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Alice,  speaking  very  sweetly  to  atone 
for  her  want  of  amiability  on  the  previous  subject. 

"Then  perhaps  you  know  something  of  university 
slang  ?  " 

"  I  never  allow  him  to  talk  slang  to  me,"  said  Alice 
quickly. 

"You  may  dictate  modes  of  expression  to  a  single 
man,  perhaps,  but  not  to  a  whole  university,"  said  Lydia, 
with  a  quiet  scorn  that  brought  unexpected  tears  to 
Alice's  eyes.  "  Do  you  know  what  a  pug  is  ?  " 

"  A  pug  !  "  said  Alice  vacantly.  "  No  :  I  have  heard 
of  a  bulldog  —  a  proctor's  bulldog,  but  never  of  a 


"I  must  try  my  slang  dictionary,"  said  Lydia,  taking 
down  a  book.  "Here  it  is.  cPug  —  a  righting  man's 
idea  of  the  contracted  word  to  be  produced  from  pugilist.' 


Chap,  iv      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  81 

What  an  extraordinary  .definition  !  A  fighting  man's 
idea  of  a  contraction !  Why  should  a  man  have  a 
special  idea  of  a  contraction  when  he  is  fighting  \  or 
why  should  he  think  of  such  a  thing  at  all  under  such 
circumstances  ?  Perhaps  fighting  man  is  slang  too. 
No  :  it  is  not  given  here.  Either  I  mistook  the  word, 
or  it  has  some  signification  unknown  to  the  compiler  of 
my  dictionary." 

"It  seems  quite  plain  to  me,"  said  Alice.  "Pug 
means  pugilist." 

"  But  pugilism  is  boxing  :  it  is  not  a  profession.  I 
suppose  all  men  are  more  or  less  pugilists.  I  want  a 
sense  of  the  word  in  which  it  denotes  a  calling  or  occu- 
pation of  some  kind.  I  fancy  it  means  a  demonstrator 
of  anatomy.  However,  it  does  not  matter." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  with  it  ?  " 

"Mr.  Byron  used  it  just  now." 

"  Do  you  really  like  that  man  ?  "  said  Alice,  returning 
to  the  subject  more  humbly  than  she  had  quitted  it. 

"So  far,  I  do  not  dislike  him.  He  puzzles  me.  If 
the  roughness  of  his  manner  is  an  affectation,  I  have 
never  seen  one  so  successful  before." 

"  Perhaps  he  does  not  know  any  better.  His  coarse- 
ness did  not  strike  me  as  being  affected  at  all." 

"  I  should  agree  with  you  but  for  one  or  two  remarks 
that  fell  from  him.  They  shewed  an  insight  into  the 
real  nature  of  scientific  knowledge,  and  an  instinctive 
sense  of  the  truths  underlying  words,  which  I  have 
never  met  with  except  in  men  of  considerable  culture 
and  experience.  I  suspect  that  his  manner  is  deliberately 
assumed  in  protest  against  the  selfish  vanity  which  is  the 
common  source  of  social  polish.  It  is  partly  natural, 
no  doubt.  He  seems  too  impatient  to  choose  his  words 
heedfully.  Do  you  ever  go  to  the  theatre  ?  " 

"  No,"    said    Alice,    taken   aback    by    this    apparent 

G 


82  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  IV 

irrelevance.  "My  father  disapproved  of  it.  But  I  was 
there  once.  I  saw  The  Lady  of  Lyons." 

"  There  is  a  famous  actress,  Adelaide  Gisborne— 

"  It  was  she  whom  I  saw  as  the  Lady  of  Lyons.  She 
acted  it  beautifully." 

"  Did  Mr.  Byron  remind  you  of  her  ?  " 

Alice  stared  incredulously  at  Lydia.  "  I  dont  believe 
there  can  be  two  people  in  the  world  less  like  one 
another,"  she  said. 

"  Nor  do  I,"  said  Lydia,  meditatively,  dropping  into 
the  literary  manner  which  Cashel  admired.  "But  I 
think  their  dissimilarity  must  owe  its  emphasis  to  some 
lurking  likeness.  Otherwise  how  could  he  have  reminded 
me  of  her  ?  "  A  long  silence  ensued,  during  which  Alice, 
conscious  of  some  unusual  stir  in  her  patroness,  watched 
her  furtively  and  wondered  what  would  happen  next. 

"Alice." 

"Yes." 

"My  mind  is  running  on  trifles — a  sure  symptom  of 
failing  mental  health.  My  visit  to  Wiltstoken  is  only  one 
of  several  attempts  I  have  made  to  live  idly  since  my 
father's  death.  They  have  all  failed.  Work  is  one  of 
the  necessaries  of  life  to  me.  I  will  go  up  to  London 
to-morrow." 

Alice's  heart  sank;  for  this  seemed  equivalent  to  a 
dismissal.  But  her  face  expressed  nothing  but  polite 
indifference. 

"  We  shall  have  time  to  run  through  all  the  follies  of 
the  season  before  June,  when  I  hope  to  return  here  and 
set  to  work  at  a  book  I  have  planned.  I  must  collect 
materials  for  it  in  London.  If  I  leave  town  before  the 
season  is  over,  and  you  are  unwilling  to  come  away  with 
me,  I  can  easily  find  some  one  who  will  take  care  of  you 
as  long  as  you  please  to  stay.  I  wish  it  were  June 
already !  " 


Chap,  iv      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  83 

Alice  preferred  Lydia's  womanly  impatience  to  her 
fatalistic  calm.  It  relieved  her  sense  of  inferiority, 
which  familiarity  had  increased  rather  than  diminished. 
She  did  not  yet  dare  to  suspect  her  patroness  of  any- 
thing so  vulgarly  human  as  a  sexual  interest  in  Cashel ; 
but  she  was  beginning  to  persuade  herself  with  some 
success  that  the  propriety  of  Lydia's  manners  was  at 
least  questionable.  That  morning  Miss  Carew  had 
not  scrupled  to  ask  a  man  what  his  profession  was  ;  and 
this,  at  least,  Alice  congratulated  herself  on  being  too 
well  bred  to  do.  She  had  quite  lost  her  awe  of  the 
servants ;  and  had  begun  to  address  them  with  an 
unconscious  haughtiness  and  a  conscious  politeness 
that  were  making  the  word  upstart  frequent  in  the 
servants'  hall.  Bashville,  the  footman,  had  risked  his 
popularity  there  by  opining  that  Miss  Goff  was  a  fine 
young  woman. 

Bashville  was  in  his  twenty-fourth  year,  and  stood  five 
feet  ten  in  his  stockings.  At  The  Green  Man  in 
the  village  all  the  rustic  pretence  of  indifference  to  his 
metropolitan  prestige  had  melted  before  his  fluent  oratory 
and  his  keenness  in  political  debate.  In  the  stables  he 
was  deferred  to  as  an  authority  on  sporting  affairs,  and 
an  expert  wrestler  in  the  Cornish  fashion.  The  women 
servants  regarded  him  with  undissembled  admiration. 
They  vied  with  one  another  in  inventing  expressions  of 
delight  when  he  recited  before  them,  which,  as  he  had 
a  good  memory  and  was  fond  of  poetry,  he  often  did. 
They  were  proud  to  go  out  walking  with  him.  But  his 
attentions  never  gave  rise  to  jealousy  ;  for  it  was  an  open 
secret  in  the  servants'  hall  that  he  loved  his  mistress. 
He  had  never  said  anything  to  that  effect  j  and  no  one 
dared  allude  to  it  in  his  presence,  much  less  rally  him  on 
his  weakness  ;  but  his  passion  was  well  known  for  all 
that ;  and  it  seemed  by  no  means  so  hopeless  to  the 


84  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.iv 

younger  members  of  the  domestic  staff  as  it  did  to  the 
cook,  the  butler,  and  Bashville  himself.  Miss  Carew, 
who  knew  the  value  of  good  servants,  appreciated  her 
footman's  smartness,  and  paid  him  accordingly  ;  but  she 
had  no  suspicion  that  she  was  waited  on  by  a  versatile 
young  student  of  poetry  and  public  affairs,  distinguished 
for  his  gallantry,  his  personal  prowess,  his  eloquence, 
and  his  influence  in  local  politics. 

It  was  Bashville  who  now  entered  the  library  with 
a  salver,  which  he  proffered  to  Alice,  saying,  "The 
gentleman  is  waiting  in  the  round  drawing-room,  Miss." 

Alice  took  the  gentleman's  card,  and  read,  "Mr. 
Wallace  Parker." 

"Oh  !  "  she  said,  with  vexation,  glancing  at  Bashville 
as  if  to  divine  his  impression  of  the  visitor.  "My 
cousin  —  the  one  we  were  speaking  of  just  now — has 
come  to  see  me." 

"  How  fortunate  ! "  said  Lydia.  "  He  will  tell  me 
the  meaning  of  pug.  Ask  him  to  lunch  with  us." 

"  You  would  not  care  for  him,"  said  Alice.  "  He  is 
not  much  used  to  society.  I  suppose  I  had  better  go 
and  see  him." 

Miss  Carew  did  not  reply,  being  plainly  at  a  loss  to 
understand  how  there  could  be  any  doubt  about  the 
matter.  Alice  went  to  the  round  drawing-room,  where 
she  found  Mr.  Parker  examining  a  trophy  of  Indian 
armor,  and  presenting  a  back  view  of  a  short  gentleman 
in  a  spruce  blue  frock-coat.  A  new  hat  and  pair  of 
gloves  were  also  visible  as  he  stood  looking  upward  with 
his  hands  behind  him.  When  he  turned  to  greet  Alice, 
he  displayed  a  face  expressive  of  resolute  self-esteem, 
with  eyes  whose  watery  brightness,  together  with  the 
bareness  of  his  temples,  from  which  the  hair  was  worn 
away,  suggested  late  hours  and  either  very  studious 
or  very  dissipated  habits.  He  advanced  confidently ; 


Chap.  IV      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  85 

pressed  Alice's  hand  warmly  for  several  seconds  ;  and 
placed  a  chair  for  her,  without  noticing  the  marked 
coldness  with  which  she  received  his  attentions. 

"  I  am  not  angry,  Alice,"  he  said,  when  he  had  seated 
himself  opposite  to  her  ;  "  but  I  was  surprised  to  learn 
from  Aunt  Emily  that  you  had  come  to  live  here  without 
consulting  me.  I " 

"  Consult  you  !  "  she  .exclaimed,  scornfully  interrupt- 
ing him.  "  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  !  Why  should 
I  consult  you  as  to  my  movements  ?  " 

"Well,  I  should  not  have  used  the  word  consult, 
particularly  to  such  an  independent  little  lady  as  sweet 
Alice  GofF.  Still,  I  think  you  might  at  least  have  gone 
through  the  form  of  acquainting  me  with  the  step  you 
were  taking.  The  relations  that  exist  between  us  give 
me  a  right  to  your  confidence." 

"  What  relations,  pray  ?  " 

u  What  relations  !  "  he  repeated,  with  reproachful 
emphasis. 

"Yes.     What  relations  ?" 

He  rose,  and  addressed  her  with  tender  solemnity. 
"  Alice,"  he  began :  "  I  have  proposed  to  you  six 
times " 

"  And  have  I  accepted  you  once  ?  " 

"  Hear  me  to  the  end,  Alice.  I  know  that  you  have 
never  explicitly  accepted  me ;  but  it  has  always  been 
understood  that  my  needy  circumstances  were  the  only 

obstacle  to  our  happiness.  We Dont  interrupt 

me,  Alice :  you  little  know  whats  coming.  That 
obstacle  no  longer  exists.  I  have  been  made  second 
master  at  Sunbury  College,  with  ^350  a  year,  a  house, 
coals,  and  gas.  In  the  course  of  time,  I  shall  undoubtedly 
succeed  to  the  head  mastership — a  splendid  position, 
worth  £1600  a  year.  You  are  now  free  from  the 
troubles  that  have  pressed  so  hard  upon  you  since  your 


86  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  IV 

father's  death ;  and  you  can  quit  at  once — now — instantly, 
your  dependent  position  here." 

"  Thank  you :  I  am  very  comfortable  here.  I  am 
staying  on  a  visit  with  Miss  Carew." 

Silence  ensued  ;  and  he  sat  down  slowly.  Then  she 
added,  "  I  am  exceedingly  glad  that  you  have  got  some- 
thing good  at  last.  It  must  be  a  great  relief  to  your 
poor  mother." 

"  I  fancied,  Alice — though  it  may  have  been  only 
fancy — I  fancied  that  your  mother  was  colder  than  usual 
in  her  manner  this  morning.  I  hope  the  luxuries  of 
this  palatial  mansion  are  powerless  to  corrupt  your  heart. 
I  cannot  lead  you  to  a  castle  and  place  crowds  of  liveried 
servants  at  your  beck  and  call ;  but  I  can  make  you 
mistress  of  an  honorable  English  home,  independent 
of  the  bounty  of  strangers.  You  can  never  be  more 
than  a  lady,  Alice." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  lecture  me,  I  am  sure." 

"  You  might  be  serious  with  me,"  he  said,  rising  in 
ill  humor,  and  walking  a  little  way  down  the  room. 
"  I  think  the  offer  of  a  man's  hand  ought  to  be  received 
with  respect." 

"  Oh  !  I  did  not  quite  understand.  I  thought  we 
agreed  that  you  are  not  to  make  me  that  offer  every  time 
we  meet." 

"  It  was  equally  understood  that  the  subject  was  only 
deferred  until  I  should  be  in  a  position  to  resume  it 
without  binding  you  to  a  long  engagement.  That  time 
has  come  now ;  and  I  expect  a  favorable  answer  at  last. 
I  am  entitled  to  one,  considering  how  patiently  I  have 
waited  for  it." 

"  For  my  part,  Wallace,  I  must  say  I  do  not  think 
it  wise  for  you  to  think  of  marrying  with  only  ^350 
a  year." 

"  With  a  house  :  remember  that ;  and  coals,  and  gas  ! 


Chap.  IV      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  87 

You  are  becoming  very  prudent  now  that  you  live  with 
Miss  Whatshername  here.  I  fear  you  no  longer  love 
me,  Alice." 

"  I  never  said  I  loved  you  at  any  time." 

"  Pshaw  !  You  never  said  so,  perhaps  ;  but  you 
always  gave  me  to  understand " 

"  I  did  nothing  of  the  sort,  Wallace  ;  and  I  wont  have 
you  say  so." 

"  In  short,"  he  retorted  bitterly,  "  you  think  you  will 
pick  up  some  swell  here  who  will  be  a  better  bargain 
than  I  am." 

"  Wallace  !     How  dare  you  ?  " 

"  You  hurt  my  feelings,  Alice  ;  and  I  speak  out.  I 
know  how  to  behave  myself  quite  as  well  as  those  who 
have  the  entree  here  ;  but  when  my  entire  happiness  is  at 
stake  I  do  not  stand  on  punctilio.  Therefore  I  insist  on  a 
straightforward  answer  to  my  fair,  honorable  proposal." 

"  Wallace,"  said  Alice,  with  dignity  :  "  I  will  not  be 
forced  into  giving  an  answer  against  my  will.  I  regard 
you  as  a  cousin." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  regarded  as  a  cousin.  Have  I 
ever  regarded  you  as  a  cousin  ?  " 

"  And  do  you  suppose,  Wallace,  that  I  should  permit 
you  to  call  me  by  my  Christian  name,  and  be  as  familiar 
as  we  have  always  been  together,  if  you  were  not  my 
cousin  ?  If  so,  you  must  have  a  very  strange  opinion  of 
me." 

"  I  did  not  think  that  luxury  could  so  corrupt " 

"You  said  that  before,"  said  Alice  pettishly.  "Do 
not  keep  repeating  the  same  thing  over  and  over :  you 
know  it  is  one  of  your  bad  habits.  Will  you  stay  to 
lunch  ?  Miss  Carew  told  me  to  ask  you." 

"  Indeed  !  Miss  Carew  is  very  kind.  Please  inform 
her  that  I  am  deeply  honored,  and  that  I  feel  quite 
disturbed  at  being  unable  to  accept  her  patronage." 


88  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  IV 

Alice  poised  her  head  disdainfully.  "No  doubt  it 
amuses  you  to  make  yourself  ridiculous,"  she  said  ;  "  but 
I  must  say  I  do  not  see  any  occasion  for  it." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  my  behavior  is  not  sufficiently  good 
for  you.  You  never  found  any  cause  to  complain  of  it 
when  our  surroundings  were  less  aristocratic.  1  am 
quite  ashamed  of  taking  so  much  of  your  valuable  time. 
Good  morning." 

"  Good  morning.  But  I  do  not  see  why  you  are  in 
such  a  rage." 

"  I  am  not  in  a  rage.  I  am  onty  grieved  to  find  that 
you  are  corrupted  by  luxury.  I  thought  your  principles 
were  higher.  Good  morning,  Miss  Goff.  I  shall  not 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again  in  this  very  choice 


mansion." 


"  Are  you  really  going,  Wallace  ?  "  said  Alice,  rising. 

"Yes.     Why  should  I  stay  ?" 

She  rang  the  bell,  greatly  disconcerting  him  ;  for  he 
had  expected  her  to  detain  him  and  make  advances  for  a 
reconciliation.  Before  they  could  exchange  more  words, 
Bashville  entered. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Alice  politely. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  replied,  through  his  teeth.  He  walked 
loftily  out,  passing  Bashville  with  marked  scorn. 

He  had  left  the  house,  and  was  descending  the  terrace 
steps,  when  he  was  overtaken  by  the  footman,  who  said 
civilly, 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Youve  forgotten  this,  I 
think."  And  he  handed  him  a  walking  stick. 

Parker's  first  idea  was  that  his  stick  had  attracted  the 
man's  attention  by  the  poor  figure  it  made  in  the  castle 
hall,  and  that  Bashville  was  requesting  him,  with  covert 
superciliousness,  to  remove  his  property.  On  second 
thoughts  his  self-esteem  rejected  this  suspicion  as  too 
humiliating ;  but  he  resolved  to  shew  Bashville  that  he 


Chap.  IV      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  89 

had  a  gentleman  to  deal  with.  So  he  took  the  stick, 
and,  instead  of  thanking  Basliville,  handed  him  five 
shillings. 

Bashville  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  Oh  no,  sir," 
he  said  :  "  thank  you  all  the  same.  Those  are  not  my 
views." 

"The  more  fool  you,"  said  Parker,  pocketing  the 
coins,  and  turning  away. 

Bashville's  countenance  changed.  "  Come  come,  sir," 
he  said,  following  Parker  to  the  foot  of  the  steps :  "  fair 
words  deserve  fair  words.  I  am  no  more  a  fool  than  you 
are.  A  gentleman  should  know  his  place  as  well  as  a 
servant." 

"  Oh,  go  to  the  devil,"  muttered  Parker,  turning  very 
red,  and  hurrying  away. 

"  If  you  werent  my  mistress's  guest,"  said  Bashville, 
looking  menacingly  after  him,  "I'd  send  you  to  bed  for 
a  week  for  sending  me  to  the  devil." 


CHAPTER   V 

Miss  CAREW  unhesitatingly  carried  out  her  intention  of 
going  to  London,  where  she  took  a  house  in  Regent's 
Park,  to  the  disappointment  of  Alice,  who  had  hoped  to 
live  in  Mayfair,  or  at  least  in  South  Kensington.  But 
Lydia  set  great  store  by  the  high  northerly  ground  and 
open  air  of  the  Park  ;  and  Alice  found  almost  perfect 
happiness  in  driving  through  London  in  a  fine  carriage 
and  fine  clothes.  She  liked  that  better  than  concerts  of 
classical  music,  which  she  did  not  particularly  relish,  or 
even  than  the  opera,  to  which  they  went  often.  The 
theatres  pleased  her  more,  though  the  amusements  there 
were  tamer  than  she  had  expected.  "  Society "  was 
delightful  to  her  because  it  was  real  London  society. 
She  acquired  a  mania  for  dancing  ;  went  out  every  night ; 
and  seemed  to  herself  far  more  distinguished  and  attractive 
than  she  had  ever  been  in  Wiltstoken,  where  she  had 
nevertheless  held  a  sufficiently  favorable  opinion  of  her 
own  manners  and  person. 

Lydia  did  not  share  all  these  dissipations.     She  easily 
procured    invitations    and    chaperones    for    Alice,    who 
wondered  why  so  intelligent  a  woman   would  take  the 
trouble  to  sit  out  a  stupid  concert,  and  then  go  home, 
just  as  the  real  pleasure  of  the  evening  was  beginning. 
One  Saturday  morning,  at  breakfast,  Lydia  said, 
"  Have  you  ever  been  to  the  Crystal  Palace  ?  " 


Chap.v       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  91 

"No,"  said  Alice,  with  some  scorn,  which  she 
repented  when  Lydia  rejoined  sedately, 

"I  think  I  will  go  down  there  to-day  and  wander 
about  the  gardens  for  a  while.  There  is  to  be  a  concert 
in  the  afternoon,  at  which  Madame  Szczymplica,  whose 
playing  you  do  not  admire,  will  appear.  Will  you  come 
with  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Alice,  resolutely  dutiful. 

"  Of  choice  :  not  of  course,"  said  Lydia.  "  Are  you 
engaged  for  to-morrow  evening  ?  " 

"Sunday?  Oh  no.  Besides,  I  consider  all  my 
engagements  subject  to  your  convenience." 

There  was  a  pause,  long  enough  for  this  assurance  to 
fall  perfectly  flat.  Alice  bit  her  lip.  Then  Lydia  said, 
"  Do  you  know  Mrs.  Hoskyn  ?  " 

"Mrs.  Hoskyn  who  gives  Sunday  evenings?  Shall 
we  go  there  ?  "  said  Alice  eagerly.  "  People  often  ask 
me  whether  I  have  been  at  one  of  them.  But  I  dont 
know  her — though  I  have  seen  her.  Is  she  nice  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  young  woman  who  has  read  a  great  deal  of 
art  criticism,  and  been  deeply  impressed  by  it.  She  has 
made  her  house  famous  by  bringing  there  all  the  clever 
people  she  meets,  and  making  them  so  comfortable  that 
they  take  care  to  go  again.  But  she  has  not,  fortunately 
for  her,  allowed  her  craze  for  art  to  get  the  better  of  her 
common  sense.  She  has  married  a  prosperous  man  of 
business,  who  probably  never  read  anything  but  a  news- 
paper since  he  left  school ;  and  I  doubt  if  there  is  a 
happier  pair  in  England." 

"  I  presume  she  had  sense  enough  to  know  that  she 
could  not  afford  to  choose,"  said  Alice  complacently. 
"  She  is  very  ugly." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  She  has  many  admirers,  and 
was,  I  am  told,  engaged  to  Mr.  Herbert,  the  artist,  before 
she  met  Mr.  Hoskyn.  We  shall  meet  Mr.  Herbert  there 


92  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.V 

to-morrow,  and  a  number  of  celebrated  persons  besides  : 
his  wife  Madame  Szczymplica  the  pianiste,  Owen  Jack 
the  composer,  Conolly  the  inventor,  and  others.  The 
occasion  will  be  a  special  one,  as  Herr  Abendgasse,  a 
remarkable  German  socialist-of-the-chair  and  art  critic,  is 
to  deliver  a  lecture  on  c  The  True  in  Art.'  Be  careful, 
in  speaking  of  him  in  society,  to  refer  to  him  as  a 
sociologist,  and  not  a  socialist.  Are  you  particularly 
anxious  to  hear  him  lecture  ?  " 

"  No  doubt  it  will  be  very  interesting,"  said  Alice. 
"  I  should  not  like  to  miss  the  opportunity  of  going  to 
Mrs.  Hoskyn's.  People  so  often  ask  me  whether  I  have 
been  there,  and  whether  I  know  this,  that,  and  the  other 
celebrated  person,  that  I  feel  rather  out  of  it  in  my  rustic 
ignorance." 

"  Because,"  pursued  Lydia,  "  I  had  intended  not  to  go 
until  after  the  lecture.  Herr  Abendgasse  is  enthusiastic 
and  eloquent,  but  not  original.  I  prefer  to  get  his  ideas 
direct  from  their  inventors  ;  so  unless  you  are  specially 
interested " 

"  Not  at  all.  If  he  is  a  socialist  I  had  much  rather 
not  listen  to  him,  particularly  on  Sunday  evening." 

It  was  arranged  accordingly  that  they  should  go  to 
Mrs.  Hoskyn's  after  the  lecture.  Meanwhile  they  went 
to  Sydenham,  where  Alice  went  through  the  Crystal 
Palace  with  provincial  curiosity,  and  Lydia  explained  the 
place  encyclopaedically.  In  the  afternoon  there  was 
a  concert,  at  which  a  band  played  several  long  pieces 
of  music,  which  Lydia  seemed  to  enjoy,  though  she 
occasionally  found  fault  with  the  performers.  Alice, 
able  to  detect  neither  the  faults  in  the  execution  nor  the 
beauty  of  the  music,  did  as  she  saw  the  others  do — 
pretended  to  be  pleased,  and  applauded  decorously. 
Madame  Szczymplica,  whom  she  expected  to  meet  at 
Mrs.  Hoskyn's,  appeared,  and  played  a  fantasia  for  piano- 


Chap.v       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  93 

forte  and  orchestra  by  the  famous  Jack,  another  of  Mrs. 
Hoskyn's  circle.  There  was  in  the  program  an  analysis 
of  this  composition,  from  which  Alice  learnt  that  by 
attentively  listening  to  the  adagio  she  could  hear  the 
angels  singing  therein.  She  listened  as  attentively  as 
she  could,  but  heard  no  angels,  and  was  astonished  when, 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  fantasia,  the  audience  applauded 
Madame  Szczymplica  as  if  she  had  made  them  hear  the 
music  of  the  spheres.  Even  Lydia  seemed  moved,  and 
said, 

"  Strange,  that  she  is  only  a  woman  like  the  rest  of  us, 
with  just  the  same  narrow  bounds  to  her  existence,  and 
just  the  same  prosaic  cares — that  she  will  go  by  train  to 
Victoria,  and  thence  home  in  a  common  vehicle,  instead 
of  embarking  in  a  great  shell,  and  being  drawn  by  swans 
to  some  enchanted  island.  Her  playing  reminds  me  of 
myself  as  I  was  when  I  believed  in  fairyland,  and  indeed 
knew  little  about  any  other  land." 

"They  say,"  said  Alice,  "that  her  husband  is  very 
jealous,  and  that  she  leads  him  a  terrible  life.'* 

"  They  say  anything  that  brings  gifted  people  to  the 
level  of  their  own  experience.  Doubtless  they  are  right. 
I  have  not  met  Mr.  Herbert ;  but  I  have  seen  his 
pictures,  which  suggest  that  he  reads  everything  and  sees 
nothing  ;  for  they  all  represent  scenes  described  in  some 
poem.  If  one  could  only  find  an  educated  man  who  had 
never  read  a  book,  what  a  delightful  companion  he 
would  be  !  " 

When  the  concert  was  over,  they  did  not  return 
directly  to  town,  as  Lydia  wished  to  walk  awhile  in  the 
gardens.  In  consequence,  when  they  left  Sydenham 
they  got  into  a  Waterloo  train,  and  so  had  to  change  at 
Clapham  Junction.  It  was  a  fine  summer  evening  j  and 
Alice,  though  she  thought  that  it  became  ladies  to  hide 
themselves  from  the  public  in  waiting-rooms  at  railway 


94  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.v 

stations,  did  not  attempt  to  dissuade  Lydia  from  walking 
to  and  fro  at  an  unfrequented  end  of  the  platform,  which 
ended  in  a  bank  covered  with  flowers. 

"  To  my  mind,"  said  Lydia,  "  Clapham  Junction  is 
one  of  the  prettiest  places  about  London." 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  Alice,  a  little  maliciously.  "  I 
thought  that  all  artistic  people  looked  on  junctions  and 
railway  lines  as  blots  on  the  landscape." 

"  Some  of  them  do,"  said  Lydia  -,  "  but  they  are  not 
the  artists  of  our  generation  ;  and  those  who  take  up 
their  cry  are  no  better  than  parrots.  If  every  holiday 
recollection  of  my  youth — every  escape  from  town  to 
country — be  associated  with  the  railway,  I  must  feel 
towards  it  otherwise  than  my  father  did,  upon  whose 
middle  age  it  came  as  a  monstrous  iron  innovation.  The 
locomotive  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  modern  childhood. 
Children  crowd  upon  a  bridge  to  see  the  train  pass 
beneath.  Little  boys  strut  along  the  streets  puffing  and 
whistling  in  imitation  of  the  engine.  All  that  romance, 
silly  as  it  looks,  becomes  sacred  in  after  life.  Besides, 
when  it  is  not  underground  in  a  foul  London  tunnel, 
a  train  is  a  beautiful  thing.  Its  pure  white  fleece  of 
steam  harmonizes  with  every  variety  of  landscape.  And 
its  sound  !  Have  you  ever  stood  on  a  sea  coast  skirted 
by  a  railway,  and  listened  as  the  train  came  into  hearing 
in  the  far  distance  ?  At  first  it  can  hardly  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  noise  of  the  sea  ;  then  you  recognize 
it  by  its  variation  :  one  moment  smothered  in  a  deep 
cutting,  and  the  next  sent  echoing  from  some  hillside. 
Sometimes  it  runs  smoothly  for  many  minutes,  and  then 
breaks  suddenly  into  a  rhythmic  clatter,  always  changing 
in  distance  and  intensity.  When  it  comes  near,  you 
should  get  into  a  tunnel,  and  stand  there  whilst  it  passes. 
I  did  that  once ;  and  it  was  like  the  last  page  of  an  over- 
ture by  Beethoven,  thunderingly  impetuous.  I  cannot 


Chap.V       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  95 

conceive  how  any  person  can  hope  to  disparage  a  train 
by  comparing  it  with  a  stage  coach  j  and  I  know  some- 
thing of  stage  coaches,  or,  at  least,  of  diligences.  Their 
effect  on  the  men  employed  about  them  ought  to  decide 
the  superiority  of  steam  without  further  argument.  I 
never  saw  an  engine  driver  who  did  not  seem  an  excep- 
tionally intelligent  mechanic ;  whilst  the  very  writers 
and  artists  who  have  preserved  the  memory  of  the 
coaching  days  for  us  do  not  appear  to  have  taken  coach- 
men seriously,  or  to  have  regarded  them  as  responsible 
and  civilized  men.  Abuse  of  the  railway  from  a  pastoral 
point  of  view  is  obsolete.  There  are  millions  of  grown 
persons  in  England  to  whom  the  far  sound  of  the  train  is 
as  pleasantly  suggestive  as  the  piping  of  a  blackbird. 
And  then — is  not  that  Lord  Worthington  getting  out  of 
the  train  ?  Yes,  that  one,  at  the  third  platform  from 

this.     He "     She  stopped.     Alice  looked,  but  could 

see  neither  Lord  Worthington  nor  the  cause  of  a  subtle 
but  perceptible  change  in  Lydia,  who  said  quickly, 

"He  is  probably  coming  to  our  train.  Come  to  the 
waiting-room."  She  walked  swiftly  along  the  platform  as 
she  spoke.  Alice  hurried  after  her ;  and  they  had  but 
just  got  into  the  room,  the  door  of  which  was  close  to 
the  staircase  which  gave  access  to  the  platform,  when  a 
coarse  din  of  men's  voices  told  them  that  a  noisy  party 
was  ascending  the  steps.  Presently  a  man  emerged  reel- 
ing, and  at  once  began  to  execute  a  drunken  dance,  and 
to  sing  as  well  as  his  condition  and  musical  faculty 
allowed.  Lydia  stood  near  the  window  of  the  room,  and 
watched  in  silence.  Alice,  following  her  example,  recog- 
nized the  drunken  dancer  as  Mellish.  He  was  followed 
by  three  men,  gaily  attired  and  highly  elated,  but  com- 
paratively sober.  After  them  came  Cashel  Byron,  showily 
dressed  in  a  velveteen  coat  and  tightly  fitting  fawn- 
coloured  pantaloons  that  displayed  the  muscles  of  his  legs. 


96  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.v 

He  also  seemed  quite  sober  ;  but  he  was  dishevelled  ;  and 
his  left  eye  blinked  frequently,  the  adjacent  brow  and 
cheek  being  much  yellower  than  his  natural  complexion, 
which  appeared  to  advantage  on  the  right  side  of  his  face. 
Walking  steadily  to  Mellish,  who  was  now  asking  each 
of  the  bystanders  in  turn  to  come  and  drink  at  his 
expense,  he  seized  him  by  the  collar,  and  sternly  bade  him 
cease  making  a  fool  of  himself.  Mellish  tried  to  embrace 
him. 

"  My  own  boy,"  he  exclaimed  affectionately.  "  He's 
my  little  nonpareil.  Cashel  Byron  agin  the  world  at 
catch  weight.  Bob  Mellish's  money " 

"  You  sot,"  said  Cashel,  rolling  him  about  until  he  was 
giddy  as  well  as  drunk,  and  then  forcing  him  to  sit  down 
on  a  bench  :  "  one  would  think  you  never  saw  a  mill  or 
won  a  bet  in  your  life  before." 

"  Steady,  Byron,"  said  one  of  the  others.  "  Here's  his 
lordship."  Lord  Worthington  was  coming  up  the  stairs, 
apparently  the  most  excited  of  the  party. 

"  Fine  man  !  "  he  cried,  patting  Cashel  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Splendid  man  !  You  have  won  a  monkey  for  me  to-day ; 
and  you  shall  have  your  share  of  it,  old  boy." 

"I  trained  him,"  said  Mellish,  staggering  forward 
again.  "  I  trained  him.  You  know  me,  my  lord.  You 
know  Bob  Mellish.  A  word  with  your  lordship  in 
c — confidence.  You  jes  ask  who  knows  how  to  make 

the  beef  go  and  the  muscle  come.  You  ask 1  ask 

your  lorship's  par'n.  What'll  your  lorship  take  ?  " 

cc  Take  care,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  "  exclaimed  Lord 
Worthington,  clutching  at  him  as  he  reeled  backwards 
towards  the  line.  "  Dont  you  see  the  train  ?  " 

"  /  know,"  said  Mellish  gravely.  "  I  am  all  right :  no 
man  more  so.  I  am  Bob  Mellish.  You  ask — 

"  Here.  Come  out  of  this,"  said  one  of  the  party,  a 
powerful  man  with  a  scarred  face  and  crushed  nose, 


Chap.v      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  97 

grasping  Mellish  and  thrusting  him  into  the  train. 
"  You  want  a  beefsteak  on  that  ogle  of  yours,  where  you 
napped  the  Dutchman's  auctioneer,  Byron.  It's  got 
more  yellow  paint  on  it  than  yll  like  to  shew  in  church 


to-morrow." 


At  this  they  all  gave  a  roar  of  laughter,  and  took  an 
empty  first-class  compartment  by  storm.  Lydia  and  Alice 
had  hardly  time  to  take  their  places  in  the  train  before  it 
started. 

"  Really  I  must  say,"  said  Alice,  "  that  if  those  were 
Mr.  Cashel  Byron's  and  Lord  Worthington's  associates, 
their  tastes  are  very  peculiar." 

"Yes,"  said  Lydia,  almost  grimly.  "I  am  a  fair 
linguist ;  but  I  did  not  understand  a  single  sentence  of 
their  conversation,  though  I  heard  it  all  distinctly." 

"  They  were  not  gentlemen,"  said  Alice.  "  You  say 
that  no  one  can  tell  by  a  person's  appearance  whether  he 
is  a  gentleman  or  not ;  but  surely  you  cannot  think  that 
those  men  are  Lord  Worthington's  equals." 

"  I  do  not,"  said  Lydia.  "  They  are  ruffians ;  and 
Cashel  Byron  is  the  most  unmistakeable  ruffian  of  them  all." 

Alice,  awestruck,  did  not  venture  to  speak  again  until 
they  left  the  train  at  Victoria.  There  was  a  crowd 
outside  the  carriage  in  \fhich  Cashel  had  travelled.  Alice 
hastened  past ;  but  Lydia  asked  a  guard  whether  anything 
was  the  matter.  He  replied  that  a  drunken  man,  alighting 
from  the  train,  had  fallen  down  upon  the  rails,  so  that, 
had  the  carriage  been  in  motion,  he  would  have  been 
killed.  Lydia  thanked  the  guard,  and,  as  she  turned  from 
him,  found  Bashville  standing  before  her,  touching  his 
hat.  She  had  given  him  no  instructions  to  attend.  How- 
ever, she  accepted  his  presence  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
inquired  whether  the  carriage  was  there. 

"No,  madam,"  replied  Bashville.  "The  coachman 
had  no  orders." 

H 


98  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.v 

"  Quite  right.  A  hansom,  if  you  please."  When  he 
was  gone,  she  said  to  Alice,  "  Did  you  tell  Bashville  to 
meet  us  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear  no  !  I  should  not  think  of  doing  such  a 
thing." 

"  Strange  !  However,  he  knows  his  duties  better  than 
I  do  ;  so  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  has  acted  properly.  He 
has  been  waiting  all  the  afternoon,  I  suppose,  poor  fellow." 

"  He  has  nothing  else  to  do,"  said  Alice  carelessly. 
"  Here  he  is.  He  has  picked  out  a  new  hansom  for  us 
too." 

Meanwhile,  Mellish  had  been  dragged  from  beneath 
the  train,  and  seated  on  the  knee  of  one  of  his  com- 
panions. He  was  in  a  stupor,  and  had  a  large  lump  on 
his  brow.  His  eye  was  almost  closed.  The  man  with 
the  crushed  nose  now  shewed  himself  an  expert  surgeon. 
Whilst  Cashel  supported  the  patient  on  the  knee  of 
another  man,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  kept  off  the  crowd 
by  mingled  persuasion  and  violence,  he  produced  a  lancet 
and  summarily  reduced  the  swelling  by  lancing  it.  He 
then  dressed  the  puncture  neatly  with  appliances  for  that 
purpose  which  he  carried  about  him,  and  shouted  in 
Mellish's  ear  to  rouse  him.  But  the  trainer  only  groaned, 
and  let  his  head  drop  inert  on  his  breast.  More  shouting 
was  resorted  to,  but  in  vain.  Cashel  impatiently  ex- 
pressed an  opinion  that  Mellish  was  shamming,  and 
declared  that  he  would  not  stand  there  to  be  fooled  with 
all  the  evening. 

"  If  he  was  my  pal  'stead  o  yours,"  said  the  man  with 
the  broken  nose,  "  I'd  wake  him  up  fast  enough." 

"  I'll  save  you  the  trouble,"  said  Cashel,  coolly  stooping 
and  seizing  between  his  teeth  the  cartilage  of  the  trainer's 
ear. 

"  That's  the  way  to  do  it,"  said  the  other  approvingly, 
as  Mellish  screamed  and  started  to  his  feet.  "  Now  then. 


Chap.  V       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  99 

On  with  you."  He  took  Mellish's  right  arm  ;  Cashel 
took  the  left ;  and  they  brought  him  away  between  them 
without  paying  the  least  heed  to  his  tears,  his  protestations 
that  he  was  hurt,  his  plea  that  he  was  an  old  man,  or  his 
bitter  demand  as  to  where  Cashel  would  have  been  at  that 
moment  without  his  care. 

Lord  Worthington  had  taken  advantage  of  this  accident 
to  slip  away  from  his  travelling  companions,  and  drive 
alone  to  his  lodgings  in  Jermyn  Street.  He  was  still 
greatly  excited  ;  and  when  his  valet,  an  old  retainer  with 
whom  he  was  on  familiar  terms,  brought  him  a  letter  that 
had  arrived  during  his  absence,  he  asked  him  four  times 
whether  any  one  had  called,  and  four  times  interrupted 
him  by  scraps  of  information  about  the  splendid  day  he 
had  had  and  the  luck  he  was  in. 

"  I  betted  five  hundred  even  that  it  would  be  over  in 
quarter  of  an  hour  ;  and  then  I  betted  Byron  two  hundred 
and  fifty  to  one  that  it  wouldnt.  Thats  the  way  to  do 
it :  eh,  Bedford  ?  Catch  Cashel  letting  two  hundred  and 
fifty  slip  through  his  fingers  !  By  George  though,  he's 
an  artful  card.  At  the  end  of  fourteen  minutes  I  thought 
my  five  hundred  was  corpsed.  The  Dutchman  was  full 
of  fight ;  and  Cashel  suddenly  turned  weak  and  tried  to 
back  out  of  the  rally.  You  should  have  seen  the  gleam 
in  the  Dutchman's  eye  when  he  rushed  in  after  him.  He 
made  cock-sure  of  finishing  him  straight  ofF." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord.     Dear  me  !  " 

"  I  should  think  so  :  I  was  taken  in  by  it  myself.  It 
was  only  done  to  draw  the  poor  devil.  By  George, 
Bedford,  you  should  have  seen  the  way  Cashel  put  in  his 
right.  But  you  couldnt  have  seen  it :  it  was  too  quick. 
The  Dutchman  was  asleep  on  the  grass  before  he  knew 
he'd  been  hit.  Byron  had  collected  fifteen  pounds  for 
him  before  he  came  to.  His  jaw  must  feel  devilish  queer 
after  it.  By  Jove,  Bedford,  Cashel  is  a  perfect  wonder. 


ioo  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.V 

I'd  back  him  for  every  penny  I  possess  against  any  man 
alive.  He  makes  you  feel  proud  of  being  an  English- 
man." 

Bedford  looked  on  with  submissive  wonder  as  his 
master,  transfigured  with  enthusiasm,  went  hastily  to  and 
fro  through  the  room,  occasionally  clenching  his  fist  and 
smiting  an  imaginary  Dutchman.  The  valet  at  last 
ventured  to  remind  him  that  he  had  forgotten  the  letter. 

"Oh,  hang  the  letter  !"  said  Lord  Worthington. 
"It's  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  writing  —  an  invitation,  or  some 
such  rot.  Here  :  let's  see  it." 

Campden  Hill  Road.     Saturday. 
My  dear  Lord  Worthington 

I  have  not  forgotten  my  promise  to  obtain  for  you  a 
near  view  of  the  famous  Mrs.  Herbert — Madame  Simplicita^ 
as  you  call  her.  She  will  be  with  us  to-morrow  evening ;  and 
we  shall  be  very  happy  to  see  you  then^  if  you  care  to  come. 
At  nine  o'clock^  Herr  Abendgasse^  a  celebrated  German  Art 
critic  and  a  great  friend  of  mine^  will  read  us  a  paper  on 
"  The  True  in  Art " ;  but  I  will  not  pay  you  the  compliment 
of  pretending  to  believe  that  that  Interests  you-,  so  you  may 
come  at  ten  or  half-past^  by  which  hour  all  the  serious 
business  of  the  evening  will  be  over. 

"Well,  there  is  nothing  like  cheek,"  said  Lord 
Worthington,  breaking  off  in  his  perusal.  "These 
women  think  that  because  I  enjoy  life  in  a  rational  way, 
I  dont  know  the  back  of  a  picture  from  the  front,  or  the 
inside  of  a  book  from  the  cover.  I  shall  go  at  nine 
sharp." 

/  suppose  none  of  your  acquaintances  take  an  Interest  In 
Art.  Could  you  not  bring  me  a  celebrity  or  two  !  I  am 
very  anxious  to  have  as  good  an  audience  as  possible  for  Herr 
Abendgasse.  However^  as  It  iV,  he  will  have  no  reason  to 


Chap.V      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  101 

complain,  as  I  flatter  myself  that  I  have  already  secured  a 
very  distinguished  assembly.  Still,  if  you  can  add  a  second 
illustrious  name  to  my  list,  by  all  means  do  so. 

"Very  good,  Mrs.  Hoskyn,"  said  Lord  Worthington, 
looking  cunningly  at  the  bewildered  Bedford.  "You 
shall  have  a  celebrity — a  real  one — none  of  your  mouldy 
old  Germans — if  I  can  only  get  him  to  come.  If  any  of 
her  people  dont  like  him,  they  can  tell  him  so.  Eh, 
Bedford?" 


CHAPTER   VI 

NEXT  evening,  Lydia  and  Alice  reached  Mrs.  Hoskyn's 
house  in  Campden  Hill  Road  a  few  minutes  before  ten 
o'clock.  They  found  Lord  Worthington  in  the  front 
garden,  smoking  and  chatting  with  Mr.  Hoskyn. 
He  threw  away  his  cigar,  and  returned  to  the  house 
with  the  two  ladies,  who  observed  that  he  was  some- 
what flushed  with  wine.  They  went  into  a  parlor 
to  take  off  their  wraps,  leaving  him  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  Presently  they  heard  some  one  come  down  and 
address  him  excitedly. 

"Worthington.  Worthington.  He  has  begun  making 
a  speech  before  the  whole  room.  He  got  up  the  moment 
old  Abendgasse  sat  down.  Why  the  deuce  did  you  start 
champagne  at  dinner  ?  " 

"  Sh-sh-sh  !  You  dont  say  so  !  Come  with  me  ;  and 
let's  try  to  get  him  away  quietly." 

"  Did  you  hear  that  ?  "  said  Alice.  "  Something  must 
have  happened." 

<c  I  hope  so,"  said  Lydia.  "  Ordinarily,  the  fault  in 
these  receptions  is  that  nothing  happens.  Do  not 
announce  us,  if  you  please,"  she  added,  to  the  servant,  as 
they  ascended  the  stairs.  "Since  we  have  come  late,  let 
us  spare  the  feelings  of  Herr  Abendgasse  by  going  in  as 
quietly  as  possible." 

They   had   no   difficulty  in   entering   unnoticed  j   for 


Chap.  VI     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  103 

Mrs.  Hoskyn  considered  obscurity  beautiful ;  and  her 
rooms  were  but  dimly  lighted  by  two  curious  lanterns  of 
pink  glass,  within  which  were  vaporous  flames.  In  the 
middle  of  the  larger  apartment  was  a  small  table  covered 
with  garnet-colored  plush,  bearing  a  reading  desk  and 
two  candles  in  silver  candlesticks,  the  light  from  which, 
brighter  than  the  lanterns,  cast  strong  double  shadows 
from  the  groups  of  standing  figures.  The  surrounding 
space  was  crowded  with  chairs,  occupied  chiefly  by  ladies. 
Behind  them,  along  the  wall,  stood  a  row  of  men,  among 
whom  was  Lucian  Webber.  All  were  staring  at  Cashel 
Byron,  who  was  making  a  speech  to  some  bearded  and 
spectacled  gentleman  at  the  table.  Lydia,  who  had 
never  before  seen  him  either  in  evening  dress  or  quite  at 
his  ease,  was  astonished  at  his  bearing.  His  eyes  were 
sparkling ;  his  confidence  overbore  the  company ;  and 
his  rough  voice  created  the  silence  it  broke.  He  was  in 
high  good  humor,  and  marked  his  periods  by  the  swing 
of  his  extended  left  arm,  whilst  he  held  his  right  hand 
close  to  his  body  and  occasionally  pointed  his  remarks  by 
slyly  wagging  its  forefinger. 

-  executive  power,"  he  was  saying,  as  Lydia 
entered.  "Thats  a  very  good  expression,  gentlemen, 
and  one  that  I  can  tell  you  a  lot  about.  We  have  been 
told  that  if  we  want  to  civilize  our  neighbors,  we  must 
do  it  mainly  by  the  example  of  our  own  lives,  by  each 
becoming  a  living  illustration  of  the  highest  culture  we 
know.  But  what  I  ask  is,  how  is  anybody  to  know  that 
youre  an  illustration  of  culture  ?  You  cant  go  about 
like  a  sandwich  man  with  a  label  on  your  back  to  tell  all 
the  fine  notions  you  have  in  your  head  ;  and  you  may  be 
sure  no  person  will  consider  your  mere  appearance  prefer- 
able to  his  own.  You  want  an  executive  power  :  thats 
what  you  want.  Suppose  you  walked  along  the  street 
and  saw  a  man  beating  a  woman,  and  setting  a  bad 


104  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  VI 

example  to  the  roughs.  Well,  you  would  be  bound  to 
set  a  good  example  to  them  ;  and,  if  youre  men,  youd 
like  to  save  the  woman ;  but  you  couldnt  do  it  by 
merely  living  ;  for  that  would  be  setting  the  bad  example 
of  passing  on  and  leaving  the  poor  creature  to  be  beaten. 
What  is  it  that  you  need  to  know,  then,  so  as  to  be  able 
to  act  up  to  your  ideas  ?  Why,  you  want  to  know  how  to 
hit  him,  when  to  hit  him,  and  where  to  hit  him  ;  and 
then  you  want  the  nerve  to  go  in  and  do  it.  Thats 
executive  power ;  and  thats  whats  wanted  worse  than 
sitting  down  and  thinking  how  good  you  are,  which  is 
what  this  gentleman's  teaching  comes  to  after  all. 
Dont  you  see  ?  You  want  executive  power  to  set  an 
example.  If  you  leave  all  that  to  the  roughs,  it's  their 
example  that  will  spread,  and  not  yours.  And  look  at 
the  politics  of  it.  I  heard  a  man  in  the  park  one  Sunday 
say  that  in  this  country  we  can  do  nothing  ;  for,  says  he, 
if  the  lords  and  the  landlords,  or  any  other  collection  of 
nobs,  were  to  drive  us  into  the  sea,  what  could  we  do 
but  go  ?  There's  a  gentleman  laughing  at  me  for  saying 
that  y  but  I  ask  him  what  would  he  do  if  the  police  or 
the  soldiers  came  this  evening  and  told  him  to  turn  out 
of  his  comfortable  house  into  the  Thames  ?  Tell  em 
he  wouldnt  vote  for  their  employers  at  the  next  election, 
perhaps  ?  Or,  if  that  didnt  stop  them,  tell  em  that  he'd 
ask  his  friends  to  do  the  same  ?  Thats  a  pretty  execu- 
tive power !  No,  gentlemen.  Dont  let  yourself  be 
deceived  by  people  that  have  staked  their  money  against 
you.  The  first  thing  to  learn  is  how  to  fight.  There's  no 
use  in  buying  books  and  pictures  unless  you  know  how  to 
keep  them  and  your  own  head  as  well.  If  that  gentle- 
man that  laughed  knew  how  to  fight,  and  his  neighbors 
all  knew  how  to  fight  too,  he  wouldnt  need  to  fear 
police,  nor  soldiers,  nor  Russians,  nor  Prussians,  nor  any 
of  the  millions  of  men  that  may  be  let  loose  on  him  any 


Chap.  VI     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  105 

day  of  the  week,  safe  though  he  thinks  himself.  But, 
says  you,  lets  have  a  division  of  labor.  Lets  not  fight 
for  ourselves,  but  pay  other  men  to  fight  for  us.  That 
shews  how  some  people,  when  they  get  hold  of  an  idea, 
will  work  it  to  that  foolish  length  that  it's  wearisome  to 
listen  to  them.  Fighting  is  the  power  of  self-preserva- 
tion :  another  man  cant  do  it  for  you.  You  might  as 
well  divide  the  labor  of  eating  your  dinner,  and  pay  one 
fellow  to  take  the  beef,  another  the  beer,  and  the  third 
the  potatoes.  But  let  us  put  it  for  the  sake  of  argument 
that  you  do  pay  others  to  fight  for  you.  Suppose  some 
one  else  pays  them  higher,  and  they  fight  a  cross,  or  turn 
openly  against  you  ?  Youd  have  only  yourself  to  blame 
for  giving  the  executive  power  to  money.  Therefore  I 
say  that  a  man's  first  duty  is  to  learn  to  fight.  If  he 
cant  do  that,  he  cant  set  an  example ;  he  cant  stand  up 
for  his  own  rights  or  his  neighbors' ;  he  cant  keep  him- 
self in  bodily  health  \  and  if  he  sees  the  weak  ill-used  by 
the  strong,  the  most  he  can  do  is  to  sneak  away  and  tell 
the  nearest  policeman,  who  most  likely  wont  turn  up 
until  the  worst  of  the  mischief  is  done.  Coming  to  this 
lady's  drawing-room,  and  making  an  illustration  of  him- 
self, wont  make  him  feel  like  a  man  after  that.  Let  me 
be  understood  though,  gentlemen  :  I  dont  intend  that 
you  should  take  everything  I  say  too  exactly — too  liter- 
ally, as  it  were.  If  you  see  a  man  beating  a  woman, 
I  think  you  should  interfere  on  principle.  But  dont 
expect  to  be  thanked  by  her  for  it ;  and  keep  your  eye 
on  her  :  dont  let  her  get  behind  you.  As  for  him,  just 
give  him  a  good  one  and  go  away.  Never  stay  to  get 
yourself  into  a  street  fight ;  for  it's  low,  and  generally 
turns  out  badly  for  all  parties.  However,  thats  only  a 
bit  of  practical  advice.  It  doesnt  alter  the  great 
principle  that  you  should  get  an  executive  power. 
When  you  get  that,  youll  have  courage  in  you  ;  and, 


io6  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  VI 

whats  more,  your  courage  will  be  of  some  use  to  you. 
For  though  you  may  have  courage  by  nature  ;  still,  if 
you  havent  executive  power  as  well,  your  courage  will 
only  lead  you  to  stand  up  to  be  beaten  by  men  that  have 
both  courage  and  executive  power  ;  and  what  good  does 
that  do  you  ?  People  say  that  youre  a  game  fellow  ; 
but  they  wont  find  the  stakes  for  you  unless  you  can 
win  them.  Youd  far  better  put  your  game  in  your 
pocket,  and  throw  up  the  sponge  while  you  can  see  to 
do  it. 

"Now,  on  this  subject  of  game,  Ive  something  to  say 
that  will  ease  the  professor's  mind  on  a  point  that  he 
seemed  anxious  about.  I  am  no  musician  ;  but  I'll  just 
shew  you  how  a  man  that  understands  one  art  under- 
stands every  art.  I  made  out  from  the  gentleman's 
remarks  that  there  is  a  man  in  the  musical  line  named 
Wagner,  who  is  what  you  might  call  a  game  sort  of 
composer  ;  and  that  the  musical  fancy,  though  they  cant 
deny  that  his  tunes  are  first-rate,  and  that,  so  to  speak, 
he  wins  his  fights,  yet  they  try  to  make  out  that  he  wins 
them  in  an  outlandish  way,  and  that  he  has  no  real 
science.  Now  I  tell  the  gentleman  not  to  mind  such 
talk.  As  I  have  just  shewn  you,  his  game  wouldnt  be 
any  use  to  him  without  science,  He  might  have  beaten 
a  few  second-raters  with  a  rush  while  he  was  young; 
but  he  wouldnt  have  lasted  out  as  he  has  done  unless  he 
was  clever  as  well.  It's  the  newness  of  his  style  that 
puzzles  people  ;  for,  mind  you,  every  man  has  to  grow 
his  own  style  out  of  himself;  and  there  is  no  use  in 
thinking  that  it  will  be  the  same  as  the  last  fellow's,  or 
right  for  the  next  fellow,  or  that  it's  the  style,  and  that 
every  other  style  is  wrong.  More  rot  is  talked  through 
not  knowing  that  than  anything  else.  You  will  find  that 
those  that  run  Professor  Wagner  down  are  either  jealous, 
or  they  are  old  stagers  that  are  not  used  to  his  style,  and 


Chap.  VI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  107 

think  that  anything  new  must  be  bad.  Just  wait  a  bit, 
and,  take  my  word  for  it,  theyll  turn  right  round  and 
swear  that  his  style  isnt  new  at  all,  and  that  he  stole  it 
from  some  one  they  saw  when  they  were  ten  years  old. 
History  shews  us  that  that  is  the  way  of  such  fellows  in 
all  ages,  as  the  gentleman  said  j  and  he  gave  you 
Beethoven  as  an  example.  But  an  example  like  that 
dont  go  home  to  you,  because  there  isnt  one  man  in  a 
million  that  ever  heard  of  Beethoven.  Take  a  man  that 
everybody  has  heard  of :  Jack  Randall !  The  very  same 
things  were  said  of  him.  After  that,  you  neednt  go  to 
musicians  for  an  example.  The  truth  is,  that  there  are 
people  in  the  world  with  that  degree  of  envy  and  malice 
in  them  that  they  cant  bear  to  allow  a  good  man  his 
merits  ;  and  when  they  have  to  admit  that  he  can  do  one 
thing,  they  try  to  make  out  that  there's  something  else 
he  cant  do.  Come :  I'll  put  it  to  you  short  and 
business-like.  This  German  gentleman,  who  knows  all 
about  music,  tells  you  that  many  pretend  that  this 
Wagner  has  game,  but  no  science.  Well,  I,  though  I 
know  nothing  about  music,  will  bet  you  twenty -five 
pounds  that  there's  others  that  allow  him  to  be  full  of 
science,  but  say  that  he  has  no  game,  and  that  all  he  does 
comes  from  his  head,  and  not  from  his  heart.  I  will. 
I'll  bet  twenty-five  pounds  on  it ;  and  let  the  gentleman 
of  the  house  be  stakeholder,  and  the  German  gentleman 
referee.  Eh  ?  Well,  I'm  glad  to  see  that  there  are  no 
takers. 

"  Now  we'll  go  to  another  little  point  that  the  gentle- 
man forgot.  He  recommended  you  to  learn — to  make 
yourselves  better  and  wiser  from  day  to  day.  But  he 
didnt  tell  you  why  it  is  that  you  wont  learn,  in  spite  of 
his  advice.  I  suppose  that,  being  a  foreigner,  he  was 
afraid  of  hurting  your  feelings  by  talking  too  freely  to 
you.  But  youre  not  so  thin-skinned  as  to  take  offence 


io8  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  VI 

at  a  little  plain  speaking,  I'll  be  bound  ;  so  I  tell  you 
straight  out  that  the  reason  you  wont  learn  is  not  that 
you  dont  want  to  be  clever,  or  that  you  are  lazier  than 
many  that  have  learnt  a  great  deal ;  but  just  because 
youd  like  people  to  think  that  you  know  everything 
already — because  youre  ashamed  to  be  seen  going  to 
school ;  and  you  calculate  that  if  you  only  hold  your 
tongue  and  look  wise,  youll  get  through  life  without 
your  ignorance  being  found  out.  But  wheres  the  good 
of  lies  and  pretence  ?  What  does  it  matter  if  you  get 
laughed  at  by  a  cheeky  brat  or  two  for  your  awkward 
beginnings  ?  Whats  the  use  of  always  thinking  of  how 
youre  looking,  when  your  sense  might  tell  you  that 
other  people  are  thinking  about  their  own  looks  and  not 
about  yours  ?  A  big  boy  doesnt  look  well  on  a  lower 
form,  certainly  ;  but  when  he  works  his  way  up  he'll  be 
glad  he  began.  I  speak  to  you  more  particularly  because 
youre  Londoners  ;  and  Londoners  beat  all  creation  for 
thinking  about  themselves.  However,  I  dont  go  with 
the  gentleman  in  everything  he  said.  All  this  struggling 
and  striving  to  make  the  world  better  is  a  great  mistake  ; 
not  because  it  isnt  a  good  thing  to  improve  the  world 
if  you  know  how  to  do  it,  but  because  striving  and 
struggling  is  the  worst  way  you  could  set  about  doing 
anything.  It  gives  a  man  a  bad  style,  and  weakens  him. 
It  shews  that  he  dont  believe  in  himself  much.  When 
I  heard  the  professor  striving  and  struggling  so  earnestly 
to  set  you  to  work  reforming  this,  that,  and  the  other,  I 
said  to  myself,  c  He's  got  himself  to  persuade  as  well  as  us. 
That  isnt  the  language  of  conviction.'  Whose — 

"  Really,  sir,"  said  Lucian  Webber,  who  had  made  his 
way  to  the  table,  "  I  think,  as  you  have  now  addressed 
us  at  considerable  length,  and  as  there  are  other  persons 
present  whose  opinions  probably  excite  as  much  curiosity 
as  yours "  He  was  interrupted  by  a  "  Hear,  hear," 


Chap.  VI     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  109 

followed  by  "  No,  no,"  and  <c  Go  on,"  uttered  in  more 
subdued  tones  than  are  customary  at  public  meetings, 
but  with  more  animation  than  is  usually  displayed  in 
drawing-rooms.  Cashel,  who  had  been  for  a  moment 
somewhat  put  out,  turned  to  Lucian  and  said,  in  a  tone 
intended  to  repress,  but  at  the  same  time  humor  his 
impatience,  "Dont  you  be  in  a  hurry,  sir.  You  shall 
have  your  turn  presently.  Perhaps  I  may  tell  you  some- 
thing you  dont  know  before  you  stop."  Then  he  turned 
again  to  the  company,  and  resumed. 

"We  were  talking  about  effort  when  this  young 
gentleman  took  it  upon  himself  to  break  the  ring.  Now, 
nothing  can  be  what  you  might  call  artistically  done,  if 
it's  done  with  an  effort.  If  a  thing  cant  be  done  light 
and  easy,  steady  and  certain,  let  it  not  be  done  at  all. 
Sounds  strange,  doesnt  it  ?  But  I'll  tell  you  a  stranger 
thing.  The  more  effort  you  make,  the  less  effect  you 
produce.  A  would-be  artist  is  no  artist  at  all.  I  learnt  that 
in  my  own  profession  (never  mind  what  that  profession  is 
just  at  present,  as  the  ladies  might  think  the  worse  of  me 
for  it).  But  in  all  professions  any  work  that  shows  signs 
of  labor,  straining,  yearning — as  the  German  gentleman 
said — or  effort  of  any  kind,  is  work  beyond  the  man's 
strength  that  does  it,  and  therefore  not  well  done. 
Perhaps  it's  beyond  his  natural  strength  ;  but  it  is  more 
likely  that  he  was  badly  taught.  Many  teachers  set 
their  pupils  on  to  strain  and  stretch  so  that  they  get  used 
up,  body  and  mind,  in  a  few  months.  Depend  upon  it, 
the  same  thing  is  true  in  other  arts.  I  once  taught  a 
fiddler  that  used  to  get  a  hundred  guineas  for  playing  two 
or  three  tunes  ;  and  he  told  me  that  it  was  just  the  same 
thing  with  the  fiddle — that  when  you  laid  a  tight  hold  on 
your  fiddle-stick,  or  even  set  your  teeth  hard  together, 
you  could  do  nothing  but  rasp  like  the  fellows  that  play 
in  bands  for  a  few  shillings  a  night." 


i  io  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  VI 

"  How  much  more  of  this  nonsense  must  we  endure  ?  " 
said  Lucian  audibly,  as  Cashel  stopped  for  breath. 
Cashel  turned,  and  looked  at  him. 

"By  Jove,"  whispered  Lord  Worthington  to  his 
companion,  "  that  fellow  had  better  be  careful.  I  wish 
he  would  hold  his  tongue." 

"  You  think  it's  nonsense,  do  you  ?  "  said  Cashel,  after 
a  pause.  Then  he  raised  one  of  the  candles,  and 
illuminated  a  picture  that  hung  on  the  wall.  "  Look  at 
that  picture,"  he  said.  "  You  see  that  fellow  in  armor 
— St.  George  and  the  dragon  or  whatever  he  may  be  ? 
He's  jumped  down  from  his  horse  to  fight  the  other 
fellow — that  one  with  his  head  in  a  big  helmet,  whose 
horse  has  tumbled.  The  lady  in  the  gallery  is  half  crazy 
with  anxiety  for  St.  George ;  and  well  she  may  be. 
There's  a  posture  for  a  man  to  fight  in  !  His  weight  isnt 
resting  on  his  legs  :  one  touch  of  a  child's  finger  would 
upset  him.  Look  at  his  neck  craned  out  in  front  of  him, 
and  his  face  as  flat  as  a  full  moon  towards  his  man,  as  if 
he  was  inviting  him  to  shut  up  both  his  eyes  with  one 
blow.  You  can  all  see  that  he's  as  weak  and  nervous  as 
a  cat,  and  that  he  doesnt  know  how  to  fight.  And  why 
does  he  give  you  that  idea  ?  Just  because  he's  all  strain 
and  stretch  ;  because  he  isnt  at  his  ease  ;  because  ^he 
carries  the  weight  of  his  body  as  foolishly  as  one  of  the 
ladies  here  would  carry  a  hod  of  bricks  ;  because  he  isnt 
safe,  steady,  and  light  on  his  pins,  as  he  would  be  if  he 
could  forget  himself  for  a  minute  and  leave  his  body  to 
find  its  proper  balance  of  its  own  accord.  If  the  painter 
of  that  picture  had  known  his  business,  he  would  never 
have  sent  his  man  up  to  the  scratch  in  such  a  figure  and 
condition  as  that.  But  you  can  see  with  one  eye  that  he 
didnt  understand — I  wont  say  the  principles  of  fighting, 
but  the  universal  principles  that  I've  told  you  of,  that 
ease  and  strength,  effort  and  weakness,  go  together. 


Chap.  VI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  1 1 1 

Now  !  "  added  Cashel,  again  addressing  Lucian  :  "  do 
you  still  think  that  notion  of  mine  nonsense  ?  "  And  he 
smacked  his  lips  with  satisfaction  ;  for  his  criticism  of 
the  picture  had  produced  a  marked  sensation  ;  and  he  did 
not  know  that  this  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  painter, 
Mr.  Adrian  Herbert,  was  present. 

Lucian  tried  to  ignore  the  question  ;  but  he  found  it 
impossible  to  ignore  the  questioner.  "  Since  you  have 
set  the  example  of  expressing  opinions  without  regard  to 
considerations  of  common  courtesy,"  he  said  shortly,  "  I 
may  say  that  your  theory,  if  it  can  be  called  one,  is  a 
contradiction  in  terms." 

Cashel,  apparently  unruffled,  but  with  more  delibera- 
tion of  manner  than  before,  looked  about  him  as  if  in 
search  of  a  fresh  illustration.  His  glance  finally  rested 
on  the  lecturer's  seat,  a  capacious  crimson  damask 
armchair  that  stood  unoccupied  at  some  distance  behind 
Lucian. 

"  I  see  youre  no  judge  of  a  picture,"  he  said  good- 
humoredly,  putting  down  the  candle,  and  stepping  in 
front  of  Lucian,  who  regarded  him  haughtily,  and  did 
not  budge,  "But  just  look  at  it  in  this  way.  Suppose 
you  wanted  to  hit  me  the  most  punishing  blow  you 
possibly  could.  What  would  you  do  ?  Why,  according 
to  your  own  notion,  youd  make  a  great  effort.  c  The 
more  effort,  the  more  force,'  youd  say  to  yourself.  '  I'll 
smash  him  even  if  I  burst  myself  in  doing  it.'  And  what 
would  happen  then  ?  Youd  only  cut  me  and  make  me 
angry,  besides  exhausting  all  your  strength  at  one  gasp. 

Whereas,  if  you  took  it  easy — like  this "  Here  he 

made  a  light  step  forward,  and  placed  his  open  palm 
gently  against  the  breast  of  Lucian,  who,  as  if  the  piston- 
rod  of  a  steam-engine  had  touched  him,  instantly  reeled 
back  and  dropped  into  the  chair. 

"  There  !  "    exclaimed    Cashel,    beaming    with    self- 


1 1 2  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap,  vi 

satisfaction  as  he  stepped  aside  and  pointed  at  Lucian. 
"It's  like  pocketing  a  billiard  ball !  " 

A  chatter  of  surprise,  amusement,  and  remonstrance 
spread  through  the  rooms  ;  and  the  company  crowded 
towards  the  table.  Lucian  rose,  white  with  rage,  and  for 
a  moment  entirely  lost  his  self-control.  Fortunately,  the 
effect  was  to  paralyze  him  :  he  neither  moved  nor  spoke, 
and  only  betrayed  his  condition  by  his  pallor,  and  the 
hatred  in  his  expression.  Presently  he  felt  a  touch  on 
his  arm,  and  heard  his  name  pronounced  by  Lydia. 
Her  voice  calmed  him.  He  tried  to  look  at  her ;  but 
his  vision  was  disturbed :  he  saw  double ;  the  lights 
seemed  to  dance  before  his  eyes  ;  and  Lord  Worthing- 
ton's  voice,  saying  to  Cashel,  "  Rather  too  practical,  old 
fellow,"  seemed  to  come  from  a  remote  corner  of  the 
room,  and  yet  to  be  whispered  into  his  ear.  He  was 
moving  irresolutely  in  search  of  Lydia,  when  his  senses 
and  his  resentment  were  restored  by  a  clap  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  You  wouldnt  have  believed  that  now,  would  you  ?  " 
said  Cashel.  "  Dont  look  startled  :  youve  no  bones 
broken.  You  had  your  little  joke  with  me  in  your  own 
way  ;  and  I  had  mine  in  my  own  way.  Thats  only ' 

He  stopped  :  his  brave  bearing  vanished  :  he  became 
limp  and  shamefaced.  Lucian,  without  a  word,  with- 
drew with  Lydia  to  the  adjoining  apartment,  and  left 
him  staring  after  her  with  wistful  eyes  and  slackened 
jaw. 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  an  earnest-looking 
young  woman  with  striking  dark  features  and  gold 
spectacles,  was  looking  for  Lord  Worthington,  who 
betrayed  a  consciousness  of  guilt  by  attempting  to  avoid 
her.  But  she  cut  off  his  retreat,  and  confronted  him 
with  a  steadfast  gaze  that  compelled  him  to  stand  and 
answer  for  himself. 


Chap.  VI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  1 1 3 

"Who  is  that  gentleman  whom  you  introduced  to 
me  ?  I  have  forgotten  his  name." 

"I  am  really  awfully  sorry,  Mrs.  Hoskyn.  It 
was  too  bad  of  Byron.  But  Webber  was  excessively 
nasty." 

Mrs.  Hoskyn,  additionally  annoyed  by  apologies  which 
she  had  not  invited,  and  which  put  her  in  the  ignominious 
position  of  a  complainant,  replied  coldly,  "  Mr.  Byron. 
Thank  you  :  I  had  forgotten,"  and  was  turning  away 
when  Lydia  came  up  to  introduce  Alice,  and  to  explain 
why  she  had  entered  unannounced.  Lord  Worthington 
seized  the  chance  of  improving  CashePs  credit  by  claiming 
Lydia's  acquaintance  for  him. 

"  Did  you  hear  our  friend  Byron's  speech,  Miss  Carew? 
Very  characteristic,  I  thought." 

"  Very,"  said  Lydia.  "  I  hope  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  guests 
are  all  familiar  with  his  style.  Otherwise  they  must  find 
him  a  little  startling." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  beginning  to  wonder 
whether  Cashel  could  be  some  well-known  eccentric 
genius.  "  He  is  very  odd.  I  hope  Mr.  Webber  is  not 
offended." 

"If  his  tact  had  been  equal  to  the  other  gentle- 
man's, it  would  not  have  happened  to  him,"  said  Lydia. 
"It  is  really  very  clever  of  Mr.  Byron  to  knock  my 
cousin  down  in  the  middle  of  a  drawing-room  without 
scandalizing  anybody." 

"  You  see,  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  the  general  verdict  is  c  serve 
him  right,' "  said  Lord  Worthington. 

"  With  a  rider  to  the  effect  that  both  gentlemen  dis- 
played complete  indifference  to  the  comfort  of  their 
hostess,"  said  Lydia.  "  However,  men  so  rarely  sacrifice 
their  manners  to  their  minds  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to 
blame  them.  You  do  not  encourage  conventionality, 
Mrs.  Hoskyn  ?  " 

I 


114  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  VI 

"I  encourage  good  manners,  though  certainly  not 
conventional  manners." 

"  And  you  think  there  is  a  difference  ?  " 

"  I  feel  that  there  is  a  difference,"  said  Mrs.  Hoskyn 
with  dignity. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Lydia  ;  "  but  one  can  hardly  call 
others  to  account  for  one's  own  subjective  ideas." 

Lydia  went  away  to  another  part  of  the  room  without 
waiting  for  a  reply.  All  this  time,  Cashel  stood  friend- 
less, stared  at  by  most  of  his  neighbors,  and  spoken  to 
by  none.  Women  looked  at  him  coldly  lest  it  should  be 
suspected  that  they  were  admiring  him ;  and  men 
regarded  him  stiffly  according  to  the  national  custom. 
Since  his  recognition  of  Lydia,  his  self-confidence  had 
given  place  to  a  misgiving  that  he  had  been  making  a 
fool  of  himself.  He  felt  lonely  and  abashed  :  but  for  his 
professional  habit  of  maintaining  a  cheerful  countenance 
under  adverse  circumstances,  he  would  have  hid  himself 
in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  room.  Like  many  eminent 
members  of  his  profession,  he  was  rather  prone  to  tears 
when  his  feelings  were  wounded  ;  and  his  countenance  was 
falling  rapidly  when  Lord  Worthington  came  up  to  him. 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  were  such  an  orator,  Byron,"  he 
said.  "You  can  go  into  the  Church  when  you  cut  the 
other  trade.  Eh  ?  " 

"  I  wasnt  brought  up  to  the  other  trade,"  said  Cashel ; 
"and  I  know  how  to  talk  to  ladies  and  gentlemen  as 
well  as  to  what  youd  suppose  to  be  my  own  sort.  Dont 
you  be  anxious  about  me,  my  lord.  I  know  how  to  make 
myself  at  home." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Lord  Worthington 
soothingly.  "  Every  one  can  see  by  your  manners  that 
you  are  a  gentleman  :  they  recognize  that  even  in  the 
ring.  Otherwise,  you  see — I  know  you  wont  mind  my 
saying  so — I  darent  have  brought  you  here." 


Chap.  VI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  1 1 5 

Cashel  shook  his  head,  but  was  pleased.  He  thought 
he  hated  flattery  :  had  Lord  Worthington  told  him  that 
he  was  the  best  boxer  in  England — which  he  probably 
was — he  would  have  despised  him.  But  he  wished  to 
believe  the  false  compliment  to  his  manners,  and  was 
therefore  perfectly  convinced  of  its  sincerity.  Lord 
Worthington  perceived  this,  and  retired,  pleased  with  his 
own  tact,  in  search  of  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  to  claim  her  promise 
of  an  introduction  to  Madame  Szczymplica,  which  Mrs. 
Hoskyn,  by  way  of  punishing  him  for  CashePs  mis- 
demeanor, had  privately  determined  not  to  keep. 

Cashel  began  to  think  he  had  better  go.  Lydia  was 
surrounded  by  men  who  were  speaking  to  her  in  German. 
He  felt  his  own  inability  to  talk  learnedly  even  in 
English  ;  and  he  felt  sure,  besides,  that  she  was  angry 
with  him  for  upsetting  her  cousin,  who  was  gravely 
conversing  with  Miss  GofF.  Suddenly  a  horrible  noise 
caused  a  general  start  and  pause.  Mr.  Jack,  the  eminent 
composer,  had  opened  the  pianoforte,  and  was  illustrating 
some  points  in  a  musical  composition  under  discussion  by 
making  discordant  sounds  with  his  voice,  accompanied 
by  a  few  chords.  Cashel  laughed  aloud  in  derision  as 
he  made  his  way  towards  the  door  through  the  crowd, 
which  was  now  pressing  round  the  pianoforte,  at  which 
Madame  Szczymplica  had  just  come  to  the  assistance  of 
Jack.  Near  the  door,  and  in  a  corner  remote  from  the 
instrument,  he  came  upon  Lydia  and  a  middle-aged 
gentleman,  evidently  neither  a  professor  nor  an  artist. 

"  Abngas  is  a  very  clever  man,"  the  gentleman  was 
saying.  "  I  am  sorry  I  didnt  hear  the  lecture.  But  I 
leave  all  that  to  Mary.  She  receives  the  people  who  enjoy 
high  art  upstairs  ;  and  I  take  the  sensible  men  down  to  the 
garden  or  the  smoking-room,  according  to  the  weather." 

"What  do  the  sensible  women  do  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

fc  They  come  late,"  said  Mr.  Hoskyn,  and  then  laughed 


n6  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap. VI 

at  his  repartee  until  he  became  aware  of  the  vicinity  of 
Cashel,  whose  health  he  immediately  inquired  after, 
shaking  his  hand  warmly  and  receiving  a  numbing  grip 
in  return.  As  soon  as  he  saw  that  Lydia  and  Cashel 
were  acquainted,  he  slipped  away  and  left  them  to 
entertain  one  another. 

"  I  wonder  how  he  knows  me,"  said  Cashel,  heartened 
by  her  gracious  reception  of  a  nervous  bow.  "  I  never 
saw  him  before  in  my  life." 

"  He  does  not  know  you,"  said  Lydia,  with  some 
sternness.  "  He  is  your  host,  and  therefore  concludes 
that  he  ought  to  know  you." 

"  Oh  !  That  was  it,  was  it  ?  "  He  paused,  at  a  loss 
for  conversation.  She  did  not  help  him.  At  last  he 
added,  "  I  havent  seen  you  this  long  time,  Miss  Carew." 

"  It  is  not  very  long  since  I  saw  you,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron. 
I  saw  you  yesterday  at  some  distance  from  London." 

"  Oh  Lord  !  "  exclaimed  Cashel,  "  dont  say  that. 
Youre  joking,  aint  you  ?  " 

"  No.     Joking,  in  that  sense,  does  not  amuse  me." 

Cashel   looked  at  her  in  consternation.     "  You  dont 
mean  to  say  that  you  went  to  see  a — a —     Where — 
when  did  you  see  me  ?     You  might  tell  me." 

"  Certainly.  It  was  at  Clapham  Junction,  at  a  quarter 
past  six." 

"  Was  any  one  with  me  ?  " 

"  Your  friend  Mr.  Mellish,  Lord  Worthington,  and 
some  other  persons." 

"Yes.  Lord  Worthington  was  there.  But  where 
were  you  ?  " 

cc  In  a  waiting-room,  close  to  you." 

"I  never  saw  you,"  said  Cashel,  very  red.  "Mellish 
drove  our  trap  into  a  ditch  and  broke  it :  we  had  to  get 
home  by  train.  We  must  have  looked  a  queer  lot. 
Did  you  think  I  was  in  bad  company  ?  " 


Chap.  VI     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  117 

"  That  was  not  my  business,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron." 

"  No,"  said  Cashel,  with  sudden  bitterness.  "  What 
did  you  care  what  company  I  kept  ?  Youre  mad  with 
me  because  I  made  your  cousin  look  like  a  fool,  I 
suppose.  Thats  whats  the  matter." 

Lydia,  speaking  in  a  low  tone  to  remind  him  that 
they  were  not  alone,  said,  "  There  is  nothing  the  matter, 
except  that  you  act  and  speak  like  a  grown-up  boy  rather 
than  a  man.  I  am  not  mad  with  you  because  of  your  attack 
upon  my  cousin ;  but  he  is  very  much  annoyed  j  and  so  is 
Mrs.  Hoskyn,  whose  guest  you  were  bound  to  respect." 

"  I  knew  youd  be  down  on  me.  I  wouldnt  have  said 
a  word  if  I'd  known  you  were  here,"  said  Cashel  de- 
jectedly. "  Lie  down  and  be  walked  over  :  thats  what 
you  think  I'm  fit  for.  Another  man  would  have  twisted 
his  head  off." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know  that  gentlemen 
never  twist  one  another's  heads  off  in  society,  no  matter 
how  great  may  be  the  provocation  ?  " 

"  I  know  nothing,"  said  Cashel,  with  plaintive  sullen- 
ness.  "  Everything  I  do  is  wrong.  There  !  Will  that 
satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  I  take  no  pleasure  in  making  you  confess  yourself  in 
the  wrong  ;  and  you  cannot  have  a  lower  opinion  of  me 
than  to  think  that  I  do." 

"Thats  just  where  youre  mistaken,"  said  Cashel 
obstinately.  "  I  havent  got  a  low  opinion  of  you  at  all. 
There's  such  a  thing  as  being  too  clever." 

"  You  may  not  know  that  it  is  a  low  opinion.  Never- 
theless, it  is  so." 

cc  Well,  have  it  your  own  way.  I'm  wrong  again  ; 
and  youre  right." 

"  So  far  from  being  gratified  by  that,  I  had  rather  we 
were  both  in  the  right  and  agreed.  Can  you  understand 
that  ? " 


1 1 8  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  VI 

"  I  cant  say  I  do.  But  I  give  in  to  it.  What  more 
need  you  care  for  ?  " 

"Please,  I  had  rather  you  understood.  Let  me  try  to 
explain.  You  think  I  like  to  be  cleverer  than  other 
people.  You  are  mistaken.  I  should  like  them  all  to 
know  whatever  I  know." 

Cashel  laughed  cunningly,  and  shook  his  head. 
"  Dont  you  make  any  mistake  about  that,"  he  said. 
"You  dont  want  anybody  to  be  quite  as  clever  as 
yourself:  it  isnt  in  human  nature  that  you  should. 
Youd  like  people  to  be  just  clever  enough  to  shew  you 
off — to  be  worth  beating.  But  you  wouldnt  like  them 
to  be  able  to  beat  you.  Just  clever  enough  to  know 
how  much  cleverer  you  are :  thats  about  the  mark. 
Eh  ?  " 

Lydia  made  no  further  effort  to  enlighten  him.  She 
looked  at  him  thoughtfully,  and  said  slowly,  "So  this 
perpetual  fighting  metaphor  is  the  clue  to  your  idiosyn- 
crasy. You  have  attached  yourself  to  the  modern 
doctrine  of  a  struggle  for  existence,  and  look  on  life  as  a 
continual  combat." 

«  A  fight  ?  Just  so.  What  is  life  but  a  fight  ?  The 
curs  forfeit  or  get  beaten  ;  the  rogues  sell  the  fight  and 
lose  the  confidence  of  their  backers  ;  the  game  ones,  and 
the  clever  ones,  win  the  stakes,  and  have  to  hand  over  the 
lion's  share  of  them  to  the  moneyed  loafers  that  have 
stood  the  expenses  ;  and  luck  plays  the  devil  with  them 
all  in  turn.  Thats  not  the  way  they  describe  life  in 
books  ;  but  thats  what  it  is."  ;. 

"Oddly  put,  and  perhaps  true.  But  it  is  not  the 
creed  of  the  simpleton  you  pretended  to  be  a  moment 
ago.  You  are  playing  with  me — revealing  your  wisdom 
from  beneath  a  veil  of  the  boyish.  My  compliments  on 
your  excellent  acting.  I  have  no  more  to  say." 

"  May  I  be  shot  if  I  understand  you  !     I'd  rather  be 


Chap.  VI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  119 

a  horse  than  an  actor.  Come:  is  it  because  I  raised  a 
laugh  against  your  cousin  that  youre  so  spiteful  ? " 

Lydia  looked  earnestly  and  doubtfully  at  him  ;  and  he 
instinctively  put  his  head  back,  as  if  it  were  in  danger. 
"  You  do  not  understand,  then  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  will  test 
the  genuineness  of  your  stupidity  by  an  appeal  to  your 
obedience." 

"  Stupidity  !     Go  on." 

"  But  will  you  obey  me,  if  I  lay  a  command  upon  you  ? " 

"  I  will  go  through  fire  and  water  for  you." 

Lydia  blushed  faintly,  and  paused  to  wonder  at  the 
novel  sensation  before  she  resumed.  "You  had  better 
not  apologize  to  my  cousin  :  partly  because  you  would 
only  make  matters  worse  :  chiefly  because  he  does  not 
deserve  it.  But  you  must  make  this  speech  to  Mrs. 
Hoskyn  when  you  are  going :  4 1  am  very  sorry  I 
forgot  myself ' " 

"  Sounds  like  Shakespear,  doesnt  it  ?  "  observed  Cashel. 

"  Ah  !  the  test  has  found  you  out :  you  are  only 
acting  after  all.  But  that  does  not  alter  my  opinion  that 
you  should  apologize." 

"All  right.  I  dont  know  what  you  mean  by  testing 
and  acting  ;  and  I  only  hope  you  know  yourself.  But 
no  matter  :  I'll  apologize  :  a  man  like  me  can  afford  to. 
I'll  apologize  to  your  cousin  too,  if  you  like." 

"  I  do  not  like.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  I 
suggest  these  things,  as  you  must  be  aware,  for  your  own 
sake  and  not  for  mine." 

"  As  for  my  own,  I  dont  care  twopence :  I  do  it  all 
for  you.  I  dont  even  ask  whether  there  is  anything 
between  you  and  him." 

"Would  you  like  to  know  ?  "  said  Lydia  deliberately, 
after  a  pause  of  astonishment. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  youll  tell  me  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  If  you  do,  I'll  say  youre  as  good  as  gold." 


120  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  VI 

"  Certainly  I  will  tell  you.  There  is  an  old  friendship 
and  cousinship  between  us  ;  but  we  are  not  engaged, 
nor  at  all  likely  to  be.  I  tell  you  so  because  you  would 
draw  the  opposite  and  false  conclusion  if  I  avoided  the 
question." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Cashel,  unexpectedly  becoming 
very  gloomy.  "  He  isnt  man  enough  for  you.  But  he's 
your  equal,  damn  him  !  " 

"  He  is  my  cousin,  and,  I  believe,  my  sincere  friend. 
Therefore  please  do  not  damn  him." 

"  I  know  I  shouldnt  have  said  that.  But  I  am  only 
damning  my  own  luck." 

"Which  will  not  improve  it  in  the  least." 

"  I  know  that.  You  neednt  have  said  it.  I  wouldnt 
have  said  a  thing  like  that  to  you,  stupid  as  I  am." 

"  Oh,  you  are  impossible  :  I  meant  nothing.  How- 
ever, that  does  not  matter.  You  are  still  an  enigma  to 
me.  Had  we  not  better  try  to  hear  a  little  of  Madame 
Szczympli^a's  performance  ?  " 

"I'm  a  pretty  plain  enigma,  I  should  think,"  said 
Cashel  mournfully.  "  I  would  rather  have  you  than  any 
other  woman  in  the  world ;  but  youre  too  rich  and 
grand  for  me.  If  I  cant  have  the  satisfaction  of  marrying 
you,  I  may  as  well  have  the  satisfaction  of  saying  I'd 
like  to." 

"  Hardly  a  fair  way  of  approaching  the  subject,"  said 
Lydia  composedly,  but  with  a  play  of  color  again  in  her 
cheeks.  "  Allow  me  to  forbid  it  unconditionally.  I 
must  be  plain  with  you,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron.  I  do  not 
know  what  you  are  or  who  you  are ;  and  I  believe  you 
have  tried  to  mystify  me  on  both  points — 

"And  you  never  shall  find  out  either  the  one  or 
the  other  if  I  can  help  it,"  put  in  Cashel ;  "  so  that 
we're  in  a  preciously  bad  way  of  coming  to  a  good 
understanding." 


Chap.  VI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  121 

"  True,"  assented  Lydia.  "  I  do  not  make  secrets  ;  I 
do  not  keep  them  ;  and  I  do  not  respect  them.  Your 
humor  clashes  with  my  principle." 

"  You  call  it  a  humor ! "  said  Cashel  angrily. 
"  Perhaps  you  think  I'm  a  duke  in  disguise.  If  so,  you 
may  think  better  of  it.  If  you  had  a  secret,  and  the 
discovery  of  it  would  cause  you  to  be  kicked  out  of 
decent  society,  you  would  keep  it  pretty  tight.  And  that 
through  no  fault  of  your  own,  mind  you  ;  but  through 
downright  cowardice  and  prejudice  in  other  people." 

"There  are  at  least  some  fears  and  prejudices  common 
in  society  that  I  do  not  share,"  said  Lydia,  after  a 
moment's  reflection.  "Should  I  ever  find  out  your 
secret,  do  not  too  hastily  conclude  that  you  have  forfeited 
my  consideration." 

"  You  are  just  the  last  person  on  earth  I  want  to  be 
found  out  by.  But  youll  find  out  fast  enough.  Pshaw ! " 
cried  Cashel,  with  a  laugh :  "  I'm  as  well  known  as 
Trafalgar  Square.  But  I  cant  bring  myself  to  tell  you  ; 
and  I  hate  secrets  as  much  as  you  do  ;  so  lets  drop  it  and 
talk  about  something  else." 

"  We  have  talked  long  enough.  The  music  is  over ; 
and  the  people  will  return  to  this  room  presently,  perhaps 
to  ask  me  who  and  what  is  the  stranger  that  made  them 
such  a  remarkable  speech." 

"Just  a  word.  Promise  me  that  you  wont  ask  any  of 
them  that." 

"  Promise  you  !     No.     I  cannot  promise  that." 

"O  Lord  f "  said  Cashel,  with  a  groan. 

"  I  have  told  you  that  I  do  not  respect  secrets.  For 
the  present  I  will  not  ask  ;  but  I  may  change  my  mind. 
Meanwhile  we  must  not  hold  long  conversations.  I 
even  hope  that  we  shall  not  meet.  There  is  only  one 
thing  that  I  am  too  rich  and  grand  for — mystification. 
Adieu." 


122  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  VI 

Before  he  could  reply,  she  was  away  from  him  in  the 
midst  of  a  number  of  gentlemen,  and  in  conversation 
with  one  of  them.  Cashel  seemed  overwhelmed.  But 
in  an  instant  he  recovered  himself,  and  stepped  jauntily 
before  Mrs.  Hoskyn,  who  had  just  come  into  his 
neighborhood. 

u  I'm  going,  maam,"  he  said.  "  Thank  you  for  a 
pleasant  evening.  I'm  very  sorry  I  forgot  myself. 
Good-night." 

Mrs.  Hoskyn,  naturally  frank,  felt  some  vague  response 
within  herself  to  this  address.  But,  though  not  usually 
at  a  loss  for  words  in  social  emergencies,  she  only  looked 
at  him,  blushing  slightly,  and  offering  her  hand.  He 
took  it  as  if  it  were  a  tiny  baby's  hand  ;  gave  it  a  little 
pinch  j  and  turned  to  go.  Mr.  Adrian  Herbert,  the 
painter,  was  directly  in  his  way,  with  his  back  towards 
him. 

"\i you  please,  sir,"  said  Cashel,  taking  him  gently  by 
the  ribs,  and  lifting  him  aside  as  if  he  were  a  tailor's 
dummy.  The  artist  turned  indignantly ;  but  Cashel 
was  passing  the  doorway.  On  the  stairs  he  met  Lucian 
and  Alice. 

"  Good-night,  Miss  Goff,"  he  said.  "  It's  a  pleasure 
to  see  the  country  roses  in  your  cheeks."  He  lowered 
his  voice  as  he  added,  to  Lucian,  "  Dont  you  worry 
yourself  over  that  little  trick  I  shewed  you.  If  any  of 
your  friends  chaff  you  about  it,  tell  them  that  it  was 
Cashel  Byron  did  it,  and  ask  them  whether  they  think 
they  could  have  helped  themselves  any  better  than  you 
could.  Dont  ever  let  a  person  come  within  distance  of 
you  while  youre  standing  in  that  silly  way  on  both  your 
heels.  Why,  if  a  man  isnt  properly  planted  on  his  pins, 
a  broom -handle  falling  against  him  will  upset  him. 
Thats  the  way  of  it.  Good-night." 

Lucian  returned  the  salutation,  mastered  by  a  certain 


Chap.  VI     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  123 

latent  dangerousness  in  Cashel,  suggestive  that  he  might 
resent  a  snub  by  throwing  the  offender  over  the  balus- 
trade. As  for  Alice,  she  had  entertained  a  superstitious 
dread  of  him  ever  since  Lydia  had  pronounced  him  a 
ruffian.  Both  felt  relieved  when  the  house  door,  closing, 
shut  him  out  from  them. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SOCIETY  was  much  occupied  during  Alice's  first  season  in 
London  with  one  of  the  accidents  of  the  beginnings  of 
England's  destiny  in  South  Africa.  When  Destiny 
takes  nations  into  new  places,  it  offers  them  the  choice 
of  marching  boldly  with  it  and  understanding  it,  or 
being  led  like  pigs  to  market,  intensely  recalcitrant, 
scuttling  in  sudden  panics  or  charging  in  sudden  huffs, 
and  using  such  rests  as  its  leader  gives  it,  to  eat,  never  to 
ask  Whither  ?  How  ?  or  What  then  ?  Only  when 
Destiny  gives  the  word  to  stop  eating  and  march,  a 
useless  Why  ?  is  raised,  whereupon  Destiny,  out  of 
patience,  gives  the  rope  a  jerk  which  fetches  the  poor 
pig  off  his  trotters.  England,  observant  of  the  fact  that 
the  pig's  line  of  conduct  shifted  all  moral  responsibility 
to  his  leader,  and  got  the  pig  finally  to  his  destination 
without  brain  worry,  adopted  it  without  hesitation  in 
Africa,  with  the  result  that  when  the  king  of  a  considerable 
people  there  fell,  with  his  territories,  into  British  hands, 
the  conquest  seemed  useless,  troublesome,  and  expensive ; 
and  after  repeated  attempts  to  settle  the  country  on  im- 
practicable plans  suggested  to  the  Colonial  Office  by  a 
popular  historian  who  had  made  a  trip  to  Africa,  and  by 
generals  who  were  tired  of  their  primitive  remedy  of  killing 
the  natives,  it  appeared  that  the  best  course  was  to  release 
the  king  and  get  rid  of  the  unprofitable  booty  by  restoring 


Chap.  VII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  125 

it  to  him.  However,  as  the  pig  policy  had  enabled  him 
to  win  one  battle  against  English  troops,  it  was  thought 
advisable  to  take  him  first  to  London,  and  shew  him  the 
wonders  of  English  civilization,  especially  in  the  matter 
of  cannon  and  high  explosives. 

But  when  the  African  king  arrived,  his  freedom  from 
English  prepossessions  made  it  difficult  to  amuse,  or  even 
to  impress  him.  A  stranger  to  the  idea  that  a  handful  of 
private  persons  could  own  a  country  and  make  others  pay 
them  for  permission  to  live  and  work  there,  he  was  unable 
to  understand  why  such  a  prodigiously  rich  nation  should 
be  composed  chiefly  of  poor  and  uncomfortable  persons 
toiling  incessantly  to  create  riches,  and  partly  of  a  class 
that  confiscated  and  dissipated  the  riches  thus  produced 
without  seeming  in  the  least  happier  than  the  unfortunate 
laborers  at  whose  expense  they  existed.  He  was  seized 
with  strange  fears  :  first  for  his  health,  since  it  seemed  to 
him  that  the  air  of  London,  filthy  with  smoke,  engendered 
puniness  and  dishonesty  in  those  who  breathed  it ;  and 
eventually  for  his  life,  when  he  learned  that  kings  in 
Europe  were  sometimes  shot  at  in  the  streets.  The 
queen  of  England,  though  accounted  the  safest  of  all,  had 
had  some  half  dozen  escapes  ;  and  the  autocrat  of  an 
empire  huge  beyond  all  other  European  countries,  whose 
father  had  been  torn  asunder  in  the  streets  of  his  capital, 
lived  surrounded  by  soldiers  who  shot  down  every  stranger 
that  approached  him,  even  at  his  own  summons  ;  so  that 
he  was  an  object  of  compassion  to  the  humblest  of  his 
servants.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  African  king 
was  with  difficulty  induced  to  stir  out  of  doors ;  and  he  only 
visited  Woolwich  Arsenal — the  destructive  resources  of 
which  were  expected  to  silently  warn  him  against 
taking  the  Christian  religion  too  literally — under  com- 
pulsion. At  last  the  Colonial  Office,  which  had  charge 
of  him,  was  at  its  wit's  end  to  devise  entertainments  to 


126  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.vn 

keep  him  in  good  humor  until  the  time  appointed  for  his 
departure. 

On  the  Tuesday  following  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  reception, 
Lucian  Webber,  calling  at  his  cousin's  house  in  Regent's 
Park,  said,  in  the  course  of  conversation, 

"  The  Colonial  Office  has  had  an  idea.  The  king,  it 
appears,  is  something  of  an  athlete,  and  is  curious  to 
witness  what  Londoners  can  do  in  that  way.  So  a  grand 
assault-at-arms  is  to  be  held  for  him." 

"  What  is  an  assault-at-arms  ?  "  said  Lydia.  <c  I  have 
never  been  at  one ;  and  the  name  suggests  nothing  but 
an  affray  with  bayonets." 

"It  is  an  exhibition  of  swordsmanship,  military  drill, 
gymnastics,  and  so  forth." 

"  I  will  go  to  that,"  said  Lydia.  "  Will  you  come, 
Alice  ?  " 

"  Is  it  usual  for  ladies  to  go  to  such  exhibitions  ?  " 
said  Alice  cautiously. 

"  On  this  occasion  ladies  will  go  for  the  sake  of  seeing 
the  king,"  said  Lucian.  "  The  Olympian  gymnastic 
society,  which  has  undertaken  the  direction  of  the  civilian 
part  of  the  assault,  expects  what  it  calls  a  flower-show 
audience." 

"  Will  you  come,  Lucian  ?  " 

"  If  I  can  be  spared,  yes.  If  not,  I  will  ask  Worth- 
ington  to  go  with  you.  He  understands  such  matters 
better  than  I." 

"Then  let  us  have  him  by  all  means,"  said  Lydia. 

"  I  cannot  see  why  you  are  so  fond  of  Lord 
Worthington,"  said  Alice.  "  His  manners  are  good  ; 
but  there  is  nothing  in  him.  Besides,  he  is  so  young.  I 
cannot  endure  his  conversation.  He  has  begun  to  talk 
about  Goodwood  already." 

"  He  will  grow  out  of  his  excessive  addiction  to  sport," 
said  Lucian,  paternally. 


Chap.  VII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  127 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Lydia.  "  And  what  will  he  grow 
into  ?  " 

"  Possibly  into  a  more  reasonable  man,"  said  Lucian, 
unabashed. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Lydia  ;  c<  but  I  prefer  a  man  who 
is  interested  in  sport  to  a  gentleman  who  is  interested  in 
nothing." 

"Much  might  indubitably  be  said  from  that  point  of 
view.  But  it  is  not  necessary  that  Lord  Worthington 
should  waste  his  energy  on  horse-racing.  I  presume  you 
do  not  think  political  life,  for  which  his  position  peculiarly 
fits  him,  unworthy  his  attention." 

"Party  tactics  are  both  exciting  and  amusing,  no 
doubt.  But  are  they  better  than  horse-racing  ?  Jockeys 
and  horse-breakers  at  least  know  their  business  :  members 
of  parliament  do  not.  Is  it  pleasant  to  sit  on  a  bench — 
even  though  it  be  the  Treasury  bench — and  listen  to 
amateur  discussions  about  matters  that  have  been  settled 
for  the  last  hundred  years  to  the  satisfaction  of  everybody 
who  has  seriously  studied  them  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  understand  the  duties  of  a  government, 
Lydia.  You  never  approach  the  subject  without  con- 
firming my  opinion  that  women  are  constitutionally 
incapable  of  comprehending  it." 

"It  is  natural  for  you  to  think  so,  Lucian.  The 
House  of  Commons  is  to  you  the  goal  of  existence.  To 
me  it  is  only  an  assemblage  of  ill-informed  gentlemen 
who  have  botched  every  business  they  have  ever  under- 
taken, from  the  first  committee  of  supply  down  to  the 
last  land  Act ;  and  who  arrogantly  assert  that  I  am  not 
good  enough  to  sit  with  them." 

"  Lydia,"  said  Lucian,  annoyed  :  "  you  know  that  I 
respect  women  in  their  own  sphere " 

"  Then  give  them  another  sphere,  and  perhaps  they 
will  earn  your  respect  in  that  also.  I  am  sorry  to  say 


128  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  VII 

that  men,  in  their  sphere,  have  not  won  my  respect. 
Enough  of  that  for  the  present.  I  have  to  make  some 
arrangements  before  I  go  out.  They  are  of  more 
immediate  importance  than  the  conversion  of  a  willing 
Conservative  into  a  reluctant  Women's  Suffragist.  Excuse 
me  for  five  minutes." 

She  left  the  room.  Lucian  sat  down  and  gave  his 
attention  to  Alice,  who  had  still  enough  of  her  old 
nervousness  to  straighten  her  shoulders  and  look  stately. 
But  he  did  not  object  to  this  :  a  little  stiffness  of  manner 
gratified  his  taste. 

"  I  hope,"  he  said,  "  that  my  cousin  has  not  succeeded 
in  inducing  you  to  adopt  her  peculiar  views." 

u  No,"  said  Alice.  "  Of  course  her  case  is  quite 
exceptional.  She  is  so  wonderfully  accomplished  !  In 
general,  I  do  not  think  women  should  have  views. 
There  are  certain  convictions  which  every  lady  holds  : 
for  instance,  we  know  that  Roman  Catholicism  is  wrong. 
But  that  can  hardly  be  called  a  view  :  indeed  it  would 
be  wicked  to  call  it  so,  as  it  is  one  of  the  highest  truths. 
What  I  mean  is  that  women  should  not  be  political 
agitators." 

"  I  understand  and  quite  agree  with  you.  Lydia's  is, 
as  you  say,  an  exceptional  case.  She  has  lived  much 
abroad  ;  and  her  father  was  a  very  singular  man.  Even 
the  clearest  heads,  when  removed  from  the  direct 
influence  of  English  life  and  thought,  contract  extra- 
ordinary prejudices.  It  is  almost  a  pity  that  such 
strength  of  mind  and  extent  of  knowledge  should  be 
fortified  by  the  dangerous  independence  which  great 
wealth  confers.  Advantages  like  these  bring  with  them 
certain  duties  to  the  class  that  has  produced  them — 
duties  to  which  Lydia  is  not  merely  indifferent,  but 
absolutely  hostile." 

"  I  never  meddle  with  her  ideas  on — on  these  subjects. 


Chap.  VII     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  129 

I  am  too  ignorant  to  understand  them.  But  Miss 
Carew's  generosity  to  me  has  been  unparalleled.  And 
she  does  not  seem  to  know  that  she  is  generous.  I  owe 
more  to  her  than  I  ever  can  repay."  "  At  least,"  Alice 
added  to  herself,  "  I  am  not  ungrateful." 

Miss  Carew  now  reappeared,  dressed  in  a  long  grey 
coat  and  plain  beaver  hat,  and  carrying  a  roll  of  writing 
materials. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  British  Museum  to  read,"  said 
she. 

"  To  walk  ! — alone  !  "  said  Lucian,  looking  at  her 
costume. 

"Yes.  Prevent  me  from  walking  and  you  deprive 
me  of  my  health.  Prevent  me  from  going  alone  where 
I  please  and  when  I  please,  and  you  deprive  me  of  my 
liberty — tear  up  Magna  Charta,  in  effect.  But  I  do  not 
insist  upon  being  alone  in  this  instance.  If  you  can 
return  to  your  office  by  way  of  Regent's  Park  and 
Gower  Street  without  losing  too  much  time,  I  shall  be 
glad  of  your  company." 

Lucian  decorously  suppressed  his  eagerness  to  comply 
by  looking  at  his  watch,  and  pretending  to  consider  his 
engagements.  In  conclusion,  he  said  that  he  should  be 
happy  to  accompany  her. 

It  was  a  fine  summer  afternoon ;  and  there  were 
many  people  in  the  park.  Lucian  was  soon  incommoded 
by  the  attention  his  cousin  attracted.  In  spite  of  the 
black  beaver,  her  hair  shone  like  fire  in  the  sun.  Women 
stared  at  her  with  unsympathetic  curiosity,  and  turned 
as  they  passed  to  examine  her  attire.  Men  resorted  to 
various  subterfuges  to  get  a  satisfactory  look  without 
rudely  betraying  their  intention.  A  few  stupid  youths 
gaped  ;  and  a  few  impudent  ones  smiled.  Lucian  would 
gladly  have  kicked  them  all  without  distinction.  He 
suggested  that  they  should  leave  the  path,  and  make  a 

K 


130  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  VII 

short  cut  across  the  greensward.  As  they  emerged  from 
the  shade  of  the  trees,  he  had  a  vague  impression  that 
the  fineness  of  the  weather  and  the  beauty  of  the  park 
made  the  occasion  romantic,  and  that  the  words  by 
which  he  hoped  to  make  the  relation  between  him  and 
his  cousin  dearer  and  closer  would  be  well  spoken  there. 
But  he  immediately  began  to  talk,  in  spite  of  himself, 
about  the  cost  of  maintaining  the  public  parks,  par- 
ticulars of  which  happened  to  be  within  his  official 
knowledge.  Lydia,  readily  interested  by  facts  of  any 
sort,  thought  the  subject  not  a  bad  one  for  a  casual 
afternoon  conversation,  and  pursued  it  until  they  left  the 
turf  and  got  into  the  Euston  Road,  where  the  bustle  of 
traffic  silenced  them  for  a  while.  When  they  escaped 
from  the  din  into  the  respectable  quietude  of  Gower 
Street,  he  suddenly  said, 

"  It  is  one  of  the  evils  of  great  wealth  in  the  hands  of 

a  woman,  that  she  can  hardly  feel  sure "  Here  his 

ideas  fled  suddenly.  He  stopped ;  but  he  kept  his 
countenance  so  well  that  he  had  the  air  of  having  made 
a  finished  speech,  and  being  perfectly  satisfied  with  it. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  she  can  never  feel  sure  of  the 
justice  of  her  title  to  her  riches  ?  That  used  to  trouble 
me  ;  but  it  no  longer  does  so." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Lucian.  "I  alluded  to  the  dis- 
interestedness of  your  friends." 

"  That  does  not  trouble  me  either.  Absolutely  dis- 
interested friends  I  do  not  seek,  as  I  should  only  find 
them  among  idiots  or  somnambulists.  As  to  those  whose 
interests  are  base,  they  do  not  know  how  to  conceal  their 
motives  from  me.  For  the  rest,  I  am  not  so  unreasonable 
as  to  object  to  a  fair  account  being  taken  of  my  wealth  in 
estimating  the  value  of  my  friendship." 

"  Do  you  not  believe  in  the  existence  of  persons  who 
would  like  you  just  as  well  if  you  were  poor  ?  " 


Chap.  VII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  1 3 1 

"  Such  persons  would  wish  me  to  become  poor,  merely 
to  bring  me  nearer  to  themselves  ;  for  which  I  should  not 
thank  them.  I  set  great  store  by  the  esteem  my  riches 
command,  Lucian.  It  is  the  only  set-off  I  have  against 
the  envy  they  inspire." 

"Then  you  would  refuse  to  believe  in  the  dis- 
interestedness of  any  man  who — who " 

"  Who  wanted  to  marry  me  ?  On  the  contrary  :  I 
should  be  the  last  person  to  believe  that  a  man  could 
prefer  my  money  to  myself.  If  he  were  independent, 
and  in  a  fair  way  to  keep  his  place  in  the  world  without 
my  help,  I  should  despise  him  if  he  hesitated  to  approach 
me  for  fear  of  misconstruction.  I  do  not  think  a  man  is 
ever  thoroughly  honest  until  he  is  superior  to  that  fear. 
But  if  he  had  no  profession,  no  money,  and  no  aim 
except  to  live  at  my  expense,  then  I  should  regard  him  as 
an  adventurer,  and  treat  him  as  one — unless  I  fell  in  love 
with  him." 

"  Unless  you  fell  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

"That — assuming  that  such  things  really  happen — 
might  make  a  difference  in  my  feeling,  but  none  in  my 
conduct.  I  would  not  marry  an  adventurer  under  any 
circumstances.  I  could  cure  myself  of  a  misdirected 
passion,  but  not  of  a  bad  husband." 

Lucian  said  nothing  :  he  walked  on  with  long  irregular 
steps,  lowering  at  the  pavement  as  if  it  were  a  difficult 
problem,  and  occasionally  thrusting  at  it  with  his  stick. 
At  last  he  looked  up  and  said, 

"Would  you  mind  prolonging  our  walk  a  little  by 
going  round  Bedford  Square  with  me  ?  I  have  some- 
thing particular  to  say." 

She  turned  and  complied  without  a  word  ;  and  they 
had  traversed  one  side  of  the  square  before  he  spoke 
again. 

"  On  second  thoughts,  Lydia,  this  is  neither  the  time 


132  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.vil 

nor  the  place  for  an  important  communication.  Excuse 
me  for  having  taken  you  out  of  your  way  for  nothing." 

"  I  do  not  like  this,  Lucian.  Important  communica- 
tions—  in  this  case — corrupt  good  manners.  If  your 
intended  speech  is  a  sensible  one,  the  present  is  as  good 
a  time,  and  Bedford  Square  as  good  a  place,  as  you  are 
likely  to  find  for  it.  If  it  is  otherwise,  confess  that  you 
have  decided  to  leave  it  unsaid.  But  do  not  postpone 
it.  Reticence  is  always  an  error — even  on  the  Treasury 
bench.  It  is  doubly  erroneous  in  dealing  with  me  ;  for 
I  have  a  constitutional  antipathy  to  it." 

"  Yes,"  he  said  hurriedly  ;  "  but  give  me  one  moment 
— until  the  policeman  has  passed." 

The  policeman  went  leisurely  by,  striking  the  flags 
with  his  heels,  and  slapping  his  palm  with  a  white  glove. 

"The  fact  is,  Lydia,  that I  feel  great  diffi- 
culty  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  Lydia,  after  waiting  in 
vain  for  further  particulars.  "You  have  broken  down 
twice."  There  was  a  pause.  Then  she  looked  at  him 
quickly,  and  added,  incredulously,  "  Are  you  going  to 
get  married  ?  Is  that  the  secret  that 'ties  your  practised 
tongue  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  take  part  in  the  ceremony." 

"  Very  gallant  ;  and  in  a  vein  of  humor  that  is  new 
in  my  experience  of  you.  But  what  have  you  to 
tell  me,  Lucian  ?  Frankly,  your  hesitation  is  becoming 
ridiculous." 

"  You  have  certainly  not  made  matters  easier  for  me, 
Lydia.  Perhaps  you  have  a  womanly  intuition  of  my 
purpose,  and  are  intentionally  discouraging  me." 

"  Not  the  least.  I  am  not  good  at  intuitions,  womanly 
or  otherwise.  On  my  word,  if  you  do  not  confess  at  once, 
I  will  hurry  away  to  the  Museum." 

"  I   cannot   find   a  suitable  form  of  expression,"  said 


Chap.  VII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  133 

Lucian,  in  painful  perplexity.  "  I  am  sure  you  will  not 
attribute  any  sordid  motive  to  my — well,  to  my  addresses, 
though  the  term  seems  absurd.  I  am  too  well  aware  that 
there  is  little,  from  the  usual  point  of  view,  to  tempt  you 
to  unite  yourself  to  me.  Still " 

A  rapid  change  in  Lydia's  face  shewed  him  that  he 
had  said  enough.  "  I  had  not  thought  of  this,"  she 
said,  after  a  silence  that  seemed  long  to  him.  cc  Our 
observations  are  so  meaningless  until  we  are  given  the 
thread  to  string  them  on  !  You  must  think  better  of 
this,  Lucian.  The  relation  that  at  present  exists  between 
us  is  the  very  best  that  our  different  characters  will  admit 
of.  Why  do  you  desire  to  alter  it  ?  " 

"  Because  I  would  make  it  closer  and  more  permanent. 
I  do  not  wish  to  alter  it  otherwise." 

"You  would  run  some  risk  of  destroying  it  by  the 
method  you  propose,"  said  Lydia,  with  composure. 
"We  could  not  work  together.  There  are  differences 
of  opinion  between  us  amounting  to  differences  of 
principle." 

"Surely  you  are  not  serious.  Your  opinions,  or 
notions,  are  not  represented  by  any  political  party  in 
England  ;  and  therefore  they  are  practically  ineffective, 
and  could  not  clash  with  mine.  And  such  differences 
are  not  personal  matters." 

"Such  a  party  might  be  formed  a  week  after  our 
marriage — will,  I  think,  be  formed  a  long  time  before 
our  deaths.  In  that  case  I  fear  that  our  difference  of 
opinion  would  become  a  very  personal  matter." 

He  began  to  walk  more  quickly  as  he  replied,  "  It 
is  too  absurd  to  set  up  what  you  call  your  opinions  as 
a  serious  barrier  between  us.  You  have  no  opinions, 
Lydia.  The  impracticable  crotchets  you  are  fond  of 
airing  are  not  recognized  in  England  as  sane  political 
convictions." 


134  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.vn 

Lydia  did  not  retort.  She  waited  a  minute  in  pensive 
silence,  and  then  said, 

"Why  do  you  not  marry  Alice  Goff?" 

« Oh,  hang  Alice  Goff!" 

"It  is  so  easy  to  come  at  the  man  beneath  the  veneer 
by  chipping  at  his  feelings,"  said  Lydia,  laughing.  "  But 
I  was  serious,  Lucian.  Alice  is  energetic,  ambitious,  and 
stubbornly  upright  in  questions  of  principle.  I  believe 
she  would  assist  you  steadily  at  every  step  of  your  career. 
Besides,  she  has  physical  robustness.  Our  student  stock 
needs  an  effusion  of  that." 

"  Many  thanks  for  the  suggestion ;  but  I  do  not  happen 
to  want  to  marry  Miss  Goff." 

"  I  invite  you  to  consider  it.  You  have  not  had  time 
yet  to  form  any  new  plans." 

"  New  plans  !  Then  you  absolutely  refuse  me — 
without  a  moment's  consideration  ?  " 

"  Absolutely,  Lucian.  Does  not  your  instinct  warn 
you  that  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot  say  that  it  does." 

"Then  trust  to  mine,  which  gives  forth  no  uncertain 
note  on  this  question,  as  your  favorite  newspapers  are 
fond  of  saying." 

"  It  is  a  question  of  feeling,"  he  said,  in  a  constrained 
voice. 

"  Is  it  ?  "  she  replied  with  interest.  "  You  have  sur- 
prised me  somewhat,  Lucian.  I  have  never  observed  any 
of  the  extravagances  of  a  lover  in  your  conduct." 

"  And  you  have  surprised  me  very  unpleasantly, 
Lydia.  I  do  not  think  now  that  I  ever  had  much  hope 
of  success  ;  but  I  thought,  at  least,  that  my  disillusion 
would  be  gently  accomplished." 

"  Have  I  been  harsh  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  complain." 

"  I   was   unlucky,   Lucian  -,    not   malicious.     Besides, 


Chap. VII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  135 

the  artifices  by  which  friends  endeavor  to  spare  one 
another's  feelings  are  petty  disloyalties.  I  am  frank 
with  you.  Would  you  have  me  otherwise  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not.     I  have  no  right  to  be  offended." 

cc  Not  the  least.  Now  add  to  that  formal  admission  a 
sincere  assurance  that  you  are  not  offended." 

"  I  assure  you  I  am  not,"  said  Lucian,  with  melancholy 
resignation. 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  Charlotte  Street ; 
and  Lydia  tacitly  concluded  the  conference  by  turning 
towards  the  Museum,  and  beginning  to  talk  upon 
indifferent  subjects.  At  the  corner  of  Russell  Street  he 
got  into  a  cab  and  drove  away,  dejectedly  acknowledging 
a  smile  and  wave  of  the  hand  with  which  she  tried  to 
console  him.  Lydia  then  went  to  the  national  library, 
where  she  forgot  Lucian.  The  effect  of  the  shock  of 
his  proposal  was  in  store  for  her  ;  but  as  yet  she  did  not 
feel  it ;  and  she  worked  steadily  until  the  library  was 
closed  and  she  had  to  leave.  As  she  had  been  sitting  for 
some  hours,  and  it  was  still  light,  she  did  not  take  a  cab, 
and  did  not  even  walk  straight  home.  She  had  heard  of 
a  bookseller  in  Soho  who  had  for  sale  a  certain  scarce 
volume  which  she  wanted  ;  and  it  occurred  to  her  that 
the  present  was  a  good  opportunity  to  go  in  search  of 
him.  Now  there  was  hardly  a  capital  in  Western 
Europe  that  she  did  not  know  better  than  London.  She 
soon  lost  herself  in  a  labyrinth  of  narrow  streets  of  once 
fashionable  dwelling-houses,  long  ago  turned  into  small 
shops  or  let  in  tenements,  and  now  succumbing  to  a  slow 
but  steady  invasion  of  large  business  houses.  Neverthe- 
less it  was  not  the  bustle  of  trade  that  broke  the  curious 
Soho  quietude.  The  shops  did  not  seem  to  do  much 
business  ;  the  big  counting-houses  kept  their  activity 
within  doors  ;  the  few  clerks,  tradesmen,  and  warehouse- 
men who  were  about  had  the  air  of  slipping  across  to  the 


136  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap. VI 

public-houses  rather  than  of  having  urgent  affairs  in  hand. 
But  the  place  was  alive  with  children,  who  flocked 
and  chattered  and  darted  about  like  sparrows,  putting 
their  elders  out  of  countenance  and  making  the  patiently 
constructed  haunts  of  commerce  their  playground. 

Lydia  noted  one  small  boy  looking  wistfully  through 
the  window  of  a  sweetshop,  evidently  in  the  keenest 
want  of  money.  To  him  she  proposed  that  he  should 
guide  her  back  to  the  Broad  Street  of  that  region.  He 
embraced  the  offer  greedily,  and  presently  led  her  thither 
by  way  of  Lexington  Street.  She  thanked  him,  and 
gave  him  the  smallest  coin  in  her  purse,  which  happened 
to  be  a  shilling.  He,  in  a  transport  at  possessing  what 
was  to  him  a  fortune,  uttered  a  piercing  yell,  and  darted 
off  to  shew  the  coin  to  a  covey  of  small  boys  who  had 
just  raced  into  view  round  the  corner  by  the  public- 
house.  In  his  haste,  he  dashed  headlong  against  one  of 
the  usual  group  outside,  a  powerfully  built  young  man, 
who  cursed  him  fiercely.  The  boy  retorted  passionately, 
and  then,  hurt  by  the  collision,  began  to  cry.  When 
Lydia  came  up,  the  child  stood  whimpering  directly  in 
her  path  ;  and  she,  pitying  him,  patted  him  on  the  head 
and  reminded  him  of  all  the  money  he  had  to  spend. 
He  seemed  comforted,  and  scraped  his  eyes  with  his 
knuckles  in  silence  ;  but  the  man,  who,  having  received 
a  rude  butt  in  the  groin,  was  stung  by  Lydia's  injustice 
in  according  to  the  aggressor  the  sympathy  due  to  him- 
self, walked  threateningly  up  to  her,  and  demanded,  with 
a  startling  oath,  whether  he  had  offered  to  do  anything  to 
the  boy.  And,  as  he  refrained  from  applying  any  epithet 
to  her,  he  honestly  believed  that  in  deference  to  Lydia's 
sex  and  personal  charms  he  had  expressed  himself  with  a 
dashing  combination  of  gallantry  with  manly  heat  of 
spirit.  She,  not  appreciating  his  chivalry,  recoiled,  and 
stepped  into  the  roadway  in  order  to  pass  him.  Indignant 


Chap.  VII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  137 

at  this  attempt  to  ignore  him,  he  again  placed  himself  in 
her  path,  and  was  repeating  his  question  with  increased 
sternness,  when  a  jerk  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach  caused 
him  a  severe  internal  qualm,  besides  disturbing  his 
equilibrium  so  rudely  that  he  narrowly  escaped  a  fall 
against  the  kerbstone.  When  he  recovered  himself  he 
saw  before  him  a  showily  dressed  young  man,  who 
thus  accosted  him  : 

"  Is  that  the  way  to  talk  to  a  lady,  eh  ?  Isnt  the 
street  wide  enough  for  two  ?  Where's  your  manners  ?  " 

"  And  who  are  you  ;  and  where  are  you  shoving  your 
elbow  to  ?  "  said  the  man,  with  a  surpassing  imprecation. 

"Come,  come,"  said  Cashel  Byron  admonitorily. 
"  Youd  better  keep  your  mouth  clean  if  you  wish  to 
keep  your  teeth  inside  it.  Never  you  mind  who  I  am." 

Lydia,  foreseeing  an  altercation,  and  alarmed  by  the 
threatening  aspect  of  the  man,  sensibly  resolved  to  hurry 
away  and  send  a  policeman  to  CashePs  assistance.  But 
on  turning  she  discovered  that  a  crowd  had  already 
gathered,  and  that  she  was  in  the  novel  position  of  a 
spectator  in  the  inner  ring  at  what  promised  to  be  a 
street  fight.  Her  attention  was  recalled  to  the  disputants 
by  a  violent  demonstration  on  the  part  of  her  late 
assailant.  Cashel  seemed  alarmed ;  for  he  hastily  re- 
treated a  step  without  regard  to  the  toes  of  those  behind 
him,  and  exclaimed,  waving  the  other  off  with  his  open 
hand, 

u  Now  you  just  let  me  alone.  I  dont  want  to  have 
anything  to  say  to  you.  Go  away  from  me,  I  tell  you." 

"  You  dont  want  to  have  nothink  to  say  to  me  ! 
Oh  !  And  for  why  ?  Because  you  aint  man  enough  : 
thats  why.  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  and  shoving 
your  elbow  into  a  man's  breadbasket  for,  and  then  want- 
ing to  sneak  off?  Did  you  think  I'd  'a  bin  frightened 
of  your  velvet  coat  ?  " 


138  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.vil 

"  Very  well,"  said  Cashel  pacifically  :  "we'll  say  that 
I'm  not  man  enough  for  you.  So  thats  settled.  Are 
you  satisfied  ?  " 

But  the  other,  greatly  emboldened,  declared  with 
many  oaths  that  he  would  have  Cashel's  heart  out,  and 
also,  if  he  liked,  that  of  Lydia,  to  whom  he  alluded  in 
coarse  terms.  The  crowd  cheered,  and  called  upon  him 
to  "  go  it."  Cashel  then  said  sullenly, 

"  Very  well.  But  dont  you  try  to  make  out  after- 
wards that  I  forced  a  quarrel  on  you.  And  now,"  he 
added,  with  a  grim  change  of  tone  that  made  Lydia 
shudder,  and  shifted  her  fears  to  the  account  of  his 
antagonist,  "  I'll  make  you  wish  youd  bit  your  tongue 
out  before  you  said  what  you  did  a  moment  ago.  So 
take  care  of  yourself." 

"  Oh,  I'll  take  care  of  myself,"  said  the  man,  defiantly. 
"  Put  up  your  hands." 

Cashel  surveyed  his  opponent's  attitude  with  unspeak- 
able disparagement.  "  Youll  know  when  my  hands 
are  up  by  the  feel  of  the  pavement,"  he  said.  "  Better 
keep  your  coat  on.  Youll  fall  softer." 

The  rough  expressed  his  repudiation  of  this  counsel 
by  beginning  to  strip  energetically.  A  nameless  thrill 
passed  through  the  crowd.  Those  who  had  bad  places 
pressed  forward  ;  and  those  who  formed  the  inner  ring 
pressed  back  to  make  room  for  the  combatants.  Lydia, 
who  occupied  a  coveted  position  close  to  Cashel,  hoped 
to  be  hustled  out  of  the  throng  ;  for  she  was  beginning 
to  feel  faint  and  ill.  But  a  handsome  butcher,  who  had 
found  a  place  by  her  side,  held  that  she  was  entitled  to 
the  post  of  honor  in  the  front  row,  and  bade  her  not 
be  frightened.  As  he  spoke,  the  mass  of  faces  before 
Lydia  seemed  to  give  a  sudden  lurch.  To  save  herself 
from  falling,  she  slipped  her  arm  through  the  butcher's  ; 
and  he,  much  gratified,  tucked  her  close  to  him,  and 


Chap. VII     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  139 

held  her  up  effectually.  His  support  was  welcome, 
because  it  was  needed. 

Meanwhile,  Cashel  stood  motionless,  watching  with 
unrelenting  contempt  the  movements  of  his  adversary, 
who  rolled  up  his  discolored  shirt  sleeves  amid  en- 
couraging cries  of  cc  Go  it,  Teddy,"  "  Give  it  im,  Ted," 
and  other  more  precise  suggestions.  But  Teddy's  spirit 
was  chilled  :  he  advanced  with  a  presentiment  that  he 
was  courting  destruction.  He  dared  not  rush  on  his 
foe,  whose  eye  seemed  to  discern  his  impotence.  When 
at  last  he  ventured  to  strike,  the  blow  fell  short,  as 
Cashel  evidently  knew  it  would  ;  for  he  did  not  stir. 
There  was  a  laugh  and  a  murmur  of  impatience  in  the 
crowd. 

"  Are  you  waiting  for  the  copper  to  come  and  separate 
you  ? "  shouted  the  butcher.  "  Come  out  of  your 
corner  and  get  to  work,  cant  you  ?  " 

This  reminder  that  the  police  might  baulk  him  of  his 
prey  seemed  to  move  Cashel.  He  took  a  step  forward. 
The  excitement  of  the  crowd  rose  to  a  climax  ;  and  a 
little  man  near  Lydia  cut  a  frenzied  caper  and  screamed, 
"  Go  it,  Cashel  Byron." 

At  these  words  Teddy  was  frankly  terror-stricken. 
His  hands  went  down  hastily  ;  and  a  pitiable  green  pallor 
flitted  across  his  cheek.  "  It  aint  fair,"  he  exclaimed, 
retreating  as  far  as  he  could  :  "  I  give  in.  Cut  it,  master  : 
youre  too  clever  for  me."  But  the  cruel  crowd,  with  a 
jeer,  pushed  him  towards  Cashel,  who  advanced  remorse- 
lessly. Teddy  dropped  on  both  knees.  "What  can  a 
man  say  more  than  that  he's  had  enough  ?  "  he  pleaded. 
"  Be  a  Englishman,  master  ;  and  dont  hit  a  man  when 
he's  down." 

"  Down  !  "  said  Cashel.  "  How  long  will  you  stay 
down  if  I  choose  to  have  you  up  ?  "  And,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  he  seized  Teddy  with  his  left  hand  ; 


140  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.  VII 

lifted  him  to  his  feet ;  threw  him  in  a  helpless  position 
across  his  knee  ;  and  poised  his  right  fist  like  a  hammer 
over  his  upturned  face.  "Now,"  he  said,  "youre  not 
down.  What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself  before  I 
knock  your  face  down  your  throat  ?  " 

"  Dont  do  it,  govnor,"  gasped  Teddy.  "  I  didnt 
mean  no  harm.  How  was  I  to  know  that  the  young 
lady  was  your  fancy  ?  "  Here  he  struggled  a  little  ; 
and  his  face  took  a  darker  hue.  "  Let  go,  master,"  he 
cried,  almost  inarticulately.  "  Youre  ch — choking  me." 

"  Pray  let  him  go,"  said  Lydia,  disengaging  herself 
from  the  butcher  and  catching  Cashel's  arm. 

Cashel,  with  a  start,  relaxed  his  grasp  ;  and  Teddy 
rolled  on  the  ground.  He  went  away  thrusting  his 
hands  into  his  sleeves,  and  outfacing  his  disgrace  by  a 
callous  grin.  Cashel,  without  speaking,  offered  Lydia 
his  arm  ;  and  she,  seeing  that  her  best  course  was  to  get 
away  from  that  place  with  as  few  words  as  possible, 
accepted  it,  and  then  turned  and  thanked  the  butcher, 
who  blushed  and  became  speechless.  The  little  man, 
he  whose  exclamation  had  interrupted  the  combat,  now 
waved  his  hat,  crying, 

"  The  British  Lion  for  ever !  Three  cheers  for 
Cashel  Byron." 

Cashel  turned  upon  him  curtly,  and  said,  u  Dont  you 
make  so  free  with  other  people's  names,  or  perhaps  you 
may  get  into  trouble  yourself." 

The  little  man  retreated  hastily ;  but  the  crowd 
responded  with  three  cheers  as  Cashel,  with  Lydia  on  his 
arm,  withdrew  through  a  lane  of  disreputable-looking 
girls,  roughs  of  Teddy's  class,  white-aproned  shopmen 
who  had  left  their  counters  to  see  the  fight,  and  a  few 
pale  clerks,  who  looked  with  awe  at  the  prizefighter  and 
with  wonder  at  the  refined  appearance  of  his  companion. 
The  two  were  followed  by  a  double  file  of  little  raga- 


Chap.  VII     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  141 

muffins,  who,  with  their  eyes  fixed  earnestly  on  Cashel, 
walked  on  the  footways  whilst  he  conducted  Lydia  down 
the  middle  of  the  narrow  street.  Not  one  of  them 
turned  a  somersault  or  uttered  a  shout.  Intent  on  their 
hero,  they  pattered  along,  coming  into  collision  with 
every  object  that  lay  in  their  path.  At  last  Cashel 
stopped.  They  instantly  stopped  too.  He  took  some 
bronze  coin  from  his  pocket ;  rattled  it  in  his  hand  ;  and 
addressed  them. 

"  Boys."  Dead  silence.  "  Do  you  know  what  I  have 
to  do  to  keep  up  my  strength  ?  "  The  hitherto  steadfast 
eyes  wandered  uneasily.  "  I  have  to  eat  a  little  boy  for 
supper  every  night,  the  last  thing  before  going  to  bed. 
Now,  I  havent  quite  made  up  my  mind  which  of  you 
would  be  the  most  to  my  taste  ;  but  if  one  of  you  comes 
a  step  further,  I'll  eat  him.  So  away  with  you."  And 
he  jerked  the  coins  to  a  considerable  distance.  There 
was  a  yell  and  a  scramble ;  and  Cashel  and  Lydia 
pursued  their  way  unattended. 

Lydia  had  taken  advantage  of  the  dispersion  of  the 
boys  to  detach  herself  from  Cashel's  arm.  She  now 
said,  speaking  to  him  for  the  first  time  since  she  had 
interceded  for  Teddy, 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  given  you  so  much  trouble,  Mr. 
Cashel  Byron.  Thank  you  for  interfering  to  protect  mej 
but  I  was  in  no  real  danger.  I  would  gladly  have  borne 
with  a  few  rough  words  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  a 
disturbance." 

«  There  !  "  cried  Cashel.  « I  knew  it.  Youd  a  deal 
rather  I  had  minded  my  own  business  and  not  interfered. 
Youre  sorry  for  the  poor  fellow  I  treated  so  badly  :  aint 
you  now  ?  Thats  a  woman  all  over." 

"  I  have  not  said  one  of  these  things." 

"Well,  I  dont  see  what  else  you  mean.  It's  no 
pleasure  to  me  to  fight  chance  men  in  the  streets  for 


142  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  VII 

nothing  :  I  dont  get  my  living  that  way.  And  now  that 
I  have  done  it  for  your  sake,  you  as  good  as  tell  me  I 
ought  to  have  kept  myself  quiet." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  wrong.  I  hardly  understand  what 
passed.  You  seemed  to  drop  from  the  clouds." 

"  Aha  !  You  were  glad  when  you  found  me  at  your 
elbow,  in  spite  of  your  talk.  Come  now :  werent  you 
glad  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  I  confess  it :  very  glad  indeed.  But  by  what 
magic  did  you  so  suddenly  subdue  that  man  ?  And  was 
it  necessary  to  sully  your  hands  by  throttling  him  ? " 

<c  It  was  a  satisfaction  to  me ;  and  it  served  him  right." 

"Surely  a  very  poor  satisfaction!  Did  you  notice 
that  some  one  in  the  crowd  called  out  your  name  ;  and 
that  it  seemed  to  frighten  the  man  terribly  ? " 

"  Indeed.  Odd,  wasnt  it  ?  But  you  were  saying  that 
you  thought  I  dropped  from  the  sky.  Why,  I  had  been 
following  you  for  five  minutes  before  !  What  do  you 
think  of  that  ?  If  I  may  take  the  liberty  of  asking,  how 
did  you  come  to  be  walking  round  Soho  at  such  an  hour 
with  a  little  boy  ?  " 

Lydia  explained.  When  she  finished,  it  was  nearly 
dark.  They  had  reached  Oxford  Street,  where,  like 
Lucian  in  Regent's  Park  that  afternoon,  she  became 
conscious  that  her  companion  was  an  object  of  curiosity 
to  many  of  the  wayfarers,  especially  the  cabmen  and 
omnibus  drivers. 

"  Alice  will  think  I  am  lost,"  she  said,  making  a  signal 
to  a  cabman,  who  made  his  horse  plunge  to  obey  it. 
"  Good-bye  ;  and  many  thanks.  I  am  always  at  home 
on  Fridays,  and  shall  be  very  happy  to  see  you." 

She  handed  him  a  card.  He  took  it  ;  read  it ;  looked 
at  the  back  to  see  if  there  was  anything  written  there  5 
and  then  said  dubiously, 

"  I  suppose  there  will  be  a  lot  of  people." 


Chap.  VII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  143 

w  Yes,  you  will  meet  plenty  of  people." 

<c  Hm  !  I  wish  youd  let  me  see  you  home  now.  I 
wont  ask  to  go  any  further  than  the  gate." 

Lydia  laughed.  "  You  should  be  very  welcome,"  she 
said  ;  "  but  I  am  quite  safe,  thank  you.  I  need  not 
trouble  you." 

"  But  suppose  the  cabman  bullies  you  for  double  fare," 
persisted  Cashel.  u  I  have  business  up  in  Kilburn  ;  and 
your  place  is  right  in  my  way  there.  Upon  my  soul  I 
have,"  he  added,  suspecting  that  she  doubted  him.  "I 
go  every  Tuesday  evening  to  the  St.  John's  Wood  Cestus 
Club." 

"I  am  hungry  and  in  a  hurry  to  get  home,"  said 
Lydia.  "CI  must  begone  and  live,  or  stay  and  die.' 
Come  if  you  will ;  but  in  any  case  let  us  go  at  once." 

She  got  into  the  cab ;  and  Cashel  followed,  making 
some  remark  which  she  did  not  quite  catch  about  its 
being  too  dark  for  any  one  to  recognize  him.  They 
spoke  little  during  the  drive,  which  was  soon  over. 
Bashville  was  standing  at  the  open  door  as  they  came  to 
the  house.  When  Cashel  got  out,  the  footman  looked 
at  him  with  interest  and  some  surprise.  But  when  Lydia 
alighted,  he  was  so  startled  that  he  stood  open-mouthed, 
although  he  was  trained  to  simulate  insensibility  to 
everything  except  his  own  business,  and  to  do  that  as 
automatically  as  possible.  Cashel  bade  Lydia  good-bye, 
and  shook  hands  with  her.  As  she  went  into  the  house, 
she  asked  Bashville  whether  Miss  Goff  was  within.  To 
her  surprise,  he  paid  no  attention  to  her,  but  stared  after 
the  retreating  cab.  She  repeated  the  question. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  recovering  himself  with  a  start: 
"  she  has  asked  for  you  four  times." 

Lydia,  relieved  of  a  disagreeable  suspicion  that  her 
usually  faultless  footman  must  be  drunk,  thanked  him 
and  went  upstairs. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ONE  morning  a  handsome  young  man,  elegantly  dressed, 
presented  himself  at  Downing  Street,  and  asked  to  see 
Mr.  Lucian  Webber.  He  declined  to  send  in  a  card, 
and  desired  to  be  announced  simply  as  "Bashville." 
Lucian  had  him  admitted  at  once  ;  and,  when  he  entered, 
condescended  to  him  and  invited  him  to  sit  down. 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Bashville,  seating  himself. 
It  struck  Lucian  then,  from  a  certain  strung-up  resolution 
in  his  visitor's  manner,  that  he  had  come  on  some 
business  of  his  own,  and  not  with  a  message  from  his 
mistress. 

"  I  have  come,  sir,  on  my  own  responsibility  this 
morning.  I  hope  you  will  excuse  the  liberty." 

"  Certainly.  If  I  can  do  anything  for  you,  Bashville, 
dont  be  afraid  to  ask.  But  be  as  brief  as  you  can.  I  am 
so  busy  that  every  second  I  give  you  will  probably  come 
off  my  night's  rest.  Will  ten  minutes  be  enough  ?  " 

"More  than  enough,  sir,  thank  you.  I  only  wish  to 
ask  one  question.  I  own  that  I  am  stepping  out  of  my 
place  to  ask  it ;  but  I'll  risk  that.  Does  Miss  Carew 
know  what  the  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  is  that  she  receives 
every  Friday  with  her  other  friends  ? " 

"  No  doubt  she  does,"  said  Lucian,  at  once  becoming 
cold  in  his  manner,  and  looking  severely  at  Bashville. 
"  What  business  is  that  of  yours  ?  " 


Chap.  VIII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession          145 

"  Do  you  know  what  he  is,  sir  ? "  said  Bashville, 
returning  Lucian's  gaze  steadily.  Lucian  changed 
countenance,  and  replaced  a  pen  that  had  slipped  from  a 
rack  on  his  desk.  "He  is  not  an  acquaintance  of 
mine,"  he  said.  "  I  only  know  him  as  a  friend  of  Lord 
Worthington's." 

"  Sir,"  said  Bashville,  with  sudden  vehemence,  "  he  is 
no  more  to  Lord  Worthington  than  the  racehorse  his 
lordship  bets  on.  7  might  as  well  set  up  to  be  a  friend 
of  his  lordship  because  I,  after  a  manner  of  speaking, 
know  him.  Byron  is  in  the  ring,  sir.  A  common 
prizefighter  !  " 

Lucian,  recalling  what  had  passed  at  Mrs.  Hoskyn's, 
believed  the  assertion  at  once.  But  he  made  a  faint 
effort  to  resist  conviction.  "Are  you  sure  of  this, 
Bashville  ?  "  he  said.  "  Do  you  know  that  your  state- 
ment is  a  very  serious  one  ?  " 

"There  is  no  doubt  at  all  about  it,  sir.  Go  to  any 
sporting  public-house  in  London  and  ask  who  is  the  best- 
known  fighting  man  of  the  day,  and  theyll  tell  you 
Cashel  Byron.  I  know  all  about  him,  sir.  Perhaps  you 
have  heard  tell  of  Ned  Skene,  who  was  champion,  belike, 
when  you  were  at  school." 

"  I  believe  I  have  heard  the  name." 

"Just  so,  sir.  Ned  Skene  picked  up  this  Cashel 
Byron  in  the  streets  of  Melbourne,  where  he  was  a 
common  sailor  boy,  and  trained  him  for  the  ring.  You 
may  have  seen  his  name  in  the  papers,  sir.  The  sporting 
ones  are  full  of  him  ;  and  he  was  mentioned  in  The  Times 
a  month  ago." 

"  I  never  read  articles  on  such  subjects.  I  have 
hardly  time  to  glance  through  the  ones  that  concern  me." 

"Thats  the  way  it  is  with  everybody,  sir.  Miss 
Carew  never  thinks  of  reading  the  sporting  intelligence 
in  the  papers  ;  and  so  he  passes  himself  off  on  her  for  her 


146         Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.vill 

equal.  He's  well  known  for  his  wish  to  be  thought  a 
gentleman,  sir,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  have  noticed  his  manner  as  being  odd,  certainly." 

"  Odd,  sir  !  Why,  a  child  might  see  through  him  ; 
for  he  has  not  the  sense  to  keep  his  own  secret.  Last 
Friday  he  was  in  the  library  ;  and  he  got  looking  at  the 
new  biographical  dictionary  that  Miss  Carew  contributed 
the  article  on  Spinoza  to.  And  what  do  you  think  he 
said,  sir  ?  c  This  is  a  blessed  book,'  he  says.  c  Here's 
ten  pages  about  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  and  not  one  about 
Jack  Randall :  as  if  one  fighting  man  wasnt  as  good  as 
another  !  '  I  knew  by  the  way  Miss  Carew  took  up 
that  saying,  and  drew  him  out,  so  to  speak,  on  the 
subject,  that  she  didnt  know  who  she  had  in  her  house  ; 
and  then  I  determined  to  tell  you,  sir.  I  hope  you  wont 
think  that  I  come  here  behind  his  back  out  of  malice 
against  him.  All  I  want  is  fair  play.  If  I  passed  myself 
off  on  Miss  Carew  as  a  gentleman,  I  should  deserve  to 
be  exposed  as  a  cheat ;  and  when  he  tries  to  take 
advantages  that  dont  belong  to  him,  I  think  I  have  a 
right  to  expose  him." 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right,"  said  Lucian,  who  cared 
nothing  for  Bashville's  motives.  "  I  suppose  this  Byron 
is  a  dangerous  man  to  have  any  personal  unpleasantness 
with." 

"He  knows  his  business,  sir.  I  am  a  better  judge  of 
wrestling  than  half  of  these  London  professionals  ;  but  I 
never  saw  the  man  that  could  put  a  hug  on  him.  Simple 
as  he  is,  sir,  he  has  a  genius  for  fighting,  and  has  beaten 
men  of  all  sizes,  weights,  and  colors.  There's  a  new 
man  from  the  black  country,  named  Paradise,  who  says 
he'll  beat  him  ;  but  I  wont  believe  it  til  I  see  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Lucian,  rising,  "  I  am  much  indebted  to 
you,  Bashville,  for  your  information  ;  and  I  shall  take 
care  to  let  Miss  Carew  know  how  you  have — 


Chap.  VIII     Cashel  Byron's  Profession          147 

"Begging  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Bashville  ;  "but,  if 
you  please,  no.  I  did  not  come  to  recommend  myself 
at  the  cost  of  another  man  ;  and  perhaps  Miss  Carew 
might  not  think  it  any  great  recommendation  neither." 
Lucian  looked  quickly  at  him  as  if  about  to  speak,  but 
checked  himself,  Bashville  continued,  "  If  he  denies  it, 
you  may  call  me  as  a  witness  j  and  I  will  tell  him  to  his 
face  that  he  lies — and  so  I  would  if  he  were  twice  as 
dangerous  ;  but,  except  in  that  way,  I  would  ask  you, 
sir,  as  a  favor,  not  to  mention  my  name  to  Miss 
Carew." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Lucian,  taking  out  his  purse. 
"  Perhaps  you  are  right.  However,  you  shall  not  have 
your  trouble  for  nothing." 

"  I  couldnt  really,  sir,"  said  Bashville,  retreating  a 
step.  "  You  will  agree  with  me,  I'm  sure,  that  this  is 
not  a  thing  that  a  man  should  take  payment  for.  It  is  a 
personal  matter  between  me  and  Byron,  sir." 

Lucian,  displeased  that  a  servant  should  have  any 
personal  feelings  on  any  subject,  much  more  one  that 
concerned  his  mistress,  put  back  his  purse  without 
comment,  and  said,  "  Will  Miss  Carew  be  at  home  this 
afternoon  between  three  and  four  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  heard  of  any  arrangement  to  the 
contrary,  sir.  I  will  telegraph  to  you  if  she  goes  out — 
if  you  wish." 

"  It  does  not  matter.     Thank  you.     Good  morning." 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Bashville  respectfully,  as 
he  withdrew.  Outside  the  door  his  manner  changed. 
He  put  on  a  pair  of  cinnamon  gloves  ;  took  up  a  silver- 
mounted  walking  stick  which  he  had  left  in  the  corridor ; 
and  walked  from  Downing  Street  into  Whitehall.  A 
party  of  visitors  from  the  country,  standing  there 
examining  the  buildings,  guessed  that  he  was  a  junior 
lord  of  the  Treasury. 


148  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.vill 
He  waited  in  vain  that  afternoon  for  Lucian  to  appear 
at  the  house  in  Regent's  Park.  There  were  no  callers  ; 
and  he  wore  away  the  time  by  endeavoring,  with  the 
aid  of  the  library  Miss  Carew  had  placed  at  the 
disposal  of  her  domestics,  to  unravel  the  philosophy  of 
Spinoza.  At  the  end  of  an  hour,  feeling  satisfied  that 
he  had  mastered  that  author's  views,  he  proceeded  to 
vary  the  monotony  of  the  long  summer's  day  by  polish- 
ing Lydia's  plate. 

Meanwhile,  Lucian  was  considering  how  he  could  best 
make  Lydia  not  only  repudiate  Cashel's  acquaintance, 
but  feel  thoroughly  ashamed  of  herself  for  having  en- 
couraged him,  and  wholesomely  mistrustful  of  her  own 
judgment  for  the  future.  His  secretarial  duties  had 
taught  him  to  provide  himself  with  a  few  well-arranged 
relevant  facts  before  attempting  to  influence  the  opinions 
of  others  on  any  subject.  He  knew  no  more  of  prize- 
fighting than  that  it  was  a  brutal  and  illegal  practice, 
akin  to  cockfighting,  and,  like  it,  generally  supposed  to 
be  obsolete.  Knowing  how  prone  Lydia  was  to  suspect 
any  received  opinion  of  being  a  prejudice,  he  felt  that 
he  must  inform  himself  more  particularly.  To  Lord 
Worthington's  astonishment,  he  not  only  asked  him  to 
dinner  next  evening,  but  listened  with  interest  whilst  Jie 
expatiated  to  his  heart's  content  on  his  favorite  theme 
of  the  ring. 

As  the  days  passed,  Bashville  became  nervous,  and 
sometimes  wondered  whether  Lydia  had  met  her  cousin 
and  heard  from  him  of  the  interview  at  Downing  Street. 
He  fancied  that  her  manner  towards  him  was  changed  ; 
and  he  was  once  or  twice  on  the  point  of  asking  the 
most  sympathetic  of  the  housemaids  whether  she  had 
noticed  it.  On  Wednesday  his  suspense  ended.  Lucian 
came,  and  had  a  long  conversation  with  Lydia  in  the 
library.  Though  Bashville  was  too  honorable  to  listen 


Chap.  VIII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession          149 

at  the  door,  he  almost  hoped  that  the  sympathetic  house- 
maid would  prove  less  scrupulous.  But  Miss  Carew  had 
contrived  to  leave  her  servants  some  self-respect ;  and 
Lucian's  revelation  was  made  in  complete  privacy. 

When  he  entered  the  library,  he  looked  so  serious  that 
she  asked  him  whether  he  had  neuralgia,  from  which  he 
occasionally  suffered.  He  replied  with  some  indignation 
that  he  had  not,  and  that  he  had  a  communication  of  im- 
portance to  make  to  her. 

"  What !     Another  !  " 

"Yes,  another,"  he  said,  with  a  sour  smile;  "but  this 
time  it  does  not  concern  myself.  May  I  warn  you  as  to 
the  character  of  one  of  your  guests  without  overstepping 
my  privilege  ? " 

"  Certainly.  Do  you  mean  ChefFsky  ?  If  so,  I  am 
perfectly  aware  that  he  is  a  proscribed  Nihilist." 

"I  do  not  mean  Monsieur  Cheffsky.  You  under- 
stand, I  hope,  that  I  do  not  approve  of  him,  nor  of  your 
strange  fancy  for  Nihilists,  Anarchists,  and  other  doubt- 
ful persons  ;  but  I  think  that  even  you  might  draw  the 
line  at  a  prizefighter." 

Lydia  lost  color,  and  said,  almost  inaudibly,  "Cashel 
Byron  !  " 

"  Then  you  knew  /  "  exclaimed  Lucian,  scandalized. 

Lydia  waited  a  moment  to  recover  ;  settled  herself 
quietly  in  her  chair  ;  and  replied  calmly,  "  I  know  what 
you  tell  me — nothing  more.  And  now  will  you  explain 
to  me  exactly  what  a  prizefighter  is  ?  " 

"  He  is  simply  what  his  name  indicates.  He  is  a  man 
who  fights  for  prizes." 

"  So  does  the  captain  of  a  man-of-war.  And  yet  society 
does  not  place  them  in  the  same  class — at  least  I  do  not 
think  so." 

"As  if  there  could  be  any  doubt  that  society  does 
not !  There  is  no  analogy  whatever  between  the  two 


150  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  VIII 
cases.  Let  me  endeavor  to  open  your  eyes  a  little,  if 
that  be  possible,  which  I  am  sometimes  tempted  to 
doubt.  A  prizefighter  is  usually  a  man  of  naturally 
ferocious  disposition,  who  has  acquired  some  reputation 
among  his  associates  as  a  bully  j  and  who,  by  constantly 
quarrelling,  has  acquired  some  practice  in  fighting.  On 
the  strength  of  this  reputation,  he  can  generally  find 
some  gambler  willing  to  stake  a  sum  of  money  that  he 
will  vanquish  a  pugilist  of  established  fame  in  single 
combat.  Bets  are  made  between  the  admirers  of  the 
two  men  ;  a  prize  is  subscribed  for,  each  party  contri- 
buting a  share  ;  the  combatants  are  trained  as  racehorses, 
gamecocks,  or  their  like  are  trained  ;  they  meet,  and 
beat  each  other  as  savagely  as  they  can  until  one  or  the 
other  is  too  much  injured  to  continue  the  combat.  This 
takes  place  in  the  midst  of  a  mob  of  such  persons  as 
enjoy  spectacles  of  the  kind  :  that  is  to  say,  the  vilest 
blackguards  a  large  city  can  afford  to  leave  at  large,  and 
many  whom  it  can  not.  As  the  prize-money  contributed 
by  each  side  often  amounts  to  upwards  of  a  thousand 
pounds ;  and  as  a  successful  pugilist  commands  far  higher 
terms  for  giving  tuition  in  boxing  than  a  tutor  at  one  of 
the  universities  does  for  coaching  ;  you  will  see  that  such 
a  man,  whilst  his  youth  and  luck  last,  may  have  plenty 
of  money,  and  may  even,  by  aping  the  manners  of  the 
gentlemen  whom  he  teaches,  deceive  careless  people — 
especially  those  who  admire  eccentricity — as  to  his  true 
character  and  position." 

"  What  is  his  true  position  ?  I  mean  before  he 
becomes  a  prizefighter." 

"  Well,  he  may  be  a  skilled  workman  of  some  kind  :  a 
journeyman  butcher,  skinner,  tailor,  or  baker.  Possibly 
a  discharged  soldier,  sailor,  gentleman's  servant,  or  what 
not  ?  But  he  is  generally  a  common  laborer.  The 
waterside  is  prolific  of  such  heroes." 


Chap.  VIII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession          151 

"  Do  they  never  come  from  a  higher  rank  ?  " 

"  Never  even  from  the  better  classes  in  their  own. 
Broken-down  gentlemen  are  not  likely  to  succeed  at 
work  that  needs  the  strength  and  endurance  of  a  bull, 
and  the  cruelty  of  a  butcher." 

"But  what  becomes  of  them  in  the  end?  They 
cannot  keep  at  such  work  all  their  lives." 

"  They  do  not.  When  through  age  a  prizefighter  is 
found  to  be  repeatedly  beaten,  no  one  will  either  bet  on 
him  or  subscribe  to  provide  him  with  a  stake.  Or  if  he 
is  invariably  successful,  those,  if  any,  who  dare  fight  him 
find  themselves  in  a  like  predicament.  In  either  case 
his  occupation  is  gone.  If  he  has  saved  money,  he  opens 
a  sporting  public-house,  where  he  sell  spirits  of  the  worst 
description  to  his  old  rivals  and  their  associates,  and 
eventually  drinks  himself  to  death  or  bankruptcy.  If, 
however,  he  has  been  improvident  or  unfortunate,  he 
begs  from  his  former  patrons  and  gives  lessons.  Finally, 
when  the  patrons  are  tired  of  him  and  the  pupils  fail,  he 
relapses  into  the  dregs  of  the  laboring  class  with  a 
ruined  constitution,  a  disfigured  face,  a  brutalized  nature, 
and  a  tarnished  reputation." 

Lydia  remained  silent  so  long  after  this  that  Lucian's 
magisterial  severity  first  deepened,  then  wavered,  and 
finally  gave  way  to  a  sense  of  injury  ;  for  she  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  him.  He  was  about  to  protest  against 
this  treatment,  when  she  looked  at  him  again,  and  said, 

"Why  did  Lord  Worthington  introduce  a  man  of 
this  class  to  me  ?  " 

"Because  you  asked  him  to  do  so.  Probably  he 
thought  that  if  you  chose  to  make  such  a  request  without 
previous  inquiry,  you  should  not  blame  him  if  you  found 
yourself  saddled  with  an  undesirable  acquaintance. 
Recollect  that  you  asked  for  the  introduction  on  the 
platform  at  Wiltstoken,  in  the  presence  of  the  man 


152          Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.  VIII 

himself.  Such  a  ruffian  would  be  capable  of  making  a 
disturbance  for  much  less  offence  than  an  explanation 
and  refusal  would  have  given  him." 

"  Lucian,"  said  Lydia  :  "  I  asked  to  be  introduced  to 
my  tenant,  for  whose  respectability  you  had  vouched  by 
letting  the  Warren  Lodge  to  him."  Lucian  reddened. 
"  How  does  Lord  Worthington  explain  Mr.  Byron's 
appearance  at  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  ?  " 

"It  was  a  stupid  joke.  Mrs.  Hoskyn  had  worried 
Worthington  to  bring  some  celebrity  to  her  house  ;  and 
in  revenge  he  took  his  pugilistic  protege" 

«Hm!" 

"  I  do  not  defend  Worthington.  But  discretion  is 
hardly  to  be  expected  from  him." 

"  He  has  discretion  enough  to  understand  a  case  of 
this  kind  thoroughly.  But  let  that  pass.  I  have  been 
thinking  upon  what  you  tell  me  about  these  singular 
people,  whose  existence  I  hardly  knew  of  before.  Now, 
Lucian,  in  the  course  of  my  reading  I  have  come  upon 
denunciations  of  every  race  and  pursuit  under  the  sun. 
Very  respectable  and  well-informed  men  have  held  that 
Jews,  Irishmen,  Christians,  atheists,  lawyers,  doctors, 
politicians,  actors,  artists,  flesh-eaters,  and  spirit-drinkers, 
are  all  of  necessity  degraded  beings.  Such  statements 
can  be  easily  proved  by  taking  a  black  sheep  from  each 
flock,  and  holding  him  up  as  the  type.  It  seems  reason- 
able to  infer  a  man's  character  from  the  nature  of  his 
occupation :  still,  who  would  act  upon  an  opinion  based 
on  that  alone  ?  War  is  a  cruel  business  ;  but  soldiers 
are  not  exceptionally  bloodthirsty  and  inhuman  men. 
I  am  not  quite  satisfied  that  a  prizefighter  is  a  violent 
and  dangerous  man  because  he  follows  a  violent  and 
dangerous  profession — I  suppose  they  call  it  a  profession." 

Lucian  was  about  to  speak  ;  but  she  interrupted  him 
by  continuing, 


Chap. VIII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession          153 

"And  yet  that  is  not  what  concerns  me  at  present. 
Have  you  found  out  anything  about  Mr.  Byron 
personally  ?  Is  he  an  ordinary  representative  of  his 
class  ?  " 

"  No  :  I  should  rather  think — and  hope — that  he  is  a 
very  extraordinary  representative  of  it.  I  have  traced 
his  history  back  to  the  time  when  he  was  a  cabin-boy. 
Having  apparently  failed  to  recommend  himself  to  his 
employers  in  that  capacity,  he  became  errand  boy  to  a 
sort  of  maltre  d^armes  at  Melbourne.  Here  he  dis- 
covered where  his  genius  lay  ;  and  he  presently  appeared 
in  the  ring  with  an  unfortunate  young  man  named 
Ducket,  whose  jaw  he  fractured.  This  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  his  fame.  He  fought  several  battles  with  un- 
varying success  ;  but  at  last  he  allowed  his  valor  to  get 
the  better  of  his  discretion  so  far  as  to  kill  an  English- 
man who  fought  him  with  desperate  obstinacy  for  two 
hours.  I  am  informed  that  the  particular  blow  by  which 
he  felled  the  poor  wretch  for  the  last  time  is  known  in 
pugilistic  circles  as  'Cashel's  killer,'  and  that  he  has 
attempted  to  repeat  it  in  all  his  subsequent  encounters, 
without,  however,  achieving  the  same  fatal  result.  The 
failure  has  doubtless  been  a  severe  disappointment  to  him. 
He  fled  from  Australia,  and  reappeared  in  America, 
where  he  resumed  his  victorious  career,  distinguishing 
himself  specially  by  throwing  a  gigantic  opponent  in 
some  dreadful  fashion  that  these  men  have,  and  laming 
him  for  life.  He  then " 

"  Thank  you,  Lucian,"  said  Lydia,  rather  faintly. 
"That  is  quite  enough.  Are  you  quite  sure  it  is  all 
true  ?  " 

"My  authority  is  Lord  Worthington,  and  the  files 
of  the  sporting  newspapers.  Byron  himself  will  prob- 
ably be  proud  to  give  you  the  fullest  confirmation  of 
the  record.  I  should  add,  in  justice  to  him,  that  he 


154  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  VIII 
is  looked  upon  as  a  model — to  pugilists — of  temperance 
and  general  good  conduct." 

"  Do  you  remember  my  remarking  a  few  days  ago, 
on  another  subject,  how  meaningless  our  observations 
are  until  we  are  given  the  right  thread  to  string  them 
on  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lucian,  disconcerted  by  the  allusion. 

"  My  acquaintance  with  this  man  is  a  case  in  point. 
He  has  obtruded  his  horrible  profession  upon  me  every 
time  we  have  met.  I  have  actually  seen  him  publicly 
cheered  as  a  pugilist-hero  ;  and  yet,  being  off  the  track, 
and  ignorant  of  the  very  existence  of  such  a  calling,  I 
have  looked  on  and  seen  nothing." 

Lydia  then  narrated  her  adventure  in  Soho,  and 
listened  with  the  perfect  patience  of  indifference  to  his 
censure  of  her  imprudence  in  walking  by  herself  in  town. 

"  May  I  ask,"  he  added,  "  what  you  intend  to  do  in 
this  matter  ?  " 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

"Drop  his  acquaintance  at  once.  Forbid  him  your 
house  in  the  most  explicit  terms." 

"A  pleasant  task!"  said  Lydia  ironically.  "But  I 
will  do  it — not  so  much,  perhaps,  because  he  is  a 
prizefighter  as  because  he  is  an  impostor.  Now  go  to 
the  writing  table,  and  draft  me  a  proper  letter  to  send 
him." 

Lucian's  face  elongated.  "I  think,"  he  said,  "you 
can  do  that  better  for  yourself.  It  is  a  delicate  sort  of 
thing." 

"Yes.  It  is  not  so  easy  as  you  implied  a  moment 
ago.  Otherwise  I  should  not  require  your  assistance. 
As  it  is "  She  pointed  again  to  the  table. 

Lucian  was  not  ready  with  an  excuse.  He  sat  down 
reluctantly,  and,  after  some  consideration,  indited  the 
following : — 


Chap.  VIII     Cashel  Byron's  Profession          155 

Miss  Carew  presents  her  compliments  to  Mr.  Cashel 
Byron^  and  begs  to  Inform  him  that  she  will  not  be  at  home 
during  the  remainder  of  the  season  as  heretofore.  She 
therefore  regrets  that  she  cannot  have  the  pleasure  of  receiv- 
ing him  on  Friday  afternoon. 

"  I  think  you  will  find  that  sufficient,"  said  Lucian. 

"  Probably,"  said  Lydia,  smiling  as  she  read  it. 
"  But  what  shall  I  do  if  he  takes  offence  ;  calls  here  ; 
breaks  the  windows  ;  and  beats  Bashville.  That  is  what 
such  a  letter  would  provoke  me  to  do." 

"  He  dare  not  give  any  trouble.  But  I  will  warn  the 
police  if  you  feel  anxious." 

"  By  no  means.  We  must  not  shew  ourselves  inferior 
to  him  in  courage,  which  is,  I  suppose,  his  cardinal 
virtue." 

"  If  you  write  the  note  now,  I  will  post  it  for  you." 

"No,  thank  you.  I  will  send  it  with  my  other 
letters." 

Lucian  tried  to  wait ;  but  she  would  not  write  whilst 
he  was  there.  So  he  left,  satisfied  on  the  whole  with 
the  success  of  his  mission.  When  he  was  gone,  she 
endorsed  his  draft  neatly,  and  placed  it  in  a  drawer. 
Then  she  wrote  to  Cashel  thus  : — 

Dear  Mr.  Cashel  Byron 

I  have  just  discovered  your  secret.  I  am  sorry ;  but  you 
must  not  come  again.  Farewell.  Tours  faithfully^ 

Lydia  Carew. 

Lydia  kept  this  note  by  her  until  next  morning,  when 
she  read  it  through  carefully.  She  then  sent  Bashville 
to  the  post  with  it. 


CHAPTER    IX 

CASHEL'S  pupils  sometimes  requested  him  to  hit  them 
hard — not  to  play  with  them  —  to  accustom  them  to 
regular  right-down  severe  hitting,  and  no  nonsense. 
He  only  pretended  to  comply  ;  for  he  knew  that  a  black 
eye  or  loosened  tooth  would  be  immoderately  boasted  of 
if  received  in  combat  with  a  famous  pugilist,  and  that 
the  sufferer's  friends  would  make  private  notes  to  avoid 
so  rough  a  professor.  But  when  Miss  Carew's  note 
reached  him,  he  made  an  exception  to  his  practice  in 
this  respect.  A  young  guardsman,  whose  lesson  began 
shortly  after  the  post  arrived,  remarked  that  Cashel  was 
unusually  distraught,  and  exhorted  him  to  wake  up  and 
pitch  in  in  earnest.  Instantly  a  blow  in  the  epigastrium 
stretched  him  almost  insensible  on  the  floor.  His 
complexion  was  considerably  whitened  when  he  was 
set  on  his  legs  again ;  and  he  presently  alleged  an 
urgent  appointment,  and  withdrew,  declaring  in  a  shaky 
voice  that  that  was  the  sort  of  bout  he  really  enjoyed. 

When  he  was  gone,  Cashel  walked  distractedly  to  and 
fro,  cursing,  and  occasionally  stopping  to  read  the  letter. 
His  restlessness  only  increased  his  agitation.  The  arrival 
of  a  Frenchman  whom  he  employed  to  give  lessons  in 
fencing  made  the  place  unendurable  to  him.  He 
changed  his  attire  ;  went  out ;  called  a  cab  ;  and  bade 
the  driver,  with  an  oath,  drive  to  Lydia's  house  as  fast 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  157 

as  the  horse  could  go.  The  man  made  all  the  haste  he 
could,  and  was  presently  told  impatiently  that  there  was 
no  hurry.  Accustomed  to  this  sort  of  inconsistency,  he 
was  not  surprised  when,  as  they  approached  the  house, 
he  was  told  not  to  stop,  but  to  drive  slowly  past.  Then, 
in  obedience  to  further  instructions,  he  turned  and  re- 
passed  the  door.  As  he  did  so,  a  lady  appeared  for  an 
instant  at  a  window.  Immediately  his  fare,  with  a 
groan  of  mingled  rage  and  fear,  sprang  from  the  moving 
vehicle  ;  rushed  up  the  steps  of  the  mansion  ;  and  rang 
the  bell  violently.  Bashville,  faultlessly  dressed  and 
impassibly  mannered,  opened  the  door.  In  reply  to 
CashePs  half  inarticulate  inquiry,  he  said, 

"  Miss  Carew  is  not  at  home." 

"You  lie,"  said  Cashel,  his  eyes  suddenly  dilating. 
« I  saw  her." 

Bashville  reddened,  but  replied  coolly,  "Miss  Carew 
cannot  see  you  to-day." 

"  Go  and  ask  her,"  returned  Cashel  sternly,  advancing. 

Bashville,  with  compressed  lips,  seized  the  door  to 
shut  him  out ;  but  Cashel  forced  it  back  against  him 
and  went  in,  shutting  the  door  behind  him.  He  turned 
from  Bashville  for  a  moment  to  do  this  ;  and  before  he 
could  face  him  again  he  was  tripped  and  flung  down 
upon  the  tesselated  pavement  of  the  hall.  When 
Bashville  was  given  the  lie,  and  pushed  back  behind 
the  door,  the  excitement  he  had  been  suppressing  since 
his  visit  to  Lucian  exploded.  He  had  thrown  Cashel  in 
Cornish  fashion,  and  now  desperately  awaited  the  upshot. 

Cashel  got  up  so  rapidly  that  he  seemed  to  rebound 
from  the  flags.  Bashville,  involuntarily  cowering  before 
his  onslaught,  just  escaped  his  right  fist,  and  felt  as 
though  his  heart  had  been  drawn  with  it  as  it  whizzed 
past  his  ear.  He  turned  and  fled  frantically  upstairs. 

Lydia  was  in  her  boudoir  with  Alice  when  Bashville 


158  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  IX 

darted  in  and  locked  the  door.  Alice  rose  and  screamed. 
Lydia,  though  startled,  and  that  less  by  the  unusual 
action  than  by  the  change  in  a  familiar  face  which  she 
had  never  seen  influenced  by  emotion  before,  sat  still, 
and  quietly  asked  what  was  the  matter.  Bashville 
checked  himself  for  a  moment.  Then  he  spoke  un- 
intelligibly, and  went  to  the  window,  which  he  opened. 
Lydia  divined  that  he  was  about  to  call  for  help  to  the 
street. 

"  Bashville,"  she  said  authoritatively :  "  be  silent  -9  and 
close  the  window.  I  will  go  downstairs  myself." 

Bashville  then  ran  to  prevent  her  from  unlocking  the 
door  ;  but  she  paid  no  attention  to  him.  He  did  not 
dare  to  oppose  her  forcibly.  He  was  beginning  to 
recover  from  his  panic,  and  to  feel  the  first  stings  of 
shame  for  having  yielded  to  it. 

"  Madam,"  he  said  :  "  Byron  is  below  ;  and  he  insists 
on  seeing  you.  He's  dangerous  ;  and  he's  too  strong  for 
me.  I  have  done  my  best :  on  my  honor  I  have.  Let 
me  call  the  police.  Stop,"  he  added,  as  she  opened  the 
door.  "  If  either  of  us  goes,  it  must  be  me." 

"I  will  see  him  in  the  library,"  said  Lydia  com- 
posedly. "  Tell  him  so  ;  and  let  him  wait  there  for  me 
— if  you  can  speak  to  him  without  running  any  risk." 

"Oh  pray  let  him  call  the  police,"  urged  Alice. 
"  Dont  attempt  to  go  to  that  man." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Lydia  good-humoredly.  "  I  am 
not  in  the  least  afraid.  We  must  not  fail  in  courage 
when  we  have  a  prizefighter  to  deal  with." 

Bashville,  white,  and  with  difficulty  preventing  his 
knees  from  knocking  together,  but  not  faltering  for  a 
second,  went  devotedly  downstairs  and  found  Cashel 
leaning  upon  the  balustrade,  panting,  and  looking 
perplexedly  about  him  as  he  wiped  his  dabbled  brow. 
Bashville  halted  on  the  third  stair ;  and  said, 


Chap  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  159 

"Miss  Carew  will  see  you  in  the  library.  Come  this 
way,  please." 

CashePs  lips  moved  ;  but  no  sound  came  from  them  : 
he  followed  Bashville  in  silence.  When  they  entered 
the  library,  Lydia  was  already  there.  Bashville  withdrew 
without  a  word.  Then  Cashel  sat  down,  and,  to  her 
consternation,  bent  his  head  on  his  hand,  and  yielded 
to  a  hysterical  convulsion.  Before  she  could  resolve 
how  to  act,  he  looked  up  at  her  with  his  face  distorted 
and  discolored,  and  tried  to  speak. 

"  Please  dont  cry,"  said  Lydia.  "  I  am  told  that  you 
wish  to  speak  to  me." 

"I  dont  wish  to  speak  to  you  ever  again,"  said 
Cashel  hoarsely.  "  You  told  your  servant  to  throw  me 
down  the  steps.  Thats  enough  for  me." 

Lydia  caught  from  him  the  tendency  to  sob  which  he 
was  struggling  with  ;  but  she  repressed  it,  and  answered 
firmly,  "If  my  servant  has  been  guilty  of  the  least 
incivility  to  you,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron,  he  has  exceeded 
his  orders." 

"It  doesnt  matter,"  said  Cashel.  "He  may  thank 
his  luck  that  he  has  his  head  on.  But  he  doesnt  matter. 
Hold  on  a  bit — I  cant  talk — I  shall  get — second  wind — 

and  then "  Cashel  raised  his  head  with  a  curiously 

businesslike  expression  ;  threw  himself  supinely  against 
the  back  of  his  chair  ;  and  in  that  position  deliberately 
rested  until  he  could  trust  himself  to  speak.  At  last 
he  pulled  himself  together,  and  said,  "Why  are  you 
going  to  give  me  up  ?  "  ' 

Lydia  ranged  her  wits  in  battle  array,  and  replied, 
c;  Do  you  remember  our  talk  at  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"You  admitted  then  that  if  the  nature  of  your 
occupation  became  known  to  me,  our  acquaintance  should 


160  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap,  ix 

"  That  was  all  very  fine  to  excuse  my  not  telling 
you.  But  I  find,  like  many  another  man  when  put  to 
the  proof,  that  I  didnt  mean  it.  Who  told  you  I  was  a 
fighting  man  ?  " 

"  I  had  rather  not  tell  you  that." 

"  Aha  !  "  said  Cashel,  with  a  triumph  that  was  half 
choked  by  the  remnant  of  his  hysteria.  "  Who  is  trying 
to  make  a  secret  now,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  I  do  so  in  this  instance  because  I  am  afraid  to  expose 
a  friend  to  your  resentment." 

"  And  why  ?  He's  a  man,  of  course :  else  you 
wouldnt  be  afraid.  You  think  that  I'd  go  straight  off 
and  murder  him.  Perhaps  he  told  you  that  it  would 
come  quite  natural  to  a  man  like  me — a  ruffian  like  me 
— to  smash  him  up.  That  comes  of  being  a  coward. 
People  run  my  profession  down,  not  because  there  is  a 
bad  one  or  two  in  it — there's  plenty  of  bad  bishops,  if 
you  come  to  that — but  because  they  re  afraid  of  us. 
You  may  make  yourself  easy  about  your  friend.  I  am 
accustomed  to  get  well  paid  for  the  beatings  I  give  ;  and 
your  own  common  sense  ought  to  tell  you  that  any  one 
who  is  used  to  being  paid  for  a  job  is  just  the  last  person 
in  the  world  to  do  it  for  nothing." 

"I  find  the  contrary  to  be  the  case  with  first-rate 
artists,"  said  Lydia. 

"  Thank  you,"  retorted  Cashel  sarcastically.  "  I 
ought  to  make  you  a  bow  for  that." 

"But,"  said  Lydia  seriously,  "it  seems  to  me  that 
your  art  is  wholly  anti- social  and  retrograde.  And  I 
fear  that  you  have  forced  this  interview  on  me  to  no 
purpose." 

"I  dont  know  whether  it's  anti-social  or  not.  But  I 
think  it  hard  that  I  should  be  put  out  of  decent  society 
when  fellows  that  do  far  worse  than  I  are  let  in.  Who 
did  I  see  here  last  Friday,  the  most  honored  of  your 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  161 

guests  ?  Why,  that  Frenchman  with  the  gold  spectacles. 
What  do  you  think  I  was  told  when  I  asked  what  his 
little  game  was  ?  Baking  dogs  in  ovens  to  see  how  long 
a  dog  could  live  red  hot  !  I'd  like  to  catch  him  doing 
it  to  a  dog  of  mine.  Aye ;  and  sticking  a  rat  full  of  nails 
to  see  whether  pain  makes  a  rat  sweat.  Why,  it's  just 
sickening.  Do  you  think  I'd  have  shaken  hands  with 
that  chap  ?  If  he  hadnt  been  a  friend  of  yours,  I'd 
have  taught  him  how  to  make  a  Frenchman  sweat  with- 
out sticking  any  nails  into  him.  And  he's  to  be  received 
and  made  much  of,  while  I  am  kicked  out  !  Look 
at  your  relation  the  general,  too  !  What  is  he  but  a 
fighting  man,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  Isnt  it  his  pride 
and  boast  that  as  long  as  he  is  paid  so  much  a  day,  he'll 
ask  no  questions  whether  a  war  is  fair  or  unfair,  but  just 
walk  out  and  put  thousands  of  men  in  the  best  way  to 
kill  and  be  killed — keeping  well  behind  them  himself  all 
the  time,  mind  you.  Last  year  he  was  up  to  his  chin 
in  the  blood  of  a  lot  of  poor  blacks  that  were  no  more 
a  match  for  his  armed  men  than  a  feather-weight  would 
be  for  me.  Bad  as  I  am,  I  wouldnt  attack  a  feather- 
weight, or  stand  by  and  see  another  heavy  man  do  it. 
Plenty  of  your  friends  go  pigeon-shooting  to  Hurlingham. 
There's  a  humane  and  manly  way  of  spending  a  Saturday 
afternoon  !  Lord  Worthington,  that  comes  to  see  you 
when  he  likes,  though  he's  too  much  of  a  man  or  too 
little  of  a  shot  to  kill  pigeons,  thinks  nothing  of  fox- 
hunting. Do  you  think  foxes  like  to  be  hunted,  or  that 
the  people  that  hunt  them  have  such  fine  feelings  that 
they  can  afford  to  call  prizefighters  names  ?  Look  at 
the  men  that  get  killed  or  lamed  every  year  at  steeple- 
chasing,  fox-hunting,  cricket,  and  football !  Dozens  of 
them  !  Look  at  the  thousands  killed  in  battle  !  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  any  one  being  killed  in  the  ring  ?  Why, 
from  first  to  last,  during  the  whole  century  that  my  sort 

M 


162  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  IX 

of  fighting  has  been  going  on,  there's  not  been  six  fatal 
accidents  at  really  respectable  fights.  It's  safer  than 
dancing :  many  a  woman  has  danced  her  skirt  into 
the  fire  and  been  burnt.  I  once  fought  a  man  who 
had  spoiled  his  constitution  with  bad  living ;  and  he 
exhausted  himself  so  by  going  on  and  on  long  after  he 
was  beaten  that  he  died  of  it,  and  nearly  finished  me 
too.  If  youd  heard  the  fuss  that  even  the  old  hands 
made  over  it,  youd  have  thought  a  blessed  baby  had  died 
from  falling  out  of  its  cradle.  A  good  milling  does  a 
man  more  good  than  harm.  And  if  all  these  damned 
dog-bakers,  and  soldiers,  and  pigeon-shooters,  fox-hunters, 
and  the  rest  of  them,  are  made  welcome  here,  why  am  I 
shut  out  like  a  brute  beast  ?  " 

"Truly  I  do  not  know,"  said  Lydia,  puzzled  ;  "unless 
it  be  that  your  profession  is  not  usually  recruited  from 
our  ranks." 

"  I  grant  you  that  boxers  arnt  gentlemen,  as  a  rule. 
No  more  were  painters  or  poets,  once  upon  a  time.  But 
what  I  want  to  know  is  this.  Supposing  a  boxer  has  as 
good  manners  as  your  friends,  and  is  as  well  born,  why 
shouldnt  he  mix  with  them  and  be  considered  their 
equal?  ' 

"The  distinction  seems  arbitrary,  I  confess.  But 
perhaps  the  true  remedy  would  be  to  exclude  the  vivir 
sectors  and  soldiers,  instead  of  admitting  the  prize- 
fighters. Mr.  Cashel  Byron,"  added  Lydia,  changing 
her  manner :  "  I  cannot  discuss  this  with  you.  Society 
has  a  prejudice  against  you.  I  share  it ;  and  I  cannot 
overcome  it.  Can  you  find  no  nobler  occupation  than 
these  fierce  and  horrible  encounters  by  which  you  con- 
descend to  gain  a  living  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Cashel  flatly.  "I  cant.  Thats.  just 
where  it  is." 

Lydia  looked  grave,  and  said  nothing. 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  163 

"You  dont  see  it?"  said  Cashel.  "Well,  I'll  just 
tell  you  all  about  myself,  and  then  leave  you  to  judge. 
May  I  sit  down  while  I  talk  ?  "  He  had  risen  in  the 
course  of  his  remarks  on  Lydia's  scientific  and  military 
acquaintances. 

She  pointed  to  a  chair  near  her.  Something  in  the 
action  brought  color  to  his  cheeks. 

"I  believe  I  was  the  most  unfortunate  devil  of  a  boy 
that  ever  walked,"  he  began.  "  My  mother  was — and  is 
— an  actress,  and  a  tiptop  crack  in  her  profession.  One 
of  the  first  things  I  remember  is  sitting  on  the  floor  in 
the  corner  of  a  room  where  there  was  a  big  glass,  and 
she  flaring  away  before  it,  attitudinizing  and  spouting 
Shakespear  like  mad.  I  was  afraid  of  her,  because  she 
was  very  particular  about  my  manners  and  appearance, 
and  would  never  let  me  go  near  a  theatre.  I  know 
nothing  about  my  people  or  hers  ;  for  she  boxed  my 
ears  one  day  for  asking  who  my  father  was,  and  I  took 
good  care  not  to  ask  her  again.  She  was  quite  young 
when  I  was  a  child  :  at  first  I  thought  her  a  sort  ot 
angel.  I  should  have  been  fond  of  her,  I  think,  if  she 
had  let  me.  But  she  didnt,  somehow ;  and  I  had  to 
keep  my  affection  for  the  servants.  I  had  plenty  of 
variety  in  that  way  ;  for  she  gave  her  whole  establishment 
the  sack  about  once  every  two  months,  except  a  maid 
that  used  to  bully  her  and  give  me  nearly  all  the  nursing 
I  ever  got.  I  believe  it  was  my  crying  about  some 
housemaid  or  other  who  went  away  that  first  set  her 
abusing  me  for  having  low  tastes — a  sort  of  thing  that 
used  to  cut  me  to  the  heart,  and  which  she  kept  up  till 
the  very  day  I  left  her  for  good.  We  were  a  precious 
pair :  I  sulky  and  obstinate  ;  she  changeable  and  hot- 
tempered.  She  used  to  begin  breakfast  sometimes  bv 
knocking  me  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  with  a  slap, 
and  finish  it  by  calling  me  her  darling  boy  and  promising 


164  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.ix 

me  all  manner  of  toys  and  things.  I  soon  gave  up 
trying  to  please  her  or  like  her,  and  became  as  disagree- 
able a  young  imp  as  youd  ask  to  see.  My  only  thought 
was  to  get  all  I  could  out  of  her  when  she  was  in  a  good 
humor,  and  to  be  sullen  and  stubborn  when  she  was  in  a 
tantrum.  One  day  a  boy  in  the  street  threw  some  mud 
at  me ;  and  I  ran  in  crying,  and  complained  to  her. 
She  told  me  I  was  a  little  coward.  I  havent  forgiven 
her  for  that  yet — perhaps  because  it  was  one  of  the  few 
true  things  she  ever  said  to  me.  I  was  in  a  state  of 
perpetual  aggravation ;  and  I  often  wonder  I  wasnt 
soured  for  life  at  that  time.  At  last  I  got  to  be  such  a 
little  fiend  that  when  she  hit  me  I  used  to  guard  off 
her  blows,  and  look  so  wicked  that  I  think  she  got 
afraid  of  me.  Then  she  put  me  to  school,  telling  me  I 
had  no  heart,  and  telling  the  master  I  was  an  ungovern- 
able young  brute.  So  I,  like  a  little  fool,  cried  at  leaving 
her  ;  and  she,  like  a  big  one,  cried  back  again  over  me, 
— just  after  telling  the  master  what  a  bad  one  I  was, 
mind  you — and  off  she  went,  leaving  her  darling  boy  and 
blessed  child  howling  at  his  good  luck  in  getting  rid  of 
her. 

"  I  was  a  nice  boy  to  let  loose  in  a  school.  I  could 
speak  as  well  as  an  actor,  as  far  as  pronunciation  goes  ; 
but  I  could  hardly  read  words  of  one  syllable  ;  and 
as  to  writing,  I  couldnt  make  pothooks  and  hangers 
respectably.  To  this  day,  I  can  no  more  spell  than  old 
Ned  Skene  can.  What  was  a  worse  sort  of  ignorance 
was  that  I  had  no  idea  of  fair  play.  I  thought  that 
all  servants  would  be  afraid  of  me ;  and  that  all  grown- 
up people  would  tyrannize  over  me.  I  was  afraid  of 
everybody;  afraid  that  my  cowardice  would  be  found 
out ;  and  as  angry  and  cruel  in  my  ill-tempers  as  cowards 
always  are.  Now  youll  hardly  believe  this  ;  but  what 
saved  me  from  going  to  the  bad  altogether  was  my 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  165 

finding  out  that  I  was  a  good  one  to  fight.  The  bigger 
boys  were  like  grown-up  people  in  respect  of  liking  to 
see  other  people  fight ;  and  they  used  to  set  us  young 
ones  at  it,  whether  we  liked  it  or  not,  regularly  every 
Saturday  afternoon,  with  seconds,  bottleholders,  and 
everything  complete,  except  the  ropes.  At  first,  when 
they  made  me  fight,  I  shut  my  eyes  and  cried  ;  but  for 
all  that  I  managed  to  catch  the  other  fellow  tight  round 
the  waist  and  throw  him.  After  that,  it  became  a  regular 
joke  to  make  me  fight ;  for  I  always  cried.  But  the  end 
of  it  was  that  I  learnt  to  keep  my  eyes  open  and  hit 
straight.  I  had  no  trouble  about  fighting  then.  Some- 
how, I  could  tell  by  instinct  when  the  other  fellow  was 
going  to  hit  me  ;  and  I  always  hit  him  first.  It's  the 
same  with  me  now  in  the  ring  :  I  know  what  a  man 
is  going  to  do  before  he  rightly  knows  himself.  The 
power  this  gave  me,  civilized  me.  In  the  end  it  made 
me  cock  of  the  school ;  and,  as  cock,  I  couldnt  be  mean 
or  childish.  There  would  be  nothing  like  fighting  for 
licking  boys  into  shape  if  every  one  could  be  cock  ;  but 
every  one  cant ;  so  I  suppose  it  does  more  harm  than 
good. 

"  I  should  have  enjoyed  school  well  enough  if  I  had 
worked  at  my  books.  But  I  wouldnt  study  ;  and  the 
masters  were  all  down  on  me  as  an  idler,  though  I 
shouldnt  have  been  like  that  if  they  had  known  how 
to  teach  :  I  have  learnt  since  what  teaching  is.  As  to 
the  holidays,  they  were  the  worst  part  of  the  year  to 
me.  When  I  was  left  at  school  I  was  savage  at  not 
being  let  go  home ;  and  when  I  went  home,  my 
mother  did  nothing  but  find  fault  with  my  schoolboy 
manners.  I  was  getting  too  big  to  be  cuddled  as  her 
darling  boy,  you  understand.  Her  treatment  of  me 
was  just  the  old  game  with  the  affectionate  part  left 
out.  It  wasnt  pleasant,  after  being  cock  of  the  school, 


1 66  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  IX 

to  be  made  feel  like  a  good-for-nothing  little  brat  tied 
to  her  apron  strings.  When  she  saw  that  I  was  learning 
nothing,  she  sent  me  to  another  school  at  a  place  in 
the  north  called  Panley.  I  stayed  there  until  I  was 
seventeen  ;  and  then  she  came  one  day  ;  and  we  had 
a  row,  as  usual.  She  said  she  wouldnt  let  me  leave 
school  until  I  was  nineteen  ;  and  so  I  settled  that 
question  by  running  away  the  same  night.  I  got  to 
Liverpool,  where  I  hid  in  a  ship  bound  for  Australia. 
When  I  was  starved  out,  they  treated  me  better  than 
I  expected  ;  and  I  worked  hard  enough  to  earn  my 
passage  and  my  victuals.  But  when  I  was  left  ashore  in 
Melbourne,  I  was  in  a  pretty  pickle.  I  knew  nobody  ; 
and  I  had  no  money.  Everything  that  a  man  could  live 
by  was  owned  by  some  one  or  other.  I  walked  through 
the  town  looking  for  a  place  where  they  might  want  a 
boy  to  run  errands  or  to  clean  the  windows.  But  I 
hadnt  the  cheek  to  go  into  the  shops  and  ask.  Two  or 
three  times,  when  I  was  on  the  point  of  trying,  I  caught 
sight  of  some  cad  of  a  shopman,  and  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  wouldnt  be  ordered  about  by  him,  and  that  since 
I  had  the  whole  town  to  choose  from  I  might  as  well  go 
on  to  the  next  place.  At  last,  quite  late  in  the  afternoon, 
I  saw  an  advertisement  stuck  up  on  a  gymnasium  ;  and 
while  I  was  reading  it  I  got  talking  to  old  Ned  Skene, 
the  owner,  who  was  smoking  at  the  door.  He  took  a 
fancy  to  me,  and  offered  to  have  me  there  as  a  sort  of 
lad-of-all-work.  I  was  only  too  glad  to  get  the  chance  ; 
and  I  closed  with  him  at  once.  As  time  went  on,  I 
became  so  clever  with  the  gloves  that  Ned  matched  me 
against  a  light-weight  named  Ducket,  and  bet  a  lot  of 
money  that  I  would  win.  Well,  I  couldnt  disappoint 
him  after  his  being  so  kind  to  me — Mrs.  Skene  had  made 
as  much  of  me  as  if  I  was  her  own  son.  What  could  I 
do  but  take  my  bread  as  it  came  to  me  ?  I  was  fit  for 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  167 

nothing  else.  Even  if  I  had  been  able  to  write  a  good 
hand  and  keep  accounts,  I  couldnt  have  brought  myself 
to  think  that  quilldriving  and  counting  other  people's 
money  was  a  fit  employment  for  a  man.  It's  not  what  a 
man  would  like  to  do  that  he  must  do  in  this  world :  it's 
what  he  can  do  ;  and  the  only  mortal  thing  I  could  do 
properly  was  to  fight.  There  was  plenty  of  money  and 
plenty  of  honor  and  glory  to  be  got  among  my  acquain- 
tance by  fighting.  So  I  challenged  Ducket,  and  knocked 
him  all  to  pieces  in  about  ten  minutes.  I  half  killed  him, 
because  I  didnt  know  my  own  strength  and  was  afraid  of 
him.  I  have  been  at  the  same  work  ever  since  ;  for  I 
never  was  offered  any  other  sort  of  job.  I  was  training 
for  a  fight  when  I  was  down  at  Wiltstoken  with  that  old 
fool  Mellish.  It  came  off  the  day  you  saw  me  at  Clap- 
ham  when  J  had  such  a  bad  eye.  Wiltstoken  did  for  me. 
With  all  my  fighting,  I'm  no  better  than  a  baby  at  heart ; 
and  ever  since  I  found  out  that  my  mother  wasnt  an 
angel,  I  have  always  had  a  notion  that  a  real  angel  would 
turn  up  some  day.  You  see,  I  never  cared  much  about 
women.  Bad  as  my  mother  was  as  far  as  being  what  you 
might  call  a  parent  went,  she  had  something  in  her  looks 
and  manners  that  gave  me  a  better  idea  of  what  a  nice 
woman  was  like  than  I  had  of  most  things  ,  and  the  girls 
I  met  in  Australia  and  America  seemed  very  small 
potatoes  to  me  in  comparison  with  her.  Besides,  of 
course  they  were  not  ladies.  I  was  fond  of  Mrs.  Skene 
because  she  was  good  to  me  ;  and  I  made  myself  agree- 
able, for  her  sake,  to  the  girls  that  came  to  see  her  ;  but 
in  reality  I  couldnt  stand  them.  Mrs.  Skene  said  they 
were  all  setting  their  caps  at  me — women  are  death  on  a 
crack  fighter — but  the  more  they  tried  it  on  the  less  I 
liked  them.  It  was  no  go  :  I  could  get  on  with  the  men 
well  enough,  no  matter  how  common  they  were  ;  but  the 
snobbishness  of  my  breed  came  out  with  regard  to  the 


1 68  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  IX 

women.  When  I  saw  you  that  day  at  Wiltstoken  walk 
out  of  the  trees  and  stand  looking  so  quietly  at  me  and 
Mellish,  and  then  go  back  out  of  sight  without  a  word, 
I'm  blest  if  I  didnt  think  you  were  the  angel  come  at 
last.  Then  I  met  you  at  the  railway  station  and  walked 
with  you.  You  put  the  angel  out  of  my  head  quick 
enough ;  for  an  angel,  after  all,  is  only  a  shadowy, 
childish  notion — I  believe  it's  all  gammon  about  there 
being  any  in  heaven — but  you  gave  me  a  better  idea  than 
mamma  of  what  a  woman  should  be,  and  you  came  up  to 
that  idea  and  went  beyond  it.  I  have  been  in  love  with 
you  ever  since  ;  and  if  I  cant  have  you,  I  dont  care  what 
becomes  of  me.  I  know  I  am  a  bad  lot,  and  have  always 
been  one  ;  but  when  I  saw  you  taking  pleasure  in  the 
society  of  fellows  just  as  bad  as  myself,  I  didnt  see  why  I 
should  keep  away  when  I  was  dying  to  come.  I  am  no 
worse  than  the  dog-baker,  anyhow.  And  hang  it,  Miss 
Lydia,  I  dont  want  to  brag  ;  but  there  are  clean  ways 
and  dirty  ways  in  prizefighting  the  same  as  in  anything 
else  ;  and  I  have  tried  my  best  to  keep  in  the  clean  ways. 
I  never  fought  a  cross  or  struck  a  foul  blow  in  my  life  ; 
and  I  have  never  been  beaten,  though  I'm  only  a  middle- 
weight, and  have  stood  up  with  the  best  fourteen  stone 
men  in  the  Colonies,  the  States,  or  in  England." 

Cashel  ceased.  As  he  sat  eyeing  her  wistfully,  Lydia, 
who  had  been  perfectly  still,  said  bemusedly, 

"I  was  more  prejudiced  than  I  knew.  What  will  you 
think  of  me  when  I  tell  you  that  your  profession  does 
not  seem  half  so  shocking  now  that  I  know  you  to  be 
the  son  of  an  artist,  and  not  a  journeyman  butcher  or  a 
laborer,  as  my  cousin  told  me." 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  Cashel.  "  That  lantern-jawed 
fellow  told  you  I  was  a  butcher  ! " 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  betray  him  ;  but,  as  I  have  already 
said,  I  am  bad  at  keeping  secrets.  Mr.  Lucian  Webber 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  169 

is  my  cousin  and  friend,  and  has  done  me  many  services. 
May  I  rest  assured  that  he  has  nothing  to  fear  from 
you  ?  " 

"  He  has  no  right  to  tell  lies  about  me.  He  is  sweet 
on  you  too  :  I  twigged  that  at  Wiltstoken.  I  have  a 
good  mind  to  let  him  know  whether  I  am  a  butcher  or 
not." 

"  He  did  not  say  so.  What  he  told  me  of  you,  as  far 
as  it  went,  is  exactly  confirmed  by  what  you  have  said 
yourself.  I  happened  to  ask  him  to  what  class  men  of 
your  calling  usually  belonged  ;  and  he  said  that  they 
were  laborers,  butchers,  and  so  forth.  Do  you  resent 
that  ?  " 

"  I  see  plainly  enough  that  you  wont  let  me  resent  it. 
I  should  like  to  know  what  else  he  said  of  me.  But  he 
was  right  enough.  There  are  all  sorts  of  blackguards  in 
the  ring :  there's  no  use  denying  it.  Since  it's  been 
made  illegal,  decent  men  wont  go  into  it.  All  the  same, 
it's  not  the  fighting  men,  but  the  betting  men,  that 
bring  discredit  on  it.  I  wish  your  cousin  had  held  his 
confounded  tongue." 

"  I  wish  you  had  forestalled  him  by  telling  me  the 
truth." 

"  I  wish  I  had,  now.  But  whats  the  use  of  wishing  ? 
I  didnt  dare  run  the  chance  of  losing  you.  See  how 
soon  you  forbade  me  the  house  when  you  did  find 
out." 

c  It  made  little  difference,"  said  Lydia  gravely. 

"You  were  always  friendly  to  me,"  said  Cashel 
plaintively. 

"More  so  than  you  were  to  me.  You  should  not 
have  deceived  me.  And  now  I  think  we  had  better 
part.  I  am  glad  to  know  your  history  ;  and  I  admit 
that  you  made  perhaps  the  best  choice  that  society 
offered  you.  I  do  not  blame  you." 


170  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  IX 

"  But  you  give  me  the  sack.     Is  that  it  ?  " 

"What  do  you  propose,  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  ?  Is  it  to 
visit  my  house  in  the  intervals  of  battering  and  maiming 
butchers  and  laborers  ?  " 

"  No,  it's  not,"  retorted  Cashel.  "  Youre  very  aggra- 
vating. I  wont  stay  much  longer  in  the  ring  now  : 
my  luck  is  too  good  to  last.  Anyhow,  I  shall  have  to 
retire  soon,  luck  or  no  luck,  because  no  one  can  match 
me.  Even  now  there's  nobody  except  Bill  Paradise 
that  pretends  to  be  able  for  me  ;  and  I'll  settle  him  in 
September  if  he  really  means  business.  After  that,  I'll 
retire.  I  expect  to  be  worth  ten  thousand  pounds  then. 
Ten  thousand  pounds,  I'm  told,  is  the  same  as  five 
hundred  a  year.  Well,  I  suppose,  judging  from  the 
style  you  keep  here,  that  youre  worth  as  much  more, 
besides  your  place  in  the  country  ;  so  if  you  will  marry 
me  we  shall  have  a  thousand  a  year  between  us.  I  dont 
know  much  of  money  matters  ;  but  at  any  rate  we  can 
live  like  fighting  cocks  on  that  much.  Thats  a  straight 
and  businesslike  proposal,  isnt  it  ?  " 

"  And  if  I  refuse  ?  "  said  Lydia,  with  some  sternness. 

"  Then  you  may  have  the  ten  thousand  pounds  to  do 
what  you  like  with,"  said  Cashel  despairingly.  "  It  wont 
matter  what  becomes  of  me.  I  wont  go  to  the  devil  for 
you  or  any  woman  if  I  can  help  it ;  and  I — but  where's 
the  good  of  saying  if  you  refuse  ?  I  know  I  dont  express 
myself  properly  :  I'm  a  bad  hand  at  sentimentality  ;  but 
if  I  had  as  much  gab  as  any  of  those  long-haired  fellows 
on  Friday,  I  couldnt  be  any  fonder  of  you,  or  think  more 
highly  of  you." 

"But  you  are  mistaken  as  to  the  amount  of  my 
income." 

"That  doesnt  matter  a  bit.  If  you  have  more,  why, 
the  more  the  merrier.  If  you  have  less,  or  if  you  have 
to  give  up  all  your  property  when  youre  married,  I  will 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  171 

soon  make  another  ten  thousand  to  supply  the  loss. 
Only  give  me  one  good  word,  and,  by  George,  I'll  fight 
the  seven  champions  of  Christendom,  one  down  and 
t'other  come  on,  for  five  thousand  a  side  each.  Hang 
the  money  ! " 

"  I  am  richer  than  you  suppose,"  said  Lydia,  unmoved. 
"  I  cannot  tell  you  exactly  how  much  I  possess  ;  but  my 
income  is  about  forty  thousand  pounds." 

"  Forty  thousand  pounds  ! "  ejaculated  Cashel.  "  Holy 
Moses !  I  didnt  think  the  Queen  had  as  much  as 
that." 

For  a  moment  he  felt  nothing  but  mere  astonishment. 
Then,  comprehending  the  situation,  he  became  very  red. 
In  a  voice  broken  by  mortification,  he  said,  "  I  see  I 
have  been  making  a  fool  of  myself,"  and  took  his  hat  and 
turned  to  go. 

"  It  does  not  follow  that  you  should  go  at  once  with- 
out a  word,"  said  Lydia,  betraying  nervousness  for  the 
first  time  during  the  interview. 

"  Oh,  thats  all  rot,"  said  Cashel.  "  I  may  be  a  fool 
while  my  eyes  are  shut ;  but  I'm  sensible  enough  when 
theyre  open.  I  have  no  business  here.  I  wish  to  the 
Lord  I  had  stayed  in  Australia." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better,"  said  Lydia, 
troubled.  "  But  since  we  have  met,  it  is  useless  to 

deplore  it ;  and Let  me  remind  you  of  one  thing. 

You  have  pointed  out  to  me  that  I  have  made  friends  of 
men  whose  pursuits  are  no  better  than  yours.  I  do  not 
wholly  admit  that ;  but  there  is  one  respect  in  which 
they  are  on  the  same  footing  as  you.  They  are  all,  as 
far  as  worldly  gear  is  concerned,  much  poorer  than  I. 
Most  of  them,  I  fear,  are  poorer — much,  much  poorer 
than  you  are." 

Cashel  looked  up  quickly  with  returning  hope  ;  but  it 
lasted  only  a  moment.  He  shook  his  head  dejectedly. 


172  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  IX 

"I  am  at  least  grateful  to  you,"  she  continued, 
cc  because  you  have  sought  me  for  my  own  sake,  knowing 
nothing  of  my  wealth." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  groaned  Cashel.  "Your  wealth 
may  be  a  very  fine  thing  for  the  other  fellows  ;  and  I'm 
glad  you  have  it,  for  your  own  sake.  But  it's  a  settler 
for  me.  So  good-bye." 

"Good-bye,"  said  Lydia,  almost  as  pale  as  he  had 
now  become,  "  since  you  will  have  it  so." 

"Since  the  devil  will  have  it  so,"  said  Cashel  rue- 
fully. "  It's  no  use  wishing  to  have  it  any  other  way. 
The  luck  is  against  me.  I  hope,  Miss  Carew,  that 
youll  excuse  me  for  making  such  an  ass  of  myself.  It's 
all  my  blessed  innocence :  I  never  was  taught  any 
better." 

"  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you  except  on  the  old  score 
of  hiding  the  truth  from  me  ;  and  I  forgive  you  that — as 
far  as  the  evil  of  it  affects  me.  As  for  your  declaration 
of  attachment  to  me  personally,  I  have  received  many 
similar  ones  that  have  flattered  me  less.  But  there  are 
certain  scruples  between  us.  You  will  not  court  a 
woman  a  hundred-fold  richer  than  yourself;  and  I  will 
not  entertain  a  prizefighter.  My  wealth  frightens  every 
man  who  is  not  a  knave  ;  and  your  profession  frightens 
every  woman  who  is  not  a  fury." 

"Then  you Just  tell  me  this,"  said  Cashel 

eagerly.  "Suppose  I  were  a  rich  swell,  and  were  not 
a " 

"  No,"  said  Lydia,  peremptorily  interrupting  him.  "  I 
will  suppose  nothing  but  what  is." 

Cashel  relapsed  into  melancholy.  "If  you  onlyhadnt 
been  kind  to  me  !  "  he  said.  "  I  think  the  reason  I  love 
you  so  much  is  that  youre  the  only  person  that  is  not 
afraid  of  me.  Other  people  are  civil  because  they  darent 
be  otherwise  to  the  cock  of  the  ring.  It's  a  lonely  thing 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  173 

to  be  a  champion.  You  knew  nothing  about  that  ;  and 
you  knew  I  was  afraid  of  you  ;  and  yet  you  were  as  good 
as  gold." 

"It  is  also  a  lonely  thing  to  be  a  very  rich  woman. 
People  are  afraid  of  my  wealth,  and  of  what  they  call 
my  learning.  We  two  have  at  least  one  experience  in 
common.  Now  do  me  a  great  favor  by  going.  We 
have  nothing  further  to  say." 

"I'll  go  in  two  seconds.  But  I  dont  believe  much  in 
you  being  lonely.  Thats  only  fancy." 

"  Perhaps  so.  Most  feelings  of  this  kind  are  only 
fancies." 

There  was  another  pause.     Then  Cashel  said, 

"  I  dont  feel  half  so  downhearted  as  I  did  a  minute 
ago.  Are  you  sure  that  youre  not  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure.     Pray  let  me  say  good-bye." 

"  And  may  I  never  see  you  again  ?  Never  at  all  ? — 
world  without  end,  Amen  ?  " 

"Never  as  the  famous  prizefighter.  But  if  a  day 
should  come  when  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  will  be  something 
better  worthy  of  his  birth  and  nature,  I  will  not  forget 
an  old  friend.  Are  you  satisfied  now  ?  " 

Cashel's  face  began  to  glow,  and  the  roots  of  his  hair 
to  tingle.  "One  thing  more,"  he  said.  "If  you  meet 
me  by  chance  in  the  street  before  that,  will  you  give  me 
a  look  ?  I  dont  ask  for  a  regular  bow,  but  just  a  look  to 
keep  me  going  ?  " 

"I  have  no  intention  of  cutting  you,"  said  Lydia 
gravely.  "  But  do  not  place  yourself  purposely  in  my 
way." 

"Honor  bright,  I  wont.  I'll  content  myself  with 
walking  through  that  street  in  Soho  occasionally.  Now 
I'm  off :  I  know  youre  in  a  hurry  to  be  rid  of  me.  So 

good-b Stop  a  bit,  though.  Perhaps  when  that 

time  you  spoke  of  comes,  you'll  be  married." 


174          Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap,  ix 

"It  is  possible  ;  but  I  am  not  likely  to  marry.  How 
many  more  things  have  you  to  say,  that  you  have  no 
right  to  say  ?  " 

"Not  one,"  said  Cashel,  with  a  laugh  that  rang 
through  the  house.  "  I  never  was  happier  in  my  life, 
though  I'm  crying  inside  all  the  time.  I'll  have  a  try 
for  you  yet.  Good-bye.  No,"  he  added,  turning  from 
her  proffered  hand  :  "  I  darent  touch  it :  I  should  eat 
you  afterwards."  He  made  for  the  door,  but  turned  on 
the  threshold  to  say  in  a  loud  whisper:  "Mind,  I'm 
engaged  to  you.  I  dont  say  youre  engaged  to  me  ;  but 
it's  an  engagement  on  my  side."  And  he  ran  out  of  the 
room. 

In  the  hall  was  Bashville,  pale  and  determined,  wait- 
ing there  to  rush  to  the  assistance  of  his  mistress  at  her 
first  summons.  He  had  a  poker  concealed  at  hand. 
Having  just  heard  a  great  laugh,  and  seeing  Cashel  come 
downstairs  in  high  spirits,  he  stood  stock  still,  not  know- 
ing what  to  think. 

"Well,  old  chap,"  said  Cashel  boisterously,  slapping 
him  on  the  shoulder:  "so  youre  alive  yet.  Is  there 
any  one  in  the  dining-room  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Bashville. 

"There's  a  thick  carpet  there  to  fall  soft  on,"  said 
Cashel,  pulling  Bashville  into  the  room.  "  Come  along. 
Now  shew  me  that  little  trick  of  yours  again.  Come ! 
dont  be  afraid  :  I  wont  hit  you.  Down  with  me.  Take 
care  you  dont  knock  my  head  against  the  fire-irons." 

«  But " 

"  But  be  hanged.  You  were  spry  enough  at  it  before. 
Come  ! " 

Bashville,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  seized  Cashel, 
who  immediately  became  grave  and  attentive,  and 
remained  imperturbably  so  whilst  Bashville  expertly 
threw  him.  He  sat  thinking  for  a  moment  on  the 


Chap.  IX  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  175 

hearthrug  before  he  rose.  "  /  see,"  he  said  then,  getting 
up.  "  Now  do  it  again." 

"But  it  makes  such  a  row,"  remonstrated  Bashville. 

"  Only  once  more.     There'll  be  no  row  this  time." 

"  Well,  every  man  to  his  taste,"  said  Bashville,  com- 
plying. But  instead  of  throwing  his  man,  he  found 
himself  wedged  into  a  collar  formed  by  Cashel's  arms, 
the  least  constriction  of  which  would  have  strangled  him. 
Cashel  again  roared  with  laughter  as  he  released  him. 

"  Thats  the  way,  aint  it  ?  "  he  said.  "  You  cant 
catch  an  old  fox  twice  in  the  same  trap.  Do  you  know 
any  more  falls  ?  " 

"I  do,"  said  Bashville  ;  "but  I  really  cant  shew  them 
to  you  here.  I  shall  get  into  trouble  on  account  of  the 
noise." 

"You  come  down  to  me  whenever  you  have  an 
evening  out,"  said  Cashel,  handing  him  a  card,  "  to  that 
address,  and  shew  me  what  you  know ;  and  I'll  see 
what  I  can  do  with  you.  There's  the  making  of  a  man 
in  you." 

"Youre  very  kind,"  said  Bashville,  pocketing  the 
card  with  a  grin. 

"  And  now  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice  that  will 
be  of  use  to  you  as  long  as  you  live,"  said  Cashel  impress- 
ively. "You  did  a  damned  silly  thing  to-day.  You 
threw  a  man  down — a  righting  man — and  then  stood 
looking  at  him  like  a  fool,  waiting  for  him  to  get  up  and 
kill  you.  If  ever  you  do  that  again,  fall  on  him  as  heavily 
as  you  can  the  instant  he's  off  his  legs.  Double  your 
elbow  well  under  you,  and  see  that  it  gets  into  a  soft 
place.  If  he  grabs  it  and  turns  you,  make  play  with  the 
back  of  your  head.  If  he's  altogether  too  big  for  you, 
put  your  knee  on  his  throat  as  if  by  accident.  But  on  no 
account  stand  and  do  nothing.  It's  flying  in  the  face  of 
Providence." 


176          Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  IX 

Cashel  emphasized  each  of  these  counsels  by  an 
impressive  tap  of  his  forefinger  on  one  of  Bashville's 
buttons.  In  conclusion,  he  nodded  ;  opened  the  house- 
door  5  and  walked  away  in  buoyant  spirits. 

Lydia,  standing  near  the  library  window,  saw  him 
go  down  the  long  front  garden,  and  observed  how  his 
light  alert  step,  and  a  certain  gamesome  assurance  of 
manner,  marked  him  off  from  a  genteelly  promenading 
middle-aged  gentleman,  a  trudging  workman,  and  a 
vigorously  striding  youth  passing  without.  The  railings 
that  separated  him  from  them  reminded  her  of  the  admir- 
able and  dangerous  creatures  passing  and  repassing  behind 
iron  bars  in  the  park  yonder.  But  she  exulted,  in  her 
quiet  manner,  in  the  thought  that,  dangerous  as  he  was, 
she  had  no  fear  of  him.  When  his  cabman  had  found 
him  and  taken  him  off,  she  went  to  a  private  drawer  in 
her  desk,  and  took  out  her  father's  last  letter.  She  sat 
for  some  time  looking  at  it  without  unfolding  it. 

"  It  would  be  a  strange  thing,  father,"  she  said,  as  if 
he  were  actually  there  to  hear  her,  "if  your  paragon 
should  end  as  the  wife  of  an  illiterate  prizefighter.  I  felt 
a  pang  of  despair  when  he  replied  to  my  forty  thousand 
pounds  a  year  with  an  unanswerable  good-bye.  And 
now  he  is  engaged  to  me." 

She  locked  up  her  father,  as  it  were,  in  the  drawer 
again,  and  rang  the  bell.  Bashville  appeared,  somewhat 
perturbed. 

"  If  Mr.  Byron  calls  again,  admit  him  if  I  am  at 
home." 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"Thank  you." 

"Begging  your  pardon,  madam,  but  may  I  ask  has 
any  complaint  been  made  of  me  ?  " 

"  None."  Bashville  was  reluctantly  withdrawing  when 
she  added,  "  Mr.  Byron  gave  me  to  understand  that  you 


Chap.  IX      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  177 

tried  to  prevent  his  entrance  by  force.  You  exposed 
yourself  to  needless  risk  by  doing  so  ;  and  you  may  make 
a  rule  in  future  that  when  people  are  importunate,  and 
will  not  go  away  when  asked,  they  had  better  come 
in  until  you  get  special  instructions  from  me.  I  am 
not  finding  fault :  on  the  contrary,  I  approve  of  your 
determination  to  carry  out  your  orders ;  but  under 
exceptional  circumstances  you  may  use  your  own 
discretion." 

"  He  shoved  the  door  into  my  face  ;  and  I  acted  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  madam.  I  hope  you  will 
forgive  the  liberty  I  took  in  locking  the  door  of  the 
boudoir.  He  is  older  and  heavier  than  I  am,  madam  ; 
and  he  has  the  advantage  of  being  a  professional.  Else 
I  should  have  stood  my  ground." 

"  I  am  quite  satisfied,"  said  Lydia  a  little  coldly,  as 
she  left  the  room. 

"  How  long  you  have  been  !  "  cried  Alice,  almost  in 
hysterics,  as  Lydia  entered.  cc  Is  he  gone  ?  What  were 
those  dreadful  noises  ?  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  " 

u  Dancing  and  late  hours  are  the  matter,"  said  Lydia. 
"  The  season  is  proving  too  much  for  you,  Alice." 

"  It  is  not  the  season  :  it  is  the  man,"  said  Alice,  with 
a  sob. 

"  Indeed  ?  I  have  been  in  conversation  with  the  man 
for  more  than  half  an  hour  ;  and  Bashville  has  been  in 
actual  combat  with  him  ;  yet  we  are  not  in  hysterics. 
You  have  been  sitting  here  at  your  ease,  have  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  in  hysterics,"  said  Alice  indignantly. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Lydia  gravely,  placing 
her  hand  on  the  forehead  of  Alice,  who  subsided  with  a 
sniff. 


CHAPTER   X 

MRS.  BYRON,  under  her  stage  name  of  Adelaide  Gisborne, 
was  now,  for  the  second  time  in  her  career,  talked  of  in 
London,  where  she  had  been  for  many  years  almost 
forgotten.  The  metropolitan  managers  of  her  own 
generation  had  found  that  her  success  in  new  parts  was 
very  uncertain  ;  that  she  was  more  capricious  than  the 
most  petted  favorites  of  the  public  ;  and  that  her  invari- 
able reply  to  a  business  proposal  was  that  she  detested  the 
stage,  and  was  resolved  never  to  set  foot  upon  it  again. 
So  they  had  managed  to  do  without  her  for  so  long  that 
the  younger  London  playgoers  knew  her  by  reputation 
only  as  an  old-fashioned  actress  who  wandered  through 
the  provinces  palming  herself  off  on  the  ignorant  in- 
habitants as  a  great  artist,  and  boring  them  with 
performances  of  the  plays  of  Shakespear.  It  suited  Mrs. 
Byron  well  to  travel  with  the  nucleus  of  a  dramatic  com- 
pany from  town  to  town,  staying  a  week  or  two  in  each, 
and  repeating  half-a-dozen  characters  in  which  she  was 
very  effective,  and  which  she  knew  so  well  that  she  never 
thought  about  them  when  she  had  anything  else  to  think 
about.  Most  of  the  provincial  populations  received  her 
annual  visits  with  enthusiasm.  Among  them  she  found 
herself  more  excitingly  applauded  before  the  curtain,  her 
authority  more  despotic  behind  it,  her  expenses  smaller, 
and  her  gains  greater  than  in  London,  for  which  she 


Chap.x       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  179 

accordingly  cared  as  little  as  London  cared  for  her.  As 
she  grew  older  she  made  more  money  and  spent  less. 
When  she  complained  to  Cashel  of  the  cost  of  his  educa- 
tion, she  was  rich.  Since  he  had  relieved  her  of  that 
cost,  she  had  visited  America,  Egypt,  India,  and  the 
colonies,  and  had  grown  constantly  richer.  From  this 
great  tour  she  had  returned  to  England  on  the  day  when 
Cashel  added  the  laurels  of  the  Flying  Dutchman  to  his 
trophies  ;  and  the  next  Sunday's  paper  had  its  sporting 
column  full  of  the  prowess  of  Cashel  Byron,  and  its 
theatrical  column  full  of  the  genius  of  Adelaide  Gisborne. 
But  she  never  read  sporting  columns,  though  he  kept  an 
eye  on  theatrical  ones. 

The  managers  who  had  formerly  avoided  Mrs.  Byron 
were  by  this  time  dead,  bankrupt,  or  engaged  in  less 
hazardous  pursuits.  One  of  the  actor- managers  who 
succeeded  them  had  lately  restored  Shakespear  to  popu- 
larity as  signally  as  Cashel  had  restored  the  prize  ring. 
Being  anxious  to  produce  the  play  of  King  John,  he 
made  the  newly  returned  actress  a  tempting  offer  for  the 
part  of  Constance,  instigating  some  journalist  friends  of 
his  at  the  same  time  to  lament  the  decay  of  the  grand 
school  of  acting,  and  to  invent  or  republish  anecdotes 
of  Mrs.  Siddons. 

This  time  Mrs.  Byron  said  nothing  about  detesting 
the  stage.  She  had  really  detested  it  once  ;  but  by  the 
time  she  was  rich  enough  to  give  up  the  theatre  she  had 
worn  that  feeling  out,  and  had  formed  a  habit  of  acting 
which  was  as  irksome  to  shake  off  as  any  other  habit. 
She  also  found  a  certain  satisfaction  in  making  money 
with  ease  and  certainty  ;  and  she  had  already  made  so 
much  that  she  was  beginning  to  trifle  with  plans  of 
retirement,  of  playing  in  Paris,  of  taking  a  theatre  in 
London,  and  other  whims.  The  chief  public  glory  of 
her  youth  had  been  a  sudden  triumph  in  London  on  the 


180  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap,  x 

occasion  of  her  first  appearance  on  any  stage  ;  and  she 
now  felt  a  mind  to  repeat  this  and  crown  her  career 
where  it  had  begun.  So  she  accepted  the  manager's 
offer,  and  even  went  the  length  of  privately  reading 
King  John  from  beginning  to  end. 

It  happened  that  one  of  the  most  curious  documents 
of  the  Plantagenet  period  was  a  scrap  of  vellum  containing 
a  fragment  of  a  chronicle  of  Prince  Arthur,  with  an  illu- 
minated portrait  of  his  mother.  It  had  been  picked  up 
for  a  trifling  sum  by  the  late  Mr.  Carew,  and  was  now 
in  the  possession  of  Lydia,  to  whom  the  actor-manager 
applied  for  leave  to  inspect  it.  Leave  being  readily 
given,  he  visited  the  house  in  Regent's  Park,  which  he 
declared  to  be  an  inexhaustible  storehouse  of  treasure. 
He  deeply  regretted,  he  said,  that  he  could  not  shew  the 
portrait  to  Miss  Gisborne.  Lydia  replied  that  if  Miss 
Gisborne  would  come  and  look  at  it,  she  should  be  very 
welcome.  Two  days  later,  at  noon,  Mrs.  Byron  arrived 
and  found  Lydia  alone.  Alice  had  gone  out,  feeling  that 
it  was  better  not  to  meet  an  actress — one  could  never  tell 
what  they  might  have  been. 

The  years  that  had  elapsed  since  Mrs.  Byron's  visit 
to  Dr.  Moncrief  had  left  no  perceptible  trace  on  her  : 
indeed  she  looked  younger  now  than  on  that  occasion, 
because  she  had  been  at  the  trouble  of  putting  on  an 
artificial  complexion.  Her  careless  refinement  of  manner 
was  so  different  from  the  studied  dignity  and  anxious 
courtesy  of  the  actor-manager,  that  Lydia  could  hardly 
think  of  them  as  belonging  to  the  same  profession.  Her 
voice  gave  a  subtle  charm  to  her  most  commonplace 
remarks  ;  and  it  was  as  different  as  possible  from  Cashel's 
rough  tones.  Yet  Lydia  was  convinced  by  the  first  note 
of  it  that  she  was  Cashel's  mother.  Besides,  they  had 
one  another's  chins. 

Mrs.    Byron,    coming    to    the    point   without    delay, 


Chap.  X       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  1 8 1 

at  once  asked  to  see  the  picture.  Lydia  brought  her 
to  the  library,  where  several  portfolios  were  ready  for 
inspection.  The  precious  fragment  of  vellum  was  upper- 
most. 

"  Very  interesting  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Byron,  throwing 
it  aside  after  one  glance  at  it,  and  turning  over  some 
later  prints,  whilst  Lydia,  amused,  looked  on  in  silence. 
"Ah,"  she  said:  "here  is  something  that  will  suit  me 
exactly." 

"  Do  you  mean  for  Constance  in  King  John  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  But  silk  was  not  made  in  Western  Europe  until 
three  hundred  years  after  Constance's  death.  And 
that  drawing  is  a  sketch  of  Marie  de  Medicis  by 
Rubens." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  smoothly.  "  What 
does  a  dress  three  hundred  years  out  of  date  matter 
when  the  woman  inside  it  is  seven  hundred  years  out  ? 
What  can  be  a  greater  anachronism  than  the  death  of 
Prince  Arthur  three  months  hence  on  the  stage  of  the 
Panopticon  Theatre  ?  I  am  an  artist  giving  life  to  a 
character  in  romance,  I  suppose :  certainly  not  a  grown- 
up child  playing  at  being  somebody  out  of  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham's  History  of  England.  I  wear  whatever  becomes 
me.  I  cannot  act  when  I  feel  dowdy." 

"  But  what  will  the  manager  say  ?  " 

"  To  me  ?  Nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  ;  and  her 
calm  implied  that  he  had  better  not.  "Besides,  you  do 
not  suppose  he  is  a  learned  person,  do  you  ?  And  as 
he  will  wear  a  suit  of  armor  obviously  made  the  other 

day  in  Birmingham,  why !  "  Mrs.  Byron  shrugged 

her  shoulders,  and  did  not  take  sufficient  interest  in  the 
manager's  opinion  to  finish  her  sentence. 

"Is  this  part  of  Lady  Constance  a  favorite  one  of 
yours  ? " 


1 82  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap. X 

"Troublesome,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  absently. 
"The  men  look  ridiculous  in  it ;  and  it  does  not  draw." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Lydia,  watching  her  face.  "  But  I 
spoke  rather  of  your  personal  feeling  towards  the  char- 
acter. Do  you,  for  instance,  like  portraying  maternal 
tenderness  on  the  stage  ?  " 

"Maternal  tenderness,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  with  sudden 
nobleness,  "is  far  too  sacred  a  thing  to  be  mimicked. 
Have  you  any  children  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Lydia  demurely.     "  I  am  not  married." 

"  You  should  get  a  baby :  it  will  do  you  good, 
physically  and  morally.  Maternity  is  an  education  in 
itself." 

"  Do  you  think  it  suits  every  woman  ?  " 

"Undoubtedly.  Without  exception.  Only  think, 
dear  Miss  Carew,  of  the  infinite  patience  with  which 
you  must  tend  a  child — of  the  necessity  of  seeing  with 
its  little  eyes  and  with  your  own  wise  ones  at  the  same 
time — of  bearing  without  a  reproach  the  stabs  it  inno- 
cently inflicts  —  of  forgiving  its  hundred  little  selfish- 
nesses —  of  living  in  continual  fear  of  wounding  its 
exquisite  sensitiveness,  or  rousing  its  bitter  resentment, 
of  injustice  and  caprice.  Think  of  how  you  must  watch 
yourself;  check  yourself;  exercise  and  develop  everyT 
thing  in  you  that  can  help  to  attract  and  retain  the  most 
jealous  love  in  the  world  !  Believe  me,  it  is  a  priceless 
trial  to  be  a  mother.  It  is  a  royal  compensation  for 
having  been  born  a  woman." 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Lydia,  "  I  wish  I  had  been  born 
a  man.  Since  you  seem  to  have  thought  deeply  on  these 
matters,  I  should  like  to  ask  you  a  question.  Do  you 
not  think  that  the  acquirement  of  an  art  demanding 
years  of  careful  self-study  and  training — such  as  yours, 
for  example — is  also  of  great  educational  value  ?  Almost 
as  good  a  discipline  as  motherhood,  is  it  not  ? " 


Chap.x       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  183 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Mrs.  Byron  decidedly.  "  People 
come  into  the  world  ready-made.  I  went  on  the  stage 
when  I  was  eighteen,  and  succeeded  at  once.  Had  I 
known  anything  of  the  world,  or  been  four  years  older,  I 
should  have  been  weak,  awkward,  timid,  and  flat :  it 
would  have  taken  me  twelve  years  to  crawl  to  the  front. 
But  I  was  young,  passionate,  beautiful,  and  indeed 
terrible ;  for  I  had  run  away  from  home  two  years 
before,  and  been  cruelly  deceived.  I  learned  the  business 
of  the  stage  as  easily  and  thoughtlessly  as  a  child  learns  a 
prayer  :  the  rest  came  to  me  by  nature.  I  have  seen 
others  spend  years  in  struggling  with  bad  voices,  uncouth 
figures,  and  diffidence ;  besides  a  dozen  defects  that 
existed  only  in  their  imaginations.  Their  struggles  may 
have  educated  them  ;  but  had  they  possessed  sufficient 
genius  they  would  have  needed  neither  struggle  nor 
education.  Perhaps  that  is  why  geniuses  are  such  erratic 
people,  and  mediocrities  so  respectable.  I  grant  you 
that  I  was  very  limited  when  I  first  came  out :  I  was 
absolutely  incapable  of  comedy.  But  I  never  took  any 
trouble  about  it ;  and  by-and-by,  when  I  began  to  mature 
a  little,  and  see  the  absurdity  of  most  of  the  things  I  had 
been  making  a  fuss  about,  comedy  came  to  me  unsought, 
as  romantic  tragedy  had  come  before.  I  suppose  it  would 
have  come  just  the  same  if  I  had  been  laboring  to 
acquire  it,  except  that  I  should  have  attributed  its 
arrival  to  my  own  exertions.  Most  of  the  laborious 
people  think  they  have  made  themselves  what  they 
are — much  as  if  a  child  should  think  it  had  made  itself 
grow." 

"You  are  the  first  artist  I  ever  met,"  said  Lydia, 
"who  did  not  claim  art  as  the  most  laborious  of  all 
avocations.  They  all  deny  the  existence  of  genius,  and 
attribute  everything  to  work." 

"Of  course  one  picks   up  a  great  deal  from  experi- 


184  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap,  x 

ence;  and  there  is  plenty  of  work  on  the  stage.  But 
it  is  my  genius  which  enables  me  to  pick  up  things, 
and  to  work  on  the  stage  instead  of  in  a  kitchen  or 
laundry." 

"  You  must  be  very  fond  of  your  profession." 

"I  do  not  mind  it  now  :  I  have  shrunk  to  fit  it.  I 
began  because  I  couldnt  help  myself;  and  I  go  on 
because,  being  an  old  woman,  I  have  nothing  else  to 
do.  Bless  me,  how  I  hated  it  after  the  first  month  ! 
I  must  retire  soon  now.  People  are  growing  weary  of 
me." 

"  I  doubt  that.  I  am  bound  to  assume  that  you  are 
an  old  woman,  since  you  say  so ;  but  you  must  be  aware, 
flattery  apart,  that  you  hardly  seem  to  have  reached  your 
prime  yet." 

"  I  might  be  your  mother,  my  dear.  I  might  be  a 
grandmother.  Perhaps  I  am."  There  was  a  plaintive 
tone  in  the  last  sentence  ;  and  Lydia  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity. 

"  You  spoke  of  maternity  then  from  experience,  Miss 
Gisborne  ?  " 

"  I  have  one  son — a  son  who  was  sent  to  me  in  my 
eighteenth  year." 

"  I  hope  he  inherits  his  mother's  genius  and  personal 
grace." 

"  I  am  sure  I  dont  know,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  pensively. 
"  He  was  a  perfect  devil.  I  fear  I  shock  you,  Miss 
Carew  ;  but  really  I  did  everything  for  him  that  the 
most  devoted  mother  could  ;  and  yet  he  ran  away 
from  me  without  making  a  sign  of  farewell.  Little 
wretch  !  " 

"  Boys  do  cruel  things  sometimes  in  a  spirit  of 
adventure,"  said  Lydia,  watching  her  visitor's  face 
narrowly. 

"  It  was  not  that.     It  was  his  temper,  which  was  un- 


Chap,  x       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  185 

governable.  He  was  sulky  and  vindictive.  It  is  quite 
impossible  to  love  a  sulky  child.  I  kept  him  constantly 
near  me  when  he  was  a  tiny  creature  ;  and  when  he 
grew  too  big  for  that  I  spent  oceans  of  money  on  his 
education.  All  in  vain  !  He  never  shewed  any  feeling 
towards  me  except  a  sense  of  injury  that  no  kindness 
could  remove.  And  he  had  nothing  to  complain  of. 
Never  was  there  a  worse  son." 

Lydia  remained  silent  and  grave.  Mrs.  Byron  looked 
beside  rather  than  at  her.  Suddenly  she  added, 

"  My  poor  darling  Cashel "  (Lydia  repressed  a  start), 
"  what  a  shame  to  talk  of  you  so  !  You'  see  I  love  him 
in  spite  of  his  wickedness."  Mrs.  Byron  took  out  her 
pocket-handkerchief;  and  Lydia  was  for  a  moment 
alarmed  by  the  prospect  of  tears.  But  Miss  Gisborne 
only  blew  her  nose  with  perfect  composure,  and  rose  to 
take  her  leave.  Lydia,  who,  apart  from  her  interest  in 
CashePs  mother,  was  attracted  and  amused  by  the  woman 
herself,  induced  her  to  stay  for  luncheon,  and  presently 
discovered  from  her  conversation  that  she  had  read  much 
romance  of  the  Werther  sort  in  her  youth,  and  had, 
since  then,  employed  her  leisure  in  reading  every  book 
that  came  in  her  way  without  regard  to  its  quality.  Her 
acquirements  were  so  odd,  and  her  character  so  unreason- 
able, that  Lydia,  whose  knowledge  was  unusually  well 
organized,  and  who  was  eminently  reasonable,  concluded 
that  she  was  a  woman  of  genius.  For  Lydia  knew  the 
vanity  of  her  own  attainments,  and  believed  herself  to  be 
merely  a  patient  and  well- taught  plodder.  Mrs.  Byron 
happening  to  be  pleased  with  the  house,  the  luncheon, 
and  the  hostess's  intelligent  listening,  her  natural  charm 
became  so  intensified  by  her  good  humor  that  even 
Lydia  was  quite  fascinated,  and  began  to  wonder  what 
its  force  might  have  been  if  some  influence — that  of  a 
lover,  for  instance — had  ever  made  Mrs.  Byron  ecstatic- 


1 86  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.  X 

ally  happy.  She  surprised  herself  at  last  in  the  act  of 
speculating  whether  she  could  ever  make  Cashel  love 
her  as  his  father  must,  for  a  time  at  least,  have  loved 
Mrs.  Byron. 

When  the  visitor  was  gone,  Lydia  considered  whether 
she  was  justified  in  keeping  these  two  apart.  It  seemed 
plain  that  at  present  Cashel  was  a  disgrace  to  his  mother, 
and  had  better  remain  hidden  from  her.  But  if  he 
should  for  any  reason  abandon  his  ruffianly  pursuits,  as 
she  had  urged  him  to  do,  then  she  could  bring  about  a 
meeting  between  them  ;  and  the  truant's  mother  might 
take  better  care  of  him  in  the  future,  besides  making 
him  pecuniarily  independent  of  prizefighting.  This  led 
Lydia  to  ask  herself  what  new  profession  Cashel  could 
adopt,  and  what  probability  there  was  of  his  getting  on 
with  his  mother  any  better  than  formerly.  No  satis- 
factory answer  was  forthcoming.  So  she  went  back  to 
the  likelihood  of  his  reforming  himself  for  her  sake.  On 
this  theme  her  imagination  carried  her  so  far  from  all 
reasonable  conjecture,  that  she  was  shaking  her  head  at 
her  own  folly  when  Bashville  appeared  and  announced 
Lord  Worthington,  who  came  into  the  room  with  Alice. 
Lydia  had  not  seen  him  since  her  discovery  of  the  true 
position  of  the  tenant  he  had  introduced  to  her  ;  and  he 
was  consequently  a  little  afraid  to  meet  her.  To  cover 
his  embarrassment,  he  began  to  talk  quickly  on  a  number 
of  commonplace  topics.  But  when  some  time  had 
passed,  he  began  to  show  signs  of  fresh  uneasiness.  He 
looked  at  his  watch,  and  said, 

"  I  dont  wish  to  hurry  you,  ladies  ;  but  this  affair 
commences  at  three." 

"  What  affair  ? "  said  Lydia,  who  was  privately 
wondering  why  he  had  come. 

"The  assault-at-arms.  King  Whatshisname's  affair. 
Webber  told  me  he  had  arranged  for  us  to  go  together." 


Chap.  X       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  187 

"  Oh,  you  have  come  to  take  us  there.  I  had  for- 
gotten. Did  I  promise  to  go  ?  " 

"Webber  said  so.  He  was  to  have  taken  you  him- 
self; but  he's  busy,  and  has  done  a  good  thing  for  me 
and  put  me  in  his  place.  He  said  you  particularly  wanted 
to  go,  hang  him  !  " 

Lydia  rose  promptly  and  sent  for  her  carriage. 
"  There  is  no  hurry,"  she  said.  "  We  can  easily  drive 
to  St.  James's  Hall  in  twenty  minutes." 

"  But  we  have  to  go  to  Islington,  to  the  Agricultural 
Hall.  There  will  be  cavalry  charges,  and  all  sorts  of  fun." 

"  Bless  me  ! "  said  Lydia.  "  Will  there  be  any 
boxing  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lord  Worthington,  reddening,  but  un- 
abashed. "  Lots  of  it.  It  will  be  by  gentlemen,  though, 
except  perhaps  one  bout  to  show  the  old  king  our 
professional  form." 

"Then  excuse  me  whilst  I  go  for  my  hat,"  said 
Lydia,  leaving  the  room.  Alice  had  gone  some  time 
before  to  make  a  complete  change  in  her  dress,  as  the 
occasion  was  one  for  display  of  that  kind. 

"  You  look  awfully  fetching,  Miss  GofF,"  Lord  Wor- 
thington said  as  he  followed  them  into  the  carriage. 
Alice  did  not  deign  to  reply,  but  tossed  her  head 
superbly,  and  secretly  considered  whether  people  would, 
on  comparison,  think  her  overdressed  or  Lydia  under- 
dressed.  Lord  Worthington  thought  they  both  looked 
their  best,  and  reflected  for  several  seconds  on  the 
different  styles  of  different  women,  and  how  what 
would  suit  one  would  not  do  at  all  for  another.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  Miss  Carew's  presence  made  him 
philosophical. 

The  Agricultural  Hall  struck  Alice  at  first  sight  as 
an  immense  tan-strewn  barn  round  which  heaps  of  old 
packing  cases  had  been  built  into  racecourse  stands, 


1 88  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap. X 

scantily  decorated  with  red  cloth  and  a  few  flags.  Lord 
Worthington  had  secured  front  seats  in  one  of  these 
balconies.  Just  below  were  the  palisades,  ornamented 
at  intervals  with  evergreens  in  tubs,  and  pressed  against 
from  without  by  the  shilling  crowd.  Alice  remarked  that 
it  was  little  to  the  credit  of  the  management  that  these 
people  should  be  placed  so  close  beneath  her  that  she 
could  hear  their  conversation  ;  but  as  Lydia  did  not  seem 
to  share  her  disgust,  she  turned  her  attention  to  the 
fashionable  part  of  the  audience.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  the  arena  the  balconies  seemed  like  beds  of  flowers 
in  bloom  :  blacknesses  formed  here  and  there  by  the 
hats  and  coats  of  gentlemen  representing  the  inter- 
spaces of  clay.  In  the  midst  of  the  flowers  was  a 
gaudy  dais,  on  which  a  powerfully  built  black  gentle- 
man sat  in  a  raised  chair,  his  majestic  impassivity  con- 
trasting with  the  overt  astonishment  with  which  a  row 
of  attendant  chiefs  grinned  and  gaped  on  either  side 
of  him. 

"  What  a  pity  we  are  not  nearer  the  king  !  "  said 
Alice.  "  I  can  hardly  see  the  dear  old  fellow." 

"You  will  find  these  the  best  seats  for  seeing  the 
assault.  It  will  be  all  right,"  said  Lord  Worthington. 

Lydia's  attention  was  caught  by  something  guilty  in 
his  manner.  Following  a  furtive  glance  of  his,  she  saw 
in  the  arena,  not  far  from  her,  an  enclosure  about  twenty 
feet  square,  made  with  ropes  and  stakes.  It  was  un- 
occupied ;  and  near  it  were  a  few  chairs,  a  basin,  and 
a  sponge. 

"What  is  that?  "she  asked. 

"  That  !     Oh,  thats  the  ring." 

"It  is  not  a  ring.     It  is  a  square." 

"  They  call  it  the  ring.  They  have  succeeded  in 
squaring  the  circle." 

A  piercing  bugle  call  rang  out ;  and  a  troop  of  cavalry 


Chap,  x       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  189 

trotted  into  the  arena.  Lydia  found  it  pleasant  enough 
to  sit  lazily  admiring  the  horses  and  men,  and  comparing 
the  members  of  the  Olympian  Club,  who  appeared  when 
the  soldiers  retired,  to  the  marble  gods  of  Athens,  and 
to  the  Bacchus  or  David  of  Michael  Angelo.  They 
fell  short  of  the  Greek  statues  in  tranquil  refinement,  and 
of  the  Italian  in  heroic  energy  as  they  vaulted  over 
a  wooden  horse,  and  swung  upon  horizontal  bars,  each 
cheapening  the  exploits  of  his  forerunner  by  outdoing 
them.  Lord  Worthington,  who  soon  grew  tired  of 
this,  whispered  that  when  all  that  rubbish  was  over,  a 
fellow  would  cut  a  sheep  in  two  with  a  sword,  after 
which  there  would  be  some  boxing. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  Lydia  indignantly,  "  that 
they  are  going  to  turn  a  sheep  loose  and  hunt  it  on  horse- 
back with  swords  ?  " 

Lord  Worthington  laughed  and  said  yes  ;  but  it 
presently  appeared  that  by  a  sheep  was  meant  a  lean 
carcass  of  mutton.  A  stalwart  sergeant  cut  it  in  half 
as  a  climax  to  slicing  lemons,  bars  of  lead,  and  silk 
handkerchiefs ;  and  the  audience,  accustomed  to  see 
much  more  disgusting  sights  in  butchers'  shops,  liberally 
applauded  him. 

Two  gentlemen  of  the  Olympian  Club  now  entered 
the  inclosure  which  Lord  Worthington  called  the  ring. 
After  shaking  hands  with  one  another  as  well  as  their 
huge  padded  gloves  permitted,  they  hugged  themselves 
with  their  right  arms  as  if  there  were  some  danger  of 
their  stomachs  falling  out  if  not  held  tightly  in  ;  and 
danced  round  one  another,  throwing  out  and  retracting 
their  left  fists  like  pawing  horses.  They  were  both,  as 
Lydia  learned  from  the  announcement  of  their  names  and 
achievements  by  the  master  of  the  ceremonies,  amateur 
champions.  She  thought  their  pawing  and  dancing 
ridiculous  ;  and  when  they  occasionally  rushed  together 


1 90  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.x 

and  scuffled,  she  could  distinguish  nothing  of  the  leading 
off,  stopping,  ducking,  countering,  guarding,  and  getting 
away  to  which  Lord  Worthington  enthusiastically  invited 
her  attention,  and  which  elicited  alternate  jeers  and 
applause  from  the  shilling  audience  below.  When,  at 
the  expiration  of  three  minutes,  the  two  dropped  supine 
into  chairs  at  opposite  corners  of  the  ring  as  if  they  had 
sustained  excessive  fatigue,  she  would  have  laughed  out- 
right if  they  had  not  reminded  her  of  Cashel  trying  to 
recover  himself  in  her  library.  At  the  end  of  a  minute, 
some  one  hoarsely  cried  "  Time  ! "  and  they  rose  and 
repeated  their  previous  performance  for  three  minutes 
more.  Another  minute  of  rest  followed  ;  and  then  the 
dancing  and  pawing  proceeded  for  four  minutes,  after 
which  the  champions  again  shook  hands  and  left  the 
arena. 

"  And  is  that  all  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

"Thats  all,"  said  Lord  Worthington.  "It's  the 
most  innocent  thing  in  the  world,  and  the  prettiest." 

"  It  does  not  strike  me  as  being  pretty,"  said  Lydia  ; 
"  but  it  seems  as  innocent  as  inanity  can  make  it."  Her 
mind  misgave  her  that  she  had  ignorantly  and  unjustly 
reproached  Cashel  Byron  with  ferocity  merely  because  he 
practised  this  harmless  exercise. 

The  show  progressed  through  several  phases  of  skilled 
violence.  Besides  single  combats  between  men  armed  in 
various  fashions,  there  were  tilts,  tent-peggings,  drilling 
and  singlestick  practice  by  squads  of  British  tars,  who 
were  loudly  cheered,  and  more  boxing  and  vaulting  by 
members  of  the  club.  Lydia' s  attention  soon  began  to 
wander  from  the  arena.  Looking  down  at  the  crowd 
outside  the  palisades,  she  saw  a  small  man  whom  she 
vaguely  remembered,  though  his  face  was  turned  from 
her.  In  conversation  with  him  was  a  powerful  man 
dressed  in  a  yellow  tweed  suit  and  green  scarf.  He  had 


Chap,  x       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  1 9 1 

a  coarse  strong  voice,  and  his  companion  a  shrill  mean 
one,  so  that  their  remarks  could  be  heard  by  an  attentive 
listener  above  the  confused  noise  of  the  crowd. 

"  Do  you  admire  that  man  ?  "  said  Lord  Worthington 
following  Lydia's  gaze. 

"  No.     Is  he  anybody  in  particular  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  great  man  once — in  the  days  of  the  giants. 
He  was  champion  of  England.  He  has  a  special  interest 
for  us  as  the  teacher  of  a  mutual  friend  of  ours." 

"  Please  name  him,"  said  Lydia,  intending  that  the 
mutual  friend  should  be  named. 

"  Ned  Skene,"  said  Lord  Worthington,  taking  her  to 
mean  the  man  below.  "  He  has  done  so  well  in  the 
colonies  that  he  has  indulged  himself  and  his  family  with 
a  trip  to  England.  His  arrival  made  quite  a  sensation  in 
this  country  :  last  week  he  had  a  crowded  benefit,  at 
which  he  sparred  with  our  mutual  friend  and  knocked 
him  about  like  a  baby.  Our  mutual  friend  behaved  very 
well  on  the  occasion  in  letting  himself  be  knocked  about. 
You  see  he  could  have  killed  old  Skene  if  he  had  tried  in 
earnest." 

"  Is  that  Skene  ?  "  said  Lydia,  looking  at  him  with 
an  earnest  interest  that  astonished  and  delighted  Lord 
Worthington.  "  Ah  !  Now  I  recognize  the  man  with 
him.  He  is  one  of  my  tenants  at  the  Warren  Lodge — I 
believe  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  the  introduction." 

"  Mellish  the  trainer  ? "  said  Lord  Worthington,  looking 
a  little  foolish.  "  So  it  is.  What  a  lovely  bay  that  lancer 
has  ! — the  second  from  the  far  end." 

But  Lydia  would  not  look  at  the  lancer's  horse. 
"Paradise!"  she  heard  Skene  exclaim  just  then  with 
scornful  incredulity.  "Aint  it  likely?"  It  occurred 
to  her  that  if  he  was  alluding  to  his  own  chance  of 
arriving  there,  it  was  not  likely. 

"Less  likely  things    have    happened,"    said    Mellish. 


192  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  X 

"  I  wont  say  that  Cashel  Byron  is  getting  stale  ;  but  I 
will  say  that  his  luck  is  too  good  to  last  ;  and  I  know  for 
a  fact  that  he's  gone  quite  melancholy  of  late." 

«  Melancholy  be  blowed ! "  said  Skene.  "  What  should 
he  go  melancholy  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  said  Mellish  reticently. 

"  You  know  a  lot,"  retorted  Skene  with  contempt. 
"  I  spose  you  mean  the  young  'oman  he's  always  talking 
to  my  missus  about." 

"  I  mean  a  young  woman  he  aint  likely  to  get.  One 
of  the  biggest  swells  in  England — a  little  un  with  a  face 
like  the  inside  of  a  oyster  shell,  that  he  met  down  at 
Wiltstoken,  where  I  trained  him  to  fight  the  Flying 
Dutchman.  He  went  right  off  his  training  after  he  met 
her — wouldnt  do  anything  I  told  him.  I  made  so  cock 
sure  he'd  be  licked  that  I  hedged  every  penny  I  had  laid 
on  him  except  twenty  pound  I  got  a  flat  to  bet  agen 
him  down  at  the  fight  after  I  changed  my  mind.  Curse 
that  woman  !  I  lost  a  hundred  pound  by  her." 

"  And  serve  you  right  too,  you  old  stoopid.  You  was 
wrong  then  ;  and  youre  wrong  now,  with  your  blessed 
Paradise  !  " 

"  Paradise  has  never  been  beat  yet." 

"No  more  has  my  boy." 

"Well,  we'll  see." 

"  We'll  see  !  I  tell  you  Ive  seed  for  myself.  Ive  seed 
Billy  Paradise  spar  ;  and  it  aint  boxing  :  it's  ruffianing  : 
thats  what  it  is.  Ruffianing  !  Why,  my  old  missus 
has  more  science." 

"Mebbe  she  has,"  said  Mellish.  "But  look  at  the 
men  he's  licked  that  were  chock  full  of  science.  Shep- 
stone,  clever  as  he  is,  only  won  a  fight  from  him  by 
claiming  a  foul,  because  Billy  lost  his  temper  and  spiked 
him.  Thats  the  worst  of  Billy :  he  cant  keep  his 
feelings  in.  But  no  fine-lady  sparrer  can  stand  afore 


Chap.  X       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  193 

that  ugly  rush  of  his.  Do  you  think  he'll  care  for 
Cashel's  showy  long  shots  ?  Not  he :  he'll  just  take 
em  on  that  mahogany  nut  of  his,  and  give  him  back 
one  o  them  smashers  that  he  knocked  out  Dick  Weeks 
with." 

"  I'll  lay  you  any  money  he  dont.  If  he  does,  I'll  go 
back  into  the  ring  myself,  and  bust  his  head  off  for  it." 
And  Skene,  very  angry,  heaped  epithets  on  Paradise 
until  he  became  so  excited  that  Mellish  had  to  soothe 
him  by  partially  retracting  his  forebodings,  and  asking 
how  Cashel  had  been  of  late. 

"  He's  not  been  taking  care  of  himself  as  he  oughter," 
said  Skeae  gloomily.  "He's  shewing  the  London 
fashions  to  the  missus  and  Fanny  :  theyre  here  in  the 
three-and-sixpenny  seats,  among  the  swells.  Theatres 
every  night ;  and  walks  every  day  to  see  the  Queen 
drive  through  the  park,  or  the  like.  My  Fan  likes  to 
have  him  with  her  on  account  of  his  being  such  a 
gentleman  :  she  dont  hardly  think  her  own  father  not 
good  enough  to  walk  down  Piccadilly  with.  Wants  me 
to  put  on  a  black  coat,  and  make  a  parson  of  myself. 
The  missus  just  idolizes  him.  She  thinks  the  boy  far 
too  good  for  the  young  'oman  you  was  speaking  of,  and 
tells  him  that  she's  letting  on  not  to  care  for  him  only  to 
raise  her  price,  just  as  I  used  to  pretend  to  be  getting 
beat,  to  set  the  flats  betting  agin  me.  The  women 
always  made  a  pet  of  him.  In  Melbourne  it  wasnt  what 
/  liked  for  dinner  :  it  was  always  what  the  boy  'ud  like, 
and  when  it  'ud  please  him  to  have  it.  I'm  blest  if  I 
usent  to  have  to  put  him  up  to  ask  for  a  thing  when  I 
wanted  it  myself.  And  you  tell  me  that  thats  the  lad 
thats  going  to  let  Billy  Paradise  lick  him,  I  spose. 
Walker!" 

Lydia,  with  Mrs.  Byron's  charm  fresh  upon  her, 
wondered  what  manner  of  woman  this  Mrs,  Skene 


194          Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap.X 

could  be  who  had  supplanted  her  in  the  affections  of 
her  son,  and  yet  was  no  more  than  a  prizefighter's  old 
missus.  Evidently  she  was  not  one  to  turn  a  young 
man  from  a  career  in  the  ring.  The  theme  of  CashePs 
occupation  and  the  chances  of  his  quitting  it  ran  away 
with  Lydia's  attention.  She  sat  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  arena,  without  seeing  the  soldiers,  swordsmen,  or 
athletes  who  were  busy  there.  Her  mind  wandered 
further  and  further  from  the  place  ;  and  the  chattering 
of  the  people  resolved  itself  into  a  distant  hum  and  was 
forgotten. 

Suddenly  she  became  conscious  of  a  dreadful  looking 
man  coming  towards  her  across  the  arena.  His  face  had 
the  surface  and  colour  of  blue  granite  :  his  protruding 
jaws  and  retreating  forehead  were  like  those  of  an  ouran- 
outang.  She  started  from  her  reverie  with  a  shiver,  and, 
recovering  her  hearing  as  well  as  her  vision  of  external 
things,  heard  a  burst  of  applause  from  a  few  persons 
below  greeting  this  apparition.  The  man  grinned 
ferociously  ;  placed  one  hand  on  a  stake  of  the  ring  ; 
and  vaulted  over  the  ropes.  Lydia  remarked  that, 
excepting  his  hideous  head  and  enormous  hands  and 
feet,  he  was  a  well-made  man,  with  loins  and  shoulders 
that  shone  in  the  light,  and  gave  him  an  air  of  great 
strength  and  activity. 

"  Aint  he  a  picture  ? "  she  heard  Mellish  exclaim 
ecstatically.  "  Theris  condition  for  you  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Skene  disparagingly.  "  But  aint  he  the 
gentleman  !  Just  look  at  him.  It's  like  the  Prince  of 
Wales  walking  down  Pall  Mall." 

Lydia  looked  again,  and  saw  Cashel  Byron,  exactly  as 
she  had  seen  him  for  the  first  time  in  the  elm  vista  at 
Wiltstoken,  approaching  the  ring,  with  the  indifferent 
air  of  a  man  going  through  some  tedious  public  cere- 
mony. 


Chap.  X       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  195 

"  A  god  coming  down  to  compete  with  a  gladiator," 
whispered  Lord  Worthington  eagerly.  "  Isnt  it,  Miss 
Carew  ?  Apollo  and  the  satyr  !  You  must  admit 
that  our  mutual  friend  is  a  'splendid  looking  fellow. 
If  he  could  go  into  society  like  that,  by  Jove,  the 
women " 

"  Hush,"  said  Lydia,  as  if  his  words  were  intolerable. 
Cashel  did  not  vault  over  the  ropes.  He  stepped 
through  them  languidly,  and,  rejecting  the  proffered 
assistance  of  a  couple  of  officious  friends,  drew  on  a 
boxing  glove  fastidiously,  like  an  exquisite  preparing  for 
a  fashionable  promenade.  Having  thus  muffled  his  left 
hand  so  as  to  make  it  useless  for  the  same  service  to 
his  right,  he  dipped  his  fingers  into  the  other  glove, 
gripped  it  between  his  teeth,  and  dragged  it  on  with 
the  action  of  a  tiger  tearing  its  prey.  Lydia  shuddered 
again. 

"  Bob  Mellish,"  said  Skene  :  "  I'll  lay  you  twenty  to 
one  he  stops  that  rush  that  you  think  so  much  of. 
Come  :  twenty  to  one  !  " 

Mellish  shook  his  head.  Then  the  master  of  the 
ceremonies,  pointing  to  the  men  in  succession,  shouted, 
"  Paradise :  a  professor.  Cashel  Byron  :  a  professor. 
Time  !  " 

Cashel  now  looked  at  Paradise,  of  whose  existence  he 
had  not  before  seemed  to  be  aware.  The  two  men 
advanced  towards  the  centre  of  the  ring  ;  shook  hands 
at  arms  length  ;  cast  off  each  other's  grasp  suddenly  ; 
fell  back  a  step  ;  and  began  to  move  warily  round  from 
left  to  right  like  a  pair  of  panthers. 

"  I  think  they  might  learn  manners  from  the  gentle- 
men, and  shake  hands  cordially,"  said  Alice,  trying  to 
appear  unconcerned,  but  oppressed  by  a  vague  dread  of 
Cashel. 

"  Thats  the  traditional  manner,"  said  Lord  Worthing- 


196  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap,  x 

ton.  u  It's  done  that  way  to  prevent  one  from  pulling 
the  other  over,  and  hitting  him  with  the  disengaged 
hand  before  he  could  get  loose." 

"  What  abominable  treachery  !  "  exclaimed  Lydia. 

"  It's  never  done,  you  know,"  said  Lord  Worthington 
apologetically.  "  It  wouldnt  be  any  good,  because  you 
cant  use  your  left  hand  effectively  that  way." 

Lydia  turned  away  from  him,  and  gave  all  her  atten- 
tion to  the  boxers.  Of  the  two,  Paradise  shocked  her 
least.  She  saw  that  he  was  nervous  and  conscious  of  a 
screwed-up  condition  as  to  his  courage  ;  but  his  sly  grin 
implied  a  wild  sort  of  good  humor,  and  seemed  to  promise 
the  spectators  that  he  would  shew  them  some  fun  presently. 
Cashel  watched  his  movements  with  a  relentless  vigilance 
and  a  sidelong  glance  in  which,  to  Lydia's  apprehension, 
there  was  something  infernal. 

Suddenly  the  eyes  of  Paradise  lit  up  :  he  lowered  his 
head ;  made  a  rush ;  baulked  himself  purposely ;  and 
darted  at  Cashel.  There  was  a  sound  like  the  pop  of  a 
champagne  cork,  after  which  Cashel  was  seen  undis- 
turbed in  the  middle  of  the  ring,  and  Paradise,  flung 
against  the  ropes  and  trying  to  grin  at  his  discomfiture, 
shewed  his  white  teeth  through  a  mask  of  blood. 

<c  Beautiful !  "  cried  Skene  with  emotion.  "  Beautiful  ! 
There  aint  but  me  and  my  boy  in  the  world  can  give  the 
upper  cut  like  that  !  I  wish  I  could  see  my  old  missus's 
face  now  !  This  is  nuts  to  her." 

"  Let  us  go  away,"  said  Alice. 

"  That  was  a  very  different  blow  to  any  the  gentlemen 
gave,"  said  Lydia,  without  heeding  her,  to  Lord  Worth- 
ington. cc  The  man  is  bleeding  horribly." 

"  It's  only  his  nose,"  said  Lord  Worthington.  "  He's 
used  to  it." 

"Look  at  that!"  chuckled  Skene.  "My  boy's 
followed  him  up  to  the  ropes  j  and  he  means  to  keep  him 


Chap.  X       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  1 97 

there.  Let  him  rush  now  if  he  can.  See  what  it  is  to 
have  a  good  judgment  !  " 

Mellish  shook  his  head  again  despondingly.  The 
remaining  minutes  of  the  round  were  unhappy  ones  for 
Paradise.  He  struck  viciously  at  his  opponent's  ribs  ; 
but  Cashel  stepped  back  just  out  his  reach,  and  then 
returned  with  extraordinary  swiftness  and  dealt  him 
blows  from  which,  with  the  ropes  behind  him,  he  had  no 
room  to  retreat,  and  which  he  was  too  slow  to  stop  or 
avoid.  His  attempts  to  reach  his  enemy's  face  were 
greatly  to  the  disadvantage  of  his  own  ;  for  Cashel's 
blows  were  never  so  tremendous  as  when  he  turned  his 
head  deftly  out  of  harm's  way,  and  met  his  advancing 
foe  with  a  counter  hit.  There  was  no  chivalry  and  no 
mercy  in  him ;  but  his  grace  could  not  have  been 
surpassed  by  his  mother.  He  revelled  in  the  hardness 
of  his  hitting,  and  gathered  fresh  vigor  as  his  gloves 
resounded  on  Paradise's  face  or  seemed  to  go  almost 
through  his  body.  The  better  sort  among  the  spectators 
were  disgusted  by  the  sight ;  for  as  Paradise  bled 
profusely,  and  as  his  blood  smeared  the  gloves,  and  the 
gloves  smeared  the  heads  and  bodies  of  both  combatants, 
they  were  soon  stained  with  it  from  their  waists  upward. 
The  managers  held  a  whispered  consultation  as  to 
whether  the  sparring  exhibition  had  not  better  be 
stopped  ;  but  they  decided  to  let  it  proceed  on  seeing 
the  African  king,  who  had  watched  the  whole  entertain- 
ment up  to  the  present  without  displaying  the  least 
interest,  now  raise  his  hands  and  clap  them  with 
delight. 

"  Billy  dont  look  half  pleased  with  hisself,"  observed 
Mellish,  as  the  two  boxers  sat  down  for  the  minute's 
respite.  "  He  looks  just  like  he  did  when  he  spiked 
Shepstone." 

u  What  does  spiking  mean  ?  "  said  Lydia. 


198  Cashel  Byron's  Profession       Chap,  x 

"Treading  on  a  man's  foot  with  spiked  boots," 
replied  Lord  Worthington.  "  Dont  be  alarmed :  they 
have  no  spikes  in  their  shoes  to-day.  And  dont  look  at 
me  like  that.  Miss  Carew.  It's  not  my  fault  that  they  do 
such  things. 

Time  was  called  ;  and  the  pugilists,  who  had  by  dint 
of  sponging  been  made  somewhat  cleaner,  rose  with 
mechanical  promptitude  at  the  sound.  They  had  hardly 
advanced  two  steps,  when  Cashel,  though  his  adversary 
seemed  far  out  of  his  reach,  struck  him  on  the  forehead 
with  such  force  as  to  stagger  him,  and  then  jumped  back 
laughing.  Paradise  rushed  forward  ;  but  Cashel  eluded 
him,  and  fled  round  the  ring,  looking  back  derisively 
over  his  shoulder.  Paradise  now  dropped  all  pretence  of 
good  humor.  With  reckless  ferocity  he  dashed  in ; 
endured  a  startling  blow  without  flinching  ;  and  fought 
savagely  at  close  quarters.  For  a  moment  the  falling  of 
their  blows  reminded  Lydia  of  the  rush  of  raindrops 
against  a  pane  in  a  sudden  gust  of  wind.  The  next 
moment  Cashel  was  away  j  and  Paradise,  whose  blood 
was  again  flowing,  was  trying  to  repeat  his  manoeuvre,  to 
be  met  this  time  by  a  blow  that  brought  him  upon  one 
knee.  He  had  scarcely  risen  when  Cashel  sprang  at  him 
and  drove  him  once  more  against  the  ropes  with  four 
dazzlingly  rapid  blows ;  but  this  time,  with  tigerish 
coquetry,  released  him  by  again  running  away  prettily  in 
the  manner  of  a  child  at  play.  Paradise,  with  foam  as 
well  as  blood  at  his  lips,  uttered  a  howl,  and  tore  off  his 
gloves.  There  was  a  shout  of  protest  from  the  audience  j 
and  Cashel,  warned  by  it,  tried  to  get  off  his  gloves  in 
turn.  But  Paradise  was  upon  him  before  he  could 
accomplish  this  ;  and  the  two  men  laid  hold  of  one 
another  amid  a  great  clamor  :  Lord  Worthington  and 
others  rising  and  excitedly  shouting,  "Against  rules  !  No 
wrestling  !  "  followed  by  a  roar  of  indignation  as  Paradise 


Chap.  X       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  199 

was  seen  to  seize  Cashel's  shoulder  in  his  teeth  as  they 
struggled  for  the  throw.  Lydia,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  screamed.  Then  she  saw  Cashel,  his  face  fully  as 
fierce  as  his  foe's,  get  his  arm  about  Paradise's  neck  ;  lift 
him  as  a  coal-heaver  lifts  a  sack  ;  and  fling  him  over  his 
back,  heels  over  head,  to  the  ground,  where  he  instantly 
dropped  on  him  with  his  utmost  weight  and  impetus. 
The  two  were  at  once  separated  by  a  crowd  of  managers, 
umpires,  policemen  and  others  who  had  rushed  towards 
the  ring  when  Paradise  had  taken  off  his  gloves.  A  dis- 
tracting wrangle  followed.  Skene  had  climbed  over  the 
palisade,  and  was  hurling  oaths,  threats,  and  epithets  at 
Paradise,  who,  unable  to  stand  without  assistance,  was 
trying  to  lift  his  leaden  eyelids  and  realize  what  had 
happened  to  him.  A  dozen  others,  encouraging  him  to 
sit  up,  remonstrating  with  him  on  his  conduct,  or  trying 
to  pacify  Skene,  only  added  to  the  confusion.  Cashel,  on 
the  other  side,  raged  at  the  managers,  who  were  remind- 
ing him  that  the  rules  of  glove  exhibitions  did  not  allow 
wrestling  and  throwing. 

"  Rules   be   damned ! "    Lydia   heard   him   shouting. 

"He    bit    me;    and    I'll    throw   him    to "       Then 

everybody  spoke  at  once  ;  and  she  could  only  conjecture 
where  he  would  throw  him  to.  He  seemed  to  have  no 
self-control :  Paradise,  when  he  came  to  himself,  behaved 
better.  Lord  Worthington  descended  into  the  ring,  and 
tried  to  calm  the  hubbub  ;  but  Cashel  shook  his  hand 
fiercely  from  his  arm  ;  menaced  a  manager  who  attempted 
to  call  him  sternly  to  order  ;  frantically  pounded  his 
wounded  shoulder  with  his  clenched  fist ;  and  so  outswore 
and  outwrangled  them  all  that  even  Skene  began  to  urge 
that  there  had  been  enough  fuss  made.  Then  Lord 
Worthington  whispered  a  word  more ;  and  Cashel 
suddenly  subsided,  pale  and  ashamed,  and  sat  down  on  a 
chair  in  his  corner  as  if  to  hide  himself.  Five  minutes 


aoo  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  X 

afterwards,  he  stept  out  from  the  crowd  with  Paradise, 
and  shook  hands  with  him  amid  much  cheering.  Cashel 
was  the  humbler  of  the  two.  He  did  not  raise  his  eyes 
to  the  balcony  once  ;  and  he  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  retire. 
But  he  was  intercepted  by  an  officer  in  uniform,  accom- 
panied by  a  black  chief,  who  came  to  conduct  him  to  the 
dais  and  present  him  to  the  African  King :  an  honor 
he  was  not  permitted  to  decline. 

The  king  informed  him,  through  an  interpreter,  that 
he  had  been  unspeakably  gratified  by  what  he  had  just 
witnessed,  and  expressed  great  surprise  that  Cashel,  not- 
withstanding his  prowess,  was  neither  in  the  army  nor  in 
parliament.  He  also  offered  to  provide  him  with  three 
handsome  wives  if  he  would  come  out  to  Africa  in  his 
suite.  Cashel  was  much  embarrassed  ;  but  he  came  off 
with  credit,  thanks  to  the  interpreter,  who  was  accustomed 
to  invent  appropriate  speeches  for  the  king  on  public 
occasions,  and  was  kind  enough  to  invent  an  equally 
appropriate  one  for  Cashel  on  this. 

Meanwhile,  Lord  Worthington  returned  to  his  place. 
"  It's  all  settled  now,"  he  said  to  Lydia.  "  Byron  shut 
up  when  I  told  him  his  aristocratic  friends  were  looking 
at  him  ;  and  Paradise  has  been  so  bullied  that  he  is  cry- 
ing in  a  corner  downstairs.  He  has  apologized  ;  but  he 
still  maintains  that  he  can  beat  our  mutual  friend  without 
the  gloves  ;  and  his  backers  apparently  think  so  too  ;  for 
it  is  understood  that  they  are  to  fight  in  the  autumn  for 
a  thousand  a  side." 

"  To  fight !  Then  he  has  no  intention  of  giving  up 
his  profession  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  said  Lord  Worthington,  astonished.  "  Why 
on  earth  should  he  give  it  up  ?  Paradise's  money  is  as 
good  as  in  his  pocket.  You  have  seen  what  he  can  do." 

"  I  have  seen  enough.  Alice  :  I  am  ready  to  go  as 
soon  as  you  are." 


Chap.  X       Cashel  Byron's  Profession  201 

Miss  Carew  returned  to  Wiltstoken  next  day.  Miss 
Goff  remained  in  London  to  finish  the  season  in  charge 
of  a  friendly  lady  who,  having  married  off  all  her  own 
daughters,  was  willing  to  set  to  work  again  to  marry  Alice 
sooner  than  remain  idle. 


CHAPTER    XI 

ALICE  was  more  at  her  ease  during  the  remnant  of  the 
season.  Though  she  had  been  proud  of  her  connexion 
with  Lydia,  she  had  always  felt  eclipsed  in  her  presence  ; 
and  now  that  Lydia  was  gone,  the  pride  remained  and 
the  sense  of  inferiority  was  forgotten.  Her  freedom  em- 
boldened and  improved  her.  She  even  began  to  consider 
her  own  judgment  a  safer  guide  in  the  affairs  of  every- 
day than  the  example  of  her  patroness.  Had  she  not 
been  right  in  declaring  Cashel  Byron  an  ignorant  and 
common  man  when  Lydia,  in  spite  of  her  warning,  had 
actually  invited  him  to  visit  them  ?  And  now  all  the 
newspapers  were  confirming  the  opinion  she  had  been 
trying  to  impress  on  Lydia  for  months  past.  On  the 
evening  of  the  assault-at-arms,  the  newsmen  had  shouted 
through  the  streets,  "Disgraceful  scene  between  two 
pugilists  at  Islington  in  the  presence  of  the  African 
king."  Next  day  the  principal  journals  commented  on 
the  recent  attempt  to  revive  the  brutal  pastime  of  prize- 
fighting ;  accused  the  authorities  of  conniving  at  it ;  and 
called  on  them  to  put  it  down  at  once  with  a  strong  hand. 
"  Unless,"  said  a  Nonconformist  organ,  "  this  plague  spot 
be  rooted  out  from  our  midst,  it  will  no  longer  be  possible 
for  our  missionaries  to  pretend  that  England  is  the  fount 
of  the  Gospel  of  Peace."  Alice  collected  these  papers, 
and  forwarded  them  to  Wiltstoken. 


Chap.  XI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  203 

On  this  subject  one  person  at  least  shared  her  bias. 
Whenever  she  met  Lucian  Webber,  they  talked  about 
Cashel,  invariably  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  though 
the  oddity  of  his  behavior  had  gratified  Lydia's  un- 
fortunate taste  for  eccentricity,  she  had  never  regarded 
him  with  serious  interest,  and  would  not  now,  under  any 
circumstances,  renew  her  intercourse  with  him.  Lucian 
found  little  solace  in  these  conversations,  and  generally 
suffered  from  a  vague  sense  of  meanness  after  them.  Yet 
next  time  they  met  he  would  drift  into  discussing  Cashel 
over  again ;  and  he  always  rewarded  Alice  for  the 
admirable  propriety  of  her  views  by  dancing  at  least  three 
times  with  her  when  dancing  was  the  business  of  the 
evening.  The  dancing  was  still  less  congenial  than  the 
conversation.  Lucian  danced  stiffly  and  unskilfully. 
Alice,  whose  muscular  power  and  energy  were  superior  to 
anything  of  the  kind  that  Mr.  Mellish  could  artificially 
produce,  longed  for  swift  motion  and  violent  exercise. 
Waltzing  with  Lucian  was  like  carrying  a  stick  round 
the  room  in  the  awkward  fashion  in  which  Punch  carries 
his  baton.  In  spite  of  her  impression  that  he  was  a  man 
of  unusually  correct  morals  and  high  political  importance, 
greatly  to  be  considered  in  private  life  because  he  was 
Miss  Carew's  cousin,  it  was  hard  to  spend  quarter-hours 
with  him  that  were  asked  for  by  some  of  the  best  dancers 
in  her  set. 

She  began  to  tire  of  the  subject  of  Cashel  and  Lydia. 
She  began  to  tire  of  Lucian's  rigidity.  She  began  to 
tire  exceedingly  of  the  vigilance  she  had  to  maintain 
constantly  over  her  own  manners  and  principles.  Some- 
how, this  vigilance  defeated  itself;  for  she  one  evening 
overheard  a  lady  of  rank  (who  meant  her  to  overhear) 
speak  of  her  as  a  stuck-up  country  girl.  For  a  week 
afterwards  she  did  not  utter  a  word  or  make  a  movement 
in  society  without  first  considering  whether  it  could  by 


204          Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  XI 

any  malicious  observer  be  considered  rustic  or  stuck-up. 
But  the  more  she  strove  to  attain  perfect  propriety  of 
demeanor,  the  more  odious  did  she  seem  to  herself, 
and,  she  inferred,  to  others.  She  longed  for  Lydia's 
secret  of  always  doing  the  right  thing  at  the  right 
moment,  even  when  defying  precedent.  Sometimes  she 
blamed  the  dulness  of  the  people  she  met.  It  was 
impossible  not  to  be  stiff  with  them.  When  she  chatted 
with  an  entertaining  man,  who  made  her  laugh  and 
forget  herself  for  a  while,  she  was  conscious  afterwards 
of  having  been  at  her  best  with  him.  But  she  saw  that 
those  whose  manners  she  most  coveted  were  pleasantly 
at  their  ease  even  in  stupid  society.  She  began  to  fear 
at  last  that  she  was  naturally  disqualified  by  her  com- 
paratively humble  birth  from  acquiring  the  well  bred  air 
she  envied. 

One  day  she  conceived  a  doubt  whether  Lucian  was 
so  safe  an  authority  and  example  in  matters  of  personal 
deportment  as  she  had  hitherto  believed.  He  could  not 
dance  :  his  conversation  was  priggish  :  it  was  impossible 
to  feel  at  ease  when  speaking  to  him.  Was  it  courageous 
to  stand  in  awe  of  his  opinion  ?  Was  it  courageous  to 
stand  in  awe  of  anybody  ?  Alice  closed  her  lips  proudly 
and  began  to  feel  defiant.  Then  a  reminiscence,  which 
had  never  before  failed  to  rouse  indignation  in  her,  made 
her  laugh.  She  recalled  the  scandalous  spectacle  of  the 
stiff,  upright  Lucian  doubled  up  in  Mrs.  Hoskyn's  gilded 
armchair  to  illustrate  the  prizefighter's  theory  of  effort 
defeating  itself.  After  all,  what  was  that  caressing  touch 
of  Cashel's  hand  in  comparison  with  the  tremendous 
rataplan  he  had  beaten  on  the  ribs  of  Paradise  ?  Could 
it  be  true  that  effort  defeated  itself — in  personal  behavior, 
for  instance  ?  A  ray  of  the  truth  that  underlay  Cashel's 
grotesque  experiment  was  flickering  in  her  mind  as  she 
asked  herself  that  question.  She  thought  a  good  deal 


Chap.  XI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  205 

about  it ;  and  one  afternoon,  when  she  looked  in  at  four 
at-homes  in  succession,  she  studied  the  behavior  of  the 
other  guests  from  a  new  point  of  view,  comparing  the 
most  mannered  with  the  best  mannered,  and  her  recent 
self  with  both.  The  result  half  convinced  her  that  she 
had  been  occupied  during  her  first  London  season  in  dis- 
playing, at  great  pains,  a  very  unripe  self-consciousness — 
or,  as  her  conscience  phrased  it,  in  making  an  insufferable 
fool  of  herself. 

Then  came  an  invitation  or  two  from  the  further 
west — South  Kensington  and  Bayswater  ;  and  here  she 
struck  the  deeper  social  stratum  of  the  great  commercial 
middle  class,  with  its  doctors,  lawyers  and  clergy.  She 
found  it  all  a  huge  caricature  of  herself — a  society 
ashamed  of  itself,  afraid  to  be  itself,  suspecting  other 
people  of  being  itself  and  pretending  to  despise  them  for 
it,  and  so  stifling  and  starving  itself  that  individuals 
with  courage  enough  to  play  the  piano  on  Sunday  were 
automatically  extruded  by  the  pressure  and  shot  on  to  a 
Bohemian  debateable  land  where  they  amused  themselves 
by  trifling  with  the  fine  arts.  Alice  recognized  her  own 
class,  but  did  not  on  that  account  spare  it  the  ridicule 
which,  from  her  point  of  view  as  one  of  Miss  Carew's 
superior  set,  was  due  to  its  insipid  funereal  dancing, 
its  flagrantly  studied  manners,  its  ostentation,  its  voice 
and  accent  warped  by  the  strain  of  incessant  pretending, 
its  habitual  insolence  to  servants,  its  idolatrous  deference 
to  rank,  its  Sabbatarianism,  and  a  dozen  other  manifesta- 
tions of  what  Alice,  not  feeling  in  any  way  concerned  to 
find  the  root  of  the  matter,  summed  up  as  its  vulgarity. 

Shortly  afterwards,  she  met  Lucian  at  a  dance.  He 
came  late,  as  usual,  and  gravely  asked  whether  he  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  dancing  with  her.  This  form  of 
address  he  never  varied.  To  his  surprise,  she  made 
some  difficulty  about  granting  the  favor,  and  eventually 


206  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  XI 

offered  him  "  the  second  extra."  He  bowed.  Just  then 
a  young  man  came  up,  and,  remarking  that  he  thought 
this  was  his  turn,  bore  Alice  away.  Lucian  smiled 
indulgently,  thinking  that  though  Alice's  manners  were 
wonderfully  good,  considering  her  antecedents,  yet  she 
occasionally  betrayed  a  lower  tone  than  that  which  he 
sought  to  exemplify  in  his  own  person. 

When  his  own  turn  came,  and  they  had  gone  round 
the  room  twice  to  the  strains  of  the  second  extra,  they 
stopped — Alice  was  always  willing  to  rest  during  a  waltz 
with  Lucian  ;  and  he  asked  her  whether  she  had  heard 
from  Lydia. 

"You  always  ask  me  that,"  she  replied.  "Lydia 
never  writes  except  when  she  has  something  particular 
to  say,  and  then  only  a  few  lines." 

"  Precisely.  But  she  might  have  had  something 
particular  to  say  since  we  last  met." 

"  She  hasnt  had,"  said  Alice,  provoked  by  an  almost 
arch  smile  from  him. 

"  She  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I  have  at  last  succeeded 
in  recovering  possession  of  the  Warren  Lodge  from  its 
undesirable  tenants." 

"I  thought  they  went  long  ago,"  said  Alice  indif- 
ferently. 

"  The  men  have  not  been  there  for  a  month  or  more. 
The  difficulty  was  to  get  them  to  remove  their  property. 
However,  we  are  rid  of  them  now.  The  only  relic  of 
their  occupation  is  a  bible,  with  half  the  leaves  torn  out, 
and  the  rest  scrawled  with  records  of  bets,  receipts  for 
sudorific  and  other  medicines,  and  a  mass  of  unintel- 
ligible memoranda.  One  inscription,  in  faded  ink,  runs 
c  To  Robert  Mellish,  from  his  affectionate  mother,  with 
her  sincere  hope  that  he  may  ever  walk  in  the  ways  of 
this  book.'  I  am  afraid  that  hope  was  not  fulfilled." 

"  How  wicked  of  him  to  tear  a  bible  !  "   said  Alice 


Chap.  XI     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  207 

seriously.  Then  she  laughed,  and  added,  "I  know  I 
shouldnt ;  but  I  cant  help  it." 

"  The  incident  strikes  me  rather  as  being  pathetic," 
said  Lucian,  who  liked  to  shew  that  he  was  not  deficient 
in  sensibility.  <c  One  can  picture  the  innocent  faith  of 
the  poor  woman  in  her  boy's  future.  If  she  could  only 
have  foreseen  !  " 

"  Inscriptions  in  books  are  like  inscriptions  on  tomb- 
stones," said  Alice  disparagingly.  "They  dont  mean 
much." 

cc  I  am  glad  that  these  men  have  no  further  excuse  for 
going  to  Wiltstoken.  It  was  certainly  most  unfortunate 
that  Lydia  should  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  one  of 
them." 

"  So  you  have  said  at  least  fifty  times,"  replied  Alice 
deliberately.  "  I  believe  you  are  jealous  of  that  poor 
boxer." 

Lucian  became  quite  red.  Alice  trembled  at  her  own 
audacity,  but  kept  a  bold  front. 

"  Really — it's  too  absurd,"  he  said,  betraying  his  con- 
fusion by  assuming  a  carelessness  quite  foreign  to  his 
normal  manner.  "  In  what  way  could  I  possibly  be 
jealous,  Miss  Goff?" 

"  That  is  best  known  to  yourself." 

Lucian  now  saw  that  there  was  a  change  in  Alice,  and 
that  he  had  lost  ground  with  her.  His  wounded  vanity, 
like  a  corrosive  acid,  suddenly  obliterated  his  impression 
that  she  was,  in  the  main,  a  well  conducted  and  meritorious 
young  woman.  But  in  its  place  came  another  impression 
that  she  was  a  spoiled  beauty.  And,  as  he  was  by  no 
means  fondest  of  the  women  whose  behavior  accorded 
best  with  his  notions  of  propriety,  the  change  was  not 
in  all  respects  a  change  for  the  worse.  Only  he  could 
not  forgive  her  last  remark,  though  he  tried  not  to  let 
her  see  how  it  stung  him, 


ao8  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  XI 

"I  am  afraid  I  should  cut  a  poor  figure  in  an 
encounter  with  my  rival,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  Call  him  out  and  shoot  him,"  said  Alice  vivaciously. 
"  Very  likely  he  does  not  know  how  to  use  a  pistol." 

He  smiled  again  ;  but  had  Alice  known  how  seriously 
he  entertained  her  suggestion  for  some  moments  before 
dismissing  it  as  impracticable,  she  might  not  have  offered 
it.  Putting  a  bullet  into  Cashel  struck  him  rather  as  a 
luxury  which  he  could  not  afford  than  as  a  crime.  And 
now  Alice,  quite  satisfied  that  this  Mr.  Webber,  on 
whom  she  had  wasted  so  much  undeserved  awe,  might 
be  treated  as  inconsiderately  as  she  used  to  treat  her 
admirers  at  Wiltstoken,  proceeded  to  amuse  herself  by 
torturing  him  a  little. 

"  It  is  odd,"  she  said,  in  her  best  imitation  of  Lydia's 
reflective  manner,  "  that  a  common  man  like  that  should 
be  able  to  make  himself  so  very  attractive  to  Lydia.  It 
was  not  because  he  was  such  a  fine  man  ;  for  she  does 
not  care  in  the  least  about  that.  I  dont  think  she  would 
give  a  second  look  at  the  handsomest  man  in  London, 
she  is  so  purely  intellectual.  And  yet  she  used  to  delight 
in  talking  to  him." 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  mistake.  Lydia  has  a  certain  manner 
which  leads  people  to  believe  that  she  is  deeply  interested 
in  the  person  she  happens  to  be  speaking  to  ;  but  it  is 
only  manner.  It  means  nothing." 

"  I  know  that  manner  of  hers  perfectly  well.  But  this 
was  something  quite  different." 

Lucian  shook  his  head  reproachfully.  "  I  cannot  jest 
on  so  serious  a  matter,"  he  said,  resolving  on  an  attempt 
to  re-establish  his  dignity  with  Alice.  "  I  think,  Miss 
Goff,  that  you  perhaps  hardly  know  how  absurd  your 
supposition  is.  There  are  not  many  men  of  distinction 
in  Europe  with  whom  my  cousin  is  not  personally 
acquainted,  A  very  young  girl,  who  had  seen  little  of 


Chap.  XI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  209 

the  world,  might  possibly  be  deceived  by  the  exterior 
of  such  a  man  as  Byron.  A  woman  accustomed  to 
society  could  make  no  such  mistake.  No  doubt  the 
man's  vulgarity  and  uncouth  address  amused  her  for  a 
moment ;  but " 

"But  why  did  she  ask  him  to  come  to  her  Friday 
afternoons  ?  " 

"  A  mere  civility  which  she  extended  to  him  because 
he  assisted  her  in  some  difficulty  she  got  into  in  the  street." 

"  She  might  as  well  have  asked  a  policeman  to  come 
to  see  her.  I  dont  believe  that  was  it." 

Lucian  at  that  moment  hated  Alice.  "I  am  sorry 
you  think  such  a  thing  possible,"  he  said.  "Shall  we 
resume  our  waltz  ?  " 

Alice  was  not  yet  able  to  bear  an  implication  that  she 
did  not  understand  society  sufficiently  to  appreciate  the 
distance  between  Lydia  and  Cashel. 

"  Of  course  I  know  it  is  impossible,"  she  said,  in  her 
old  manner.  "  I  did  not  mean  it." 

Lucian,  failing  to  gather  from  this  what  she  did  mean, 
took  refuge  in  waltzing,  in  the  course  of  which  she 
advised  him  to  take  a  dozen  lessons  from  an  instructress 
whom  she  recommended  as  specially  skilful  at  getting 
gentlemen  into  what  she  called  the  smart  way  of  dancing. 
This  sally  produced  such  a  chill  that  at  last,  fearing  lest 
her  new  lights  had  led  her  too  far,  she  changed  her  tone 
and  expressed  her  amazement  at  the  extent  and  variety 
of  the  work  he  performed  in  Downing  Street.  He 
accepted  her  compliments  with  perfect  seriousness, 
leaving  her  satisfied  that  they  had  smoothed  him  down. 
But  she  was  mistaken.  She  knew  nothing  of  politics  or 
official  work  ;  and  he  saw  the  worthlessness  of  her  pre- 
tended admiration  of  his  share  in  them,  although  he  felt 
it  right  that  she  should  revere  his  powers  from  the 
depths  of  her  ignorance.  What  stuck  like  a  burr  in  his 

P 


2io  Cashel  Byron's  Profession      Chap.  XI 

mind  was  that  she  thought  him  small  enough  to  be 
jealous  of  the  poor  boxer,  and  found  his  dancing  deficient 
in  smartness. 

After  that  dance  Alice  thought  much  about  Lucian, 
and  also  about  the  way  in  which  society  regulated 
marriages.  Before  Miss  Carew  sent  for  her,  she  had 
often  sighed  because  all  the  nice  men  she  knew  of 
moved  in  circles  to  which  an  obscure  governess  had  no 
chance  of  admission.  She  had  met  them  occasionally 
at  subscription  balls  ;  but  for  sustained  intimacy  and 
proposals  of  marriage  she  had  been  dependent  on  the 
native  youth  of  Wiltstoken,  whom  she  looked  upon  as 
louts  or  prigs,  and  among  whom  Wallace  Parker  had 
shone  pre-eminent  as  a  university  man,  scholar,  and 
gentleman.  Now  that  she  was  a  privileged  beauty  in 
a  set  which  would  hardly  tolerate  Wallace  Parker,  she 
found  that  the  nice  men  were  younger  sons,  poor  and 
extravagant,  far  superior  to  Lucian  Webber  as  partners 
for  a  waltz,  but  not  to  be  thought  of  as  partners  in 
home-keeping.  Alice  had  experienced  the  troubles  of 
poverty,  and  had  met  with  excellence  in  men  only  in 
poems,  which  she  never  seriously  connected  with  the 
possibilities  of  actual  life.  She  was  quite  unconscious 
of  the  privation  caused  by  living  with  meanly-minded 
people  :  she  was  acutely  conscious  of  that  caused  by  want 
of  money.  Not  that  she  was  indifferent  to  rectitude  as 
she  understood  it :  nothing  could  have  induced  her  to 
marry  a  man,  however  rich,  whom  she  thought  wicked. 
She  wanted  money,  good  character  and  social  position  ; 
but  she  naturally  desired  youth  and  good  looks  as  well ; 
and  here  it  was  that  she  found  herself  unsuited.  For  not 
only  were  all  the  handsome,  gallant,  well-bred  men 
getting  deeply  into  debt  by  living  beyond  smaller  incomes 
than  that  with  which  Wallace  Parker  had  tempted  her, 
but  many  of  those  who  had  inherited  both  riches  and 


Chap.  XI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  211 

rank  were  as  inferior  to  him  in  appearance  and  address 
as  they  were  in  scholarship.  No  man  satisfying  all  her 
requirements  had  yet  shewn  the  least  disposition  to  fall 
in  love  with  her. 

One  bright  forenoon  in  July,  Alice,  attended  by  a 
groom,  went  to  the  Park  on  horseback.  The  freshness 
of  morning  was  upon  horses  and  riders :  there  were  not 
yet  any  jaded  people  lolling  supine  in  carriages,  nor 
discontented  spectators  sitting  in  chairs  to  envy  them. 
Alice,  who  was  a  better  horsewoman  than  might  have 
been  expected  from  the  little  practice  she  had  had,  looked 
well  in  the  saddle.  She  had  just  indulged  in  a  brisk 
canter  from  the  Corner  to  the  Serpentine  when  she  saw 
a  large  white  horse  approaching  with  Wallace  Parker  on 
its  back. 

u  Ah  !  "  he  exclaimed,  expertly  wheeling  his  steed  and 
taking  off  his  hat  at  the  same  time  with  an  intentional 
display  of  gallantry  and  horsemanship.  "  How  are  you, 
Alice  ?  " 

"  Goodness  !  "  she  cried,  forgetting  her  manners  in 
her  astonishment.  "  What  brings  you  here  ;  and  where 
on  earth  did  you  get  that  horse  ?  " 

u  I  presume,  Alice,"  said  Parker,  satisfied  with  the 
impression  he  had  made,  "that  I  am  here  for  much  the 
same  reason  as  you  are — to  enjoy  the  morning  in  proper 
style.  As  for  Rozinante,  I  borrowed  him.  Is  that 
chestnut  yours  ?  Excuse  the  rudeness  of  the  question." 

"  No,"  said  Alice,  coloring  a  little.  "  This  seems 
such  an  unlikely  place  to  meet  you." 

"  Oh  no.  I  always  take  a  turn  in  the  season.  But 
certainly  it  would  have  been  a  very  unlikely  place  for  us 
to  meet  a  year  ago." 

So  far,  Alice  felt,  she  was  getting  the  worst  of  the 
conversation.  She  changed  the  subject.  "  Have  you 
been  to  Wiltstoken  since  I  last  saw  you  ?  " 


212  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  XI 

"  Yes.     I  go  there  once  every  week  at  least." 

"  Every  week  !     Janet  never  told  me." 

Parker  implied  by  a  cunning  air  that  he  thought  he 
knew  the  reason  of  that ;  but  he  said  nothing.  Alice, 
piqued,  would  not  condescend  to  make  inquiries.  So 
he  said, 

"  How  is  Miss  Thingumbob  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  any  one  of  that  name." 

"  You  know  very  well  whom  I  mean.  Your  aristo- 
cratic patron,  Miss  Carew." 

Alice  flushed.  "  You  are  very  impertinent,  Wallace," 
she  said,  grasping  her  riding  whip.  "  How  dare  you 
call  Miss  Carew  my  patron  ?  " 

Wallace  suddenly  became  solemn.  "  I  did  not  know 
that  you  objected  to  be  reminded  of  all  you  owe  her," 
he  said.  "Janet  never  speaks  ungratefully  of  her, 
though  she  has  done  nothing  for  Janet." 

"  I  have  not  spoken  ungratefully,"  protested  Alice, 
almost  in  tears.  "I  feel  sure  you  are  never  tired  of 
speaking  ill  of  me  to  them  at  home." 

"That  shews  how  little  you  understand  my  real 
character.  I  always  make  excuses  for  you." 

"  Excuses  for  what  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  What  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  dont  mean  anything,  if  you  dont.  I  thought 
from  your  beginning  to  defend  yourself  that  you  felt 
yourself  to  be  in  the  wrong." 

"  I  did  not  defend  myself.  Dont  dare  to  say  such  a 
thing  again,  Wallace." 

"Always  your  obedient  humble  servant,"  he  replied 
with  complacent  irony. 

She  pretended  not  to  hear  him,  and  whipped  up  her 
horse  to  a  smart  trot.  The  white  steed  being  no  trotter, 
Parker  followed  at  a  lumbering  canter.  Alice,  in  a 
shamefaced  fear  that  he  was  making  her  ridiculous,  soon 


Chap.  XI      Cashel  Byron's  Profession  2 1 3 

checked  her  speed  ;  and  the  white  horse  subsided  to  a 
walk,  marking  its  paces  by  deliberate  bobs  of  its 
unfashionably  long  mane  and  tail. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  said  Parker  at  last. 

Alice  did  not  deign  to  reply. 

"  I  think  it  better  to  let  you  know  at  once,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  The  fact  is,  I  intend  to  marry  Janet." 

"Janet  wont,"  said  Alice  promptly. 

Parker  smiled  conceitedly,  and  said,  "  I  dont  think 
she  will  raise  any  difficulty  if  you  give  her  to  understand 
that  it  is  all  over  between  MS." 

"  That  what  is  all  over  ?  " 

"Well,  if  you  prefer  it,  that  there  never  has  been 
anything  between  us.  Janet  believes  that  we  were  en- 
gaged. So  did  a  good  many  other  people  until  you  went 
into  high  life." 

"  I  cannot  help  what  people  thought." 

"And  they  all  know  that  I,  at  least,  was  ready  to 
perform  my  part  of  the  engagement  honorably." 

"  Wallace,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  change  of  tone  : 
"  I  think  we  had  better  separate.  It  is  not  right  for  me 
to  be  riding  about  the  park  with  you  when  I  have 
nobody  belonging  to  me  here  except  a  manservant." 

"Just  as  you  please,"  he  said  coolly,  halting.  "May 
I  assure  Janet  that  you  wish  her  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly  not.  I  do  not  wish  any  one  to  marry 
you,  much  less  my  own  sister.  I  am  far  inferior  to  Janet ; 
and  she  deserves  a  much  better  husband  than  I  do." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  though  I  dont  quite  see  what 
that  has  to  do  with  it.  As  far  as  I  understand  you,  you 
will  neither  marry  me  yourself — mind,  I  am  quite  willing 
to  fulfil  my  engagement  still — nor  let  any  one  else  have 
me.  Is  that  so  ?  " 

"  You  may  tell  Janet,"  said  Alice  vigorously,  her  face 
glowing,  "that  if  we — you  and  I — were  condemned  to 


214  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  XI 

live  for  ever  on  a  desert  isl No  :  I  will  write  to 

her.  That  will  be  the  best  way.  Good  morning." 

Parker,  hitherto  unperturbed,  shewed  signs  of  alarm. 
"  I  beg,  Alice,"  he  said,  "  that  you  will  say  nothing 
unfair  to  her  of  me.  You  cannot  with  truth  say  anything 
bad  of  me." 

"  Do  you  really  care  for  Janet  ?  "  said  Alice,  wavering. 

"  Of  course,"  he  replied  indignantly.  "Janet  is  a  very 
superior  girl." 

"I  have  always  said  so,"  said  Alice,  rather  angry 
because  some  one  else  had  forestalled  her  in  that 
meritorious  admission.  "  I  will  tell  her  the  simple 
truth — that  there  has  never  been  anything  between  us 
except  what  is  between  all  cousins  ;  and  that  there  never 
could  have  been  anything  more  on  my  part.  I  must  go 
now.  I  dont  know  what  that  man  must  think  already." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  lower  you  in  his  esteem,"  said 
Parker  maliciously.  "  Good-bye,  Alice."  Uttering  the 
last  words  in  a  careless  tone,  he  again  flourished  his  hat 
as  he  pulled  up  the  white  horse's  head  and  sped  away. 
It  was  not  true  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  riding  in 
the  park  every  season.  He  had  learnt  from  Janet  that 
Alice  was  accustomed  to  ride  there  in  the  forenoon  ; 
and  he  had  hired  the  white  horse  in  order  to  meet  her 
on  equal  terms,  feeling  that  a  gentleman  on  horseback 
in  the  road  by  the  Serpentine  could  be  at  no  social  dis- 
advantage with  any  lady,  however  exalted  her  associates. 

As  for  Alice,  his  reminder  that  Miss  Carew  was  her 
patron  rankled  in  her.  The  necessity  for  securing  an 
independent  position  seemed  to  press  imminently  upon  her. 
And  as  the  sole  way  of  achieving  this  was  by  marriage, 
she  almost  made  up  her  mind  to  marry  any  man,  what- 
ever his  person,  age,  or  disposition,  if  only  he  could  give 
her  a  place  equal  to  that  of  Miss  Carew  in  the  little  world 
of  which  she  had  lately  acquired  the  manners  and  customs. 


CHAPTER    XII 

WHEN  the  autumn  set  in,  Alice  was  in  Scotland,  learning 
to  shoot ;  and  Lydia  was  at  Wiltstoken,  preparing  her 
father's  letters  and  memoirs  for  publication.  She  did  not 
write  at  the  castle.  All  the  rooms  there  were  either 
domed,  vaulted,  gilded,  galleried,  three  sided,  six  sided, 
anything  except  four  sided:  all  in  some  way  suggestive  of 
the  Arabian  nights'  entertainments  and  out  of  keeping 
with  the  associations  of  her  father's  life.  In  her  search 
for  a  congruous  room  to  work  in,  the  idea  of  causing  a 
pavilion  to  be  erected  in  the  elm  vista  recurred  to  her.  But 
she  had  no  mind  to  be  disturbed  just  then  by  workmen ; 
so  she  had  the  Warren  Lodge  cleansed  and  limewashed, 
and  the  kitchen  transformed  into  a  comfortable  library, 
whence,  as  she  sat  facing  the  door  at  her  writing  table  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  she  could  see  the  elm  vista 
through  one  window,  and  through  another  a  tract  of 
wood  and  meadow  intersected  by  the  high-road  and  by  a 
canal,  beyond  which  the  prospect  ended  in  a  distant  green 
slope  used  as  a  sheep  run.  The  other  apartments  were 
used  by  a  couple  of  maidservants,  who  kept  the  place 
swept  and  dusted,  and  prepared  Miss  Carew's  lunch, 
besides  answering  her  bell  and  going  on  her  errands  to 
the  castle.  Failing  any  of  these  employments,  they  sat 
outside  in  the  sun,  reading  novels. 

When  Lydia  had  worked  in  this  retreat  daily  for  two 


216  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  XII 

months,  her  mind  became  so  full  of  the  old  life  with 
her  father,  that  the  interruptions  of  the  servants  became 
so  many  shocks  recalling  her  to  the  present.  On  the 
twelfth  of  August,  Phoebe,  one  of  the  maids,  entered  and 
said, 

"  If  you  please,  Miss,  Bashful  is  wishville  to  know  can 
he  speak  to  you  a  moment  ?  " 

Permission  given,  the  footman  entered.  Since  his 
wrestle  with  Cashel  he  had  never  quite  recovered  his 
former  imperturbability.  His  manner  and  speech  were 
as  smooth  and  respectful  as  before  ;  but  his  countenance 
was  no  longer  stedfast :  he  was  on  bad  terms  with  the 
butler  because  he  had  been  reproved  by  him  for  blushing. 
On  this  occasion  he  came  to  beg  leave  to  absent  himself 
during  the  afternoon.  He  seldom  asked  favors  of  this 
kind,  and  was  never  refused. 

"There  are  more  people  than  usual  in  the  road 
to-day,"  she  observed,  as  he  thanked  her.  "  Do  you 
know  why  ?  " 

"  No,  madam,"  said  Bashville,  and  blushed. 

cc  People  begin  to  shoot  on  the  twelfth,"  she  said  ; 
"  but  I  suppose  it  cannot  have  anything  to  do  with  that. 
Is  there  a  race,  or  a  fair,  or  any  such  thing  in  the 
neighborhood  ? " 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of,  madam." 

Lydia  dipped  her  pen  in  the  ink  and  thought  no  more 
of  the  matter.  Bashville  returned  to  the  castle,  and 
attired  himself  like  a  country  gentleman  of  sporting  tastes 
before  going  out  to  enjoy  his  holiday. 

The  forenoon  passed  away  quietly.  There  was  no 
sound  in  the  Warren  Lodge  except  the  scratching  of 
Lydia's  pen,  the  ticking  of  her  favorite  skeleton  clock, 
an  occasional  clatter  of  crockery  from  the  kitchen,  and 
the  voices  of  the  birds  and  maids  without.  As  the  hour 
for  lunch  approached,  Lydia  became  a  little  restless. 


Chap.  XII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  217 

She  interrupted  her  work  to  look  at  the  clock,  and 
brushed  a  speck  of  dust  from  her  blotter  with  the  feather  of 
her  quill.  Then  she  looked  absently  through  the  window 
along  the  elm  vista,  where  she  had  once  seen,  as  she  had 
thought,  a  sylvan  god.  This  time  she  saw  a  less  romantic 
object :  a  policeman.  She  looked  again  incredulously  : 
there  he  was  still,  a  black-bearded  helmeted  man,  making 
a  dark  blot  in  the  green  perspective,  and  surveying  the 
landscape  cautiously.  Lydia  summoned  Phoebe,  and  bade 
her  ask  the  man  what  he  wanted. 

The  girl  soon  returned  out  of  breath,  with  the  news 
that  there  were  a  dozen  more  constables  hiding  among  the 
elms,  and  that  the  one  she  had  spoken  to  had  given  no 
account  of  himself,  but  had  asked  her  how  many  gates 
there  were  to  the  park ;  whether  they  were  always  locked  ; 
and  whether  she  had  seen  many  people  about.  She  felt 
sure  that  a  murder  had  been  committed  somewhere. 
Lydia  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  ordered  luncheon, 
during  which  Phoebe  gazed  eagerly  through  the  window, 
and  left  her  mistress  to  wait  on  herself. 

"  Phoebe,"  said  Lydia,  when  the  dishes  were  removed  : 
"  you  may  go  to  the  gate  lodge,  and  ask  them  there  what 
the  policemen  want.  But  do  not  go  any  further.  Stay. 
Has  Ellen  gone  to  the  castle  with  the  things  ?  " 

Phoebe  reluctantly  admitted  that  Ellen  had. 

"  Well,  you  need  not  wait  for  her  to  return ;  but  come 
back  as  quickly  as  you  can,  in  case  I  should  want 
anybody." 

"  Directly,  miss,"  said  Phoebe,  vanishing. 

Lydia,  left  alone,  resumed  her  work  leisurely,  occa- 
sionally pausing  to  gaze  at  the  distant  woodland,  and 
note  with  transient  curiosity  a  flock  of  sheep  on  the 
slope,  or  a  flight  of  birds  above  the  tree  tops.  Something 
more  startling  occurred  presently.  A  man,  apparently 
half  naked,  and  carrying  a  black  object  under  his  arm, 


2i8  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap. XII 

darted  through  a  remote  glade  with  the  swiftness  of  a 
stag,  and  disappeared.  Lydia  concluded  that  he  had 
been  disturbed  whilst  bathing  in  the  canal,  and  had  taken 
to  flight  with  his  wardrobe  under  his  arm.  She  laughed 
at  the  idea  ;  turned  to  her  manuscript  again  ;  and  wrote 
on.  Suddenly  there  was  a  rustle  and  a  swift  footstep 
without.  Then  the  latch  was  violently  jerked  up  ;  and 
Cashel  Byron  rushed  in  as  far  as  the  threshold,  where  he 
halted,  stupefied  at  the  presence  of  Lydia  and  the  change 
in  the  appearance  of  the  room. 

He  was  himself  remarkably  changed.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  pea-jacket,  which  evidently  did  not  belong  to  him  ; 
for  it  hardly  reached  his  middle,  and  the  sleeves  were  so 
short  that  his  forearms  were  half  bare,  shewing  that  he 
wore  nothing  beneath  this  borrowed  garment.  He  had 
on  white  knee-breeches,  soiled  with  clay  and  green  stains 
of  bruised  grass.  The  breeches  were  made  with  a  broad 
flap  in  front,  under  which,  and  passing  round  his  waist, 
was  a  scarf  of  crimson  silk.  From  his  knees  to  his 
socks,  the  edges  of  which  had  fallen  over  his  laced  boots, 
his  legs  were  visible,  naked  and  muscular.  On  his  face 
was  a  mask  of  sweat,  dust,  and  blood,  partly  sponged 
away  in  black-bordered  streaks.  Underneath  his  left  eye 
was  a  mound  of  blueish  flesh  nearly  as  large  as  a  walnut. 
The  jaw  below  it,  and  the  opposite  cheek,  were  severely 
bruised  ;  and  his  lip  was  cut  through  at  one  corner.  He 
had  no  hat ;  his  close-cropped  hair  was  disordered  ;  and 
his  ears  were  as  though  they  had  been  rubbed  with  coarse 
sand-paper. 

Lydia  looked  at  him  for  some  seconds,  and  he  at  her, 
speechless.  Then  she  tried  to  speak  ;  failed  ;  and  sank 
into  the  chair. 

"  I  didnt  know  there  was  any  one  here,"  he  said,  in  a 
hoarse,  panting  whisper.  "The  police  are  after  me.  I 
have  fought  for  an  hour,  and  run  over  a  mile  ;  and 


Chap.  XII     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  219 

I'm  dead  beat :  I  can  go  no  further.  Let  me  hide  in 
the  back  room  ;  and  tell  them  you  havent  seen  any  one, 
will  you  ? " 

"  What  have  you  done  ? "  she  said,  conquering  her 
weakness  with  an  effort,  and  standing  up. 

"Nothing,"  he  replied,  groaning  occasionally  as  he 
recovered  breath.  "  Business  :  thats  all." 

"  Why  are  the  police  pursuing  you  ?  Why  are  you  in 
such  a  dreadful  condition  ?  " 

Cashel  seemed  alarmed  at  this.  There  was  a  mirror 
in  the  lid  of  a  paper-case  on  the  table.  He  took  it  up, 
and  looked  at  himself  anxiously,  but  was  at  once  relieved 
by  what  he  saw.  "I'm  all  right,"  he  said.  "I'm  not 
marked.  That  mouse" — he  pointed  gaily  to  the  lump 
under  his  eye — "  will  run  away  to-morrow.  I  am  pretty 
tidy,  considering.  But  it's  bellows  to  mend  with  me  at 
present.  Whoosh  !  My  heart's  as  big  as  a  bullock's, 
after  that  run." 

"  You  ask  me  to  shelter  you,"  said  Lydia  sternly. 
"  What  have  you  done  ?  Have  you  committed  murder  ?  " 

"  No  ! "  exclaimed  Cashel,  trying  to  open  his  eyes 
widely  in  his  astonishment,  but  only  succeeding  with 
one,  as  the  other  was  gradually  closing.  "I  tell  you 
Ive  been  fighting  ;  and  it's  illegal.  You  dont  want  to 
see  me  in  prison,  do  you  ?  Confound  him  ! "  he  added, 
reverting  to  her  question  with  sudden  wrath  :  "  a  steam- 
hammer  wouldnt  kill  him.  You  might  as  well  hit  a  sack 
of  nails.  And  all  my  money,  my  time,  my  training,  and 
my  day's  trouble  gone  for  nothing  !  It's  enough  to  make 
a  man  cry." 

"  Go,"  said  Lydia,  with  uncontrollable  disgust.  "  And 
do  not  let  me  see  which  way  you  go.  How  dare  you 
come  to  me  ?  " 

The  sponge  marks  on  Cashel's  face  grew  whiter;  and 
he  began  to  pant  heavily  again.  "  Very  well,"  he  said. 


220  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.  XII 

"  I'll  go.  There  isnt  a  boy  in  your  stables  would  give 
me  up  like  that." 

As  he  spoke,  he  opened  the  door  ;  but  he  involuntarily 
shut  it  again  immediately.  Lydia  looked  through  the 
window,  and  saw  a  crowd  of  men,  police  and  others, 
hurrying  along  the  elm  vista.  Cashel  cast  a  glance 
round,  half  piteous,  half  desperate,  like  a  hunted  animal. 
Lydia  could  not  resist  it.  "  Quick  !  "  she  cried,  opening 
one  of  the  inner  doors.  "  Go  in  there,  and  keep  quiet — 
if  you  can."  And,  as  he  sulkily  hesitated  a  moment,  she 
stamped  vehemently.  He  slunk  in ;  and  she,  having 
shut  the  door,  resumed  her  place  at  the  writing  table  : 
her  heart  beating  with  a  kind  of  excitement  she  had  not 
felt  since,  in  her  early  childhood,  she  had  kept  guilty 
secrets  from  her  nurse. 

There  was  a  tramping  without,  and  a  sound  of  voices. 
Then  two  peremptory  raps  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Lydia,  more  composedly  than  she 
knew.  But  the  asked  permission  was  not  waited  for. 
Before  she  ceased  speaking,  a  policeman  opened  the  door, 
and  looked  quickly  round  the  room.  He  was  taken 
aback  by  what  he  saw,  and  finally  touched  his  helmet 
to  signify  respect  for  Lydia.  As  he  opened  his  mouth  to 
speak,  Phoebe,  flushed  with  running,  pushed  past  him ;  put 
her  hand  on  the  door  ;  and  pertly  asked  what  he  wanted. 

"Come  away  from  the  door,  Phoebe,"  said  Lydia. 
"  Wait  here  with  me  until  I  give  you  leave  to  go,"  she 
added,  as  the  girl  moved  towards  the  inner  door. 
"  Now,"  she  said,  turning  courteously  to  the  policeman, 
"  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  mum,"  said  the  constable 
agreeably.  "  Did  you  happen  to  see  any  one  pass  here- 
abouts lately  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  a  man  only  partly  dressed,  and  carry- 
ing a  black  coat  ?  "  said  Lydia. 


Chap.  XII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  221 

"Thats  him,  miss,"  said  the  policeman,  greatly 
interested.  "  Which  way  did  he  go  ?  " 

"I  will  shew  you  where  I  saw  him,"  said  Lydia, 
rising  and  going  to  the  door,  outside  which  she  found  a 
crowd  of  rustics  around  five  policemen,  who  held  in  custody 
two  men,  one  of  whom  was  Mellish  (without  a  coat), 
and  the  other  a  hook-nosed  man  whose  like  Lydia  had 
seen  often  on  racecourses.  She  pointed  out  the  glade 
across  which  she  had  seen  Cashel  run,  and  felt  as  if  the 
guilt  of  the  deception  was  wrenching  some  fibre  in  her 
heart  from  its  natural  order.  But  she  spoke  with 
apparent  self-possession  ;  and  no  shade  of  suspicion  fell 
on  the  minds  of  the  police. 

Several  peasants  now  came  forward,  each  professing 
to  know  exactly  whither  Cashel  had  been  making  when 
he  crossed  the  glade.  Whilst  they  were  arguing,  many 
persons,  resembling  the  hooknosed  captive  in  general 
appearance,  sneaked  into  the  crowd  and  regarded  the 
police  with  furtive  hostility.  Soon  after,  a  second 
detachment  of  police  came  up,  with  another  prisoner 
and  another  crowd  :  Bashville  among  them. 

"  Better  go  in,  mum,"  said  the  policeman  who  had 
spoken  to  Lydia  first.  "  We  must  keep  together,  being 
so  few  ;  and  he  aint  fit  for  you  to  look  at." 

But  Lydia  had  looked  already,  and  had  guessed  that 
the  last  prisoner  was  Paradise,  although  his  countenance 
was  damaged  beyond  recognition.  His  costume  was 
like  that  of  Cashel,  except  that  his  girdle  was  a  blue 
handkerchief  with  white  spots,  and  his  shoulders  were 
wrapped  in  an  old  horsecloth,  through  the  folds  of  which 
his  naked  ribs  could  be  seen,  tinged  with  every  hue  a 
bad  bruise  can  assume.  As  to  his  face,  a  crease  and  a 
hole  amid  a  cluster  of  lumps  of  raw  flesh  indicated  the 
presence  of  an  eye  and  a  mouth :  the  rest  of  his  features 
were  indiscernible.  He  could  still  see  a  little ;  for  he 


222  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.  XII 

moved  his  puffed  and  lacerated  hand  to  arrange  his 
blanket,  and  demanded  hoarsely,  and  with  greatly  im- 
peded articulation,  whether  the  lady  would  stand  a  drain 
to  a  poor  fighting  man  what  had  done  his  best  for  his 
backers.  On  this  some  one  produced  a  flask ;  and 
Mellish  volunteered,  provided  he  were  released  for  a 
moment,  to  get  the  contents  down  Paradise's  throat. 
As  soon  as  the  brandy  had  passed  his  swollen  lips,  he 
made  a  few  preliminary  sounds,  and  then  shouted, 

"  He  sent  for  the  coppers  because  he  couldnt  stand 
another  round.  I  am  ready  to  go  on." 

The  policemen  bade  him  hold  his  tongue,  and  closed 
round  him,  hiding  him  from  Lydia,  who,  without  shew- 
ing the  mingled  pity  and  loathing  with  which  his  condi- 
tion inspired  her,  told  them  to  bring  him  to  the  castle, 
and  have  him  attended  to  there.  She  added  that  the 
whole  party  could  obtain  refreshment  at  the  same  time. 
The  sergeant,  who  was  very  tired  and  thirsty,  wavered 
in  his  resolution  to  continue  the  pursuit.  Lydia,  as 
usual,  treated  the  matter  as  settled. 

"  Bashville,"  she  said  :  "  will  you  please  shew  them 
the  way,  and  see  that  they  are  satisfied." 

"  Some  thief  has  stole  my  coat,"  said  Mellish  sullenly 
to  Bashville.  "If  youll  lend  me  one,  governor,  and 
these  blessed  policemen  will  be  so  kind  as  not  to  tear  it 
off  my  back,  I'll  send  it  down  to  you  in  a  day  or  two. 
I'm  a  respectable  man,  and  have  been  her  ladyship's 
tenant  here." 

"  Your  pal  wants  it  worse  than  you,"  said  the  sergeant. 
"  If  there  was  an  old  coachman's  cape  or  anything  to 
put  over  him,  I  would  see  it  returned  safe.  I  dont  want 
to  bring  him  round  the  country  in  a  blanket,  like  a  wild 
Injin." 

"  I  have  a  cloak  inside,"  said  Bashville.  <c  I'll  get  it 
for  you."  And  before  Lydia  could  devize  a  pretext  for 


Chap.  XII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  223 

stopping  him,  he  disappeared,  and  she  heard  him  entering 
the  lodge  by  the  back  door.  It  seemed  to  her  that  a 
silence  fell  on  them  all,  as  if  her  deceit  was  already 
discovered.  Mellish,  who  had  been  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  to  protest  against  the  last  remark  of  the 
policeman,  said  angrily, 

"  Who  are  you  calling  my  pal  ?  I  hope  I  may  be 
struck  dead  for  a  liar  if  ever  I  set  eyes  on  him  in  my 
life  before." 

Lydia  looked  at  him  as  a  martyr  might  look  at  a 
wretch  to  whom  she  was  to  be  chained.  He  was  doing 
as  she  had  done — lying.  Then  Bashville,  having  passed 
through  the  other  rooms,  came  into  the  library  by  the 
inner  door,  with  an  old  livery  cloak  on  his  arm. 

"  Put  that  on  him,"  he  said  ;  "and  come  along  to  the 
castle  with  me.  You  can  see  the  roads  for  five  miles 
round  from  the  south  tower,  and  recognize  every  man  on 
them  through  the  big  telescope.  By  your  leave,  madam, 
I  think  Phoebe  had  better  come  with  us  to  help." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Lydia,  looking  quietly  at  him. 

"I'll  get  clothes  at  the  castle  for  the  man  that  wants 
them,"  he  added,  trying  to  return  her  gaze,  but  failing 
with  a  blush.  "  Now  boys.  Come  along." 

"  I  thank  your  ladyship,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  We 
have  had  a  hard  morning  of  it ;  and  we  can  do  no  more 
at  present  than  drink  your  health."  He  touched  his 
helmet  again  ;  and  Lydia  bowed  to  him.  "  Keep  close 
together,  men,"  he  said,  as  the  crowd  moved  off  with 
Bashville. 

"  Ah,"  sneered  Mellish :  "  keep  close  together,  like 
the  geese  do.  Things  has  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when  a 
Englishman  is  run  in  for  stopping  when  he  sees  a  crowd." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  sergeant.  "  I  have  that  bundle 
of  colored  handkerchiefs  you  were  selling  ;  and  I'll  find 
the  other  man  before  youre  a  day  older.  It's  a  pity, 


224  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.  XII 

seeing  how  youve  behaved  so  well  and  havent  resisted 
us,  that  you  dont  happen  to  know  where  those  ropes  and 
stakes  are  hid.  I  might  have  a  good  word  at  the  sessions 
for  any  one  that  would  put  me  in  the  way  of  finding 
them." 

"  Ropes  and  stakes  !  Fiddlesticks  and  grandmothers  ! 
There  werent  no  ropes  and  no  stakes.  It  was  only  a 
turn-up :  that  is,  if  there  was  any  fighting  at  all.  / 
didnt  see  none  ;  but  I  spose  you  did.  But  then  youre 
clever  ;  and  Fm  not." 

By  this  time  the  last  straggler  of  the  party  had  dis- 
appeared from  Lydia,  who  had  watched  their  retreat  from 
the  door  of  the  Warren  Lodge.  When  she  turned  to  go 
in  she  saw  Cashel  cautiously  entering  from  the  room  in 
which  he  had  lain  concealed.  His  excitement  had  passed 
off:  he  looked  cold  and  anxious,  as  if  a  reaction  were 
setting  in. 

"  Are   they  all    gone  ?  "  he  said.     "  That  servant  of 
yours  is  a  good  sort.     He  has    promised    to   bring  me 
some   clothes.      As    for    you,   youre    better    than— 
Whats  the  matter  ?     Where  are  you  going  to  ?  " 

Lydia  had  put  on  her  hat,  and  was  swiftly  wrapping 
herself  in  a  shawl.  Wreaths  of  rosy  colour  were  chasing 
each  other  through  her  cheeks ;  and  her  eyes  and  nostrils, 
usually  so  tranquil,  were  dilated. 

"  Wont  you  speak  to  me  ?  "  he  said  irresolutely. 

"Just  this,"  she  replied,  with  passion.  "Let  me 
never  see  you  again.  The  very  foundations  of  my  life 
are  loosened :  I  have  told  a  lie.  I  have  made  my 
servant — an  honorable  man — my  accomplice  in  a  lie. 
We  are  worse  than  you  ;  for  even  your  wild -beast's 
handiwork  is  a  less  evil  than  the  bringing  of  a  falsehood 
into  the  world.  This  is  what  has  come  to  me  out  of  our 
acquaintance.  I  have  given  you  a  hiding-place.  Keep 
it.  I  will  never  enter  it  again." 


Chap.  XII    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  225 

Cashel,  appalled,  shrank  back  like  a  child  which, 
trying  to  steal  sweetmeats  from  a  high  shelf,  pulls  the 
whole  cupboard  down  about  its  ears.  He  neither  spoke 
nor  stirred  as  she  left  the  Lodge. 

At  the  castle  she  went  to  her  boudoir,  where  she  found 
her  maid  the  French  lady,  from  whose  indignant  descrip- 
tion of  the  proceedings  below  she  gathered  that  the 
policemen  were  being  regaled  with  bread  and  cheese,  beef 
and  beer  ;  and  that  the  attendance  of  a  surgeon  had  been 
dispensed  with,  Paradise's  wounds  having  been  dressed 
skilfully  by  Mellish.  Lydia  bade  her  send  Bashville  to 
the  Warren  Lodge  to  see  whether  any  strangers  were 
still  loitering  about  it ;  and  ordered  that  none  of  the 
female  servants  should  return  there  until  he  came  back. 
Then  she  sat  down,  and  tried  not  to  think.  But  as  she 
could  not  help  thinking,  she  submitted,  and  tried  to 
think  the  late  catastrophe  out.  An  idea  that  she  had 
disjointed  the  whole  framework  of  things  by  creating  a 
false  belief,  filled  her  imagination.  The  one  conviction 
she  had  brought  out  of  her  reading  was  that  the  conceal- 
ment of  a  truth,  with  its  resultant  false  beliefs,  must 
produce  mischief,  even  though  the  beginning  of  that 
mischief  might  be  as  inconceivable  as  the  end.  She 
made  no  distinction  between  the  subtlest  philosophical 
sophism  and  the  vulgarest  lie.  The  evil  of  Cashel's 
capture  was  measurable,  the  evil  of  any  lie  beyond  all 
measure.  She  felt  none  the  less  assured  of  that  evil 
because  she  could  not  foresee  one  bad  consequence  likely 
to  ensue  from  what  she  had  done.  Her  misgivings 
pressed  heavily  upon  her  ;  for  her  father,  a  determined 
sceptic,  had  left  her  destitute  of  the  consolations  which 
theology  has  for  the  wrongdoer.  It  was  plainly  her 
duty  to  send  for  the  policeman  and  clear  up  the  deception 
she  had  practised  on  him.  But  this  she  could  not  do. 
Her  will,  in  spite  of  her  reason,  acted  in  the  opposite 

Q 


226  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap  XII 

direction.  And  in  this  paralysis  of  her  moral  power  she 
saw  the  evil  of  the  lie  beginning.  She  had  given  it 
birth  ;  and  Nature  would  not  permit  her  to  strangle  the 
monster. 

At  last  her  maid  returned  and  informed  her  that  the 
canaille  had  gone  away.  When  she  was  again  alone,  she 
rose,  and  walked  slowly  to  and  fro  through  the  room, 
forgetting  the  lapse  of  time  in  the  restless  activity  of 
her  mind,  until  she  was  again  interrupted,  this  time 
by  Bashville. 

"Well?" 

He  was  daunted  by  her  tone ;  for  he  had  never  before 
heard  her  speak  haughtily  to  a  servant.  He  did  not 
understand  that  he  had  changed  subjectively,  and  was 
now  her  accomplice. 

"  He's  given  himself  up." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  said,  with  sudden  dismay. 

"Byron,  madam.  I  brought  some  clothes  to  the 
Lodge  for  him ;  but  when  I  got  there  he  was  gone.  I 
went  round  to  the  gates  in  search  of  him,  and  found  him 
in  the  hands  of  the  police.  They  told  me  he'd  just 
given  himself  up.  He  wouldnt  give  any  account  of  him- 
self ;  and  he  looked — well,  sullen  and  beaten-down  like." 

"What  will  they  do  with  him  ?  "  she  asked,  turning 
quite  pale. 

"  A  man  got  six  weeks  hard  labor  last  month  for  the 
same  offence.  Most  likely  thats  what  he'll  get.  And 
very  little  for  what  he's  done,  as  youd  say  if  you  saw  him 
doing  it,  madam." 

"Then,"  said  Lydia  sternly,  "it  was  to  see  this  " — she 
shrank  from  naming  it — "  this  fight,  that  you  asked  my 
permission  to  go  out ! J> 

"Yes,  madam,  it  was,"  said  Bashville,  with  some 
bitterness.  "I  recognized  Lord  Worthington  and  plenty 
more  noblemen  and  gentlemen  there." 


Chap,  xil    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  227 

Lydia  was  about  to  reply  sharply  ;  but  she  checked 
herself;  and  her  usual  tranquil  manner  came  back  as 
she  said,  "  That  is  no  reason  why  you  should  have  been 
there." 

Bashville's  color  began  to  waver,  and  his  voice  to  need 
increased  control.  "  It's  in  human  nature  to  go  to  such 
a  thing  once,"  he  said  ;  "  but  once  is  enough,  at  least  for 
me.  Youll  excuse  my  mentioning  it,  madam  ;  but  what 
with  Lord  Worthington  and  the  rest  of  Byron's  backers 
screaming  oaths  and  abuse  at  the  other  man  ;  and  the 
opposite  party  doing  the  same  to  Byron — well,  I  may  not 
be  a  gentleman  ;  but  I  hope  I  can  conduct  myself  like  a 
man,  even  when  I'm  losing  money." 

"Then  do  not  go  to  such  an  exhibition  again, 
Bashville.  I  must  not  dictate  your  amusements  ;  but  I 
do  not  think  you  are  likely  to  benefit  yourself  by  copying 
Lord  Worthington's  tastes." 

"  I  copy  no  lord's  tastes,"  said  Bashville,  reddening. 
"You  hid  the  man  that  was  fighting,  Miss  Carew. 
Why  do  you  look  down  on  the  man  that  was  only  a 
bystander  ? " 

Lydia's  color  rose  too.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  treat 
this  outburst  as  rebellion  against  her  authority,  and  crush 
it.  But  her  vigilant  sense  of  justice  withheld  her.  "He 
was  a  fugitive  who  took  refuge  in  our  house,  Bashville. 
You  did  not  betray  him." 

"  No,"  said  Bashville,  his  expression  subdued  to  one  of 
rueful  pride.  "  When  I  am  beaten  by  a  better  man,  I 
have  courage  enough  to  get  out  of  his  way  and  take  no 
mean  advantage  of  him." 

Lydia,  not  understanding,  looked  inquiringly  at  him. 
He  made  a  gesture  as  if  throwing  something  from  him, 
and  continued  recklessly, 

"But  one  way  I'm  as  good  as  he,  and  better.  A 
footman  is  held  more  respectable  than  a  prizefighter. 


228  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.  XII 

He's  told  you  that  he's  in  love  with  you ;  and  if  it  is  to 
be  my  last  word,  I'll  tell  you  that  the  ribbon  round  your 
neck  is  more  to  me  than  your  whole  body  and  soul  is  to 
him  or  his  like.  When  he  took  an  unfair  advantage  of 
me,  and  pretended  to  be  a  gentleman,  I  told  Mr.  Lucian 
of  him,  and  shewed  him  up  for  what  he  was.  But  when 
I  found  him  to-day  hiding  in  the  pantry  at  the  Lodge,  I 
took  no  advantage  of  him,  though  I  knew  well  that  if 
he'd  been  no  more  to  you  than  any  other  man  of  his 
sort,  youd  never  have  hid  him.  You  know  best  why  he 
gave  himself  up  to  the  police  after  your  seeing  his  day's 
work.  But  I  will  leave  him  to  his  luck.  He  is  the  best 
man  :  let  the  best  man  win.  I  am  sorry,"  added  Bash- 
ville,  recovering  his  ordinary  suave  manner  with  an 
effort,  "  to  inconvenience  you  by  a  short  notice  ;  but 
I  should  take  it  as  a  particular  favor  if  I  might  go  this 
evening." 

"  You  had  better,"  said  Lydia,  rising  quite  calmly,  and 
keeping  resolutely  away  from  her  the  strange  emotional 
effect  of  being  astonished,  outraged,  and  loved  at  one 
unlooked-for  stroke.  "It  is  not  advisable  that  you 
should  stay  after  what  you  have  just " 

"I  knew  that  when  I  said  it,"  interposed  Bashville 
hastily  and  doggedly. 

u  In  going  away  you  will  be  taking  precisely  the 
course  that  would  be  adopted  by  any  gentleman  who 
had  spoken  to  the  same  effect.  I  am  not  offended  by 
your  declaration  :  I  recognize  your  right  to  make  it.  If 
you  need  my  testimony  to  further  your  future  arrange- 
ments, I  shall  always  be  happy  to  say  that  I  believe  you 
to  be  a  man  of  honor." 

Bashville  bowed,  and  said  in  a  low  voice,  very 
nervously,  that  he  had  no  intention  of  going  into  service 
again,  but  that  he  should  always  be  proud  of  her  good 
opinion. 


Chap.  XII     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  229 

"You  are  fitted  for  better  things,"  she  said.  "If  you 
embark  in  any  enterprise  requiring  larger  means  than 
you  possess,  I  will  be  your  surety.  I  thank  you  for  your 
invariable  courtesy  to  me  in  the  discharge  of  your  duties. 
Good-bye." 

She  bowed  to  him  and  left  the  room.  Awestruck,  he 
returned  her  salutation  as  best  he  could,  and  stood  motion- 
less after  she  disappeared  :  his  mind  advancing  on  tiptoe 
to  grasp  what  had  just  passed.  His  chief  sensation  was 
one  of  relief.  He  no  longer  dared  to  fancy  himself  in 
love  with  such  a  woman.  Her  sudden  consideration 
for  him  as  a  suitor  overwhelmed  him  with  a  sense  of  his 
unfitness  for  such  a  part.  He  saw  himself  as  a  very 
young,  very  humble,  and  very  ignorant  man,  whose  head 
had  been  turned  by  a  pleasant  place  and  a  kind  mistress. 
He  stole  away  to  pack  his  trunk,  and  to  consider  how 
best  to  account  to  his  fellow-servants  for  his  sudden 
departure. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

ONE  afternoon,  Lydia,  returning  from  her  daily  constitu- 
tional walk,  descried  a  strange  woman  on  the  castle  terrace, 
in  conversation  with  the  butler.  Though  it  was  warm 
autumn  weather,  this  person  wore  a  black  silk  mantle 
trimmed  with  fur,  and  heavily  decorated  with  spurious 
jet  beads.  As  the  female  Wiltstokeners  always  ap- 
proached Miss  Carew  in  their  best  raiment,  whether  it 
suited  the  season  or  not,  she  concluded  that  she  was 
about  to  be  asked  for  a  subscription  to  a  school  treat,  a 
temperance  festival,  or  perhaps  a  testimonial  to  one  of  the 
Wiltstoken  curates. 

When  she  came  nearer,  she  saw  that  the  stranger  was 
an  elderly  lady — or  possibly  not  a  lady — with  crimped 
hair,  and  ringlets  hanging  at  each  ear  in  a  long-forgotten 
fashion. 

"  Here  is  Miss  Carew,"  said  the  butler  shortly,  as  if 
the  old  lady  had  tried  his  temper.  "You. had  better  talk 
to  her  yourself." 

At  this  she  seemed  fluttered,  and  made  a  solemn 
curtsy.  Lydia,  noticing  the  curtsy  and  the  curls,  guessed 
that  her  visitor  kept  a  dancing  academy.  Yet  a  certain 
contradictory  hardihood  in  her  frame  and  bearing  sug- 
gested that  perhaps  she  kept  a  tavern.  However,  as  her 
face  was,  on  the  whole,  an  anxious  and  a  good  face,  and 
her  attitude  towards  the  ladyof  the  castle  one  of  embarrassed 


Chap,  xni   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  231 

humility,  Lydia  acknowledged  her  salutation  kindly,  and 
waited  for  her  to  speak. 

"I  hope  you  wont  consider  it  a  liberty,"  said  the 
stranger  tremulously.  "  I'm  Mrs.  Skene." 

Lydia  became  ominously  grave ;  and  Mrs.  Skene 
reddened  a  little.  Then  she  continued,  as  if  repeating 
a  carefully  prepared  and  rehearsed  speech,  "It  would 
be  esteemed  a  favor  if  I  might  have  the  honor  of  a  few 
words  in  private." 

Lydia  looked  and  felt  somewhat  stern  ;  but  it  was  not 
in  her  nature  to  rebuff  any  one  without  strong  provoca- 
tion. She  invited  her  visitor  to  enter,  and  led  the  way 
to  the  circular  drawing-room,  the  strange  decorations 
of  which  exactly  accorded  with  Mrs.  Skene's  ideas  of 
aristocratic  splendor.  As  a  professor  of  deportment 
and  etiquette,  the  ex-champion's  wife  was  nervous  under 
the  observation  of  such  an  expert  as  Lydia ;  but  she  rose 
to  the  occasion  and  got  safely  seated  without  a  mistake. 
For,  although  entering  a  room  seems  a  simple  matter  to 
many  persons,  it  was  to  Mrs.  Skene  an  operation  governed 
by  the  strict  laws  of  the  art  she  professed — one  so  elaborate, 
indeed,  that  few  of  her  pupils  mastered  it  satisfactorily  in 
less  than  half-a-dozen  lessons.  Mrs.  Skene  soon  dis- 
missed it  from  her  mind.  She  was  too  old  to  dwell  upon 
such  vanities  when  real  anxieties  were  pressing  upon  her. 

"  Oh,  miss,"  she  began  appealingly,  "  the  boy  ! " 

Lydia  knew  at  once  who  was  meant.  But  she  re- 
peated, as  if  at  a  loss,  "  The  boy  ?  "  And  immediately 
accused  herself  of  insincerity. 

"  Our  boy,  maam.     Cashel." 

"  Mrs.  Skene  !  "  said  Lydia,  reproachfully. 

Mrs.  Skene  understood  all  that  Lydia's  tone  implied. 
"  I  know,  maam,"  she  pleaded.  "  I  know  well.  But 
what  could  I  do  but  come  to  you  ?  Whatever  you  said 
to  him,  it  has  gone  to  his  heart ;  and  he's  dying." 


232  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap,  xill 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Lydia  promptly  :  "  men  do  not 
die  of  such  things  ;  and  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  is  not  so 
deficient  either  in  robustness  of  body  or  hardness  of 
heart  as  to  be  an  exception  to  that  rule." 

"Yes,  miss,"  said  Mrs.  Skene  sadly.  "You  are 
thinking  of  the  profession.  You  cant  believe  he  has 
any  feelings  because  he  fights.  Ah,  Miss,  if  you  only 
knew  them  as  I  do  !  More  tender  hearted  men  dont 
breathe.  Cashel  is  like  a  young  child,  his  feelings  are 
that  easily  touched  ;  and  I  have  known  stronger  than  he 
to  die  of  broken  hearts  only  because  they  were  unlucky 
in  their  calling.  Just  think  what  a  high-spirited  young 
man  must  feel  when  a  lady  calls  him  a  wild  beast.  That 
was  a  cruel  word,  miss  :  it  was  indeed." 

Lydia  was  so  disconcerted  by  this  attack  that  she  had 
to  collect  herself  carefully  before  replying.  Then  she 
said,  "  Are  you  aware,  Mrs.  Skene,  that  my  knowledge 
of  Mr.  Byron  is  very  slight — that  I  have  not  seen  him 
ten  times  in  my  life  ?  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  the 
circumstances  in  which  we  last  met.  I  was  greatly 
shocked  by  the  injuries  he  had  inflicted  on  another 
man  ;  and  I  believe  I  spoke  of  them  as  the  work 
of  a  wild  beast.  For  your  sake,  I  am  sorry  I  said  so  , 
for  he  has  told  me  that  he  regards  you  as  his  mother ; 
but " 

"  Oh  no  !  Far  from  it,  miss.  I  ask  your  pardon  a 
thousand  times  for  taking  the  word  out  of  your  mouth  ; 
but  me  and  Ned  is  no  more  to  him  than  your  house- 
keeper or  governess  might  be  to  you.  Thats  what  I'm 
afraid  you  dont  understand,  miss.  He's  no  relation  of 
ours.  I  do  assure  you  that  he's  a  gentleman  born  and 
bred  ;  and  when  we  go  back  to  Melbourne  next  Christmas, 
it  will  be  just  the  same  as  if  he  had  never  known  us." 

"  I  hope  he  will  not  be  so  ungrateful  as  to  forget  you. 
He  has  told  me  his  history." 


Chap.  XIII  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  233 

"  Thats  more  than  he  ever  told  me,  miss ;  so  you  may 
judge  how  much  he  thinks  of  you." 

Another  pause  followed  this.  Mrs.  Skene  felt  that  the 
first  round  was  over,  and  that  she  had  held  her  own 
with  a  little  to  spare.  But  Lydia  soon  rallied. 

"  Mrs.  Skene,"  she  said,  penetratingly  :  "  when  you 
came  to  pay  me  this  visit,  what  object  did  you  propose 
to  yourself  ?  What  do  you  expect  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Well,  maam,"  said  Mrs.  Skene,  troubled,  "  the  poor 
lad  has  had  crosses  lately.  There  was  the  disappointment 
about  you — the  first  one,  I  mean — that  had  been  preying 
on  his  mind  for  a  long  time.  Then  there  was  that 
exhibition  spar  at  the  Agricultural  Hall,  when  Paradise 
acted  so  dishonorable.  Cashel  heard  that  you  were 
looking  on  j  and  then  he  read  the  shameful  way  the 
newspapers  wrote  of  him  ;  and  he  thought  youd  believe 
it  all.  I  couldnt  get  that  thought  out  of  his  head.  I 
said  to  him,  over  and  over  again " 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Lydia,  interrupting.  "We  had 
better  be  frank  with  one  another.  It  is  useless  to 
assume  that  he  mistook  my  feeling  on  that  subject.  I 
was  shocked  by  the  severity  with  which  he  treated  his 
opponent." 

"  But  bless  you,  thats  his  business,"  said  Mrs.  Skene, 
opening  her  eyes  widely.  "  I  put  it  to  you,  miss,"  she 
continued,  as  if  mildly  reprobating  some  want  of  principle 
on  Lydia's  part,  "  whether  an  honest  man  shouldnt  fulfil 
his  engagements.  I  assure  you  that  the  pay  a  respectable 
professional  usually  gets  for  a  spar  like  that  is  half  a  guinea ; 
and  that  was  all  Paradise  got.  But  Cashel  stood  on  his 
reputation,  and  wouldnt  take  less  than  ten  guineas  ;  and 
he  got  it  too.  Now  many  another  in  his  position  would 
have  gone  into  the  ring,  and  fooled  away  the  time  pre- 
tending to  box,  and  just  swindling  those  that  paid  him. 
But  Cashel  is  as  honest  and  highminded  as  a  king.  You 


234  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  XIII 

saw  for  yourself  the  trouble  he  took.  He  couldnt  have 
spared  himself  less  if  he  had  been  fighting  for  a  thousand  a 
side  and  the  belt,  instead  of  for  a  paltry  ten  guineas.  Surely 
you  dont  think  the  worse  of  him  for  his  honesty,  miss  ?  " 

"  I  confess,"  said  Lydia,  laughing  in  spite  of  herself, 
"  that  your  view  of  the  transaction  did  not  occur  to  me." 

"Of  course  not,  maam :  no  more  it  wouldnt  to 
any  one,  without  they  were  accustomed  to  know  the 
right  and  wrong  of  the  profession.  Well,  as  I  was 
saying,  miss,  that  was  a  fresh  disappointment  to  him. 
It  worrited  him  more  than  you  can  imagine.  Then 
came  a  deal  of  bother  about  the  match  with  Paradise. 
First  Paradise  could  only  get  five  hundred  pounds  ;  and 
the  boy  wouldnt  agree  for  less  than  a  thousand.  I  think 
it's  on  your  account  that  he's  been  so  particular  about 
the  money  of  late  ;  for  he  was  never  covetious  before. 
Then  Mellish  was  bent  on  its  coming  off  down  hereabouts  ; 
and  the  poor  lad  was  so  mortal  afraid  of  its  getting  to 
your  ears  that  he  wouldnt  consent  until  they  persuaded 
him  you  would  be  in  foreign  parts  in  August.  Glad  I 
was  when  the  articles  were  signed  at  last,  before  he  was 
worrited  into  his  grave.  All  the  time  he  was  training 
he  was  longing  for  a  sight  of  you  ;  but  he  went  through 
with  it  as  steady  and  faithful  as  a  man  could.  And  he 
trained  beautiful.  I  saw  him  on  the  morning  of  the 
fight ;  and  he  was  like  a  shining  angel :  it  would  have 
done  a  lady's  heart  good  to  look  at  him.  Ned  went 
about  like  a  madman  offering  twenty  to  one  on  him :  if 
he  had  lost,  we  should  have  been  ruined  at  this  moment. 
And  then  to  think  of  the  police  coming  just  as  he  was 
finishing  Paradise.  I  cried  like  a  child  when  I  heard  of 
it :  I  dont  think  there  was  ever  anything  so  cruel.  He 
could  have  finished  him  quarter  of  an  hour  sooner,  only 
he  held  back  to  make  the  market  for  Ned."  Mrs. 
Skene,  overcome,  blew  her  nose  before  proceeding. 


Chap.  XIII  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  235 

"  Then,  on  the  top  of  that,  came  what  passed  betwixt 
you  and  him,  and  made  him  give  himself  up  to  the 
police.  Lord  Worthington  bailed  him  out ;  but  what 
with  the  disgrace,  and  the  disappointment,  and  his  time 
and  money  thrown  away,  and  the  sting  of  your  words  all 
coming  together,  he  was  quite  brokenhearted.  And 
now  he  mopes  and  frets  ;  and  neither  me  nor  Ned  nor 
Fan  can  get  any  good  of  him.  They  tell  me  that  he 
wont  be  sent  to  prison  ;  but  if  he  is  " — here  Mrs.  Skene 
broke  down  and  began  to  cry — "  it  will  be  the  death  of 
him  ;  and  God  forgive  those  that  have  brought  it  about." 

Sorrow  always  softened  Lydia ;  but  tears  hardened 
her  again  :  she  had  no  patience  with  them. 

"  And  the  other  man  ?  "  she  said.  "  Have  you  heard 
anything  of  him  ?  I  suppose  he  is  in  some  hospital." 

"  In  hospital !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Skene,  checking  her 
tears  in  alarm.  "  Who  ?  " 

"  Paradise,"  replied  Lydia,  pronouncing  the  name 
reluctantly. 

"  He  in  hospital !  Why,  bless  your  innocence,  miss, 
I  saw  him  yesterday  looking  as  well  as  such  an  ugly 
brute  could  look  :  not  a  mark  on  him,  and  he  bragging 
what  he  would  have  done  to  Cashel  if  the  police  hadnt 
come  up !  He's  a  nasty  low  fighting  man,  so  he  is ;  and 
I'm  only  sorry  that  our,  boy  demeaned  himself  to  strip 
with  the  like  of  him.  I  hear  that  Cashel  made  a  perfect 
picture  of  him,  and  that  you  saw  him.  I  suppose  you 
were  frightened,  maam,  and  very  naturally  too,  not  being 
used  to  such  sights.  I  have  had  my  Ned  brought  home 
to  me  in  that  state  that  I  have  poured  brandy  into  his 
eye,  thinking  it  was  his  mouth  ;  and  even  Cashel, 
careful  as  he  is,  has  been  nearly  blind  for  three  days. 
It's  not  to  be  expected  that  they  could  have  all  the 
money  for  nothing.  Dont  let  it  prey  on  your  mind, 
miss.  If  you  married — I  am  only  supposing  it,"  said 


236  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  XIII 

Mrs.  Skene  in  soothing  parenthesis  as  she  saw  Lydia 
shrink  from  the  word — "  if  you  were  married  to  a  great 
surgeon,  as  you  might  be  without  derogation  to  your 
high  rank,  youd  be  ready  to  faint  if  you  saw  him  cut  off 
a  leg  or  an  arm,  as  he  would  have  to  do  every  day  for 
his  livelihood  ;  but  youd  be  proud  of  his  cleverness  in 
being  able  to  do  it.  Thats  how  I  feel  with  regard  to 
Ned.  I  tell  you  the  truth,  maam,  I  shouldnt  like  to  see 
him  in  the  ring  no  more  than  the  lady  of  an  officer  in 
the  Guards  would  like  to  see  her  husband  in  the  field  of 
battle  running  his  sword  into  the  poor  blacks  or  into  the 
French  ;  but  as  it's  his  profession,  and  people  think  so 
highly  of  him  for  it,  I  make  up  my  mind  to  it ;  and  now 
I  take  quite  an  interest  in  it,  particularly  as  it  does 
nobody  any  harm.  Not  that  I  would  have  you  think 
that  Ned  ever  took  the  arm  or  leg  off  a  man  :  Lord 
forbid  !  or  Cashel  either.  Oh  maam,  I  thank  you 
kindly  ;  and  I'm  sorry  you  should  have  given  yourself 
the  trouble."  This  referred  to  the  entry  of  a  servant 
with  tea. 

"Still,"  said  Lydia,  when  they  were  at  leisure  to 
resume  the  conversation,  "I  do  not  quite  understand 
why  you  have  come  to  me.  Personally  you  are  most 
welcome  ;  but  in  what  way  did  you  expect  to  relieve 
Mr.  Byron's  mind  by  visiting  me  ?  Did  he  ask  you  to 
come  ?  " 

"  He'd  have  died  first.  I  came  down  of  my  own 
accord,  knowing  what  was  the  matter  with  him." 

"  And  what  then  ?  " 

Mrs.  Skene  looked  around  to  satisfy  herself  that  they 
were  alone.  Then  she  leaned  towards  Lydia,  and  said  in 
an  emphatic  whisper, 

"  Why  not  marry  him,  miss  ?  " 

"  Because  I  dont  choose,  Mrs.  Skene,"  said  Lydia,  with 
perfect  good  humor. 


Chap.  XIII  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  237 

"  But  consider  a  little,  miss.  Where  will  you  ever  get 
such  another  chance  ?  Only  think  what  a  man  he  is  : 
champion  of  the  world  and  a  gentleman  as  well !  The  two 
things  have  never  happened  before,  and  never  will  again. 
I  have  known  lots  of  champions  ;  but  they  were  not  fit 
company  for  the  like  of  you.  Ned  was  champion  when 
I  married  him  ;  and  my  family  thought  that  I  lowered 
myself  in  doing  it,  because  I  was  a  professional  dancer 
on  the  stage.  The  men  in  the  ring  are  common  men 
mostly  ;  and  so  ladies  are  cut  off  from  their  society. 
But  it  has  been  your  good  luck  to  take  the  fancy  of  one 
thats  a  gentleman.  What  more  could  a  lady  desire  ? 
Where  will  you  find  his  equal  in  health,  strength,  good 
looks  or  good  manners  ?  As  to  his  character,  I  can  tell 
you  about  that.  In  Melbourne,  as  you  may  suppose,  all 
the  girls  and  women  were  breaking  their  hearts  for  his 
sake.  I  declare  to  you  that  I  used  to  have  two  or  three 
of  them  in  every  evening  merely  to  look  at  him  ;  and  he, 
poor  innocent  lad,  taking  no  more  notice  of  them  than  if 
they  were  cabbages.  He  used  to  be  glad  to  get  away 
from  them  by  going  into  the  saloon  to  box  with  the 
gentlemen  ;  and  then  they  used  to  peep  at  him  through 
the  door  and  get  worse  than  ever.  But  they  never  got  a 
wink  from  him.  You  were  the  first,  Miss  Carew  ;  and, 
believe  me,  you  will  be  the  last.  If  there  had  ever  been 
another,  he  couldnt  have  kept  it  from  me  ;  because  his 
disposition  is  as  open  as  a  child's.  And  his  honesty  is 
beyond  everything  you  can  imagine.  I  have  known  him 
to  be  offered  eight  hundred  pounds  to  lose  a  fight  that 
he  could  only  get  two  hundred  by  winning,  not  to 
mention  his  chance  of  getting  nothing  at  all  if  he  lost 
honestly.  You  know — for  I  see  you  know  the  world, 
maam  —  how  few  men  would  be  proof  against  such  a 
temptation.  There  are  men  high  up  in  their  profession 
— so  high  that  youd  as  soon  suspect  the  queen  on  her 


238  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap.  XIII 

throne  of  selling  her  country's  battles  as  them — that 
fight  cross  on  the  sly  when  it's  made  worth  their  while. 
My  Ned  is  no  low  prizefighter,  as  is  well  known  ;  but 
when  he  let  himself  be  beat  by  that  little  Killarney 
Primrose,  and  went  out  and  bought  a  horse  and  trap  next 
day,  what  could  I  think  ?  There,  maam  :  I  tell  you 
that  of  my  own  husband  ;  and  I  tell  you  that  Cashel 
never  was  beat,  although  times  out  of  mind  it  would  have 
paid  him  better  to  lose  than  to  win,  along  of  those  wicked 
betting  men.  Not  an  angry  word  have  I  ever  had  from 
him,  nor  the  sign  of  liquor  have  I  ever  seen  on  him, 
except  once  on  Ned's  birthday  ;  and  then  nothing  but 
fun  came  out  of  him  in  his  cups,  when  the  truth  comes 
out  of  all  men.  Oh  do  just  think  how  happy  you  ought 
to  be,  miss,  if  you  would  only  bring  yourself  to  look  at 
it  in  the  proper  light.  A  gentleman  born  and  bred, 
champion  of  the  world,  sober,  honest,  spotless  as  the 
unborn  babe,  able  to  take  his  own  part  and  yours  in 
any  society,  and  mad  in  love  with  you  !  He  thinks  you 
an  angel  from  heaven — and  so  I  am  sure  you  are,  miss, 
in  your  heart.  I  do  assure  you  that  my  Fan  gets  quite 
put  out  because  she  thinks  he  draws  comparisons  to  her 
disadvantage.  I  dont  think  you  can  be  so  hard  to  please 
as  to  refuse  him,  miss." 

Lydia  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  looked  at  Mrs. 
Skene  with  a  curious  expression  which  soon  brightened 
into  an  irrepressible  smile.  Mrs.  Skene  smiled  very 
slightly  in  complaisance,  but  conveyed  by  her  serious 
brow  that  what  she  had  said  was  no  laughing  matter. 

"  I  must  take  some  time  to  consider  all  that  you  have 
so  eloquently  urged,"  said  Lydia.  "I  am  in  earnest, 
Mrs.  Skene :  you  have  produced  a  great  effect  upon  me. 
Now  let  us  talk  of  something  else  for  the  present.  Your 
daughter  is  quite  well,  I  hope." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  maam,  she  enjoys  her  health." 


Chap.  XIII   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  239 

"  And  you  also  ?  " 

"  I  am  as  well  as  can  be  expected,"  said  Mrs.  Skene, 
too  fond  of  commiseration  to  admit  that  she  was  in 
perfect  health. 

"  You  must  have  a  rare  sense  of  security,"  said  Lydia, 
watching  her,  "  being  happily  married  to  so  celebrated  a 
— a  professor  of  boxing  as  Mr.  Skene.  Is  it  not  pleasant 
to  have  a  powerful  protector  ?  " 

"Ah  miss,  you  little  know,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Skene, 
falling  into  the  trap  baited  by  her  own  grievances,  and 
losing  sight  of  CashePs  interests.  "The  fear  of  his 
getting  into  trouble  is  never  off  my  mind.  Ned  is 
quietness  itself  until  he  has  a  drop  of  drink  in  him  ;  and 
then  he  is  like  the  rest — ready  to  fight  the  first  that 
provokes  him.  And  if  the  police  get  hold  of  him  he  has 
no  chance.  There's  no  justice  for  a  fighting  man.  Just 
let  it  be  said  that  he's  a  professional,  and  thats  enough 
for  the  magistrate :  away  with  him  to  prison,  and 
goodbye  to  his  pupils  and  his  respectability  at  once. 
Thats  what  I  live  in  terror  of.  And  as  to  being  pro- 
tected, I'd  let  myself  be  robbed  fifty  times  over  sooner 
than  say  a  word  to  him  that  might  bring  on  a  quarrel. 
Many  a  time  driving  home  of  a  night  have  I  overpaid 
the  cabman  on  the  sly,  afraid  he  would  grumble  and 
provoke  Ned.  It's  the  drink  that  does  it  all.  Gentle- 
men are  proud  to  be  seen  speaking  with  him  in  public  ; 
and  they  come  up  one  after  another  asking  what  he'll 
have,  until  the  next  thing  he  knows  is  that  he's  in  bed 
with  his  boots  on,  his  wrist  sprained,  and  maybe  his 
eye  black,  trying  to  remember  what  he  was  doing  the 
night  before.  What  I  suffered  the  first  three  years  of 
our  marriage  none  can  tell.  Then  he  took  the  pledge ; 
and  ever  since  that  he's  been  very  good  :  I  havent  seen 
him  what  you  could  fairly  call  drunk,  not  more  than 
three  times  a  year.  It  was  the  blessing  of  God,  and 


240  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap.  XIII 

a  beating  he  got  from  a  milkman  in  Wesminister,  that 
made  him  ashamed  of  himself.  I  kept  him  to  it  and  emi- 
grated him  out  of  the  way  of  his  old  friends.  Since  that, 
there  has  been  a  blessing  on  him  ;  and  weve  prospered." 

"  Is  Cashel  quarrelsome  ?  " 

The  tone  of  this  question  awakened  Mrs.  Skene  to 
the  untimeliness  of  her  complaints.  "  No,  no,"  she 
protested.  "  He  never  drinks  ;  and  as  to  fighting,  if  you 
can  believe  such  a  thing,  miss,  I  dont  think  he  has  had  a 
casual  turn-up  three  times  in  his  life :  not  oftener,  at  any 
rate.  All  he  wants  is  to  be  married  ;  and  then  he'll  be 
steady  to  his  grave.  But  if  he's  left  adrift  now,  Lord 
knows  what  will  become  of  him.  He'll  mope  first — he's 
moping  at  present — ;  then  he'll  drink  ;  then  he'll  lose 

his  pupils,  get  out  of  condition,  be  beaten,  and One 

word  from  you,  miss,  would  save  him.  If  I  might  just 
tell  him " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Lydia.  "  Absolutely  nothing.  The 
only  assurance  I  can  give  you  is  that  you  have  softened 
the  opinion  I  had  formed  of  some  of  his  actions.  But 
that  I  should  marry  Mr.  Cashel  Byron  is  simply  the 
most  improbable  thing  in  the  world.  All  questions  of 
personal  inclination  apart,  the  mere  improbability  is 
enough  in  itself  to  appal  an  ordinary  woman." 

Mrs.  Skene  did  not  quite  understand  this  ;  but  she 
understood  sufficient  for  her  purpose.  She  rose  to  go, 
shaking  her  head  despondently,  and  saying,  "  I  see  how  it 
is,  maam.  You  think  him  beneath  you.  Your  relations 
wouldnt  like  it." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  my  relations  would  be  greatly 
shocked  ;  and  I  am  bound  to  take  that  into  account — for 
what  it  is  worth." 

"We  should  never  trouble  you,"  said  Mrs.  Skene, 
lingering.  "  England  will  see  the  last  of  us  in  a  month 


Chap.  XIII  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  241 

"  That  will  make  no  difference  to  me,  except  that  I 
shall  regret  not  being  able  to  have  a  pleasant  chat  with 
you  occasionally."  This  was  not  true  ;  but  Lydia  fancied 
that  she  was  beginning  to  take  a  hardened  delight  in 
lying. 

Mrs.  Skene  was  not  to  be  consoled  by  compliments. 
She  again  shook  her  head.  "  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to 
give  me  good  words,  miss,"  she  said  ;  "  but  if  I  might 
have  one  for  the  boy,  you  could  say  what  you  liked 
to  me." 

Lydia  considered  far  before  she  replied.  At  last  she 
said,  "  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  harshly  to  him,  since,  driven  as 
he  was  by  circumstances,  I  cannot  see  how  he  could  have 
acted  otherwise  than  he  did.  And  I  overlooked  the 
economics  of  his  profession.  In  short,  I  am  not  used  to 
fisticuffs  ;  and  what  I  saw  shocked  me  so  much  that  I 
was  unreasonable.  But,"  continued  Lydia,  checking 
Mrs.  Skene's  rising  hope  with  a  warning  finger,  "  how, 
if  you  tell  him  this,  will  you  make  him  understand  that  I 
say  so  as  an  act  of  justice,  and  not  in  the  least  as  a  proffer 
of  affection  ?  " 

"  A  crumb  of  comfort  will  satisfy  him,  miss.  I'll  just 
tell  him  that  Ive  seen  you,  and  that  you  meant  nothing 
by  what  you  said  the  other — 

"  Mrs.  Skene,"  said  Lydia,  interrupting  her  softly  : 
"  tell  him  nothing  at  all  as  yet.  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  at  last.  If  he  does  not  hear  from  me  within  a 
fortnight,  you  may  tell  him  what  you  please.  Can  you 
wait  so  long  ?  " 

"Of  course.  Whatever  you  wish,  maam.  But 
Mellish's  benefit  is  to  be  to-morrow  night ;  and — 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  Mellish  or  his  benefit  ?  " 

Mrs.  Skene,  abashed,  murmured  apologetically  that 
she  was  only  wishful  that  the  boy  should  do  himself 
credit. 


242  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  XIII 

"  If  he  is  to  benefit  Mellish  by  beating  somebody,  he 
will  not  be  behindhand.  Remember :  you  are  not  to 
mention  me  for  a  fortnight.  Is  that  a  bargain  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  wish,  maam,"  repeated  Mrs.  Skene, 
hardly  satisfied.  But  Lydia  gave  her  no  further  comfort ; 
so  she  begged  to  take  her  leave,  expressing  a  hope  that 
things  would  turn  out  to  the  advantage  of  all  parties. 
Lydia  insisted  on  her  partaking  of  some  solid  refresh- 
ment, and  afterwards  drove  her  to  the  railway  station  in 
the  pony -carriage.  Just  before  they  parted,  Lydia, 
suddenly  recurring  to  their  former  subject,  said, 

"  Does  Mr.  Byron  ever  think  ?  " 

"  Think  !  "  said  Mrs.  Skene  emphatically.  "  Never. 
There  isnt  a  more  cheerful  lad  in  existence,  miss." 

Then  Mrs.  Skene  was  carried  away  to  London, 
wondering  whether  it  could  be  quite  right  for  a  young 
lady  to  live  in  a  gorgeous  castle  without  any  elder  of  her 
own  sex,  and  to  speak  freely  and  civilly  to  her  inferiors. 
When  she  got  home,  she  said  nothing  of  her  excursion 
to  Skene,  who  had  never  been  known  to  keep  a  secret 
except  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  a  projected  fight.  But 
she  sat  up  late  with  her  daughter  Fanny,  tantalizing  her 
by  accounts  of  the  splendor  of  the  castle,  and  consoling 
her  by  describing  Miss  Carew  as  a  slight  creature  with 
red  hair  and  no  figure  (Fanny  having  jet  black  hair,  fine 
arms,  and  being  one  of  CashePs  most  proficient  pupils). 

"  All  the  same,  Fan,"  added  Mrs.  Skene,  as  she  took 
her  candlestick  at  two  in  the  morning,  "  if  it  comes  off, 
Cashel  will  never  be  master  in  his  own  house." 

"  I  can  see  that  very  plain,"  said  Fanny  ;  "  but  if 
respectable  professional  people  are  not  good  enough  for 
him,  he  will  have  only  himself  to  thank  if  he  gets  him- 
self looked  down  upon  by  empty-headed  swells." 

Meanwhile,  Lydia,  on  her  return  to  the  castle  after  a 
long  drive  round  the  country,  had  attempted  to  overcome 


Chap.  XIII  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  243 

an  attack  of  restlessness  by  getting  to  work  on  the 
biography  of  her  father.  With  a  view  to  preparing  a 
chapter  on  his  taste  in  literature  she  had  lately  been 
examining  his  favorite  books  for  marked  passages.  She 
now  resumed  this  search,  standing  perched  on  the  library 
ladder,  taking  down  volume  after  volume,  and  occasion- 
ally dipping  into  the  contents  for  a  few  pages  or  so.  At 
this  desultory  work  the  time  passed  as  imperceptibly  as 
the  shadows  lengthened.  The  last  book  she  examined 
was  a  volume  of  poems.  There  were  no  marks  in  it ; 
but  it  opened  at  a  page  which  had  evidently  lain  open 
often  before.  The  first  words  Lydia  saw  were  these : 

"  What  would  I  give  for  a  heart  of  flesh  to  warm  me  through 
Instead  of  this  heart  of  stone  ice-cold  whatever  I  do  ! 
Hard  and  cold  and  small,  of  all  hearts  the  worst  of  all." 

Lydia  hastily  stepped  down  from  the  ladder,  and 
recoiled  until  she  reached  a  chair,  where  she  sat  and  read 
and  re-read  these  lines.  The  failing  light  roused  her  to 
action.  She  replaced  the  book  on  the  shelf,  and  said,  as 
she  went  to  the  writing  table,  "If  such  a  doubt  as  that 
haunted  my  father,  it  will  haunt  me,  unless  I  settle  what 
is  to  be  my  heart's  business  now  and  for  ever.  If  it  be 
possible  for  a  child  of  mine  to  escape  this  curse,  it  must 
inherit  its  immunity  from  its  father,  and  not  from  me — 
from  the  man  of  impulse  who  never  thinks,  and  not  from 
the  rationalizing  woman,  who  cannot  help  thinking. 
Be  it  so." 


CHAPTER    XIV 

BEFORE  many  days  had  elapsed,  a  letter  came  for  Cashel 
as  he  sat  taking  tea  with  the  Skene  family.  When  he 
saw  the  handwriting,  a  deep  red  color  mounted  to  his 
temples. 

"  Oh  Lor  !  "  said  Miss  Skene,  who  sat  next  him. 
"  Lets  read  it." 

"  Go  to  the  dickens,"  cried  Cashel,  hastily  baffling  her 
as  she  snatched  at  it. 

"  Dont  worrit  him,  Fan,"  said  Mrs.  Skene  tenderly. 

"Not  for  the  world,  poor  dear,"  said  Miss  Skene, 
putting  her  hand  affectionately  on  his  shoulder.  "  Let 
me  just  peep  at  the  name — only  to  see  who  it's  from. 
Do,  Cashel  dear." 

u  It's  from  nobody,"  said  Cashel.  "  Here :  get  out. 
If  you  dont  let  me  alone,  I'll  make  it  warm  for  you  the 
next  time  you  come  to  me  for  a  lesson." 

"Very  likely,"  said  Fanny  contemptuously.  "Who 
had  the  best  of  it  to-day,  I  should  like  to  know  ? " 

"  Gev  him  a  hot  un  on  the  chin  with  her  right  as 
ever  I  see,"  observed  Skene,  with  hoarse  mirth. 

Cashel  moved  out  of  Fanny's  reach  to  read  the  letter, 
which  ran  thus : 

Regent's  Park. 

Dear  Mr.  Cashel  Byron 

I  am  desirous   that  you  should  meet  a  friend  of 


Chap,  xiv   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  245 

mine.  She  will  be  here  at  three  o'clock  to-morrow  after- 
noon. You  would  oblige  me  greatly  by  calling  on  me  at  that 
hour.  yours  faithfully,  Lydia  Carew. 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  there  was  no 
sound  in  the  room  except  the  ticking  of  the  clock  and 
the  munching  of  shrimps  by  the  ex-champion. 

"Good  news,  I  hope,  Cashel,"  said  Mrs.  Skene  at 
last,  tremulously. 

"  Blow  me  if  I  understand  it,"  said  Cashel.  "  Can 
you  make  it  out  ?  "  And  he  handed  the  letter  to  his 
adopted  mother.  Skene  stopped  eating  to  see  his  wife 
read,  a  feat  which  was  to  him  one  of  the  wonders  of 
learning. 

"  I  think  the  lady  she  mentions  must  be  herself,"  said 
Mrs.  Skene,  after  some  consideration. 

"No,"  said  Cashel,  shaking  his  head.  "She  always 
says  what  she  means." 

"  Ah,"  said  Skene  cunningly  ;  "  but  she  cant  write  it 
though.  Thats  the  worst  of  writing:  no  one  cant  never 
tell  exactly  what  it  means.  I  never  signed  articles  yet 
that  there  werent  some  misunderstanding  about ;  and 
articles  is  the  best  writing  that  can  be  had  anywhere." 

"  Youd  better  go  and  see  what  it  means,"  said  Mrs. 
Skene. 

"  Right,"  said  Skene.  "  Go  and  have  it  out  with  her, 
my  boy." 

"  It  is  short,  and  not  particularly  sweet,"  said  Fanny. 
"  She  might  have  had  the  civility  to  put  her  crest  at  the 
top." 

"  What  would  you  give  to  be  her  ? "  said  Cashel 
derisively,  catching  the  letter  as  she  tossed  it  disdainfully 
to  him. 

"If  I  was,  I'd  respect  myself  more  than  to  throw 
myself  at  your  head." 


246  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap.  XIV 

"  Hush,  Fanny,"  said  Mrs.  Skene  :  "  youre  too  sharp. 
Ned  :  you  oughtnt  to  encourage  her  by  laughing." 

Next  day  Cashel  paid  extra  attention  to  his  diet;  took 
some  exercise  with  the  gloves  ;  had  a  bath  and  a  rub 
down  ;  and  presented  himself  at  Regent's  Park  at  three 
o'clock  in  excellent  condition.  Expecting  to  see  Bash- 
ville,  he  was  surprised  when  the  door  was  opened  by  a 
female  servant. 

"  Miss  Carew  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  falling  in  love  with  him  at 
first  sight.  "  Mr.  Byron,  sir  ?  " 

"  Thats  me,"  said  Cashel.  "  I  say  :  is  there  any  one 
with  her  ?  " 

"  Only  a  lady,  sir." 

"  Oh  damn  !  Well,  it  cant  be  helped.  Never  say 
die." 

The  girl  led  him  to  a  door  ;  and  when  he  entered 
shut  it  softly  without  announcing  him.  The  room  was 
a  picture  gallery,  lighted  from  the  roof.  At  the  end, 
with  their  backs  toward  him,  were  two  ladies  :  Lydia, 
and  a  woman  whose  noble  carriage  and  elegant  form 
would  have  raised  hopes  of  beauty  in  a  man  less  pre- 
occupied than  Cashel.  But  he,  after  advancing  some 
distance  with  his  eyes  on  Lydia,  suddenly  changed 
countenance  ;  stopped  ;  and  was  actually  turning  to  fly 
when  the  ladies,  hearing  his  light  step,  faced  about  and 
rooted  him  to  the  spot.  As  Lydia  offered  him  her  hand, 
her  companion,  who  had  surveyed  the  visitor  first  with 
indifference  and  then  with  incredulous  surprise,  ex- 
claimed, in  a  burst  of  delighted  recognition,  like  a  child 
finding  a  long  lost  plaything,  "  My  darling  boy ! " 
And  going  to  Cashel  with  the  grace  of  a  swan,  she 
clasped  him  in  her  arms.  In  acknowledgment  of  which, 
he  thrust  his  red  discomfited  face  over  her  shoulder ; 
winked  at  Lydia  with  his  tongue  in  his  cheek ;  and  said, 


Chap.  XIV   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  247 

"  This  is  what  you  may  call  the  Voice  of  Nature,  and 
no  mistake." 

"  What  a  splendid  creature  you  are ! "  said  Mrs. 
Byron,  holding  him  a  little  away  from  her,  the  better 
to  admire  him.  "  How  handsome  you  are,  you  wretch ! " 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Miss  Carew,"  said  Cashel,  breaking 
loose,  and  turning  to  Lydia.  "  Never  mind  her  :  it's 
only  my  mother.  At  least,"  he  added,  as  if  correcting 
himself,  "shes  my  mamma." 

"  And  where  have  you  come  from?  Where  have  you 
been  ?  Do  you  know  that  I  have  not  seen  you  for  seven 
years,  you  unnatural  boy  ?  Think  of  his  being  my 
son,  Miss  Carew  !  Give  me  another  kiss,  my  own,"  she 
continued,  grasping  his  arm  affectionately.  "What  a 
muscular  creature  you  are  !  " 

"Kiss  away  as  much  as  you  like,"  said  Cashel, 
struggling  with  the  old  schoolboy  sullenness  as  it  returned 
oppressively  upon  him.  "I  suppose  youre  well.  You 
look  right  enough." 

"Yes,"  she  said  mockingly,  beginning  to  despise  him 
for  his  inability  to  act  up  to  her  in  this  thrilling  scene  : 
"  I  am  right  enough.  Your  language  is  as  refined  as 
ever.  And  why  do  you  get  your  hair  cropped  close  like 
that  ?  You  must  let  it  grow,  and " 

"Now  look  here,"  said  Cashel,  stopping  her  hand 
neatly  as  she  raised  it  to  re-arrange  his  locks.  "  You 
just  drop  it,  or  I'll  walk  out  at  that  door  and  you  wont 
see  me  again  for  another  seven  years.  You  can  either 
take  me  as  you  find  me,  or  let  me  alone.  If  you  want 
to  know  the  reason  for  my  wearing  my  hair  short,  you'll 
find  it  in  the  histories  of  Absalom  and  Dan  Mendoza. 
Now  are  you  any  the  wiser  ?  " 

Mrs.  Byron  became  a  shade  colder.  "  Indeed ! " 
she  said.  "Just  the  same  still,  Cashel  ?  " 

"Just  the  same,  both  one  and  other  of  us,"  he  replied. 


248  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap.  XIV 

"  Before  you  spoke  six  words,  I  felt  as  if  we'd  parted  only 
yesterday." 

"  I  am  rather  taken  aback  by  the  success  of  my 
experiment,"  interposed  Lydia.  "  I  invited  you  purposely 
to  meet  one  another.  The  resemblance  between  you 
led  me  to  suspect  the  truth ;  and  my  suspicion  was 
confirmed  by  the  account  Mr.  Byron  gave  me  of  his 
adventures." 

Mrs.  Byron's  vanity  was  touched.  "  Is  he  like  me  ?  " 
she  said,  scanning  his  features.  He,  without  heeding 
her,  said  to  Lydia  with  undisguised  mortification, 

"  And  was  that  why  you  sent  for  me  ?  " 

"  Are  you  disappointed  ?  "  said  Lydia. 

"He  is  not  in  the  least  glad  to  see  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Byron  plaintively.  "  He  has  no  heart." 

"Now  she'll  go  on  for  the  next  hour,"  said  Cashel, 
looking  to  Lydia,  obviously  because  he  found  it  much 
pleasanter  than  looking  at  his  mother.  "  No  matter  :  if 
you  dont  care,  I  dont.  So  fire  away,  mamma." 

"  And  you  think  we  are  really  like  one  another  I  "  said 
Mrs.  Byron,  not  heeding  him.  "  Yes  :  I  think  we  are. 

Th'ere  is  a  slight "  She  broke  off,  and  added  with 

sudden  mistrust  "  Are  you  married,  Cashel  ?  " 

«  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  shouted  Cashel.  "  No  ;  but  I  hope 
to  be,  some  day."  And  he  ventured  to  glance  again  at 
Lydia,  who  was,  however,  attentively  observing  Mrs. 
Byron. 

"  Well,  tell  me  everything  about  yourself.  What  are 
you  ?  Now  I  do  hope,  Cashel,  that  you  have  not  gone 
upon  the  stage." 

"  The  stage  !  "  said  Cashel  contemptuously.  "  Do  I 
look  like  it  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  do  not,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  whimsically, 
"  although  you  have  a  certain  odious  professional  air  too. 
What  did  you  do  when  you  ran  away  so  scandalously 


Chap.  XIV  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  249 

from  that  stupid  school  in  the  north  ?     How  do  you  earn 
your  living  ?     Or  do  you  earn  it  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  do,  seeing  that  I  am  alive.  What  do  you 
think  I  was  best  fit  for  after  my  bringing  up  ?  Crossing 
sweeping,  perhaps !  When  I  ran  away  from  Panley,  I 


"  A  sailor,  of  all  things  !  You  dont  look  like  one. 
And  pray,  what  rank  have  you  attained  in  your  profes- 
sion ? " 

"  The  front  rank.  The  top  of  the  tree,"  said  Cashel 
shortly. 

"Mr.  Byron  is  not  at  present  following  the  profession 
of  a  sailor,  nor  has  he  done  so  for  many  years,"  said 
Lydia. 

Cashel  looked  at  her,  half  in  appeal,  half  in  remon- 
strance. 

"Something  very  different  indeed,"  pursued  Lydia, 
with  quiet  obstinacy.  "  And  something  very  startling." 

"  Cant  you  shut  up,"  exclaimed  Cashel.  "  I  should 
have  expected  more  sense  from  you.  Whats  the  use  of 
setting  her  on  to  make  a  fuss  and  put  me  in  a  rage.  I'll 
go  away  if  you  dont  stop." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  said  Mrs.  Byron.  "  Have  you 
been  doing  anything  disgraceful,  Cashel  ?  " 

"  There  she  goes  :  I  told  you  so.  I  keep  a  gym- 
nasium :  thats  all.  There's  nothing  disgraceful  in  that, 
I  hope." 

"  A  gymnasium  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Byron,  with  imperi- 
ous disgust.  "  What  nonsense  !  You  must  give  up 
everything  of  that  kind,  Cashel.  It  is  very  silly,  and 
very  low.  You  were  too  ridiculously  proud,  of  course, 
to  come  to  me  for  the  means  of  keeping  yourself  in  a 
proper  position.  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  provide  you 
with " 

"  If  I   ever   take  a   penny  from    you,   may    I " 


250  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap,  xiv 

Cashel  caught  Lydia's  anxious  look,  and  checked  himself. 
He  lightly  retreated  a  step,  a  cunning  smile  flickering  on 
his  lips.  "No,"  he  said:  "it's  just  playing  into  your 
hands  to  lose  temper  with  you.  Make  me  angry  now  if 
you  can." 

"There  is  not  the  slightest  reason  for  anger,"  said 
Mrs.  Byron,  angry  herself.  "Your  temper  seems  to 
have  become  ungovernable — or  rather  to  have  remained 
so  ;  for  it  was  never  remarkable  for  sweetness." 

"No?"  retorted  Cashel,  jeering  good-humoredly. 
"  Not  the  slightest  occasion  to  lose  my  temper  !  Not 
when  I  am  told  that  I  am  silly  and  low  !  Why,  I  think 
you  must  fancy  that  youre  talking  to  your  little  Cashel, 
that  blessed  child  you  were  so  fond  of.  But  youre  not. 
Youre  talking — now  for  a  screech,  Miss  Carew  ! — to  the 
champion  of  Australia,  the  United  States,  and  England  ; 
holder  of  three  silver  belts  and  one  gold  one ;  professor 
of  boxing  to  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  St.  James's  ;  and 
common  prizefighter  to  the  whole  globe  without  reference 
to  weight  or  color  for  not  less  than  ^500  a  side. 
Thats  Cashel  Byron." 

Mrs.  Byron  recoiled,  astounded.  After  a  pause,  she 
said  "  Oh,  Cashel,  how  could  you  ?  "  Then,  approaching 
him  again,  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  go  out  and 
fight  those  great  rough  savages  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  You  can  have  the  gold  belt  to  wear  in 
King  John  if  you  think  itll  become  you." 

"  And  that  you  beat  them  ?  " 

"Yes.  Ask  Miss  Carew  how  Billy  Paradise  looked 
after  standing  before  me  for  an  hour." 

"  You  wonderful  boy  !  What  an  occupation  !  And 
have  you  done  all  this  in  your  own  name  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  have.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it.  I 
often  wondered  whether  you  had  seen  my  name  in  the 
papers  ? " 


Chap.  XIV   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  251 

"  I  never  read  the  papers.  But  you  must  have  heard 
of  my  return  to  England.  Why  did  you  not  come  to 
see  me  ? " 

"  I  wasnt  quite  certain  that  you  would  like  it,"  said 
Cashel  uneasily,  avoiding  her  eye.  "  Hallo  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, as  he  attempted  to  refresh  himself  by  another 
look  at  Lydia  :  "  she's  given  us  the  slip." 

"  She  is  quite  right  to  leave  us  alone  together  under 
the  circumstances.  And  now  tell  me  why  my  precious 
boy  should  doubt  that  his  own  mother  wished  to  see 
him." 

"  I  dont  know  why  he  should,"  said  Cashel,  with 
melancholy  submission  to  her  affection.  "  But  he  did." 

"  How  insensible  you  are  !  Did  you  not  know  that 
you  were  always  my  cherished  darling — my  only  son  ? " 

Cashel,  who  was  now  sitting  beside  her  on  an  ottoman, 
groaned,  and  moved  restlessly,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Are  you  glad  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Cashel  dismally,  "  I  suppose  I  am.  I 

By  Jingo  !  "  he  cried,  with  sudden  animation,  "  perhaps 
you  can  give  me  a  lift  here.  I  never  thought  of  that. 
I  say,  mamma :  I  am  in  great  trouble  at  present ;  and  I 
think  you  can  help  me  if  you  will." 

Mrs.  Byron  looked  at  him  satirically.  But  she  said 
soothingly,  <c  Of  course  I  will  help  you — as  far  as  I  am 
able — my  precious  one.  All  I  possess  is  yours." 

Cashel  ground  his  feet  on  the  floor  impatiently,  and 
then  sprang  up.  After  an  interval,  during  which  he 
seemed  to  be  swallowing  some  indignant  protest,  he 
said, 

cc  You  may  put  your  mind  at  rest,  once  and  for  all,  on 
the  subject  of  money.  I  dont  want  anything  of  that 
sort." 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  so  independent,  Cashel." 

"So  am  I." 


252  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap,  xiv 

"  Do,  pray,  be  more  amiable." 

"  I  am  amiable  enough,"  he  cried  desperately,  "  only 
you  wont  listen." 

"  My  treasure,"  said  Mrs.  Byron  remorsefully.  "What 
is  the  matter  ?  " 

"Well,"  said  Cashel,  somewhat  mollified,  "it's  this. 
I  want  to  marry  Miss  Carew  :  thats  all." 

"  You  marry  Miss  Carew  !  "  Mrs.  Byron's  tenderness 
had  vanished  \  and  her  tone  was  shrewd  and  contemptu- 
ous. "  Do  you  know,  you  silly  boy,  that ' 

"  I  know  all  about  it,"  said  Cashel  determinedly : 
"  what  she  is ;  and  what  I  am ;  and  the  rest  of  it. 
And  I  want  to  marry  her ;  and,  whats  more,  I  will 
marry  her,  if  I  have  to  break  the  neck  of  every  swell  in 
London  first.  So  you  can  either  help  me  or  not,  as  you 
please ;  but  if  you  wont,  never  call  me  your  precious  boy 
any  more.  Now  !  " 

Mrs.  Byron  abdicated  her  dominion  there  and  then 
for  ever.  She  sat  with  quite  a  mild  expression  for  some 
time  in  silence.  Then  she  said, 

"  After  all,  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  not.  It 
would  be  a  very  good  match  for  you." 

"  Yes  ;  but  a  deuced  bad  one  for  her." 

"  Really  I  do  not  see  that,  Cashel.  When  your  uncle 
dies,  I  suppose  you  will  succeed  to  the  Dorsetshire 
property." 

"  I  the  heir  to  a  property  !     Are  you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Of  course.  Old  Bingley  Byron,  disagreeable  as  he 
is,  cannot  live  for  ever." 

"  Who  the  dickens  is  Bingley  Byron  ;  and  what  has 
he  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

"  Your  uncle,  of  course.  Really,  Cashel,  you  ought 
to  think  about  these  things.  Did  it  never  occur  to  you 
that  you  must  have  relatives,  like  other  people  ?  " 

"  You  never  told  me  anything  about  them.     Well,  I 


Chap.  XIV  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  253 

am  blowed  !  But — but — I  mean .  Supposing  he  is 

my  uncle,  am  I  his  lawful  heir  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Walford  Byron,  the  only  brother  besides  your 
father,  died  years  ago,  whilst  you  were  at  Moncrief 's  ; 
and  he  had  no  sons.  Bingley  is  a  bachelor." 

"But,"  said  Cashel  cautiously,  "wont  there  be  some 
bother  about  my — at  least " 

"  My  dearest  child,  what  are  you  thinking  or  talking 
about  ?  Nothing  can  be  clearer  than  your  title." 

"  Well,"  said  Cashel  blushing,  "  a  lot  of  people  used  to 
make  out  that  you  werent  married  at  all." 

"  What  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Byron  indignantly.  "  Oh, 
they  dare  not  say  so  !  Impossible.  Why  did  you  not 
tell  me  at  once  ?  " 

"  I  didnt  think  about  it,"  said  Cashel,  hastily  excusing 
himself.  "  I  was  too  young  to  care.  It  doesnt  matter 
now.  My  father  is  dead,  inst  he  ?  " 

"  He  died  when  you  were  a  baby.  You  have  often 
made  me  angry  with  you,  poor  little  innocent,  by 
reminding  me  of  him.  Do  not  talk  of  him  to  me." 

"  Not  if  you  dont  wish.  Just  one  thing  though, 
mamma.  Was  he  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"  Of  course.     What  a  question  !  " 

"  Then  I  am  as  good  as  any  of  the  swells  that  think 
themselves  her  equals  ?  She  has  a  cousin  in  a  govern- 
ment office  :  a  fellow  that  gives  himself  out  as  the  Home 
Secretary,  and  most  likely  sits  in  a  big  chair  in  a  hall  and 
cheeks  the  public.  Am  I  as  good  as  he  is  ?  " 

"  You  are  perfectly  well  connected  by  your  mother's 
side,  Cashel.  The  Byrons  are  only  commoners  ;  but 
even  they  are  one  of  the  oldest  county  families  in 
England." 

Cashel  began  to  show  signs  of  excitement.  "  How 
much  a  year  are  they  worth  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"I    dont    know   how    much    they    are    worth    now: 


254          Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap,  xiv 

your  father  was  always  in  difficulties  ;  and  so  was  his 
father.  But  Bingley  is  a  miser.  Five  thousand  a  year, 
perhaps." 

"  Thats  an  independence.  Thats  enough.  She  said 
she  couldnt  expect  a  man  to  be  so  thunderingly  rich  as 
she  is." 

"  Indeed  ?  Then  you  have  discussed  the  question 
with  her  ? " 

Cashel  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  maid  entered  to 
say  that  Miss  Carew  was  in  the  library,  and  begged  that 
they  would  come  to  her  as  soon  as  they  were  quite  dis- 
engaged. As  the  girl  withdrew,  he  said  eagerly, 

"  I  wish  youd  go  home,  mamma,  and  let  me  catch  her 
in  the  library  by  herself.  Tell  me  where  you  live  ;  and 
I'll  come  in  the  evening  and  let  you  know  all  about  it. 
That  is,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

"  What  objection  could  I  possibly  have,  dearest  one  ? 
Are  you  sure  you  are  not  spoiling  your  chance  by  too 
much  haste  ?  She  has  no  occasion  to  hurry,  Cashel ; 
and  she  knows  it." 

"  I  am  dead  certain  that  now  is  my  time  or  never.  I 
always  know  by  instinct  when  to  go  in  and  finish. 
Here's  your  mantle." 

u  In  such  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  your  poor  old  mother, 
Cashel  ?  " 

"  Oh  bother  !  youre  not  old.  You  wont  mind  my 
wanting  you  to  go  for  this  once,  will  you  ?  " 

She  smiled  affectionately  ;  put  on  her  mantle  ;  and 
turned  her  cheek  towards  him  to  be  kissed.  The  un- 
accustomed gesture  alarmed  him  :  he  got  away  a  step, 
and  involuntarily  assumed  an  attitude  of  self-defence,  as 
if  the  problem  before  him  were  a  pugilistic  one.  Recover- 
ing himself  immediately,  he  kissed  her,  and  impatiently 
accompanied  her  to  the  house  door,  which  he  closed  softly 
behind  her,  leaving  her  to  walk  in  search  of  her  carriage 


Chap.  XIV   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  255 

alone.  Then  he  stole  upstairs  to  the  library,  where  he 
found  Lydia  reading. 

"  She's  gone,"  he  said. 

Lydia  put  down  her  book  ;  looked  up  at  him  ;  saw 
what  was  coming  j  looked  down  again  to  hide  a  spasm 
of  terror  j  and  said,  with  a  steady  severity  that  cost  her  a 
great  effort,  u  I  hope  you  have  not  quarrelled." 

"  Lord  bless  you,  no  !  We  kissed  one  another  like 
turtle  doves.  At  odd  moments  she  wheedles  me  into 
feeling  fond  of  her  in  spite  of  myself.  She  went  away 
because  I  asked  her  to." 

u  And  why  do  you  ask  my  guests  to  go  away  ?  " 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  be  alone  with  you.  Dont  look 
as  if  you  didnt  understand.  She's  told  me  a  whole  heap 
of  things  about  myself  that  alter  our  affairs  completely. 
My  birth  is  all  right  ;  I'm  heir  to  a  county  family  that 
came  over  with  the  Conqueror ;  and  I  shall  have  a 
decent  income.  I  can  afford  to  give  away  weight  to  old 
Webber  now." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Lydia  sternly. 

"  Well,"  said  Cashel  unabashed,  "  the  only  use  of  all 
that  to  me  is  that  I  may  marry  if  I  like.  No  more 
fighting  or  teaching  now." 

"  And  when  you  are  married,  will  you  be  as  tender  to 
your  wife  as  you  are  to  your  mother  ?  " 

Cashel's  elation  vanished.  "  I  knew  youd  think  that," 
he  said.  <c  I  am  always  the  same  with  her  :  I  cant  help 
it.  I  cant  like  a  woman  through  thick  and  thin  merely 
because  she  happens  to  be  my  mother ;  and  I  wont 
pretend  to  do  it  to  please  anybody.  She  makes  me  look 
like  a  fool,  or  like  a  brute.  Have  I  ever  been  so  with 
you  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Lydia.  "  Except,"  she  added,  "  that  you 
have  never  shewn  absolute  dislike  to  me." 

"  Ah  !    Except !   Thats  a  very  big  except.    But  I  dont 


256  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap,  xiv 

dislike  her.  Blood  is  thicker  than  water ;  and  I  have  a 
softness  for  her ;  only  I  wont  put  up  with  her  nonsense. 
But  it's  different  with  you — I  cant  explain  how,  because 
I'm  not  good  at  sentiment — not  that  there's  any  sentiment 
about  it.  At  least,  I  dont  mean  that ;  but —  Youre 
fond  of  me  in  a  sort  of  way,  aint  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I'm  fond  of  you  in  a  sort  of  way." 

"Well,  then,"  he  said  uneasily,  "wont  you  marry 
me  ?  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as  you  think  ;  and  youll  like 
me  better  after  a  while." 

Lydia  became  very  pale.  "  Have  you  considered," 
she  said,  "  that  henceforth  you  will  be  an  idle  man,  and 
that  I  shall  always  be  a  busy  woman,  pre-occupied  with 
work  that  may  seem  very  dull  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  wont  be  idle.  There's  lots  of  things  I  can  do 
besides  boxing.  We'll  get  on  together,  never  fear. 
People  that  are  fond  of  one  another  never  have  any 
difficulty  ;  and  people  that  hate  each  other  never  have 
any  comfort.  I'll  be  on  the  look-out  to  make  you  happy. 
You  neednt  fear  my  interrupting  your  Latin  and  Greek  : 
I  wont  expect  you  to  give  up  your  whole  life  to  me. 
Why  should  I  ?  There's  reason  in  everything.  So  long 
as  you  are  mine,  and  nobody  else's,  I'll  be  content.  And 
I'll  be  yours  and  nobody  else's.  Whats  the  use  of 
supposing  half-a-dozen  accidents  that  may  never  happen  ? 
Lets  take  our  chance.  You  have  too  much  good  nature 
ever  to  be  nasty." 

"  It  would  be  a  hard  bargain,"  she  said  doubtfully  ; 
"  for  you  would  have  to  give  up  your  occupation  ;  and  I 
should  give  up  nothing  but  my  unfruitful  liberty." 

"  I  will  swear  never  to  fight  again  ;  and  you  needrit 
swear  anything.  If  that  is  not  an  easy  bargain,  I  dont 
know  what  is." 

"  Easy  for  me  :  yes.     But  for  you  ?  " 

"Never  mind  me.     You  do  whatever  you  like;    and 


Chap.  XIV  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  257 

I'll  do  whatever  you  like.  You  have  a  conscience  ;  so  I 
know  that  whatever  you  like  will  be  the  best  thing.  I 
have  the  most  science  ;  but  you  have  the  most  sense. 
Come  !  " 

Lydia  looked  around,  as  if  for  a  means  of  escape. 
Cashel  waited  anxiously.  There  was  a  long  pause. 

"  It  cant  be,"  he  said  pathetically,  "  that  youre  afraid 
of  me  because  I  was  a  prizefighter." 

"  Afraid  of  you  !  No  :  I  am  afraid  of  myself;  afraid 
of  the  future  ;  afraid  for  you.  But  my  mind  is  already 
made  up  on  this  subject.  When  I  brought  about  this 
meeting  between  you  and  your  mother,  I  determined  to 
marry  you  if  you  asked  me  again." 

She  stood  up  quietly,  and  waited.  The  rough  hardi- 
hood of  the  ring  fell  from  him  like  a  garment :  he 
blushed  deeply,  and  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Nor  did 
she  ;  but  without  willing  it  she  came  a  step  closer  to 
him,  and  turned  up  her  face  towards  his.  He,  nearly 
blind  with  confusion,  put  his  arms  about  her  and  kissed 
her.  Suddenly  she  broke  loose  from  his  arms  ;  seized  the 
lappels  of  his  coat  tightly  in  her  hands  ;  and  leaned  back 
until  she  hung  from  him  with  all  her  weight. 

"  Cashel,"  she  said  :  cc  we  are  the  silliest  lovers  in  the 
world,  I  believe  :  we  know  nothing  about  it.  Are  you 
really  fond  of  me  ?  " 

He  could  only  answer  "  Yes  "  in  a  constrained  way, 
and  stare  helplessly  and  timidly  at  her.  His  ineptitude 
was  embarrassing ;  but  she  had  sense  enough  to  be  glad 
to  find  him  unmistakeably  as  entire  a  novice  at  love- 
making  as  herself.  He  remained  shy,  and  was  so 
evidently  anxious  to  go  that  she  presently  asked  him  to 
leave  her  for  a  while,  though  she  was  surprised  to  feel  a 
faint  pang  of  disappointment  when  he  consented. 

On  leaving  the  house,  he  hurried  to  the  address  which 
his  mother  had  given  him :  a  prodigious  building  in 


258  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap.  XIV 

Westminster,  divided  into  residential  flats,  to  the  seventh 
floor  of  which  he  ascended  in  a  lift.  As  he  stepped  from 
it  he  saw  Lueian  Webber  walking  away  from  him  along 
a  corridor.  Obeying  a  sudden  impulse,  he  followed,  and 
overtook  him  just  as  he  was  entering  a  room.  Lueian, 
finding  that  some  one  was  resisting  his  attempt  to  close 
the  door,  looked  out ;  recognized  Cashel  -,  turned  white  ; 
and  hastily  retreated  into  the  apartment,  where,  getting 
behind  a  writing-table,  he  snatched  a  revolver  from  a 
drawer.  Cashel  recoiled,  amazed  and  frightened,  with 
his  right  arm  up  as  if  to  ward  ofFa  blow. 

"  Hallo  !  "  he  cried.  "  Drop  that  damned  thing,  will 
you  !  If  you  dont,  I'll  shout  for  help." 

"If  you  approach  me,  I  will  fire,"  said  Lueian  excitedly. 
"  I  will  teach  you  that  your  obsolete  brutality  is  power- 
less against  the  weapons  Science  has  put  into  the  hands  of 
civilized  men.  Leave  my  apartments.  I  am  not  afraid 
of  you  j  but  I  do  not  choose  to  be  disturbed  by  your 
presence." 

"  Confound  your  cheek,"  said  Cashel  indignantly  :  "  is 
that  the  way  you  receive  a  man  who  comes  to  make  a 
friendly  call  on  you  ?  " 

"Friendly  now,  doubtless,  when  you  see  that  I  am 
well  protected." 

Cashel  gave  a  long  whistle.  "Oh,"  he  said:  "you 
thought  I  came  to  pitch  into  you.  Ha  !  ha  !  And  you 
call  that  science — to  draw  a  pistol  on  a  man  !  But  you 
darent  fire  it ;  and  well  you  know  it.  Youd  better  put 
it  up,  or  you  may  let  it  off  without  intending  to  :  I  never 
feel  comfortable  when  I  see  a  fool  meddling  with  fire- 
arms. I  came  to  tell  you  that  I'm  going  to  be  married 
to  your  cousin.  Aint  you  glad  ?  " 

Lucian's  face  changed.  He  believed ;  but  he  said 
obstinately,  "I  dont  credit  that  statement.  It  is  a 
lie." 


Chap.  XIV  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  259 

This  outraged  Cashel.  "  I  tell  you  again,"  he  said,  in 
a  menacing  tone,  "that  your  cousin  is  engaged  to  me. 
Now  call  me  a  liar,  and  hit  me  in  the  face  if  you  dare. 
Look  here,"  he  added,  taking  a  leather  case  from  his 
pocket,  and  extracting  from  it  a  bank  note  :  "  I'll  give 
you  that  twenty-pound  note  if  you  will  hit  me  one  blow." 
And  he  put  his  hands  behind  him,  and  placed  himself 
before  Lucian,  who,  sick  with  fury,  and  half  paralyzed  by 
a  sensation  which  he  would  not  acknowledge  as  fear, 
forced  himself  to  stand  his  ground.  Cashel  thrust  out 
his  jaw  invitingly,  and  said,  with  a  sinister  grin,  "  Put  it 
in  straight,  governor.  Twenty  pounds,  remember." 

At  that  moment  Lucian  would  have  given  all  his 
political  and  social  chances  for  the  strength  and  skill  of 
his  adversary.  He  could  see  only  one  way  to  escape  the 
torment  of  CashePs  jeering,  and  the  self-reproach  of  a 
coward  ;  for  his  point  of  honor,  learnt  at  an  English 
public  school,  was  essentially  the  same  as  the  prize- 
fighter's. He  desperately  clenched  his  fist  and  struck 
out.  The  blow  wasted  itself  on  space  ;  and  he  stumbled 
forward  against  Cashel,  who  laughed  uproariously,  and 
exclaimed,  clapping  him  on  the  back, 

"  Well  done,  my  boy.  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
be  mean  ;  but  youve  been  game  ;  and  youre  welcome 
to  the  stakes.  I'll  tell  Lydia  that  you  have  fought  me 
for  twenty  pounds  and  won  on  your  merits.  Aint  you 
proud  of  yourself  for  having  had  a  go  at  the  champion  ?  " 

"Sir "    began   Lucian.       But   nothing   coherent 

followed. 

"  You  just  sit  down  for  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  dont 
drink  any  spirits  ;  and  youll  be  all  right.  When  you 
recover  youll  be  glad  you  shewed  pluck.  So  good-night 
for  the  present :  I  know  how  you  feel ;  and  I'll  be  off. 
Be  sure  not  to  try  to  settle  yourself  with  wine :  itll  only 
make  you  worse.  Ta-ta  !  " 


260  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  Chap,  xiv 

As  Cashel  withdrew,  Lucian  collapsed  into  a  chair, 
shaken  by  the  revival  of  passions  and  jealousies  which  he 
had  thought  as  outgrown  as  the  schoolboy  jackets  in 
which  he  had  formerly  experienced  them.  He  rehearsed 
the  scene  a  hundred  times,  not  as  it  had  happened, 
though  the  recollection  of  that  stung  him  every  moment, 
but  as  it  might  have  happened  had  he,  instead  of  Cashel, 
been  the  stronger  man.  He  strove  in  vain  to  get  on 
the  lower  plane,  and  plume  himself  on  his  pluck  in 
having  at  least  dared  to  strike.  There  was  no  escape 
from  his  inner  knowledge  that  he  had  been  driven  by 
fear  and  hatred  into  a  paroxysm  of  wrath  against  a  man 
to  whom  he  should  have  set  an  example  of  dignified 
control.  An  exhausting  whirl  in  his  thoughts,  at  once 
quickened  and  confused  by  the  nervous  shock  of  bodily 
violence,  to  which  he  was  quite  unused,  distracted  him. 
He  wanted  sympathy,  refuge,  an  opportunity  to  retrieve 
himself  by  doing  it  all  over  again  the  right  way.  Before 
an  hour  had  passed  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  house  in 
Regent's  Park. 

Lydia  was  in  her  boudoir,  occupied  with  a  book,  when 
he  entered.  He  was  not  an  acute  observer  :  he  could 
see  no  change  in  her.  She  was  as  calm  as  ever :  her 
eyes  were  not  fully  open  j  and  the  touch  of  her  hand 
subdued  him  as  it  had  always  done.  Though  he  had 
never  entertained  any  hope  of  possessing  her  since  the 
day  when  she  had  refused  him  in  Bedford  Square,  a  sense 
of  intolerable  loss  came  upon  him  as  he  saw  her  for  the 
first  time  pledged  to  another — and  such  another  ! 

"Lydia,"  he  said,  trying  to  speak  vehemently,  but 
failing  to  shake  off  the  conventional  address  of  which 
he  had  made  a  second  nature  :  "  I  have  heard  something 
that  has  filled  me  with  inexpressible  dismay.  Is  it 
true  ?  " 

"  The  news  has  travelled  fast,"  she  said.     "  Yes,  it  is 


Chap.  XIV  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  261 

true."  She  spoke  composedly,  and  so  kindly  that  he 
choked  in  trying  to  reply. 

"Then,  Lydia,  you  are  the  chief  actor  in  a  greater 
tragedy  than  I  have  ever  witnessed  on  the  stage." 

"  It  is  strange,  is  it  not  ?  "  she  said,  smiling  at  his 
effort  to  be  impressive. 

"  Strange !  It  is  calamitous.  I  trust  I  may  be 
allowed  to  say  so.  And  you  sit  there  reading  as  calmly 
as  though  nothing  had  happened." 

She  handed  him  the  book  without  a  word. 

"  Ivanhoe  !  "  he  said.     "  A  novel !  " 

"  Yes.  Do  you  remember  once,  before  you  knew  me 
very  well,  telling  me  that  Scott's  novels  were  the  only 
ones  you  liked  to  see  in  the  hands  of  ladies  ? " 

"  No  doubt  I  did.  But  I  cannot  talk  of  literature 
just " 

"  I  am  not  leading  you  away  from  what  you  want  to 
talk  of.  I  was  about  to  tell  you  that  I  came  upon 
Ivanhoe  by  chance  half  an  hour  ago  when  I  was 
searching — I  confess  it — for  something  very  romantic 
to  read.  Ivanhoe  was  a  prizefighter :  the  first  half 
of  the  book  is  a  description  of  a  prizefight.  I  was 
wondering  whether  some  romancer  of  the  twenty-fourth 
century  will  hunt  out  the  exploits  of  my  husband,  and 
present  him  to  the  world  as  a  sort  of  English  nineteenth 
century  Cid,  with  all  the  glory  of  antiquity  upon  his 
deeds." 

Lucian  made  a  gesture  of  impatience.  "  I  have  never 
been  able  to  understand,"  he  said,  "how  it  is  that  a 
woman  of  your  ability  can  habitually  dwell  on  perverse 
and  absurd  ideas.  Oh,  Lydia,  is  this  to  be  the  end  of 
all  your  great  gifts  and  attainments  ?  Forgive  me  if  I 
touch  a  painful  chord  ;  but  this  marriage  seems  to  me 
so  unnatural  that  I  must  speak  out.  Your  father  left 
you  one  of  the  richest  and  best- educated  women  in 


262  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap.  XIV 

Europe.  Would  he  approve  of  what  you  are  about  to 
do  ? " 

"  It  almost  seems  to  me  that  he  educated  me  expressly 
to  some  such  end.  Whom  would  you  have  me  marry  ? " 

"  Doubtless  few  men  are  worthy  of  you,  Lydia.  But 
this  man  least  of  all.  Could  you  not  marry  a  gentleman  ? 
If  he  were  even  an  artist,  a  poet,  or  a  man  of  genius  of 
any  kind,  I  could  bear  to  think  of  it ;  for  indeed  I  am 
not  influenced  by  class  prejudice  in  the  matter.  But 

a 1  will  try  to  say  nothing  that  you  must  not  in 

justice  admit  to  be  too  obvious  to  be  ignored — a  man  of 
the  lower  orders,  pursuing  a  calling  which  even  the 
lower  orders  despise  ;  illiterate,  rough,  awaiting  at  this 
moment  a  disgraceful  sentence  at  the  hands  of  the 
law  !  Is  it  possible  that  you  have  considered  all  these 
things  ? " 

"  Not  very  deeply :  they  are  not  of  a  kind  to  concern 
me  much.  I  can  console  you  as  to  one  of  them.  I 
have  always  recognized  Cashel  as  a  gentleman,  in  your 
sense  of  the  word.  He  proves  to  be  so :  his  people  are 
county  people  and  so  forth.  As  to  his  trial,  I  have 
spoken  with  Lord  Worthington  about  it,  and  also  with 
the  lawyers  who  have  charge  of  the  case ;  and  they  say 
positively  that,  owing  to  certain  proofs  not  being  in  the 
hands  of  the  police,  a  defence  can  be  set  up  that  will  save 
him  from  imprisonment." 

"  There  is  no  such  defence  possible,"  said  Lucian, 
angrily. 

"  Perhaps  not.  As  far  as  I  understand  it,  it  is  rather 
an  aggravation  of  the  offence  than  an  excuse  for  it.  But 
if  they  imprison  him,  it  will  make  no  difference.  He 
can  console  himself  with  the  certainty  that  I  will  marry 
him  at  once  when  he  is  released." 

Lucian's  face  lengthened.  He  abandoned  the  argument, 
and  said  blankly,  "  I  cannot  suppose  that  you  would  allow 


Chap.  XIV  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  263 

yourself  to  be  deceived.  If  he  is  a  gentleman,  that  of 
course  alters  the  case  completely." 

c<  Lucian,"  said  Lydia  earnestly  :  "  will  you  believe 
that  it  actually  altered  the  case  with  me  ?  There  is,  I 
know,  a  plane  upon  which  his  past  pursuits  are  wrong  ; 
but  we  are  not  upon  that  plane  any  more  than  he.  The 
discovery  of  his  rank  does  not  alter  the  weight  of  one 
blow  he  has  ever  struck  ;  and  yet  you  have  just  now 
admitted  that  it  alters  the  case  completely.  It  was  not 
prizefighting  that  you  objected  to :  that  was  only  a 
pretence :  your  true  repugnance  was  to  the  class  to  which 
prizefighters  belong.  And  so,  worldly  cousin  Lucian,  I 
silence  all  your  objections  by  convincing  you  that  I  am 
not  going  to  connect  you  by  marriage  with  a  butcher, 
bricklayer,  or  other  member  of  the  trades  from  which 
Cashel's  profession,  as  you  warned  me,  is  usually  recruited. 
Stop  a  moment :  I  am  going  to  do  justice  to  you.  You 
want  to  say  that  my  unworldly  friend  Lucian  is  far  more 
deeply  concerned  at  seeing  the  phoenix  of  modern  culture 
throw  herself  away  on  a  man  unworthy  of  her." 

"  That  is  what  I  mean  to  say,  except  that  you  put  it 
too  modestly.  It  is  a  case  of  the  phoenix,  not  only  of 
modern  culture,  but  of  natural  endowment  and  of  every 
happy  accident  of  the  highest  civilization,  throwing  her- 
self away  on  a  man  specially  incapacitated  by  his  tastes 
and  pursuits  from  comprehending  her  or  entering  the 
circle  in  which  she  moves." 

"  Listen  to  me  patiently,  Lucian  ;  and  I  will  try  to 
explain  the  mystery  to  you,  leaving  the  rest  of  the  world 
to  misunderstand  me  as  it  pleases.  First,  you  will  grant 
me  that  even  a  phoenix  must  marry  some  one  in  order 
that  she  may  hand  on  her  torch  to  her  children.  Her 
best  course  would  be  to  marry  another  phoenix ;  but  as 
she  —  poor  girl  ! — cannot  appreciate  even  her  own 
phoenixity,  much  less  that  of  another,  she  perversely 


264  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap.  XIV 

prefers  a  mere  mortal.  Who  is  the  mortal  to  be  ?  Not 
her  cousin  Lucian  ;  for  rising  young  politicians  must 
have  helpful  wives,  with  feminine  politics  and  powers 
of  visiting  and  entertaining  :  a  description  inapplicable  to 
the  phoenix.  Not,  as  you  just  now  suggested,  a  man  of 
letters.  The  phoenix  has  had  her  share  of  playing  help- 
meet to  a  man  of  letters,  and  does  not  care  to  repeat 
that  experience.  She  is  sick  to  death  of  the  morbid 
introspection  and  ignorant  self- consciousness  of  poets, 
novelists,  and  their  like.  As  to  artists,  all  the  good  ones 
are  married  ;  and  ever  since  the  rest  have  been  able  to 
read  in  hundreds  of  books  that  they  are  the  most  gifted 
and  godlike  of  men,  they  are  become  almost  as  intolerable 
as  their  literary  flatterers.  No,  Lucian :  the  phoenix 
has  paid  her  debt  to  literature  and  art  by  the  toil  of  her 
childhood.  She  will  use  and  enjoy  both  of  them  in 
future  as  best  she  can  ;  but  she  will  never  again  drudge 
in  their  laboratories.  You  say  that  she  might  at  least 
have  married  some  one  with  the  habits  of  a  gentleman, 
But  the  gentlemen  she  knows  are  either  amateurs  of  the 
arts,  having  the  egotism  of  professional  artists  without 
their  ability  ;  or  they  are  men  of  pleasure,  which  means 
that  they  are  dancers,  tennis  players,  butchers,  and 
gamblers.  I  leave  the  nonentities  out  of  the  question. 
In  the  eyes  of  a  phoenix,  even  the  arena — the  ring,  as 
they  call  it — is  a  better  school  of  character  than  the 
drawing-room  ;  and  a  prizefighter  is  a  hero  in  com- 
parison with  the  wretch  who  sets  a  leash  of  greyhounds 
upon  a  hare.  Imagine,  now,  this  poor  phoenix  meeting 
with  a  man  who  had  never  been  guilty  of  self-analysis  in 
his  life — who  complained  when  he  was  annoyed,  and 
exulted  when  he  was  glad,  like  a  child  and  unlike  a 
modern  man — who  was  honest  and  brave,  strong  and 
beautiful.  You  open  your  eyes,  Lucian  :  you  do  not  do 
justice  to  CashePs  good  looks.  He  is  twenty-five  j  and 


Chap.  XIV   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  265 

yet  there  is  not  a  line  in  his  face.  It  is  neither  thought- 
ful, nor  poetic,  nor  wearied,  nor  doubting,  nor  old,  nor 
self-conscious,  as  so  many  of  his  contemporaries'  faces 
are — as  mine,  perhaps,  is.  The  face  of  a  pagan  god, 
assured  of  eternal  youth  !  I  should  be  mad,  since  I  must 
marry,  to  miss  such  a  man." 

"  You  are  mad  as  it  is,"  cried  Lucian  rising,  scared 
and  vehement.  "  This  is  infatuation.  You  no  more  see 
the  real  man  as  I  see  him  than " 

"Than  you  can  see  me  as  I  appear  to  those  who 
dislike  me,  Lucian.  How  do  you  know  that  what  you 
see  is  the  real  man  ?  " 

"  I  see  him  as  every  one  sees  him  except  you.  That 
shews  that  you  are  infatuated.  You  know — you  must 
know — that  you  have  lost  your  senses  on  this  subject." 

"I  have  given  you  reasons,  Lucian.  I  am  open  to 
argument." 

"  Argument !  Reasons  !  Do  you  think  that  your 
folly  is  any  the  less  folly  because  you  have  reasons  for  it  ? 
Rational  folly  is  the  worst  of  all  folly,  because  it  is  armed 
against  reason." 

Lydia  opened  her  eyes  fully  for  the  first  time  during 
the  conversation.  "  Lucian,"  she  said,  delightedly : 
"you  are  coming  out.  1  think  that  is  the  cleverest 
thing  I  ever  heard  you  say.  And  it  is  true — frightfully 
true." 

He  sat  down  despairingly.  "  You  would  not  admit  it 
so  readily,"  he  said,  "if  you  intended  it  to  have  the 
smallest  effect  on  you.  Even  if  all  your  arguments  were 
good  ones,  what  would  they  prove  ?  If  you  really 
despise  the  pursuits  of  gentlemen,  is  that  a  reason  for 
respecting  the  pursuits  of  prizefighters  ?  Is  the  ring 
any  the  better  because  you  can  pretend  to  think  the 
drawing-room  worse  ? — for  you  do  not  really  hold  any 
such  monstrous  opinion.  How  you  would  scout  your 


266  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap,  xiv 

own  sophistry  if  I  used  it  in  trying  to  persuade  you  to 
conform  to  social  usuages  !  " 

"We  are  drifting  back  again  into  mere  rationalism, 
Lucian.  However,  it  is  my  fault.  I  began  an  explana- 
tion, and  rambled  off,  womanlike,  into  praise  of  my  lover. 
Do  not  think  that  I  wish  to  represent  my  choice  as 
any  better  than  a  choice  of  the  least  of  two  evils.  I 
strongly  think  that  Society  ought  to  have  made  some- 
thing better  of  Cashel  than  a  prizefighter  ;  but  he,  poor 
fellow,  had  no  choice  at  all.  I  once  called  him  a  ruffian ; 
and  I  do  not  retract  the  word ;  though  I  expect  you  to 
forgive  him  his  ruffianism  as  you  forgive  a  soldier  his 
murders,  or  a  lawyer  his  lies.  When  you  condemn  the 
others — and  with  all  my  heart  I  say  the  sooner  the 
better — condemn  him,  but  not  before.  Besides,  my 
dear  Lucian,  the  prizefighting  is  all  over :  he  does  not 
intend  to  go  on  with  it.  As  to  our  personal  suitability, 
I  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  heredity ;  and  as  my  body 
is  frail  and  my  brain  morbidly  active,  I  think  my  impulse 
towards  a  man  strong  in  body  and  untroubled  in  mind  a 
trustworthy  one.  You  can  understand  that :  it  is  a 
plain  proposition  in  eugenics." 

"  I  know  that  you  will  do  whatever  you  have  made  up 
your  mind  to  do,"  said  Lucian  desolately. 

cc  And  you  will  make  the  best  of  it,  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  The  best  or  worst  of  it  does  not  rest  with  me.  I 
can  only  accept  it  as  inevitable." 

"  Not  at  all.  You  can  make  the  worst  of  it  by 
behaving  distantly  to  Cashel ;  or  the  best  of  it  by  being 
friendly  with  him." 

"  I  had  better  tell  you,"  he  said.  "  I  have  seen  him 

since — since "  Lydia  nodded.  "  I  mistook  his  object 

in  coming  into  my  room  as  he  did,  unannounced.  In 
fact,  he  almost  forced  his  way  in.  Some  words  arose 
between  us.  At  last  he  taunted  me  beyond  endurance, 


Chap.  XIV   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  267 

and  offered  me — characteristically — ^20  to  strike  him. 
And  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  did  so." 

"  You  did  so  !  "  said  Lydia,  turning  very  pale.  "  And 
what  followed  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  rather  that  I  meant  to  strike  him  ;  for 
he  avoided  me,  or  else  I  missed  my  aim.  He  only  gave 
me  the  money  and  went  away,  evidently  with  a  high 
opinion  of  me.  He  left  me  with  a  very  low  one  of 
myself." 

"  What !  He  did  not  retaliate  !  "  exclaimed  Lydia, 
recovering  her  color.  "  Oh,  he  has  beaten  you  on  your 
own  ground,  Lucian.  It  is  you  who  are  the  prizefighter 
at  heart ;  and  you  grudge  him  his  superiority  in  the  very 
art  you  condemn  him  for  professing." 

"I  was  wrong,  Lydia,  but  I  grudged  him  you.  I 
know  I  acted  hastily ;  and  I  will  apologize  to  him.  I 
wish  matters  had  fallen  out  otherwise." 

"  They  could  not  have  done  so  ;  and  I  believe  you 
will  yet  acknowledge  that  they  have  arranged  themselves 
very  well.  Now  that  the  phoenix  is  disposed  of,  I  want 
to  read  you  a  letter  I  have  received  from  Alice  Goff, 
which  throws  quite  a  new  light  on  her  character.  I  have 
not  seen  her  since  June ;  and  her  mind  seems  to  have 
grown  three  years  in  the  interim.  Listen  to  this,  for 
example." 

And  so  the  conversation  turned  upon  Alice. 

When  Lucian  returned  to  his  chambers,  he  wrote  the 
following  note,  which  he  posted  to  Cashel  Byron  before 
going  to  bed. 

Dear  Sir, 

I  beg  to  enclose  you  a  bank  note  which  you  left  here 
this  evening.  I  feel  bound  to  express  my  regret  for  what 
passed  on  that  occasion^  and  to  assure  you  that  it  proceeded 
from  a  misapprehension  of  your  purpose  in  calling  on  me. 


268  Cashel  Byron's  Profession   Chap.  XIV 

The  nervous  disorder  into  which  the  severe  mental  applica- 
tion and  late  hours  of  the  past  session  have  thrown  me  must 
be  my  excuse.  I  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you 
again  soon^  and  offering  you  personally  my  congratulations  on 
your  approaching  marriage. 

dear  Sir, 
Tours  very  truly^ 

Luclan  Webber. 


CHAPTER   XV 

IN  the  following  month  Cashel  Byron,  William  Paradise, 
and  Robert  Mellish  appeared  in  the  dock  together,  the 
first  two  for  having  been  principals  in  a  prizefight,  and 
Mellish  for  having  acted  as  bottleholder  to  Paradise. 
These  offences  were  verbosely  described  in  a  long  indict- 
ment which  was  to  have  included  the  fourth  man 
captured.  But  against  him  the  grand  jury  had  refused 
to  find  a  true  bill.  The  prisoners  pleaded  not  guilty. 

The  defence  was  that  the  fight,  the  occurrence  of 
which  was  admitted,  was  not  a  prizefight,  but  the 
outcome  of  an  enmity  which  had  subsisted  between  the 
two  men  since  one  of  them,  at  a  public  exhibition  at 
Islington,  had  attacked  and  bitten  the  other.  In  support 
of  this,  it  was  shewn  that  Byron  had  occupied  a  house  at 
Wiltstoken,  and  had  lived  there  with  Mellish,  who  had 
invited  Paradise  to  spend  a  holiday  with  him  in  the 
country.  This  accounted  for  the  presence  of  the  three 
men  at  Wiltstoken  on  the  day  in  question.  Words  had 
arisen  between  Byron  and  Paradise  on  the  subject  of  the 
Islington  affair  ;  and  they  had  at  last  agreed  to  settle 
the  dispute  in  the  old  English  fashion.  They  had 
adjourned  to  a  field,  and  fought  fairly  and  determinedly 
until  interrupted  by  the  police,  who,  misled  by  appear- 
ances, mistook  the  affair  for  a  prizefight. 

Prizefighting,   Cashel    Byron's    counsel    said,    was   a 


270  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap,  xv 

brutal  pastime,  rightly  discountenanced  by  the  law  ;  but 
a  fair  stand-up  fight  between  two  unarmed  men,  though 
doubtless  technically  a  breach  of  the  peace,  had  never 
been  severely  dealt  with  by  British  juries  or  British  judges, 
who  knew  how  much  it  was  to  our  national  and  manly 
tolerance  of  the  fist,  Nature's  weapon,  that  we  owed  our 
freedom  from  the  murderous  stiletto  of  the  Italian,  the 
revolver  of  the  cowboy,  and  the  treacherous  kick  of  the 
French  savate  player  (Mellish,  whose  favorite  spectacle 
was  Devonshire  and  Lancashire  wrestling,  murmured  in 
patriotic  assent).  The  case  would  be  amply  met  by 
binding  over  the  prisoners,  who  were  now  on  the  best  of 
terms  with  one  another,  to  keep  the  peace  for  a  reason- 
able period.  The  sole  evidence  against  this  view  of  the 
case  was  police  evidence ;  and  the  police  were  naturally 
reluctant  to  admit  that  they  had  found  a  mare's  nest. 
In  proof  that  the  fight  had  been  premeditated,  and  was  a 
prizefight,  they  alleged  that  it  had  taken  place  within  an 
enclosure  formed  with  ropes  and  stakes.  But  where 
were  those  ropes  and  stakes  ?  They  were  not  forth- 
coming ;  and  he  (counsel)  submitted  that  the  reason  was 
not,  as  had  been  suggested,  that  they  had  been  spirited 
away,  which  was  plainly  impossible  ;  but  that  they  had 
existed  only  in  the  excited  imagination  of  the  posse  of 
constables  who  had  arrested  the  prisoners. 

Again,  it  had  been  urged  that  the  prisoners  were  in 
fighting  costume.  But  cross-examination  had  elicited 
that  fighting  costume  meant  practically  no  costume  at  all : 
the  men  had  simply  stripped  in  order  that  their  movements 
might  be  unembarrassed.  It  had  been  proved  that  Para- 
dise had  been — well,  in  the  traditional  costume  of  Paradise 
(Roars  of  laughter  :  Paradise  grinning  in  confusion)  until 
the  police  borrowed  a  horsecloth  to  put  upon  him. 

That  the  constables  had  been  guilty  of  gross  exaggera- 
tion was  shewn  by  their  evidence  as  to  the  desperate 


Chap.  XV     Cashel  Byron's  Profession  271 

injuries  the  combatants  had  inflicted  upon  one  another. 
Of  Paradise  in  particular  it  had  been  alleged  that  his 
features  were  obliterated.  The  jury  had  before  them  in 
the  dock  the  man  whose  features  had  been  obliterated 
only  a  few  weeks  previously.  If  that 'were  true,  where 
had  the  prisoner  obtained  the  unblemished  lineaments 
which  he  was  now,  full  of  health  and  good  humor, 
presenting  to  them?  (Renewed  laughter.  Paradise 
suffused  with  blushes.)  It  was  said  that  these  terrible 
injuries,  the  traces  of  which  had  disappeared  so  miracu- 
lously, were  inflicted  by  the  prisoner  Byron,  a  young 
gentleman  tenderly  nurtured,  and  visibly  inferior  in 
strength  and  hardihood  to  his  herculean  opponent. 
Doubtless  Byron  had  been  emboldened  by  his  skill  in 
mimic  combat  with  softly  padded  gloves  to  try  conclu- 
sions, under  the  very  different  conditions  of  real  fighting, 
with  a  man  whose  massive  shoulders  and  determined  cast 
of  features  ought  to  have  convinced  him  that  such  an 
enterprise  was  nothing  short  of  desperate.  Fortunately 
the  police  had  interfered  before  he  had  suffered  severely 
for  his  rashness.  Yet  it  had  been  alleged  that  he  had 
actually  worsted  Paradise  in  the  encounter — obliterated 
his  features  !  That  was  a  fair  sample  of  the  police 
evidence,  which  was  throughout  consistently  incredible 
and  at  variance  with  the  dictates  of  common  sense. 

It  was  unnecessary  to  waste  the  time  of  the  jury  by 
comment  on  the  honorable  manner  in  which  Byron  had 
come  forward  and  given  himself  up  to  the  police  the 
moment  he  learnt  that  they  were  in  search  of  him. 
Such  conduct  spoke  for  itself.  Paradise  would,  beyond  a 
doubt,  have  adopted  the  same  straightforward  course  had 
he  not  been  arrested  at  once,  and  that  too  without  the 
least  effort  at  resistance  on  his  part.  Surely  this  was 
hardly  the  line  that  would  have  suggested  itself  to  two 
lawless  prizefighters. 


272  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  XV 

An  attempt  had  been  made  to  prejudice  the  prisoner 
Byron  by  the  statement  that  he  was  a  notorious  pro- 
fessional bruiser.  But  no  proof  of  that  was  forthcoming  ; 
and  if  the  fact  were  really  notorious  there  could  be  no 
difficulty  in  proving  it.  Such  notoriety  as  Mr.  Byron 
enjoyed  was  due,  as  his  friend  Lord  Worthington  had  let 
slip  in  the  course  of  examination,  to  his  approaching 
marriage  with  a  lady  of  distinction.  Was  it  credible 
that  a  highly  connected  gentleman  in  this  enviable 
position  would  engage  in  a  prizefight,  risking  disgrace 
and  personal  disfigurement  for  a  sum  of  money  that  could 
be  no  object  to  him,  or  for  a  glory  that  would  appear  to 
all  his  friends  as  little  better  than  infamy  ? 

The  whole  of  the  evidence  as  to  the  character  of  the 
prisoners  went  to  shew  that  they  were  men  of  unim- 
peachable integrity  and  respectability.  An  impression 
unfavorable  to  Paradise  might  have  been  created  by  the 
fact  that  he  was  a  professional  pugilist  and  a  man  of  hasty 
temper  ;  but  it  had  also  transpired  that  he  had  on  one 
occasion  rendered  assistance  to  the  police,  thereby  em- 
ploying his  athletic  attainments  in  the  interests  of  law 
and  order.  As  to  his  temper,  it  accounted  for  the 
quarrel  which  the  police — knowing  his  profession — had 
mistaken  for  a  prizefight. 

Mellish  was  a  trainer  of  athletes  :  hence  the  witnesses 
to  his  character  were  chiefly  persons  connected  with 
sport ;  but  they  were  not  the  less  worthy  of  credence  on 
that  account. 

In  fine,  the  charge  would  have  been  hard  to  believe 
even  if  supported  by  the  strongest  evidence.  But  when 
there  was  no  evidence — when  the  police  had  failed  to 
produce  any  of  the  accessories  of  a  prizefight — when 
there  were  no  ropes  nor  posts,  no  written  articles,  no 
stakes  nor  stakeholders,  no  seconds  except  the  unfor- 
tunate man  Mellish — whose  mouth  was  closed  by  a  law 


Chap.  XV     Cashel  Byron's  Profession          273 

which,  in  defiance  of  the  obvious  interests  of  justice, 
forbade  a  prisoner  to  speak  and  clear  himself — nothing, 
in  fact,  but  the  fancies  of  constables  who  had,  under 
cross-examination,  not  only  contradicted  one  another, 
but  shewn  the  most  complete  ignorance  (a  highly  credit- 
able ignorance)  of  the  nature  and  conditions  of  a  prize- 
fight, then  counsel  would  venture  to  say  confidently  that 
the  theory  of  the  prosecution,  ingenious  as  it  was,  and 
ably  as  it  had  been  put  forward,  was  absolutely  and  utterly 
untenable. 

This,  and  much  more  of  equal  value,  was  delivered 
with  relish  by  an  eminent  Queen's  counsellor,  whose 
spirits  rose  as  he  felt  the  truth  change  and  fade  whilst 
he  rearranged  its  attendant  circumstances.  Cashel  at 
first  listened  anxiously.  He  flushed  and  looked  moody 
when  his  marriage  was  alluded  to  ;  but  when  the  whole 
defence  was  unrolled,  he  was  awestruck,  and  stared  at 
his  advocate  as  if  he  half  feared  that  the  earth  would 
gape  and  swallow  such  a  reckless  perverter  of  known 
facts.  Paradise  felt  that  he  was  free  already :  his 
admiration  for  the  barrister  rose  to  the  point  of  hero- 
worship.  The  Judge,  and  the  more  respectable  persons 
in  court,  became  extraordinarily  grave,  as  Englishmen 
will  when  their  sense  of  moral  responsibility  is  roused  on 
behalf  of  some  glaring  imposture.  Every  one  in  court 
knew  that  the  police  were  right ;  that  there  had  been  a 
prizefight ;  that  the  betting  on  it  had  been  recorded  in 
all  the  sporting  papers  for  weeks  beforehand  ;  that  Cashel 
was  the  most  terrible  fighting  man  of  the  day;  that 
Paradise  had  not  dared  to  propose  a  renewal  of  the  inter- 
rupted contest.  And  they  listened  with  solemn  appro- 
bation to  the  man  who  knew  all  this  as  well  as  they  did, 
but  who  was  clever  enough  to  make  it  appear  incredible 
and  nonsensical. 

It  remained  for  the  Judge  to  sweep  away  the  defence, 


274  Cashel  Byron's  Profession     Chap.  XV 

or  to  favor  the  prisoners  by  countenancing  it.  Fortu- 
nately for  them,  he  had  handled  the  gloves  himself  in  his 
youth,  and  was  old  enough  to  recall,  not  without  regret,  a 
time  when  the  memory  of  Cribb  and  Molyneux  was  yet 
green.  He  began  his  summing-up  by  telling  the  jury 
that  the  police  had  failed  to  prove  that  the  fight  was  a 
prizefight.  After  that,  the  sporting  spectators,  by  in- 
dulging in  roars  of  laughter  whenever  they  could  find  a 
pretext  for  doing  so  without  being  turned  out  of  court, 
shewed  that  they  had  ceased  to  regard  the  trial  seriously. 
The  lay  public  retained  its  gravity  to  the  last. 

Finally  the  jury  acquitted  Mellish,  and  found  Cashel 
and  Paradise  guilty  of  a  common  assault.  They  were 
sentenced  to  two  days  imprisonment,  and  bound  over  in 
sureties  of  ^150  each  to  keep  the  peace  for  twelve 
months.  The  sureties  were  forthcoming  ;  and  as  the 
imprisonment  was  supposed  to  date  from  the  beginning 
of  the  sessions,  the  prisoners  were  at  once  released. 

"  By  Jingo,"  said  Cashel  emphatically  as  he  left  the 
court,  "if  we  didnt  fight  fairer  than  that  in  the  ring, 
we'd  be  disqualified  in  the  first  round.  It's  the  first 
cross  I  ever  was  mixed  up  in  ;  and  I  hope  it  will  be  the 
last." 


CHAPTER    XVI 

Miss  CAREW,  averse  to  the  anomalous  relations  of  court- 
ship, made  as  little  delay  as  possible  in  getting  married. 
CashePs  luck  was  not  changed  by  the  event.  Bingley 
Byron  died  three  weeks  after  the  ceremony  (which  was 
civil  and  private) ;  and  Cashel  had  to  claim  possession  of 
the  property,  in  spite  of  his  expressed  wish  that  the 
lawyers  would  take  themselves  and  the  property  to  the 
devil,  and  allow  him  to  enjoy  his  honeymoon  in  peace. 
The  transfer  took  some  time.  Owing  to  his  mother's 
capricious  reluctance  to  give  the  necessary  information 
without  reserve,  and  to  the  law's  delay,  his  first  child  was 
born  some  time  before  his  succession  was  fully  established, 
and  the  doors  of  a  dilapidated  country  house  in  Dorset- 
shire opened  to  him.  The  conclusion  of  the  business 
was  a  great  relief  to  his  solicitors,  who  had  been  unable 
to  shake  his  conviction  that  the  case  was  clear  enough, 
but  that  the  referee  had  been  squared.  By  this  he 
meant  that  the  Lord  Chancellor  had  been  bribed  to  keep 
him  out  of  his  property. 

His  marriage  proved  a  happy  one.  To  make  up  for 
the  loss  of  his  occupation,  he  farmed,  and  lost  six 
thousand  pounds  by  it ;  tried  gardening  with  better 
success ;  began  to  meddle  in  commercial  enterprise  as 
director  of  joint-stock  companies  in  the  city  ;  and  was 
soon  after  invited  to  represent  a  Dorsetshire  constituency 


276  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.  XVI 

in  Parliament  in  the  Conservative  interest.  He  was 
returned  by  a  large  majority  ;  but  as  he  voted  just  as 
often  with  the  extreme  Radicals  as  with  the  party  which 
had  returned  him,  he  was  speedily  called  upon  to  resign. 
He  flatly  refused,  and  held  on  until  the  next  general 
election,  which  he  carried  as  an  independent  candidate, 
thanks  to  a  loud  voice,  an  easy  manner,  the  popularity 
of  his  own  views,  and  the  extent  of  his  wife's  informa- 
tion, which  he  retailed  at  second-hand.  He  made  his 
maiden  speech  in  the  House  unabashed  the  first  night  he 
sat  there.  Indeed,  he  was  afraid  of  nothing  except 
burglars,  big  dogs,  doctors,  dentists,  and  street-crossings. 
Whenever  an  accident  through  any  of  these  was  reported, 
he  read  it  to  Lydia  very  seriously,  and  preserved  the 
newspaper  for  quite  two  days  as  a  document  in  support 
of  his  favorite  assertion  that  the  only  place  a  man  was 
safe  in  was  the  prize-ring.  As  he  objected  to  most 
field  sports  on  the  ground  of  inhumanity,  she,  fearing 
that  he  would  suffer  in  health  and  appearance  from  want 
of  systematic  exercise,  suggested  that  he  should  resume 
the  practice  of  boxing  with  gloves.  But  he  shook  his 
head.  Boxing  was  too  serious  a  pursuit  to  him  to  be 
either  an  amusement  or  a  mere  exercise.  Besides,  he 
had  a  prejudice  that  it  did  not  become  a  married  man. 
He  had  gone  through  with  it  when  it  was  his  business ; 
but  he  had  no  idea  of  doing  it  for  pleasure.  His  career 
as  a  pugilist  was  closed  by  his  marriage. 

His  admiration  for  his  wife  survived  the  ardor  of  his 
first  love  for  her ;  and  her  habitual  forethought  saved 
her  from  disappointing  his  reliance  on  her  judgment. 
Her  children,  so  carefully  planned  by  her  to  inherit  her 
intelligence  with  their  father's  robustness,  proved  to  her 
that  heredity  is  not  so  simple  a  matter  as  her  father's 
generation  supposed.  They  were  healthy  enough,  cer- 
tainly ;  and  in  their  childhood  they  were  all  alike  in 


Chap.  XVI    Cashel  Byron's  Profession  277 

being  precocious  and  impudent,  having  no  respect  for 
Cashel,  and  shewing  any  they  had  for  their  mother  prin- 
cipally by  running  to  her  when  they  were  in  difficulties. 
Of  punishments  and  scoldings  they  had  no  experience. 
Cashel  was  incapable  of  deliberate  retaliation  upon  a 
child  ;  and  in  sudden  emergencies  of  temper  he  could 
always  master  his  hands  :  perhaps  because  he  had  learnt 
to  do  so  in  the  ring  :  perhaps  because  he  remembered  his 
own  childhood.  Lydia  controlled  her  children,  as  far  as 
they  were  controllable,  just  as  she  controlled  every  one 
else.  When  she  spoke  of  them  to  Cashel  in  private,  he 
seldom  said  more  than  that  the  imps  were  too  sharp  for 
him,  or  that  he  was  blest  if  he  didnt  believe  they  were 
born  older  than  their  father.  Lydia  often  thought  so 
too  ;  but  the  care  of  this  troublesome  family  had  one 
advantage  for  her.  It  left  her  little  time  to  think  about 
herself  at  the  time  when  the  illusion  of  her  love  passed 
away,  and  she  saw  Cashel  as  he  really  was.  She  soon 
came  to  regard  him  as  one  of  the  children.  He  was  by 
far  the  stupidest  of  them  ;  but  he  needed  her  more, 
loved  her  more,  and  belonged  to  her  more  than  any  of 
them.  For  as  they  grew  up,  and  the  heredity  scheme 
began  to  develop  results,  the  boys  disappointed  her  by 
turning  out  almost  pure  Carew,  without  the  slightest 
athletic  aptitude,  whilst  the  girls  were  impetuously 
Byronic :  indeed  one  of  them,  to  Cashel's  utter  dismay, 
cast  back  so  completely  to  his  mother  that  when  she 
announced,  at  thirteen,  her  intention  of  going  on  the 
stage,  he  bowed  to  her  decision  as  to  the  voice  of  Destiny. 
Alice  Goff,  when  she  heard  of  Lydia's  projected 
marriage,  saw  that  she  must  return  to  Wiltstoken  and 
forget  her  brief  social  splendor  as  soon  as  possible.  She 
therefore  thanked  Miss  Carew  for  her  bounty,  and  begged 
to  relinquish  her  post  of  companion.  Lydia  assented, 
but  managed  to  delay  this  sacrifice  to  a  sense  of  duty  and 


278  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.  XVI 

necessity  until  a  day  early  in  winter,  when  Lucian,  who 
felt  inclined  to  commit  suicide,  allowed  his  cousin  to 
persuade  him  to  offer  his  hand  to  Alice.  She  indignantly 
refused  :  not  that  she  had  any  reason  to  complain  of  him, 
but  because  the  prospect  of  returning  to  Wiltstoken 
made  her  feel  ill-used,  and  she  could  not  help  revenging 
her  soreness  upon  the  first  person  she  could  find  a  pre- 
text for  attacking.  He,  lukewarm  before,  now  became 
eager  ;  and  she,  after  trampling  on  him  to  her  heart's 
content  for  months,  drifted  into  an  engagement,  and  was 
promptly  married  to  him  by  Lydia,  who  took  the  matter 
in  hand  with  her  usual  decision.  She  kept  Lucian's 
house,  entertained  his  guests,  and  domineered  over  his 
select  social  circle  with  complete  success.  She  was  some- 
thing of  a  domestic  bully;  but  her  empire  over  her  husband 
and  home  was  never  shaken.  Lucian  found  unexpected 
depth  and  strength  in  her  nature  ;  and  his  uxoriousness 
was  only  held  in  check  by  the  fierce  impatience  with 
which  she  sometimes  made  him  feel  that  the  excess  of 
his  content  was  measured  by  the  shortcoming  of  hers. 
She  invited  her  brother-in-law  and  his  wife  to  dinner  every 
Christmas  day,  and  once  a  year  in  the  season  ;  but  she 
never  admitted  that  Wallace  Parker  and  Cashel  Byron 
were  gentlemen,  though  she  invited  the  latter  freely, 
notwithstanding  the  frankness  with  which  he  spoke  of 
his  former  exploits  to  strangers  after  dinner,  without 
deference  to  their  professions  or  prejudices.  Her  respect 
for  Lydia  remained  so  great  that  she  never  complained 
of  Cashel  save  on  one  occasion,  when,  at  a  very  special 
dinner  party  in  her  house,  he  shewed  a  bishop,  whose 
mansion  had  been  recently  broken  into  and  robbed,  how 
to  break  a  burglar's  back  in  the  act  of  grappling  with 
him. 

The  Skehes  returned  to  Australia  and  went  their  way 
there,  as  Mrs.  Byron  did  in  England,  in  the  paths  they 


Chap,  xvi   Cashel  Byron's  Profession  279 

had  pursued  for  years  before.  Cashel  spoke  always  of 
Mrs.  Skene  as  "mother,"  and  of  Mrs.  Byron  as 
"  mamma." 

William  Paradise,  though  admired  by  the  fair  sex  for 
his  strength,  courage  and  fame,  was  not,  like  Cashel  and 
Skene,  wise  or  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  good  wife.  So 
exceedingly  did  he  drink  that  he  had  but  few  sober 
intervals  after  his  escape  from  the  law.  He  claimed  the 
title  of  champion  of  England  on  Cashel's  retirement  from 
the  ring,  and  challenged  the  world.  The  world  responded 
in  the  persons  of  sundry  young  laboring  men  with  a 
thirst  for  glory  and  a  taste  for  fighting.  Paradise  fought 
and  prevailed  twice.  Then  he  drank  whilst  in  training, 
and  was  beaten.  By  this  time,  too,  the  ring  had  lapsed 
into  the  disrepute  from  which  CashePs  unusual  combina- 
tion of  pugilistic  genius  with  honesty  had  temporarily 
raised  it ;  and  the  law,  again  seizing  Paradise  as  he  was 
borne  vanquished  from  the  field,  atoned  for  its  former 
leniency  by  incarcerating  him  for  six  months.  The 
abstinence  thus  enforced  restored  him  to  health  and 
vigor ;  and  he  achieved  another  victory  before  he 
succeeded  in  drinking  himself  into  his  former  state. 
This  was  his  last  triumph.  With  his  natural  ruffianism 
complicated  by  drunkenness,  he  went  rapidly  down  the 
hill  into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation.  Becoming  noted  for 
his  readiness  to  sell  the  victories  he  could  no  longer  win, 
he  only  appeared  in  the  ring  to  test  the  capabilities  of 
untried  youths,  who  beat  him  with  all  the  ardor  of  their 
age.  He  became  a  potman,  and  was  immediately  dis- 
charged as  an  inebriate.  He  had  sunk  into  beggary 
when,  hearing  in  his  misery  that  his  former  antagonist 
was  contesting  a  parliamentary  election,  he  applied  to 
him  for  alms.  Cashel  at  the  time  was  in  Dorsetshire  ; 
but  Lydia  relieved  the  destitute  bruiser,  whose  condition 
was  now  far  worse  than  it  had  been  at  their  last  meeting. 


280  Cashel  Byron's  Profession    Chap.xvi 

At  his  next  application,  which  followed  soon,  he  was 
confronted  by  Cashel,  who  bullied  him  fiercely ; 
threatened  to  break  every  bone  in  his  skin  if  he  ever 
dared  present  himself  again  before  Lydia  ;  flung  him  five 
shillings  ;  and  bade  him  begone.  For  Cashel  retained 
for  Paradise  that  contemptuous  and  ruthless  hatred  in 
which  a  duly  qualified  professor  holds  a  quack.  The 
poor  wretch,  inured  to  insult  and  violence  from  men  who 
had  once  feared  his  prowess  as  he,  to  give  him  such 
credit  as  he  cared  for,  had  never  feared  CashePs,  thought 
the  abuse  natural,  and  the  gift  generous.  He  picked  up 
the  money  and  shambled  ofF  to  buy  a  few  pence-worth 
of  food,  which  he  could  hardly  eat ;  and  to  spend  the 
rest  in  brandy,  which  he  drank  as  fast  as  his  stomach 
would  endure  it.  Shortly  afterwards,  a  few  newspapers 
reported  his  death,  which  they  attributed  to  "con- 
sumption, brought  on  by  the  terrible  injuries  sustained 
by  him  in  his  celebrated  fight  with  Cashel  Byron." 


THE    END 


THE   ADMIRABLE    BASHVILLE 


"  Over  Bashville  the  footman  I  howled  with  derision 
and  delight.  I  dote  on  Bashville  :  I  could  read  of  him 
for  ever  :  de  Bashville  je  suh  le  fervent :  there  is  only 
one  Bashville  j  and  I  am  his  devoted  slave  :  Bashville 
est  magnifique  ;  mais  il  n'est  guere  possible." 

ROBERT  Louis  STEVENSON. 


The  Admirable  Bashville; 
:>r,ConstancyUnrewarded: 
Deing  the  Novel  of  Cashel 
Byron's  Profession  done 
nto  a  Stage  Play  in  Three 
(\cts  and  in  Blank  Verse.  By 
Bernard  Shaw. 


u  Steal  not  this  book  for  fear  of  shame." 


\rchibald  Constable  &  Co. 
Ltd.  London:  1 905. 


This  play  has  been  publicly  performed  "within  the  United  Kingdom.     It  is 
entered  at  Stationers'  Hall  and  The  Library  of  Congress,  U. 


All  rights  reserved. 


PREFACE 

THE  Admirable  Bashville  is  a  product  of  the  British  law 
of  copyright.  As  that  law  stands  at  present,  the  first 
person  who  patches  up  a  stage  version  of  a  novel,  how- 
ever worthless  and  absurd  that  version  may  be,  and  has  it 
read  by  himself  and  a  few  confederates  to  another  con- 
federate who  has  paid  for  admission  in  a  hall  licensed  for 
theatrical  performances,  secures  the  stage  rights  of  that 
novel,  even  as  against  the  author  himself ;  and  the  author 
must  buy  him  out  before  he  can  touch  his  own  work  for 
the  purposes  of  the  stage. 

A  famous  case  in  point  is  the  drama  of  East  Lynne, 
adapted  from  the  late  Mrs  Henry  Wood's  novel  of  that 
name.  It  was  enormously  popular,  and  is  still  the  surest 
refuge  of  touring  companies  in  distress.  Many  authors 
feel  that  Mrs  Henry  Wood  was  hardly  used  in  not 
getting  any  of  the  money  which  was  plentifully  made  in 
this  way  through  her  story.  To  my  mind,  since  her 
literary  copyright  probably  brought  her  a  fair  wage  for 
the  work  of  writing  the  book,  her  real  grievance  was, 
first,  that  her  name  and  credit  were  attached  to  a  play 
with  which  she  had  nothing  to  do,  and  which  may  quite 
possibly  have  been  to  her  a  detestable  travesty  and  pro- 
fanation of  her  story  ;  and  second,  that  the  authors  of 


286  The  Admirable  Bashville 

that  play  had  the  legal  power  to  prevent  her  from  having 
any  version  of  her  own  performed,  if  she  had  wished  to 
make  one. 

There  is  only  one  way  in  which  the  author  can  protect 
himself;  and  that  is  by  making  a  version  of  his  own  and 
going  through  the  same  legal  farce  with  it.  But  the 
legal  farce  involves  the  hire  of  a  hall  and  the  payment 
of  a  fee  of  two  guineas  to  the  King's  Reader  of  Plays. 
When  I  wrote  Cashel  Byron's  Profession  I  had  no 
guineas  to  spare,  a  common  disability  of  young  authors. 
What  is  equally  common,  I  did  not  know  the  law.  A 
reasonable  man  may  guess  a  reasonable  law  ;  but  no  man 
can  guess  a  foolish  anomaly.  Fortunately,  by  the  time 
my  book  so  suddenly  revived  in  America,  I  was  aware 
of  the  danger,  and  in  a  position  to  protect  myself  by 
writing  and  performing  The  Admirable  Bashville.  The 
prudence  of  doing  so  was  soon  demonstrated  \  for  rumors 
soon  reached  me  of  several  American  stage  versions  ;  and 
one  of  these  has  actually  been  played  in  New  York,  with 
the  boxing  scenes  under  the  management  (so  it  is  stated) 
of  the  eminent  pugilist  Mr  James  Corbett.  The  New 
York  press,  in  a  somewhat  derisive  vein,  conveyed  the 
impression  that  in  this  version  Cashel  Byron  sought  to 
interest  the  public  rather  as  the  last  of  the  noble  race  of 
the  Byrons  of  Dorsetshire  than  as  his  unromantic  self; 
but  in  justice  to  a  play  which  I  never  read,  and  an 
actor  whom  I  never  saw,  and  who  honorably  offered 
to  treat  me  as  if  I  had  legal  rights  in  the  matter,  I  must 
not  accept  the  newspaper  evidence  as  conclusive. 

As  I  write  these  words,  I  am  promised  by  the  King 
in  his  speech  to  Parliament  a  new  Copyright  Bill.  I 
believe  it  embodies,  in  our  British  fashion,  the  recom- 
mendations of  the  book  publishers  as  to  the  concerns  of 
the  authors,  and  the  notions  of  the  musical  publishers  as 
to  the  concerns  of  the  playwrights.  As  author  and  play- 


Preface  287 

wright  I  am  duly  obliged  to  the  Commission  for  saving 
me  the  trouble  of  speaking  for  myself,  and  to  the  wit- 
nesses for  speaking  for  me.  But  unless  Parliament  takes 
the  opportunity  of  giving  the  authors  of  all  printed 
works  of  fiction,  whether  dramatic  or  narrative,  both 
playright  and  copyright  (as  in  America),  such  to  be 
independent  of  any  insertions  or  omissions  of  formulas 
about  "  all  rights  reserved  "  or  the  like,  I  am  afraid  the 
new  Copyright  Bill  will  leave  me  with  exactly  the 
opinion  both  of  the  copyright  law  and  the  wisdom 
of  Parliament  I  at  present  entertain.  As  a  good  Socialist 
I  do  not  at  all  object  to  the  limitation  of  my  right  of 
property  in  my  own  works  to  a  comparatively  brief  period, 
followed  by  complete  Communism :  in  fact,  I  cannot  see 
why  the  same  salutary  limitation  should  not  be  applied  to 
all  property  rights  whatsoever  j  but  a  system  which  enables 
any  alert  sharper  to  acquire  property  rights  in  my  stories 
as  against  myself  and  the  rest  of  the  community  would,  it 
seems  to  me,  justify  a  rebellion  if  authors  were  numerous 
and  warlike  enough  to  make  one. 

It  may  be  asked  why  I  have  written  The  Admirable 
Bashville  in  blank  verse.  My  answer  is  that  I  had  but 
a  week  to  write  it  in.  Blank  verse  is  so  childishly 
easy  and  expeditious  (hence,  by  the  way,  Shakespear's 
copious  output),  that  by  adopting  it  I  was  enabled  to  do 
within  the  week  what  would  have  cost  me  a  month 
in  prose. 

Besides,  I  am  fond  of  blank  verse.  Not  nineteenth 
century  blank  verse,  of  course,  nor  indeed,  with  a  very 
few  exceptions,  any  post  -  Shakespearean  blank  verse. 
Nay,  not  Shakespearean  blank  verse  itself  later  than  the 
histories.  When  an  author  can  write  the  prose  dialogue 
of  the  first  scene  in  As  You  Like  It,  or  Hamlet's 
colloquies  with  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern,  there  is 
really  no  excuse  for  The  Seven  Ages  and  "  To  be  or 


288  The  Admirable  Bashville 

not  to  be,"  except  the  excuse  of  a  haste  that  made  great 
facility  indispensable.  I  am  quite  sure  that  any  one  who 
is  to  recover  the  charm  of  blank  verse  must  frankly  go 
back  to  its  beginnings  and  start  a  literary  pre-Raphaelite 
Brotherhood.  I  like  the  melodious  sing-song,  the  clear 
simple  one-line  and  two-line  sayings,  and  the  occasional 
rhymed  tags,  like  the  half  closes  in  an  eighteenth 
century  symphony,  in  Peele,  Kyd,  Greene,  and  the 
histories  of  Shakes  pear.  How  any  one  with  music  in 
him  can  turn  from  Henry  VI.,  John,  and  the  two 
Richards  to  such  a  mess  of  verse  half  developed  into 
rhetorical  prose  as  Cymbeline,  is  to  me  explicable  only 
by  the  uncivil  hypothesis  that  the  artistic  qualities  in 
the  Elizabethan  drama  do  not  exist  for  most  of  its  critics ; 
so  that  they  hang  on  to  its  purely  prosaic  content,  and 
hypnotize  themselves  into  absurd  exaggerations  of  the 
value  of  that  content.  Even  poets  fall  under  the  spell. 
Ben  Jonson  described  Marlowe's  line  as  "mighty"  !  As 
well  put  Michael  Angelo's  epitaph  on  the  tombstone  of 
Paolo  Uccello.  No  wonder  Jonson's  blank  verse  is  the 
most  horribly  disagreeable  product  in  literature,  and  in- 
dicates his  most  prosaic  mood  as  surely  as  his  shorter 
rhymed  measures  indicate  his  poetic  mood.  Marlowe 
never  wrote  a  mighty  line  in  his  life :  Cowper's  single 
phrase  u  Toll  for  the  brave  "  drowns  all  his  mightinesses 
as  Great  Tom  drowns  a  military  band.  But  Marlowe 
took  that  very  pleasant-sounding  rigmarole  of  Peele  and 
Greene,  and  added  to  its  sunny  daylight  the  insane 
splendors  of  night,  and  the  cheap  tragedy  of  crime. 
Because  he  had  only  a  common  sort  of  brain,  he  was 
hopelessly  beaten  by  Shakespear ;  but  he  had  a  fine  ear  and 
a  soaring  spirit :  in  short,  one  does  not  forget  "  wanton 
Arethusa's  azure  arms  "  and  the  like.  But  the  pleasant- 
sounding  rigmarole  was  the  basis  of  the  whole  thing ; 
and  as  long  as  that  rigmarole  was  practised  frankly  for 


Preface  289 

the  sake  of  its  pleasantness,  it  was  readable  and  speak- 
able.  It  lasted  until  Shakespear  did  to  it  what  Raphael 
did  to  Italian  painting:  that  is,  overcharged  and  burst  it 
by  making  it  the  vehicle  of  a  new  order  of  thought,  in- 
volving a  mass  of  intellectual  ferment  and  psychological 
research.  The  rigmarole  could  not  stand  the  strain  ; 
and  Shakespear's  style  ended  in  a  chaos  of  half-shattered 
old  forms,  half-emancipated  new  ones,  with  occasional 
bursts  of  prose  eloquence  on  the  one  hand,  occasional 
delicious  echoes  of  the  rigmarole,  mostly  from  Calibans 
and  masque  personages,  on  the  other,  with,  alas !  a  great 
deal  of  filling  up  with  formulary  blank  verse  which 
had  no  purpose  except  to  save  the  author's  time  and 
thought. 

When  a  great  man  destroys  an  art  form  in  this  way, 
its  ruins  make  palaces  for  the  clever  would-be  great. 
After  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael,  Giulio  Romano  and 
the  Carracci.  After  Marlowe  and  Shakespear,  Chapman 
and  the  Police  News  poet  Webster.  Webster's  speciality 
was  blood  :  Chapman's,  balderdash.  Many  of  us  by  this 
time  find  it  difficult  to  believe  that  pre-Ruskinite  art 
criticism  used  to  prostrate  itself  before  the  works  of 
Domenichino  and  Guido,  and  to  patronize  the  modest 
little  beginnings  of  those  who  came  between  Cimabue 
and  Masaccio.  But  we  have  only  to  look  at  our 
own  current  criticism  of  Elizabethan  drama  to  satisfy 
ourselves  that  in  an  art  which  has  not  yet  found  its 
Ruskin  or  its  pre-Raphaelite  Brotherhood,  the  same  folly 
is  still  academically  propagated.  It  is  possible,  and  even 
usual,  for  men  professing  to  have  ears  and  a  sense  of  poetry 
to  snub  Peele  and  Greene  and  grovel  before  Fletcher  and 
Webster — Fletcher!  a  facile  blank  verse  penny-a-liner: 
Webster!  a  turgid  paper  cut- throat.  The  subject  is 
one  which  I  really  cannot  pursue  without  intemperance 
of  language.  The  man  who  thinks  The  Duchess  of 

u 


290  The  Admirable  Bashville 

Malfi  better  than  David  and  Bethsabe  is  outside  the  pale, 
not  merely  of  literature,  but  almost  of  humanity. 

Yet  some  of  the  worst  of  these  post-Shakespearean 
duffers,  from  Jonson  to  Heywood,  suddenly  became  poets 
when  they  turned  from  the  big  drum  of  pseudo-Shak- 
spearean  drama  to  the  pipe  and  tabor  of  the  masque, 
exactly  as  Shakespear  himself  recovered  the  old  charm  of 
the  rigmarole  when  he  turned  from  Prospero  to  Ariel 
and  Caliban.  Cyril  Tourneur  and  Heywood  could  cer- 
tainly have  produced  very  pretty  rigmarole  plays  if  they 
had  begun  where  Shakespear  began,  instead  of  trying  to 
begin  where  he  left  off.  Jonson  and  Beaumont  would 
very  likely  have  done  themselves  credit  on  the  same 
terms  :  Marston  would  have  had  at  least  a  chance.  Mas- 
singer  was  in  his  right  place,  such  as  it  was  j  and  one 
can  respect  the  gentle  Shirley,  who  was  never  born  to 
storm  the  footlights.  Webster  could  have  done  no  good 
anyhow  or  anywhere:  the  man  was  a  fool,  And  Chap- 
man would  always  have  been  a  blathering  unreadable 
pedant,  like  Landor,  in  spite  of  his  classical  amateurship 
and  respectable  strenuosity  of  character.  But  with  these 
exceptions  it  may  plausibly  be  held  that  if  Marlowe 
and  Shakespear  could  have  been  kept  out  of  their  way, 
the  rest  would  have  done  well  enough  on  the  lines  of 
Peele  and  Greene.  However,  they  thought  otherwise  j 
and  now  that  their  freethinking  paganism,  so  dazzling  to 
the  pupils  of  Paley  and  the  converts  of  Wesley,  offers 
itself  in  vain  to  the  disciples  of  Darwin  and  Nietzsche, 
there  is  an  end  of  them.  And  a  good  riddance,  too. 

Accordingly,  I  have  poetasted  The  Admirable  Bash- 
ville in  the  rigmarole  style.  And  lest  the  Webster 
worshippers  should  declare  that  there  is  not  a  single 
correct  line  in  all  my  three  acts,  I  have  stolen  or 
paraphrased  a  few  from  Marlowe  and  Shakespear  (not 
to  mention  Henry  Carey)  ;  so  that  if  any  man  dares 


Preface  291 

quote  me  derisively,  he  shall  do  so  in  peril  of  inadvertently 
lighting  on  a  purple  patch  from  Hamlet  or  Faustus. 

I  have  also  endeavored  in  this  little  play  to  prove  that 
I  am  not  the  heartless  creature  some  of  my  critics  take  me 
for.  I  have  strictly  observed  the  established  laws  of  stage 
popularity  and  probability.  I  have  simplified  the  char- 
acter of  the  heroine,  and  summed  up  her  sweetness  in 
the  one  sacred  word :  Love.  I  have  given  consistency 
to  the  heroism  of  Cashel.  I  have  paid  to  Morality,  in 
the  final  scene,  the  tribute  of  poetic  justice.  I  have 
restored  to  Patriotism  its  usual  place  on  the  stage,  and 
gracefully  acknowledged  The  Throne  as  the  fountain  of 
social  honor.  I  have  paid  particular  attention  to  the 
construction  of  the  play,  which  will  be  found  equal  in 
this  respect  to  the  best  contemporary  models. 

And  I  trust  the  result  will  be  found  satisfactory. 


THE   ADMIRABLE   BASHVILLE  ;   OR, 
CONSTANCY   UNREWARDED 

ACT  I 

A  glade  in  Wiltstoken  Park 
Enter  LYDIA 

LYDIA.  Ye  leafy  breasts  and  warm  protecting  wings 
Of  mother  trees  that  hatch  our  tender  souls, 
And  from  the  well  of  Nature  in  our  hearts 
Thaw  the  intolerable  inch  of  ice 
That  bears  the  weight  of  all  the  stamping  world, 
Hear  ye  me  sing  to  solitude  that  I, 
Lydia  Carew,  the  owner  of  these  lands, 
Albeit  most  rich,  most  learned,  and  most  wise, 
Am  yet  most  lonely.     What  are  riches  worth 
When    wisdom   with   them   comes   to  show   the   purse 

bearer 

That  life  remains  un purchasable  ?     Learning 
Learns  but  one  lesson  :  doubt  !     To  excel  all 
Is,  to  be  lonely.     Oh,  ye  busy  birds, 
Engrossed  with  real  needs,  ye  shameless  trees 


294  The  Admirable  Bashville  Act  I 

With  arms  outspread  in  welcome  of  the  sun, 
Your  minds,  bent  singly  to  enlarge  your  lives, 
Have  given  you  wings  and  raised  your  delicate  heads 
High  heavens  above  us  crawlers. 

[A  rook  sets  up  a  great  cawing,  and  the  other  birds 
chatter  loudly  as  a  gust  of  wind  sets  the  branches 
swaying.  She  makes  as  though  she  would  shew  them 
her  sleeves. 

Lo,  the  leaves 

That  hide  my  drooping  boughs !  Mock  me — poor  maid ! — 
Deride  with  joyous  comfortable  chatter 
These    stolen    feathers.       Laugh    at    me,    the    clothed 

one. 

Laugh  at  the  mind  fed  on  foul  air  and  books. 
Books  !     Art !     And  Culture  !     Oh,  I  shall  go  mad. 
Give  me  a  mate  that  never  heard  of  these, 
A  sylvan  god,  tree  born  in  heart  and  sap ; 
Or  else,  eternal  maidhood  be  my  hap. 

[Another  gust  of  wind  and  bird-chatter.     She  sits  on  the 

mossy  root  of  an  oak  and  buries  her  face  in  her  hands. 

CASHEL  BYRON,  in  a  white  singlet  and  breeches^  comes 

through  the  trees. 

CASHEL.  Whats  this  ?      Whom   have    we    here  ?      A 

woman  ! 

LYDIA   [looking  up~]  Yes. 

CASHEL.  You  have  no  business  here.     I  have.     Away  ! 
Women  distract  me.     Hence  ! 

LYDIA.  Bid  you  me  hence  ? 

I  am  upon  mine  own  ground.     Who  are  you  ? 
I  take  you  for  a  god,  a  sylvan  god. 
This  place  is  mine  :   I  share  it  with  the  birds, 
The  trees,  the  sylvan  gods,  the  lovely  company 
Of  haunted  solitudes. 

CASHEL.  A  sylvan  god  ! 

A  goat-eared  image  !     Do  your  statues  speak  ? 


Act  I         or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          295 

Walk  ?   heave  the  chest  with  breath  ?  or  like  a  feather 
Lift  you — like  this  ?  [He  sets  her  on  her  feet. 

LYDIA  [panttng~\     You  take  away  my  breath  ! 
Youre  strong.     Your    hands    off,   please.     Thank  you. 
Farewell. 

CASHEL.  Before  you  go  :  when  shall  we  meet  again  ? 

LYDIA.  Why  should  we  meet  again  ? 

CASHEL.  Who  knows  ?     We  shall. 

That  much  I  know  by  instinct.     Whats  your  name  ? 

LYDIA.  Lydia  Carew. 

CASHEL.  Lydia's  a  pretty  name. 

Where  do  you  live  ? 

LYDIA.  r  the  castle. 

CASHEL  [thunderstruck']  Do  not  say 

You  are  the  lady  of  this  great  domain. 

LYDIA.  I  am. 

CASHEL.  Accursed  luck  !     I  took  you  for 

The  daughter  of  some  farmer.     Well,  your  pardon. 
I  came  too  close  :  I  looked  too  deep.     Farewell. 

LYDIA.  I  pardon  that.     Now  tell  me  who  you  are. 

CASHEL.    Ask    me    not   whence    I    come,    nor   what 

I  am. 

You  are  the  lady  of  the  castle.     I 
Have  but  this  hard  and  blackened  hand  to  live  by. 

LYDIA.  I  have  felt  its  strength  and  envied  you.     Your 

name  ? 
I  have  told  you  mine. 

CASHEL.  My  name  is  Cashel  Byron. 

LYDIA.  I  never  heard  the  name  ;  and  yet  you  utter  it 
As  men  announce  a  celebrated  name. 
Forgive  my  ignorance. 

CASHEL.  I  bless  it,  Lydia. 

I  have  forgot  your  other  name. 

LYDIA,  Carew. 

Cashel's  a  pretty  name  too. 


296  The  Admirable  Bashville          Act  I 

MELLISH  [calling  through  the  wood]  Coo-ee  !     Byron  ! 

CASHEL.  A  thousand  curses  !     Oh,  I  beg  you,  go. 
This  is  a  man  you  must  not  meet. 

MELLISH  {further  off"]  Coo-ee  ! 

LYDIA.   He's  losing  us.     What  does  he  in  my  woods  ? 

CASHEL.  He  is  a  part  of  what  I  am.     What  that  is 
You  must  not  know.     It  would  end  all  between  us. 
And  yet  there's  no  dishonor  in't  :  your  lawyer, 
Who  let  your  lodge  to  me,  will  vouch  me  honest. 
I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you  what  I  am — 
At  least,  as  yet.     Some  day,  perhaps. 

MELLISH  [nearer]  Coo-ee  ! 

LYDIA.  His  voice  is  nearer.     Fare  you  well,  my  tenant. 
When  next  your  rent  falls  due,  come  to  the  castle. 
Pay  me  in  person.     Sir  :  your  most  obedient. 

[She  curtsies  and  goes. 

CASHEL.  Lives  in  this  castle  !     Owns  this  park  !     A 

lady 

Marry  a  prizefighter  !     Impossible. 
And  yet  the  prizefighter  must  marry  her. 

Enter  MELLISH 

Ensanguined  swine,  whelped  by  a  doggish  dam, 
Is  this  thy  park,  that  thou,  with  voice  obscene, 
Fillst  it  with  yodeled  yells,  and  screamst  my  name 
For  all  the  world  to  know  that  Cashel  Byron 
Is  training  here  for  combat. 

MELLISH.  Swine  you  me  ? 

Ive  caught  you,  have  I  ?     You  have  found  a  woman. 
Let  her  shew  here  again,  I'll  set  the  dog  on  her. 
I  will.     I  say  it.     And  my  name's  Bob  Mellish. 

CASHEL.  Change  thy  initial  and  be  truly  hight 
Hellish.     As  for  thy  dog,  why  dost  thou  keep  one 
And  bark  thyself?     Begone. 


Act  I          or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          297 

MELLISH.  I'll  not  begone. 

You  shall  come  back  with  me  and  do  your  duty — 
Your  duty  to  your  backers,  do  you  hear  ? 
You  have  not  punched  the  bag  this  blessed  day. 

CASHEL.  The  putrid  bag  engirdled  by  thy  belt 
Invites  my  fist. 

MELLISH  [weeping']  Ingrate  !     O  wretched  lot ! 
Who  would  a  trainer  be  ?     O  Mellish,  Mellish, 
Trainer  of  heroes,  builder-up  of  brawn, 
Vicarious  victor,  thou  createst  champions 
That  quickly  turn  thy  tyrants.     But  beware  : 
Without  me  thou  art  nothing.     Disobey  me, 
And  all  thy  boasted  strength  shall  fall  from  thee. 
With  flaccid  muscles  and  with  failing  breath 
Facing  the  fist  of  thy  more  faithful  foe, 
I'll  see  thee  on  the  grass  cursing  the  day 
Thou  didst  forswear  thy  training. 

CASHEL.  Noisome  quack 

That  canst  not  from  thine  own  abhorrent  visage 
Take  one  carbuncle,  thou  contaminat'st 
Even  with  thy  presence  my  untainted  blood. 
Preach  abstinence  to  rascals  like  thyself 
Rotten  with  surfeiting.     Leave  me  in  peace. 
This  grove  is  sacred  :   thou  profanest  it. 
Hence  !   I  have  business  that  concerns  thee  not. 

MELLISH.    Ay,  with  your  woman.     You  will  lose  your 

fight. 

Have  you  forgot  your  duty  to  your  backers  ? 
Oh,  what  a  sacred  thing  your  duty  is  ! 
What  makes  a  man  but  duty  ?     Where  were  we 
Without  our  duty  ?     Think  of  Nelson's  words  : 
England  expects  that  every  man— 

CASHEL.  Shall  twaddle 

About  his  duty.     Mellish  :  at  no  hour 
Can  I  regard  thee  wholly  without  loathing  j 


298  The  Admirable  Bashville  Act  1 

But  when  thou  playst  the  moralist,  by  Heaven, 

My  soul  flies  to  my  fist,  my  fist  to  thee ; 

And  never  did  the  Cyclops'  hammer  fall 

On  Mars's  armor — but  enough  of  that. 

It  does  remind  me  of  my  mother. 

MELLISH.  Ah, 

Byron,  let  it  remind  thee.     Once  I  heard 
An  old  song  :   it  ran  thus.     [He  clears  his  throat']  Ahem, 
Ahem  ! 
[Sings'] — They  say  there  is  no  other 

Can  take  the  place  of  mother — 
I  am  out  o'  voice  :  forgive  me  ;  but  remember  : 
Thy  mother — were  that  sainted  woman  here — 
Would  say,  Obey  thy  trainer. 

CASHEL.  Now,  by  Heaven, 

Some  fate  is  pushing  thee  upon  thy  doom. 
Canst  thou  not  hear  thy  sands  as  they  run  out  ? 
They  thunder  like  an  avalanche.     Old  man  : 
Two  things  I  hate,  my  duty  and  my  mother, 
Why  dost  thou  urge  them  both  upon  me  now  ? 
Presume  not  on  thine  age  and  on  thy  nastiness. 
Vanish,  and  promptly. 

MELLISH.  Can  I  leave  thee  here 

Thus  thinly  clad,  exposed  to  vernal  dews  ? 
Come  back  with  me,  my  son,  unto  our  lodge. 

CASHEL.  Within  this  breast  a  fire  is  newly  lit 
Whose  glow  shall  sun  the  dew  away,  whose  radiance 
Shall  make  the  orb  of  night  hang  in  the  heavens 
Unnoticed,  like  a  glow-worm  at  high  noon. 

MELLISH.  Ah  me,  ah  me,  where  wilt  thou  spend  the 
night  ? 

CASHEL.  Wiltstoken's  windows  wandering  beneath, 
Wiltstoken's  holy  bell  hearkening, 
Wiltstoken's  lady  loving  breathlessly. 

MELLISH.  The  lady  of  the  castle  !     Thou  art  mad. 


Act  II        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          299 

CASHEL.  Tis  thou  art  mad  to  trifle  in  my  path. 
Thwart  me  no  more.     Begone. 

MELLISH.  My  boy,  my  son, 

I'd  give  my  heart's  blood  for  thy  happiness. 
Thwart  thee,  my  son  !     Ah  no.     I'll  go  with  thee. 
I'll  brave  the  dews.     I'll  sacrifice  my  sleep. 
I  am  old — no  matter  :  ne'er  shall  it  be  said 
Mellish  deserted  thee. 

CASHEL.  You  resolute  gods 

That  will  not  spare  this  man,  upon  your  knees 
Take  the  disparity  twixt  his  age  and  mine. 
Now  from  the  ring  to  the  high  judgment  seat 
I  step  at  your  behest.     Bear  you  me  witness 
This  is  not  Victory,  but  Execution. 

[He  solemnly  projects  his  fist  with  colossal  force  against 
the  waistcoat  of  Mellish^  who  doubles  up  like  a  folded 
towel^  and  lies  without  sense  or  motion. 
And  now  the  night  is  beautiful  again. 

[  The  castle  clock  strikes  the  hour  in  the  distance. 
Hark  !    Hark  !    Hark  !    Hark  !    Hark  !    Hark  !    Hark  ! 

Hark!   Hark!   Hark! 
It  strikes  in  poetry.     Tis  ten  o'clock. 
Lydia  :  to  thee  ! 

[He  steals  off  towards  the  castle.     MELLISH  stirs  and 
groans. 


ACT  II 

SCENE  I 

London.     A  room  in  Lydia's  house 
Enter  LYDIA  and  LUCIAN 

LYDIA.  Welcome,  dear  cousin,  to  my  London  house. 
Of  late  you  have  been  chary  of  your  visits. 


300  The  Admirable  Bashville          Act  n 

LUCIAN.   I  have  been  greatly  occupied  of  late. 
The  minister  to  whom  I  act  as  scribe 
In  Downing  Street  was  born  in  Birmingham, 
And,  like  a  thoroughbred  commercial  statesman, 
Splits  his  infinitives,  which  I,  poor  slave, 
Must  reunite,  though  all  the  time  my  heart 
Yearns  for  my  gentle  coz's  company. 

LYDIA.  Luci.an  :   there  is  some  other  reason.     Think  ! 
Since  England  was  a  nation  every  mood 
Her  scribes  have  prepositionally  split  ; 
But  thine  avoidance  dates  from  yestermonth. 

LUCIAN.  There  is  a  man  I  like  not  haunts  this  house. 

LYDIA.  Thou  speakst  of  Cashel  Byron  ? 

LUCIAN.  Aye,  of  him. 

Hast  thou  forgotten  that  eventful  night 
When  as  we  gathered  were  at  Hoskyn  House 
To  hear  a  lecture  by  Herr  Abendgasse, 
He  placed  a  single  finger  on  my  chest, 
And  I,  ensorceled,  would  have  sunk  supine 
Had  not  a  chair  received  my  falling  form. 

LYDIA.  Pooh  !      That  was  but  by  way  of  illustration. 

LUCIAN.  What  right  had  he  to  illustrate  his  point 
Upon  my  person  ?     Was  I  his  assistant 
That  he  should  try  experiments  on  me 
As  Simpson  did  on  his  with  chloroform  ? 
Now,  by  the  cannon  balls  of  Galileo 
He  hath  unmanned  me  :  all  my  nerve  is  gone. 
This  very  morning  my  official  chief, 
Tapping  with  friendly  forefinger  this  button, 
Levelled  me  like  a  thunderstricken  elm 
Flat  upon  the  Colonial  Office  floor. 

LYDIA.  Fancies,  coz. 

LUCIAN.  Fancies  !     Fits  i   the  chief  said  fits  ! 

Delirium  tremens  !   the  chlorotic  dance 
Of  Vitus  !     What  could  any  one  have  thought  ? 


Act  II         or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          301 

Your  ruffian  friend  hath  ruined  me.     By  Heaven, 
I  tremble  at  a  thumbnail.     Give  me  drink. 

LYDIA.  What  ho,  without  there  !     Bashville. 

BASHVILLE  [without'}  Coming,  madam. 

Enter  BASHVILLE 

LYDIA.  My  cousin  ails,  Bashville.     Procure  some  wet. 

[Exit  BASHVILLE. 

LUCIAN.  Some  wet  !  !  !     Where  learnt  you  that  atro- 
cious word  ? 
This  is  the  language  of  a  flower-girl. 

LYDIA.  True.     It  is  horrible.     Said  I  "  Some  wet  "  ? 
I  meant,  some  drink.     Why  did  I  say  "  Some  wet  "  ? 
Am  I  ensorceled  too  ?     "  Some  wet "  !     Fie  !  fie  ! 
I  feel  as  though  some  hateful  thing  had  stained  me. 
Oh,  Lucian,  how  could  I  have  said  "Some  wet  "  ? 

LUCIAN.  The  horrid  conversation  of  this  man 
Hath  numbed  thy  once  unfailing  sense  of  fitness. 

LYDIA.  Nay,  he  speaks  very  well  :  he's  literate  : 
Shakespear  he  quotes  unconsciously. 

LUCIAN.  And  yet 

Anon  he  talks  pure  pothouse. 

Enter  BASHVILLE 

BASHVILLE.  Sir  i  your  potion. 

LUCIAN.  Thanks.     [He  drinks].     I  am  better. 

A  NEWSBOY  [calling  without']         Extra  special  Star  ! 
Result  of  the  great  fight  !     Name  of  the  winner  ! 

LYDIA.  Who  calls  so  loud  ? 

BASHVILLE.  The  papers,  madam. 

LYDIA.  Why  ? 

Hath  ought  momentous  happened  ? 

BASHVILLE,  Madam :  yes. 

[  He  produces  a  newspaper \ 


302  The  Admirable  Bashville          Act  II 

All  England  for  these  thrilling  paragraphs 
A  week  has  waited  breathless, 

LYDIA.  Read  them  us. 

BASHVILLE  [reading]    "At  noon  to-day,  unknown  to 

the  police, 

Within  a  thousand  miles  of  Wormwood  Scrubbs, 
Th'  Australian  Champion  and  his  challenger, 
The  Flying  Dutchman,  formerly  engaged 
F  the  mercantile  marine,  fought  to  a  finish. 
Lord  Worthington,  the  well-known  sporting  peer 
Acted  as  referee." 

LYDIA.  Lord  Worthington  ! 

BASHVILLE.  "The    bold    Ned    Skene    revisited    the 

ropes 

To  hold  the  bottle  for  his  quondam  novice  j 
Whilst  in  the  seaman's  corner  were  assembled 
Professor  Palmer  and  the  Chelsea  Snob. 
Mellish,  whose  epigastrium  has  been  hurt, 
Tis  said,  by  accident  at  Wiltstoken, 
Looked  none  the  worse  in  the  Australian's  corner. 
The  Flying  Dutchman  wore  the  Union  Jack  : 
His  colors  freely  sold  amid  the  crowd  ; 
But  CashePs  well-known  spot  of  white  on  blue 

LYDIA.  Whose,  did  you  say  ? 

BASHVILLE.  CashePs,  my  lady. 

LYDIA.  Lucian : 

Your  hand — a  chair — 

BASHVILLE.  Madam  :  youre  ill. 

LYDIA.  Proceed. 

What  you  have  read  I  do  not  understand  ; 
Yet  I  will  hear  it  through.     Proceed. 

LUCIAN.  Proceed. 

BASHVILLE.  "  But  Cashel's  well-known  spot  of  white 

on  blue 
Was  fairly  rushed  for.     Time  was  called  at  twelve, 


Act  II        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          303 

When,  with  a  smile  of  confidence  upon 
His  ocean-beaten  mug ' 

LYDIA.  His  mug  ? 

LUCIAN  [explaining']  His  face. 

BASHVILLE  [continuing]  "  The   Dutchman   came   un- 
daunted to  the  scratch, 

But  found  the  champion  there  already.     Both 
Most  heartily  shook  hands,  amid  the  cheers 
Of  their  encouraged  backers.     Two  to  one 
Was  offered  on  the  Melbourne  nonpareil ; 
And  soon,  so  fit  the  Flying  Dutchman  seemed, 
Found  takers  everywhere.     No  time  was  lost 
In  getting  to  the  business  of  the  day. 
The  Dutchman  led  at  once,  and  seemed  to  land 
On  Byron's  dicebox  ;  but  the  seaman's  reach, 
Too  short  for  execution  at  long  shots, 
Did  not  get  fairly  home  upon  the  ivory  ; 
And  Byron  had  the  best  of  the  exchange." 

LYDIA.  I  do  not  understand.     What  were  they  doing  ? 

LUCIAN.  Fighting  with  naked  fists. 

LYDIA.  Oh,  horrible  ! 

I'll  hear  no  more.     Or  stay  :   how  did  it  end  ? 
Was  Cashel  hurt  ? 

LUCIAN  [to  BASHVILLE]  Skip  to  the  final  round. 

BASHVILLE.  "  Round  Three  :  the  rumors  that  had  gone 

about 

Of  a  breakdown  in  Byron's  recent  training 
Seemed  quite  confirmed.     Upon  the  call  of  time 
He  rose,  and,  looking  anything  but  cheerful, 
Proclaimed  with  every  breath  Bellows  to  Mend. 
At  this  point  six  to  one  was  freely  offered 
Upon  the  Dutchman  ;  and  Lord  Worthington 
Plunged  at  this  figure  till  he  stood  to  lose 
A  fortune  should  the  Dutchman,  as  seemed  certain, 
Take  down  the  number  of  the  Panley  boy. 


304  The  Admirable  Bashville          Act  II 

The  Dutchman,  glutton  as  we  know  he  is, 

Seemed  this  time  likely  to  go  hungry.     Cashel 

Was  clearly  groggy  as  he  slipped  the  sailor, 

Who,  not  to  be  denied,  followed  him  up, 

Forcing  the  fighting  mid  tremendous  cheers." 

LYDIA.  Oh  stop — no  more — or  tell  the  worst  at  once. 
I'll  be  revenged.     Bashville  :  call  the  police. 
This  brutal  sailor  shall  be  made  to  know 
There's  law  in  England. 

LUCIAN.  Do  not  interrupt  him  : 

Mine  ears  are  thirsting.      Finish,  man.     What  next  ? 

BASHVILLE.  "Forty  to  one,  the    Dutchman's   friends 

exclaimed. 

Done,  said  Lord  Worthington,  who  shewed  himself 
A  sportsman  every  inch.     Barely  the  bet 
Was  booked,  when,  at  the  reeling  champion's  jaw 
The  sailor,  bent  on  winning  out  of  hand, 
Sent  in  his  right.     The  issue  seemed  a  cert, 
When  Cashel,  ducking  smartly  to  his  left, 
Cross-countered  like  a  hundredweight  of  brick " 

LUCIAN.   Death  and  damnation  ! 

LYDIA.  Oh,  what  does  it  mean  ? 

BASHVILLE.  "  The  Dutchman  went  to  grass,  a  beaten 
man." 

LYDIA.  Hurrah  !    Hurrah  !    Hurrah  !    Oh,  well  done, 
Cashel ! 

BASHVILLE.  "  A  scene  of  indescribable  excitement 
Ensued  ;  for  it  was  now  quite  evident 
That  Byron's  grogginess  had  all  along 
Been  feigned  to  make  the  market  for  his  backers. 
We  trust  this  sample  of  colonial  smartness 
Will  not  find  imitators  on  this  side. 
The  losers  settled  up  like  gentlemen  ; 
But  many  felt  that  Byron  shewed  bad  taste 
In  taking  old  Ned  Skene  upon  his  back, 


Act  ii        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          305 
And,  with  Bob  Mellish  tucked  beneath  his  oxter, 
Sprinting  a  hundred  yards  to  show  the  crowd 
The  perfect  pink  of  his  condition" — \_a  knock]. 

LYDIA  [turning  pale]  Bashville 

Didst  hear  ?     A  knock. 

BASHVILLE.  Madam  :  tis  Byron's  knock. 

Shall  I  admit  him  ? 

LUCIAN.  Reeking  from  the  ring  ! 

Oh,  monstrous  !     Say  youre  out. 

LYDIA.  Send  him  away. 

I  will  not  see  the  wretch.  How  dare  he  keep 
Secrets  from  ME  ?  I'll  punish  him.  Pray  say 
I'm  not  at  home.  [BASHVILLE  turns  to  go.]  Yet  stay. 

I  am  afraid 
He  will  not  come  again. 

LUCIAN.  A  consummation 

Devoutly  to  be  wished  by  any  lady. 
Pray,  do  you  wish  this  man  to  come  again  ? 

LYDIA.  No,  Lucian.  He  hath  used  me  very  ill. 
He  should  have  told  me.  I  will  ne'er  forgive  him. 
Say,  Not  at  home. 

BASHVILLE.  Yes,  madam.  [Exit. 

LYDIA  Stay — 

LUCIAN  [stopping  her]  No,  Lydia  : 

You  shall  not  countermand  that  proper  order. 
Oh,  would  you  cast  the  treasure  of  your  mind, 
The  thousands  at  your  bank,  and,  above  all, 
Your  unassailable  social  position 
Before  this  soulless  mass  of  beef  and  brawn. 

LYDIA.  Nay,  coz :  youre  prejudiced. 

CASHEL  [without]  Liar  and  slave  ! 

LYDIA.  What  words  were  those  ? 

LUCIAN.  The  man  is  drunk  with  slaughter. 


306  The  Admirable  Bashville          Act  II 

Enter  BASHVILLE  running :  he  shuts  the  door  and  locks  it. 

BASHVILLE.  Save  yourselves :  at  the  staircase  foot  the 

champion 

Sprawls  on  the  mat,  by  trick  of  wrestler  tripped  j 
But  when  he  rises,  woe  betide  us  all  ! 

LYDIA.  Who  bade  you  treat  my  visitor  with  violence  ? 

BASHVILLE.    He  would  not   take   my  answer  ;   thrust 

the  door 

Back  in  my  face  ;  gave  me  the  lie  i'  th'  throat ; 
Averred  he  felt  your  presence  in  his  bones. 
I  said  he  should  feel  mine  there  too,  and  felled  him  j 
Then  fled  to  bar  your  door. 

LYDIA.  O  lover's  instinct  ! 

He  felt  my  presence.     Well,  let  him  come  in. 
We  must  not  fail  in  courage  with  a  fighter. 
Unlock  the  door. 

LUCIAN.  Stop.     Like  all  women,  Lydia, 

You  have  the  courage  of  immunity. 
To  strike  you  were  against  his  code  of  honor  ; 
But  me,  above  the  belt,  he  may  perform  on 
T'  th'  height  of  his  profession.     Also  Bashville. 

BASHVILLE.  Think  not  of  me,  sir.     Let   him  do    his 

worst. 

Oh,  if  the  valor  of  my  heart  could  weigh 
The  fatal  difference  twixt  his  weight  and  mine, 
A  second  battle  should  he  do  this  day : 
Nay,  though  outmatched  I  be,  let  but  my  mistress 
Give  me  the  word :   instant  I'll  take  him  on 
Here — now — at  catchweight.     Better  bite  the  carpet 
A  man,  than  fly,  a  coward. 

LUCIAN.  Bravely  said  : 

I  will  assist  you  with  the  poker. 

LYDIA.  No : 

I  will  not  have  him  touched.     Open  the  door. 


Act  II         or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          307 

BASHVILLE.  Destruction  knocks  thereat.     I  smile,  and 
open. 
[BASHVILLE  opens  the  door.     Dead  silence.     CASHEL 

enters^  in  tears.     A  solemn  pause. 
CASHEL.  You  know  my  secret  ? 
LYDIA.  Yes. 

CASHEL.  And  thereupon 

You  bade  your  servant  fling  me  from  your  door. 
LYDIA.  I  bade  my  servant  say  I  was  not  here. 
CASHEL  [to  BASHVILLE]  Why  didst  thou  better  thy 

instruction,  man  ? 

Hadst  thou  but  said,  "  She  bade  me  tell  thee  this," 
Thoudst    burst    my    heart.        I    thank    thee    for    thy 

mercy. 
LYDIA.  Oh,  Lucian,  didst  thou  call  him  "  drunk  with 

slaughter  "  ? 
Canst  thou  refrain  from  weeping  at  his  woe  ? 

CASHEL  [to  LUCIAN]  The  unwritten  law  that  shields 

the  amateur 
Against  professional  resentment,  saves  thee. 

0  coward,  to  traduce  behind  their  backs 
Defenceless  prizefighters  ! 

LUCIAN.  Thou  dost  avow 

Thou  art  a  prizefighter. 

CASHEL.  It  was  my  glory. 

1  had  hoped  to  offer  to  my  lady  there 

My  belts,  my  championships,  my  heaped-up  stakes, 
My  undefeated  record  ;  but  I  knew 
Behind  their  blaze  a  hateful  secret  lurked. 

LYDIA.  Another  secret  ? 

LUCIAN.  Is  there  worse  to  come  ? 

CASHEL.  Know  ye  not  then  my  mother  is  an  actress  ? 

LUCIAN.  How  horrible  ! 

LYDIA.  Nay,  nay  :   how  interesting  ! 

CASHEL.  A  thousand  victories  cannot  wipe  out 


308  The  Admirable  Bashville         Act  II 

That  birthstain.     Oh,  my  speech  bewrayeth  it : 

My  earliest  lesson  was  the  player's  speech 

In  Hamlet ;  and  to  this  day  I  express  myself 

More  like  a  mobled  queen  than  like  a  man 

Of  flesh  and  blood.     Well  may  your  cousin  sneer  ! 

What's  Hecuba  to  him  or  he  to  Hecuba  ? 

LUCIAN.  Injurious  upstart :  if  by  Hecuba 
Thou  pointest  darkly  at  my  lovely  cousin, 
Know  that  she  is  to  me,  and  I  to  her, 
What  never  canst  thou  be.     I  do  defy  thee  ; 
And  maugre  all  the  odds  thy  skill  doth  give, 
Outside  I  will  await  thee. 

LYDIA.  I  forbid 

Expressly  any  such  duello.     Bashville  : 
The  door.     Put  Mr  Webber  in  a  hansom, 
And  bid  the  driver  hie  to  Downing  Street. 
No  answer  :  tis  my  will. 

[Exeunt  LUCIAN  and  BASHVILLE. 

And  now,  farewell. 

You  must  not  come  again,  unless  indeed 
You  can  some  day  look  in  my  eyes  and  say  : 
Lydia  :   my  occupation's  gone. 

CASHEL.  Ah  no : 

It  would  remind  you  of  my  wretched  mother. 

0  God,  let  me  be  natural  a  moment  ! 
What  other  occupation  can  I  try  ? 
What  would  you  have  me  be  ? 

LYDIA.  A  gentleman. 

CASHEL.  A  gentleman  !     I,  Cashel  Byron,  stoop 
To  be  the  thing  that  bets  on  me  !  the  fool 

1  flatter  at  so  many  coins  a  lesson  ! 

The  screaming  creature  who  beside  the  ring 
Gambles  with  basest  wretches  for  my  blood, 
And  pays  with  money  that  he  never  earned  ! 
Let  me  die  broken  hearted  rather  ! 


Act  II        or.  Constancy  Unrewarded          309 

LYDIA.  But 

You  need  not  be  an  idle  gentleman. 
I  call  you  one  of  Nature's  gentlemen. 

CASHEL.  Thats  the  collection  for  the  loser,  Lydia. 
I  am  not  wont  to  need  it.     When  your  friends 
Contest  elections,  and  at  foot  o'  th'  poll 
Rue  their  presumption,  tis  their  wont  to  claim 
A  moral  victory.     In  a  sort  they  are 
Nature's  M.P.s.     I  am  not  yet  so  threadbare 
As  to  accept  these  consolation  stakes. 

LYDIA.  You  are  offended  with  me. 

CASHEL.  Yes  I  am. 

I  can  put  up  with  much  ;  but — "  Nature's  gentleman  n  \ 
I  thank  your  ladyship  of  Lyons,  but 
Must  beg  to  be  excused. 

LYDIA.  But  surely,  surely, 

To  be  a  prizefighter,  and  maul  poor  mariners 
With  naked  knuckles,  is  no  work  for  you. 

CASHEL.  Thou  dost  arraign  the  inattentive  Fates 
That  weave  my  thread  of  life  in  ruder  patterns 
Than  these  that  lie,  antimacassarly, 
Asprent  thy  drawingroom.     As  well  demand 
Why  I  at  birth  chose  to  begin  my  life 
A  speechless  babe,  hairless,  incontinent, 
Hobbling  upon  all  fours,  a  nurse's  nuisance  ? 
Or  why  I  do  propose  to  lose  my  strength, 
To  blanch  my  hair,  to  let  the  gums  recede 
Far  up  my  yellowing  teeth,  and  finally 
Lie  down  and  moulder  in  a  rotten  grave  ? 
Only  one  thing  more  foolish  could  have  been, 
And  that  was  to  be  born,  not  man,  but  woman. 
This  was  thy  folly,  why  rebuk'st  thou  mine  ? 

LYDIA.  These  are  not  things  of  choice. 

CASHEL.  And  did  I  choose 

My  quick  divining  eye,  my  lightning  hand, 


310  The  Admirable  Bashville          Act  II 

My  springing  muscle  and  untiring  heart  ? 
Did  I  implant  the  instinct  in  the  race 
That  found  a  use  for  these,  and  said  to  me, 
Fight  for  us,  and  be  fame  and  fortune  thine  ? 

LYDIA.  But  there  are  other  callings  in  the  world. 

CASHEL.  Go  tell  thy  painters  to  turn  stockbrokers, 
Thy  poet  friends  to  stoop  oer  merchants'  desks 
And  pen  prose  records  of  the  gains  of  greed. 
Tell  bishops  that  religion  is  outworn, 
And  that  the  Pampa  to  the  horsebreaker 
Opes  new  careers.     Bid  the  professor  quit 
His  fraudulent  pedantries,  and  do  i'  the  world 
The  thing  he  would  teach  others.     Then  return 
To  me  and  say  :  Cashel :   they  have  obeyed  -, 
And  on  that  pyre  of  sacrifice  I,  too, 
Will  throw  my  championship. 

LYDIA.  But  tis  so  cruel. 

CASHEL.  Is  it  so  ?     I  have  hardly  noticed  that, 
So  cruel  are  all  callings.     Yet  this  hand, 
That  many  a  two  days  bruise  hath  ruthless  given, 
Hath  kept  no  dungeon  locked  for  twenty  years, 
Hath  slain  no  sentient  creature  for  my  sport. 
I  am  too  squeamish  for  your  dainty  world, 
That  cowers  behind  the  gallows  and  the  lash, 
The  world  that  robs  the  poor,  and  with  their  spoil 
Does  what  its  tradesmen  tell  it.     Oh,  your  ladies  ! 
Sealskinned  and  egret-feathered  ;  all  defiance 
To  Nature  ;  cowering  if  one  say  to  them 
"What  will  the  servants  think  ?  "     Your  gentlemen  ! 
Your  tailor- tyrannized  visitors  of  whom 
Flutter  of  wing  and  singing  in  the  wood 
Make  chickenbutchers.     And  your  medicine  men  ! 
Groping  for  cures  in  the  tormented  entrails 
Of  friendly  dogs.     Pray  have  you  asked  all  these 
To  change  their  occupations  ?     Find  you  mine 


Act  II        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          3 1 1 

So  grimly  crueller  ?      I  cannot  breathe 
An  air  so  petty  and  so  poisonous. 

LYDIA.  But  find  you  not  their  manners  very  nice  ? 

CASHEL.  To  me,  perfection.     Oh,  they  condescend 
With  a  rare  grace.     Your  duke,  who  condescends 
Almost  to  the  whole  world,  might  for  a  Man 
Pass  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  never  saw 
The  duke  capped  with  a  prince.     See  then,  ye  gods, 
The  duke  turn  footman,  and  his  eager  dame 
Sink  the  great  lady  in  the  obsequious  housemaid  ! 
Oh,  at  such  moments  I  could  wish  the  Court 
Had  but  one  breadbasket,  that  with  my  fist 
I  could  make  all  its  windy  vanity 
Gasp  itself  out  on  the  gravel.     Fare  you  well. 
I  did  not  choose  my  calling  ;  but  at  least 
I  can  refrain  from  being  a  gentleman. 

LYDIA.  You  say  farewell  to  me  without  a  pang. 

CASHEL.  My  calling  hath  apprenticed  me  to  pangs. 
This  is  a  rib-bender  ;  but  I  can  bear  it. 
It  is  a  lonely  thing  to  be  a  champion. 

LYDIA.  It  is  a  lonelier  thing  to  be  a  woman. 

CASHEL.  Be  lonely  then.     Shall  it  be  said  of  thee 
That  for  his  brawn  thou  misalliance  mad'st 
Wi'  the  Prince  of  Ruffians  ?     Never.     Go  thy  ways  ; 
Or,  if  thou  hast  nostalgia  of  the  mud, 
Wed  some  bedogge*d  wretch  that  on  the  slot 
Of  gilded  snobbery,  venire  a  terrey 
Will  hunt  through  life  with  eager  nose  on  earth 
And  hang  thee  thick  with  diamonds.     I  am  rich  ; 
But  all  my  gold  was  fought  for  with  my  hands. 

LYDIA.  What  dost  thou  mean  by  rich  ? 

CASHEL.  There  is  a  man, 

Hight  Paradise,  vaunted  unconquerable, 
Hath  dared  to  say  he  will  be  glad  to  hear  from  me. 
I  have  replied  that  none  can  hear  from  me 


3 1 2  The  Admirable  Bashville         Act  n 

Until  a  thousand  solid  pounds  be  staked. 

His  friends  have  confidently  found  the  money. 

Ere  fall  of  leaf  that  money  shall  be  mine  ; 

And  then  I  shall  possess  ten  thousand  pounds. 

I  had  hoped  to  tempt  thee  with  that  monstrous  sum. 

LYDIA.  Thou  silly  Cashel,  tis  but  a  week's  income. 
I  did  propose  to  give  thee  three  times  that 
For  pocket  money  when  we  two  were  wed. 

CASHEL.  Give  me  my  hat.     I  have  been  fooling  here. 
Now,  by  the  Hebrew  lawgiver,  I  thought 
That  only  in  America  such  revenues 
Were  decent  deemed.     Enough.     My  dream  is  dreamed. 
Your  gold  weighs  like  a  mountain  on  my  chest. 
Farewell. 

LYDIA.     The  golden  mountain  shall  be  thine 
The  day  thou  quitst  thy  horrible  profession. 

CASHEL.  Tempt  me  not,  woman.     It  is  honor  calls. 
Slave  to  the  Ring  I  rest  until  the  face 
Of  Paradise  be  changed. 

Enter  BASHVILLE 

BASHVILLE.  Madam,  your  carriage, 

Ordered  by  you  at  two.     Tis  now  half-past. 

CASHEL.  Sdeath  !  is  it  half-past  two  ?     The  king  !  the 
king  ! 

LYDIA.  The  king  !     What  mean  you  ? 

CASHEL.  I  must  meet  a  monarch 

This  very  afternoon  at  Islington. 

LYDIA.  At  Islington  !     You  must  be  mad. 

CASHEL.  A  cab ! 

Go  call  a  cab  ;  and  let  a  cab  be  called  -9 
And  let  the  man  that  calls  it  be  thy  footman. 

LYDIA.  You  are  not  well.     You  shall  not  go  alone. 
My  carriage  waits.     I  must  accompany  you. 
I  go  to  find  my  hat.  I  Exit. 


Act  II        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          3 1 3 

CASHEL.  Like  Paracelsus, 

Who  went  to  find  his  soul.     [  To  BASHVILLE.]  And  now, 

young  man, 

How  comes  it  that  a  fellow  of  your  inches, 
So  deft  a  wrestler  and  so  bold  a  spirit, 
Can  stoop  to  be  a  flunkey  ?     Call  on  me 
On  your  next  evening  out.     I'll  make  a  man  of  you. 

Surely  you  are  ambitious  and  aspire 

BASHVILLE.  To  be  a  butler  and  draw  corks  ;  wherefore, 
By  Heaven,  I  will  draw  yours. 

[He  hits  CASHEL  on  the  nose^  and  runs  out. 
CASHEL   [thoughtfully  putting  the  side  of  his  forefinger 
to  his  nose^  and  studying  the  blood  on  it\  Too  quick 
for  me  ! 
There's  money  in  this  youth. 

Re-enter  LYDIA,  hatted  and  gloved 

LYDIA.  O  Heaven  !  you  bleed. 

CASHEL.  Lend  me  a  key  or  other  frigid  object, 
That  I  may  put  it  down  my  back,  and  staunch 
The  welling  life  stream. 

LYDIA  [giving  him   her  keys']    Oh,   what    have   you 
done  ? 

CASHEL.  Flush   on  the   boko   napped   your  footman's 
left. 

LYDIA.  I  do  not  understand. 

CASHEL.  True.     Pardon  me. 

I  have  received  a  blow  upon  the  nose 
In  sport  from  Bashville.     Next,  ablution  ;  else 
I  shall  be  total  gules.  [He  hurries  out. 

LYDIA.  How  well  he  speaks  ! 

There  is  a  silver  trumpet  in  his  lips 
That  stirs  me  to  the  finger  ends.     His  nose 
Dropt  lovely  color  :  tis  a  perfect  blood. 
I  would  twere  mingled  with  mine  own  ! 


314  The  Admirable  Bash ville         Act  II 

Enter  BASHVILLE 

What  now  ? 

BASHVILLE.  Madam,  the  coachman  can  no  longer  wait : 
The  horses  will  take  cold. 

LYDIA.  I  do  beseech  him 

A  moment's  grace.     Oh,  mockery  of  wealth  ! 
The  third  class  passenger  unchidden  rides 
Whither  and  when  he  will :   obsequious  trams 
Await  him  hourly  :  subterranean  tubes 
With  tireless  coursers  whisk  him  through  the  town  j 
But  we,  the  rich,  are  slaves  to  Houyhnhnms  : 
We  wait  upon  their  colds,  and  frowst  all  day 
Indoors,  if  they  but  cough  or  spurn  their  hay. 

BASHVILLE.  Madam,  an  omnibus  to  Euston  Road, 
And  thence  t'  th'  Angel— 

Enter  CASHEL 

LYDIA.  Let  us  haste,  my  love : 

The  coachman  is  impatient. 

CASHEL.  Did  he  guess 

He  stays  for  Cashel  Byron,  he'd  outwait 
Pompei's  sentinel.     Let  us  away. 
This  day  of  deeds,  as  yet  but  half  begun, 
Must  ended  be  in  merrie  Islington. 

[Exeunt  LYDIA  and  CASHEL. 

BASHVILLE.  Gods  !   how  she  hangs  on's  arm  !     I  am 

alone. 

Now  let  me  lift  the  cover  from  my  soul. 
O  wasted  humbleness  !     Deluded  diffidence  ! 
How  often  have  I  said,  Lie  down,  poor  footman  : 
She'll  never  stoop  to  thee,  rear  as  thou  wilt 
Thy  powder  to  the  sky.     And  now,  by  Heaven, 


Act  II        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          315 

She  stoops  below  me  ;  condescends  upon 

This  hero  of  the  pothouse,  whose  exploits, 

Writ  in  my  character  from  my  last  place, 

Would  damn  me  into  ostlerdom.     And  yet 

There's  an  eternal  justice  in  it ;  for 

By  so  much  as  the  ne'er  subdued  Indian 

Excels  the  servile  negro,  doth  this  ruffian 

Precedence  take  of  me.     cc  Ich  dien"     Damnation  ! 

I  serve.     My  motto  should  have  been,  "  I  scalp." 

And  yet  I  do  not  bear  the  yoke  for  gold. 

Because  I  love  her  I  have  blacked  her  boots  ; 

Because  I  love  her  I  have  cleaned  her  knives, 

Doing  in  this  the  office  of  a  boy, 

Whilst,  like  the  celebrated  maid  that  milks 

And  does  the  meanest  chares,  Ive  shared  the  passions 

Of  Cleopatra.     It  has  been  my  pride 

To  give  her  place  the  greater  altitude 

By  lowering  mine,  and  of  her  dignity 

To  be  so  jealous  that  my  cheek  has  flamed 

Even  at  the  thought  of  such  a  deep  disgrace 

As  love  for  such  a  one  as  I  would  be 

For  such  a  one  as  she  ;  and  now  !  and  now  ! 

A  prizefighter  !     O  irony  !     O  bathos  ! 

To  have  made  way  for  this  !     Oh,  Bashville,  Bashville  : 

Why  hast  thou  thought  so  lowly  of  thyself, 

So  heavenly  high  of  her  ?     Let  what  will  come, 

My  love  must  speak  :  twas  my  respect  was  dumb. 


SCENE  II 

The  Agricultural  Hall  in  Islington^  crowded  with  spec- 
tators. In  the  arena  a  throne^  with  a  boxing  ring 
before  it.  A  balcony  above  on  the  right^  occupied 


3 1 6  The  Admirable  Bashville         Act  II 

by  persons  of  fashion :    among    others,    LYDIA    and 

LORD  WoRTHINGTON. 


Flourish.     Enter  LUCIAN  and  CETEWAYO,  with  Chiefs 
in  attendance. 

CETEWAYO.  Is  this  the  Hall  of  Husbandmen  ? 

LUCIAN.  It  is. 

CETEWAYO.    Are    these    anaemic    dogs    the    English 
people  ? 

LUCIAN.  Mislike  us  not  for  our  complexions. 
The  pallid  liveries  of  the  pall  of  smoke 
Belched  by  the  mighty  chimneys  of  our  factories. 
And  by  the  million  patent  kitchen  ranges 
Of  happy  English  homes. 

CETEWAYO.  When  first  I  came 

I  deemed  those  chimneys  the  fuliginous  altars 
Of  some  infernal  god.     I  now  perceive 
The  English  dare  not  look  upon  the  sky. 
They  are  moles  and  owls  :  they  call  upon  the  soot 
To  cover  them. 

LUCIAN.  You  cannot  understand 

The  greatness  of  this  people,  Cetewayo. 
You  are  a  savage,  reasoning  like  a  child. 
Each  pallid  English  face  conceals  a  brain 
Whose  powers  are  proven  in  the  works  of  Newton 
And  in  the  plays  of  the  immortal  Shakespear. 
There  is  not  one  of  all  the  thousands  here 
But,  if  you  placed  him  naked  in  the  desert, 
Would  presently  construct  a  steam  engine, 
And  lay  a  cable  t'  th'  Antipodes. 

CETEWAYO.  Have  I  been  brought  a  million  miles  by 

sea 

To  learn  how  men  can  lie  !     Know,  Father  Webber, 
Men  become  civilized  through  twin  diseases, 


Act  II        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          317 

Terror  and  Greed  to  wit :   these  two  conjoined 

Become  the  grisly  parents  of  Invention. 

Why  does  the  trembling  white  with  frantic  toil 

Of  hand  and  brain  produce  the  magic  gun 

That  slays  a  mile  off,  whilst  the  manly  Zulu 

Dares  look  his  foe  i'  the  face  ;  fights  foot  to  foot ; 

Lives  in  the  present  ;  drains  the  Here  and  Now ; 

Makes  life  a  long  reality,  and  death 

A  moment  only  ;  whilst  your  Englishman 

Glares  on  his  burning  candle's  winding-sheets, 

Counting  the  steps  of  his  approaching  doom, 

And  in  the  murky  corners  ever  sees 

Two  horrid  shadows,  Death  and  Poverty : 

In  the  which  anguish  an  unnatural  edge 

Comes  on  his  frighted  brain,  which  straight  devises 

Strange  frauds  by  which  to  filch  unearned  gold, 

Mad  crafts  by  which  to  slay  unfaced  foes, 

Until  at  last  his  agonized  desire 

Makes  possibility  its  slave.     And  then — 

Horrible  climax  !     All-undoing  spite  ! — 

Th'  importunate  clutching  of  the  coward's  hand 

From  wearied  Nature  Devastation's  secrets 

Doth  wrest ;  when  straight  the  brave  black-livered  man 

Is  blown  explosively  from  off  the  globe  ; 

And  Death  and  Dread,  with  their  white-livered  slaves 

Oer-run  the  earth,  and  through  their  chattering  teeth 

Stammer  the  words  "Survival  of  the  Fittest." 

Enough  of  this  :   I  came  not  here  to  talk. 

Thou  sayst  thou  hast  two  white-faced  ones  who  dare 

Fight  without  guns,  and  spearless,  to  the  death. 

Let  them  be  brought. 

LUCIAN.  They  fight  not  to  the  death, 

But  under  strictest  rules :  as,  for  example, 
Half  of  their  persons  shall  not  be  attacked  ; 
Nor  shall  they  suffer  blows  when  they  fall  down, 


318  The  Admirable  Bashville         Act  II 

Nor  stroke  of  foot  at  any  time.     And,  further, 

That  frequent  opportunities  of  rest 

With  succor  and  refreshment  be  secured  them. 

CETEWAYO.  Ye  gods,  what  cowards  !     Zululand,  my 

Zululand  : 

Personified  Pusillanimity 
Hath  taen  thee  from  the  bravest  of  the  brave  ! 

LUCIAN.  Lo  the  rude  savage  whose  untutored  mind 
Cannot  perceive  self-evidence,  and  doubts 
That  Brave  and  English  mean  the  self-same  thing  ! 

CETEWAYO.  Well,  well,  produce  these  heroes.     I  sur- 
mise 

They  will  be  carried  by  their  nurses,  lest 
Some  barking  dog  or  bumbling  bee  should  scare  them. 

CETEWAYO  takes  his  state.     Enter  PARADISE 

LYDIA.     What  hateful  wretch  is  this  whose  mighty 

thews 
Presage  destruction  to  his  adversaries. 

LORD  WORTHINGTON.  Tis  Paradise, 

LYDIA.  He  of  whom  Cashel  spoke  ?, 

A  dreadful  thought  ices  my  heart.     Oh,  why 
Did  Cashel  leave  us  at  the  door  ? 

Enter  CASHEL 

LORD  WORTHINGTON.  Behold  ! 

The  champion  comes. 

LYDIA.  Oh,  I  could  kiss  him  now 

Here,  before  all  the  world.     His  boxing  things 
Render  him  most  attractive.     But  I  fear 
Yon  villain's  fists  may  maul  him. 

WORTHINGTON.  Have  no  fear. 

Hark  !  the  king  speaks. 


Act  II        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          3 1 9 

CETEWAYO.  Ye  sons  of  the  white  queen  : 

Tell  me  your  names  and  deeds  ere  ye  fall  to. 

PARADISE.  Your  royal  highness,  you  beholds  a  bloke 
What  gets  his  living  honest  by  his  fists. 
I  may  not  have  the  polish  of  some  toffs 
As  I  could  mention  on  ;  but  up  to  now 
No  man  has  took  my  number  down.     I  scale 
Close  on  twelve  stun  ;  my  age  is  twenty- three  ; 
And  at  Bill  Richardson's  Blue  Anchor  pub 
Am  to  be  heard  of  any  day  by  such 
As  likes  the  job.     I  dont  know,  governor, 
As  ennythink  remains  for  me  to  say. 

CETEWAYO.  Six  wives  and  thirty  oxen  shalt  thou  have 
If  on  the  sand  thou  leave  thy  foeman  dead. 
Methinks  he  looks  full  scornfully  on  thee. 
[  To  CASHEL]  Ha  !  dost  thou  not  so  ? 

CASHEL.  Sir,  I  do  beseech  you 

To  name  the  bone,  or  limb,  or  special  place 
Where  you  would  have  me  hit  him  with  this  fist. 

CETEWAYO.  Thou  hast  a    noble   brow  ;  but    much  I 

fear 
Thine  adversary  will  disfigure  it. 

CASHEL.  There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends 
Rough  hew  them  how  we  will.     Give  me  the  gloves. 

THE  MASTER  OF  THE   REVELS.    Paradise,  a    professor. 

Cashel  Byron, 
Also  professor.     Time  !  [  They  spar. 

LYDIA.  Eternity 

It  seems  to  me  until  this  fight  be  done. 

CASHEL.  Dread    monarch  :     this    is    called    the    upper 

cut, 

And  this  a  hook-hit  of  mine  own  invention. 
The  hollow  region  where  I  plant  this  blow 
Is  called  the  mark.     My  left,  you  will  observe, 
I  chiefly  use  for  long  shots  :  with  my  right 


320  The  Admirable  Bashville         Act  II 

Aiming  beside  the  angle  of  the  jaw 
And  landing  with  a  certain  delicate  screw 
I  without  violence  knock  my  foeman  out. 
Mark  how  he  falls  forward  upon  his  face  ! 
The  rules  allow  ten  seconds  to  get  up  ; 
And  as  the  man  is  still  quite  silly,  I 
Might  safely  finish  him  j  but  my  respect 
For  your  most  gracious  majesty's  desire 
To  see  some  further  triumphs  of  the  science 
Of  self-defence  postpones  awhile  his  doom. 

PARADISE.  How  can  a  bloke  do  hisself  proper  justice 
With  pillows  on  his  fists  ? 

[He  tears  off  his  gloves  and  attacks  CASHEL 

with  his  bare  knuckles. 

THE  CROWD.  Unfair  !     The  rules  ! 

CETEWAYO.  The  joy  of  battle  surges  boiling  up 
And  bids  me  join  the  mellay.     Isandhlana 
And  Victory  !  \_  He  falls  on  the  bystanders. 

THE  CHIEFS.  Victory  and  Isandhlana  ! 

[  They  run  amok.     General  panic  and  stampede. 

The  ring  is  swept  away. 

LUCIAN.  Forbear  these  most  irregular  proceedings. 
Police  !     Police  ! 

[He  engages  CETEWAYO  with  his  wnbrella.      The  balcony 
comes  down  with  a  crash.     Screams  from  its  occupants. 
Indescribable  confusion. 
CASHEL  [dragging  LyniAfrom  the  struggling  heap]  My 

love,  my  love,  art  hurt  ? 

LYDIA.   No,  no  ;  but  save  my  sore  oermatched  cousin. 
A  POLICEMAN.     Give  us  a  lead,  sir.     Save  the  English 

flag. 
Africa  tramples  on  it. 

CASHEL.  Africa ! 

Not  all  the  continents  whose  mighty  shoulders 
The  dancing  diamonds  of  the  seas  bedeck 


Act  II        or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          321 

Shall  trample  on  the  blue  with  spots  of  white. 

Now,  Lydia,  mark  thy  lover.          [He  charges  the  Zulus. 

LYDIA.  Hercules 

Cannot  withstand  him.     See  :  the  king  is  down  j 
The  tallest  chief  is  up,  heels  over  head, 
Tossed  corklike  oer  my  Cashel's  sinewy  back ; 
And  his  lieutenant  all  deflated  gasps 
For  breath  upon  the  sand.     The  others  fly 
In  vain  :  his  fist  oer  magic  distances 
Like  a  chameleon's  tongue  shoots  to  its  mark  ; 
And  the  last  African  upon  his  knees 
Sues  piteously  for  quarter.    [Rushing  into  CASHEL'S  arms'] 

Oh,  my  hero  : 
Thoust  saved  us  all  this  day. 

CASHEL.  Twas  all  for  thee. 

CETEWAYO   [trying  to  rise]    Have   I   been   struck    by- 
lightning  ? 

LUCIAN.  Sir,  your  conduct 

Can  only  be  described  as  most  ungentlemanly. 

POLICEMAN.  One  of  the  prone  is  white. 

CASHEL.  Tis  Paradise. 

POLICEMAN.  He's  choking  :  he  has  something  in  his 
mouth. 

LYDIA  [to  CASHEL]  Oh  Heaven  !  there  is  blood  upon 

your  hip. 
Youre  hurt. 

CASHEL.         The  morsel  in  yon  wretch's  mouth 
Was  bitten  out  of  me. 

[Sensation.     LYDIA  screams  and  swoons  in  CASHEL'S 
arms. 


322  The  Admirable  Bashville        Act  in 

ACT  III 

Wiltstoken.     A  room  in  the  Warren  Lodge 

LYDIA  at  her  writing  table 

LYDIA.  O  Past  and  Present,  how  ye  do  conflict 
As  here  I  sit  writing  my  father's  life  ! 
The  autumn  woodland  woos  me  from  without 
With  whispering  of  leaves  and  dainty  airs 
To  leave  this  fruitless  haunting  of  the  past. 
My  father  was  a  very  learned  man. 
[  sometimes  think  I  shall  oldmaided  be 
Ere  I  unlearn  the  things  he  taught  to  me. 

Enter  POLICEMAN 

POLICEMAN.  Asking  your  ladyship  to  pardon  me 
For  this  intrusion,  might  I  be  so  bold 
As  ask  a  question  of  your  people  here 
Concerning  the  Queen's  peace  ? 

LYDIA.  My  people  here 

Are  but  a  footman  and  a  simple  maid  ; 
And  both  have  craved  a  holiday  to  join 
Some  local  festival.     But,  sir,  your  helmet 
Proclaims  the  Metropolitan  Police. 

POLICEMAN.  Madam,  it  does  ;  and  I  may  now  inform 

you 

That  what  you  term  a  local  festival 
Is  a  most  hideous  outrage  gainst  the  law, 
Which  we  to  quell  from  London  have  come  down  ; 


Act  III       or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          323 
In  short,  a  prizefight.     My  sole  purpose  here 
Is  to  inquire  whether  your  ladyship 
Any  bad  characters  this  afternoon 
Has  noted  in  the  neighborhood. 

LYDIA.  No,  none,  sir. 

I  had  not  let  my  maid  go  forth  to-day 
Thought  I  the  roads  unsafe. 

POLICEMAN.  Fear  nothing,  madam  : 

The  force  protects  the  fair.     My  mission  here 
Is  to  wreak  ultion  for  the  broken  law. 
I  wish  your  ladyship  good  afternoon. 

LYDIA.  Good  afternoon.  [Exit  POLICEMAN. 

A  prizefight  !     O  my  heart  ' 
Cashel :  hast  thou  deceived  me  ?     Can  it  be 
Thou  hast  backslidden  to  the  hateful  calling 
I  asked  thee  to  eschew  ? 

O  wretched  maid, 

Why  didst  thou  flee  from  London  to  this  place 
To  write  thy  father's  life,  whenas  in  town 
Thou  mightst  have  kept  a  guardian  eye  on  him — 
Whats  that  ?     A  flying  footstep — 

Enter  CASHEL 

CASHEL.  Sanctuary ! 

The  law  is  on  my  track.     What  !     Lydia  here  ! 

LYDIA.  Ay  :  Lydia  here.       Hast  thou   done   murder, 

then, 
That  in  so  horrible  a  guise  thou  comest  ? 

CASHEL.  Murder  !     I  would  I  had.     Yon  cannibal 
Hath  forty  thousand  lives  ;  and  I  have  taen 
But  thousands  thirty-nine.     I  tell  thee,  Lydia, 
On  the  impenetrable  sarcolobe 
That  holds  his  seedling  brain  these  fists  have  pounded 


324  The  Admirable  Bashville        Act  ill 

By  Shrewsb'ry  clock  an  hour.     This  bruised  grass 
And  caked  mud  adhering  to  my  form 
I  have  acquired  in  rolling  on  the  sod 
Clinched  in  his  grip.     This  scanty  reefer  coat 
For  decency  snatched  up  as  fast  I  fled 
When  the  police  arrived,  belongs  to  Mellish. 
Tis  all  too  short ;  hence  my  display  of  rib 
And  forearm  mother-naked.     Be  not  wroth 
Because  I  seem  to  wink  at  you  :  by  Heaven, 
Twas  Paradise  that  plugged  me  in  the  eye 
Which  I  perforce  keep  closing.     Pity  me, 
My  training  wasted  and  my  blows  unpaid. 
Sans  stakes,  sans  victory,  sans  everything 
I  had  hoped  to  win.     Oh,  I  could  sit  me  down 
And  weep  for  bitterness. 

LYDIA.  Thou  wretch,  begone. 

CASHEL.  Begone ! 

LYDIA.  I  say  begone.     Oh,  tiger's  heart 

Wrapped  in  a  young  man's  hide,  canst  thou  not  live 
In  love  with  Nature  and  at  peace  with  Man  ? 
Must  thou,  although  thy  hands  were  never  made 
To  blacken  other's  eyes,  still  batter  at 
The  image  of  Divinity  ?     I  loathe  thee. 
Hence  from  my  house  and  never  see  me  more. 

CASHEL.  I  go.     The  meanest  lad  on  thy  estate 
Would  not  betray  me  thus.     But  tis  no  matter. 

[He  opens  the  door. 
Ha  !   the  police.      I'm  lost.  [He  shuts  the  door  again. 

Now  shalt  thou  see 

My  last  fight  fought.     Exhausted  as  I  am, 
To  capture  me  will  cost  the  coppers  dear. 
Come  one,  come  all ! 

LYDIA.  Oh,  hide  thee,  I  implore : 

I  cannot  see  thee  hunted  down  like  this. 
There  is  my  room.     Conceal  thyself  therein. 


Act  III       or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          325 

Quick,  I  command.  [He  goes  into  the  room. 

With  horror  I  foresee, 
Lydia,  that  never  lied,  must  lie  for  thee. 


Enter  POLICEMAN,  with  PARADISE  and  MELLISH  in 
custody^  BASHVILLE,  constables^  and  others 

POLICEMAN.  Keep  back  your  bruise'd  prisoner  lest  he 

shock 

This  wellbred  lady's  nerves.     Your  pardon,  maam  ; 
But  have  you  seen  by  chance  the  other  one  ? 
In  this  direction  he  was  seen  to  run. 

LYDIA.  A  man  came  here  anon  with  bloody  hands 
And  aspect  that  did  turn  my  soul  to  snow. 

POLICEMAN.  Twas  he.     What  said  he  ? 

LYDIA.  Begged  for  sanctuary. 

I  bade  the  man  begone. 

POLICEMAN.  Most  properly. 

Saw  you  which  way  he  went  ? 

LYDIA.  I  cannot  tell. 

PARADISE.  He  seen  me  coming  ;  and  he  done  a  bunk. 

POLICEMAN.  Peace,    there.       Excuse     his     damaged 

features,  lady  : 

He's  Paradise  ;  and  this  one's  Byron's  trainer, 
Mellish. 

MELLISH.  Injurious  copper,  in  thy  teeth 
I  hurl  the  lie.     I  am  no  trainer,  I. 
My  father,  a  respected  missionary, 
Apprenticed  me  at  fourteen  years  of  age 
T'  the  poetry  writing.     To  these  woods  I  came 
With  Nature  to  commune.     My  revery 
Was  by  a  sound  of  blows  rudely  dispelled. 
Mindful  of  what  my  sainted  parent  taught 


326  The  Admirable  Bashville        Act  ill 

I  rushed  to  play  the  peacemaker,  when  lo  ! 
These  minions  of  the  law  laid  hands  on  me. 

BASHVILLE.  A  lovely  woman,  with  distracted  cries, 
In  most  resplendent  fashionable  frock, 
Approaches  like  a  wounded  antelope. 


Enter  ADELAIDE  GISBORNE 

ADELAIDE.  Where    is    my    Cashel  ?      Hath    he    been 

arrested  ? 

POLICEMAN.  I  would  I  had  thy  Cashel  by  the  collar : 
He  hath  escaped  me. 

ADELAIDE.  Praises  be  for  ever  ! 

LYDIA.  Why   dost   thou  call    the    missing   man   thy 

Cashel? 

ADELAIDE.  He  is  mine  only  son. 
ALL.  Thy  son  ! 

ADELAIDE.  My  Son. 

LYDIA.  I    thought    his    mother    hardly    would    have 

known  him, 
So  crushed  his  countenance. 

ADELAIDE.                              A  ribald  peer, 
Lord  Worthington  by  name,  this  morning  came 
With  honeyed  words  beseeching  me  to  mount 
His  four-in-hand,  and  to  the  country  hie 
To  see  some  English  sport.     Being  by  nature 
Frank  as  a  child,  I  fell  into  the  snare, 
But  took  so  long  to  dress  that  the  design 
Failed  of  its  full  effect  j  for  not  until 
The  final  round  we  reached  the  horrid  scene. 
Be  silent  all ;  for  now  I  do  approach 
My  tragedy's  catastrophe.     Know,  then, 
That  Heaven  did  bless  me  with  an  only  son, 
A  boy  devoted  to  his  doting  mother 


Act  III       or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          327 

POLICEMAN.  Hark  !  did  you  hear  an  oath  from  yonder 
room  ? 

ADELAIDE.  Respect  a  broken-hearted  mother's  grief, 
And  do  not  interrupt  me  in  my  scene. 
Ten  years  ago  my  darling  disappeared 
(Ten  dreary  twelvemonths  of  continuous  tears, 
Tears  that  have  left  me  prematurely  aged ; 
For  I  am  younger  far  than  I  appear). 
Judge  of  my  anguish  when  to-day  I  saw 
Stripped  to  the  waist,  and  righting  like  a  demon 
With  one  who,  whatsoe'er  his  humble  virtues, 
Was  clearly  not  a  gentleman,  my  son  ! 

ALL.  O  strange  event !   O  passing  tearful  tale  ! 

ADELAIDE.  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart 
For  the  reception  you  have  given  my  woe  ; 
And  now  I  ask,  where  is  my  wretched  son  ? 
He  must  at  once  come  home  with  me,  and  quit 
A  course  of  life  that  cannot  be  allowed. 

Enter  CASHEL 

CASHEL.  Policeman  :   I  do  yield  me  to  the  law. 

LYDIA.  Oh  no. 

ADELAIDE.         My  son  ! 

CASHEL.  My  mother  !     Do  not  kiss  me  : 

My  visage  is  too  sore. 

POLICEMAN.  The  lady  hid  him. 

This  is  a  regular  plant.     You  cannot  be 
Up  to  that  sex.      [To  CASHEL]    You  come  along  with 
me. 

LYDIA.  Fear  not,  my  Cashel :  I  will  bail  thee  out. 

CASHEL.  Never.     I  do  embrace  my  doom  with  joy. 
With  Paradise  in  Pentonville  or  Portland 
I  shall  feel  safe  :  there  are  no  mothers  there. 

ADELAIDE.  Ungracious  boy — 


328  The  Admirable  Bashville        Act  in 

CASHEL.  Constable  :   bear  me  hence. 

MELLISH.  Oh,  let  me  sweetest  reconcilement  make 
By  calling  to  thy  mind  that  moving  song  : — 

[Sings]  They  say  there  is  no  other — 

CASHEL.  Forbear  at  once,  or  the  next  note  of  music 
That  falls  upon  thine  ear  shall  clang  in  thunder 
From  the  last  trumpet. 

ADELAIDE.  A  disgraceful  threat 

To  level  at  this  virtuous  old  man. 

LYDIA.  Oh,  Cashel,  if  thou  scornst  thy  mother  thus, 
How  wilt  thou  treat  thy  wife  ? 

CASHEL.  There  spake  my  fate  : 

I  knew  you  would  say  that.     Oh,  mothers,  mothers. 
Would  you  but  let  your  wretched  sons  alone 
Life  were  worth  living  !      Had  I  any  choice 
In  this  importunate  relationship  ? 
None.     And  until  that  high  auspicious  day 
When  the  millennium  on  an  orphaned  world 
Shall  dawn,  and  man  upon  his  fellow  look, 
Reckless  of  consanguinity,  my  mother 
And  I  within  the  self-same  hemisphere 
Conjointly  may  not  dwell. 

ADELAIDE.  Ungentlemanly ! 

CASHEL.     I  am  no  gentleman.     I  am  a  criminal, 
Redhanded,  baseborn — 

ADELAIDE.  Baseborn  !     Who  dares  say  it? 

Thou  art  the  son  and  heir  of  Bingley  Bumpkin 
FitzAlgernon  de  Courcy  Cashel  Byron, 
Sieur  of  Park  Lane  and  Overlord  of  Dorset, 
Who  after  three  months  wedded  happiness 
Rashly  fordid  himself  with  prussic  acid, 
Leaving  a  tearstained  note  to  testify- 
That  having  sweetly  honeymooned  with  me, 
He  now  could  say,  O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ? 


Act  ill       or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          329 

POLICEMAN.  Sir  :  had  I  known  your  quality,  this  cop 
I  had  averted  j  but  it  is  too  late. 
The  law's  above  us  both. 

Enter  LUCIAN,  with  an  Order  in  Council 

LUCIAN.  Not  so,  policeman. 

I  bear  a  message  from  The  Throne  itself 
Of  fullest  amnesty  for  Byron's  past. 
Nay,  more  :  of  Dorset  deputy  lieutenant 
He  is  proclaimed.     Further,  it  is  decreed, 
In  memory  of  his  glorious  victory 
Over  our  country's  foes  at  Islington, 
The  flag  of  England  shall  for  ever  bear 
On  azure  field  twelve  swanlike  spots  of  white ; 
And  by  an  exercise  of  feudal  right 
Too  long  disused  in  this  anarchic  age 
Our  sovereign  doth  confer  on  him  the  hand 
Of  Miss  Carew,  Wiltstoken's  wealthy  heiress. 

[General  acclamation. 

POLICEMAN.  Was  anything,  sir,  said  about  me  ? 

LUCIAN.  Thy  faithful  services  are  not  forgot : 
In  future  call  thyself  Inspector  Smith. 

[Renewed  acclamation. 

POLICEMAN.  I  thank  you,  sir.    I  thank  you,  gentlemen. 

LUCIAN.  My  former  opposition,  valiant  champion, 
Was  based  on  the  supposed  discrepancy 
Betwixt  your  rank  and  Lydia's.     Here's  my  hand. 

BASHVILLE.  And  I  do  here  unselfishly  renounce 
All  my  pretensions  to  my  lady's  favor.  [Sensation. 

LYDIA.  What,  Bashville  !  didst  thou  love  me  ? 

BASHVILLE.  Madam  :  yes. 

Tis  said  :  now  let  me  leave  immediately. 

LYDIA.  In  taking,  Bashville,  this  most  tasteful  course 
You  are  but  acting  as  a  gentleman 


330  The  Admirable  Bashville        Act  III 

In  the  like  case  would  act.     I  fully  grant 
Your  perfect  right  to  make  a  declaration 
Which  flatters  me  and  honors  your  ambition. 
Prior  attachment  bids  me  firmly  say 
That  whilst  my  Cashel  lives,  and  polyandry 
Rests  foreign  to  the  British  social  scheme, 
Your  love  is  hopeless  ;  still,  your  services, 
Made  zealous  by  disinterested  passion. 
Would  greatly  add  to  my  domestic  comfort ; 
And  if 

CASHEL.  Excuse  me.     I  have  other  views. 
Ive  noted  in  this  man  such  aptitude 
For  art  and  exercise  in  his  defence 
That  I  prognosticate  for  him  a  future 
More  glorious  than  my  past.     Henceforth  I  dub  him 
The  Admirable  Bashville,  Byron's  Novice  j 
And  to  the  utmost  of  my  mended  fortunes 
Will  back  him  gainst  the  world  at  ten  stone  six. 

ALL.  Hail,  Byron's  Novice,  champion  that  shall  be  ! 

BASHVILLE.    Must  I  renounce  my  lovely  lady's  service, 
And  mar  the  face  of  man  ? 

CASHEL.  Tis  Fate's  decree. 

For  know,  rash  youth,  that  in  this  star  crost  world 
Fate  drives  us  all  to  find  our  chiefest  good 
In  what  we  can,  and  not  in  what  we  would. 

POLICEMAN.  A  post-horn — hark  ! 

CASHEL.  What  noise  of  wheels  is  this  ? 

LORD  WORTHINGTON  drives  upon  the  scene  in  his  four- 
in-hand^  and  descends 

ADELAIDE.  Perfidious  peer  ! 

LORD  WORTHINGTON.  Sweet  Adelaide 

ADELAIDE.  Forbear, 

Audacious  one :  my  name  is  Mrs.  Byron. 


Act  ill       or,  Constancy  Unrewarded          331 

LORD  WORTHINGTON.    Oh,  change  that  title  for  the 

sweeter  one 
Of  Lady  Worthington. 

CASHEL.  Unhappy  man, 

You  know  not  what  you  do. 

LYDIA.  Nay>  tis  a  match 

Of  most  auspicious  promise.     Dear  Lord  Worthington, 
You  tear  from  us  our  mother-in-law — 

CASHEL.  Ha !     True. 

LYDIA.  — but  we  will  make  the  sacrifice.    She  blushes  : 
At  least  she  very  prettily  produces 
Blushing's  effect. 

ADELAIDE.  My  lord  :   I  do  accept  you. 

[  They  embrace.     Rejoicings. 

CASHEL  [aside]  It  wrings  my  heart  to  see   my  noble 

backer 

Lay  waste  his  future  thus.     The  world's  a  chessboard, 
And  we  the  merest  pawns  in  fist  of  Fate. 
[Aloud]  And  now,  my  friends,  gentle  and  simple  both, 
Our  scene  draws  to  a  close.     In  lawful  course 
As  Dorset's  deputy  lieutenant  I 
Do  pardon  all  concerned  this  afternoon 
In  the  late  gross  and  brutal  exhibition 
Of  miscalled  sport. 

LYDIA  [throwing  herself  into  his  arms]  Your  boats  are 
burnt  at  last. 

CASHEL.  This  is  the  face  that  burnt  a  thousand  boats, 
And  ravished  Cashel  Byron  from  the  ring. 
But  to  conclude.     Let  William  Paradise 
Devote  himself  to  science,  and  acquire, 
By  studying  the  player's  speech  in  Hamlet, 
A  more  refined  address.     You,  Robert  Mellish, 
To  the  Blue  Anchor  hostelry  attend  him  ; 
Assuage  his  hurts,  and  bid  Bill  Richardson 
Limit  his  access  to  the  fatal  tap. 


332  The  Admirable  Bash ville        Act  III 

Now  mount  we  on  my  backer's  four-in-hand, 

And  to  St.  George's  Church,  whose  portico 

Hanover  Square  shuts  off  from  Conduit  Street, 

Repair  we  all.     Strike  up  the  wedding  march  ; 

And,  Mellish,  let  thy  melodies  trill  forth 

Broad  oer  the  wold  as  fast  we  bowl  along. 

Give  me  the  post-horn.     Loose  the  flowing  rein  ; 

And  up  to  London  drive  with  might  and  main. 

[Exeunt. 


NOTE   ON   MODERN    PRIZE- 
FIGHTING 

IN  1882,  when  this  book  was  written,  prizefighting 
seemed  to  be  dying  out.  Sparring  matches  with  boxing 
gloves,  under  the  Queensberry  rules,  kept  pugilism  faintly 
alive  ;  but  it  was  not  popular,  because  the  public,  which 
cares  only  for  the  excitement  of  a  strenuous  fight, 
believed  then  that  the  boxing  glove  made  sparring  as 
harmless  a  contest  of  pure  skill  as  a  fencing  match  with 
buttoned  foils.  This  delusion  was  supported  by  the 
limitation  of  the  sparring  match  to  boxing.  In  the 
prize  ring  under  the  old  rules  a  combatant  might  trip, 
hold,  or  throw  his  antagonist ;  so  that  each  round  finished 
either  with  a  knockdown  blow,  which,  except  when  it  is 
really  a  liedown  blow,  is  much  commoner  in  fiction  than 
it  was  in  the  ring,  or  with  a  visible  body-to-body  struggle 
ending  in  a  fall.  In  a  sparring  match  all  that  happens  is 
that  a  man  with  a  watch  in  his  hand  cries  out  "  Time  ! " 
whereupon  the  two  champions  prosaically  stop  sparring 
and  sit  down  for  a  minute's  rest  and  refreshment.  The 
unaccustomed  and  inexpert  spectator  in  those  days  did 
not  appreciate  the  severity  of  the  exertion  or  the  risk 
of  getting  hurt :  he  underrated  them  as  ignorantly  as 
he  would  have  overrated  the  more  dramatically  obvious 
terrors  of  a  prizefight.  Consequently  the  interest  in  the 


334  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

annual  sparrings  for  the  Queensberry  Championships 
was  confined  to  the  few  amateurs  who  had  some  critical 
knowledge  of  the  game  of  boxing,  and  to  the  survivors 
of  the  generation  for  which  the  fight  between  Sayers  and 
Heenan  had  been  described  in  The  Times  as  solemnly  as 
the  University  Boat  Race.  In  short,  pugilism  was  out  of 
fashion  because  the  police  had  suppressed  the  only  form  of  it 
which  fascinated  the  public  by  its  undissembled  pugnacity. 

All  that  was  needed  to  rehabilitate  it  was  the  discovery 
that  the  glove  fight  is  a  more  trying  and  dangerous  form 
of  contest  than  the  old  knuckle  fight.  Nobody  knew 
that  then  :  everybody  knows  it,  or  ought  to  know  it,  now. 
And,  accordingly,  pugilism  is  more  prosperous  to-day 
than  it  has  ever  been  before. 

How  far  this  result  was  foreseen  by  the  author  of  the 
Queensberry  Rules,  which  superseded  those  of  the  old 
prize  ring,  will  probably  never  be  known.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  they  served  their  immediate  turn  admirably. 
That  turn  was,  the  keeping  alive  of  boxing  in  the  teeth 
of  the  law  against  prizefighting.  Magistrates  believed, 
as  the  public  believed,  that  when  men's  knuckles  were 
muffled  in  padded  gloves  ;  when  they  were  forbidden  to 
wrestle  or  hold  one  another  j  when  the  duration  of  a 
round  was  fixed  by  the  clock,  and  the  number  of  rounds 
limited  to  what  seems  (to  those  who  have  never  tried) 
to  be  easily  within  the  limits  of  ordinary  endurance  ;  and 
when  the  traditional  interval  for  rest  between  the  rounds 
was  doubled,  that  then  indeed  violence  must  be  check- 
mated, so  that  the  worst  the  boxers  could  do  was  to  "  spar 
for  points "  before  three  gentlemanly  members  of  the 
Stock  Exchange,  who  would  carefully  note  the  said  points 
on  an  examination  paper  at  the  ring  side,  awarding  marks 
only  for  skill  and  elegance,  and  sternly  discountenancing 
the  claims  of  brute  force.  It  may  be  that  both  the 
author  of  the  rules  and  the  "judges"  who  administered 


Modern  Prizefighting  335 

them  in  the  earlier  days  really  believed  all  this  ;  for,  as 
far  as  I  know,  the  limit  of  an  amateur  pugilist's  romantic 
credulity  has  never  yet  been  reached  and  probably  never 
will.  But  if  so,  their  good  intentions  were  upset  by  the 
operation  of  a  single  new  rule.  Thus. 

In  the  old  prize  ring  a  round  had  no  fixed  duration. 
It  was  terminated  by  the  fall  of  one  of  the  combatants  (in 
practice  usually  both  of  them),  and  was  followed  by  an 
interval  of  half  a  minute  for  recuperation.  The  practical 
effect  of  this  was  that  a  combatant  could  always  get  a 
respite  of  half  a  minute  whenever  he  wanted  it  by  pre- 
tending to  be  knocked  down  :  "  finding  the  earth  the 
safest  place,"  as  the  old  phrase  went.  For  this  the 
Marquess  of  Queensberry  substituted  a  rule  that  a  round 
with  the  gloves  should  last  a  specified  time,  usually  three 
or  four  minutes,  and  that  a  combatant  who  did  not  stand 
up  to  his  opponent  continuously  during  that  time  (ten 
seconds  being  allowed  for  rising  in  the  event  of  a  knock- 
down) lost  the  battle.  That  unobtrusively  slipped-in 
ten  seconds  limit  has  produced  the  modern  glove  fight. 
Its  practical  effect  is  that  a  man  dazed  by  a  blow  or  a  fall 
for,  say,  twelve  seconds,  which  would  not  have  mattered  in 
an  old-fashioned  fight  with  its  thirty  seconds  interval,1  has 

1  In  a  treatise  on  boxing  by  Captain  Edgeworth  Johnstone,  just  published, 
I  read,  "  In  the  days  of  the  prize  ring,  fights  lasted  for  hours  ;  and  the  knock- 
out blow  was  unknown."  This  statement  is  a  little  too  sweeping.  The 
blow  was  known  well  enough.  A  veteran  prizefighter  once  described  to  me 
his  first  experience  of  its  curious  effect  on  the  senses.  Only,  as  he  had 
thirty  seconds  to  recover  in  instead  of  ten,  it  did  not  end  the  battle.  The 
thirty  seconds  made  the  knock-out  so  unlikely  that  the  old  pugilists  regarded 
it  as  a  rare  accident,  not  worth  trying  for.  The  glove  fighter  tries  for 
nothing  else.  Nevertheless  knock-outs,  and  very  dramatic  ones  too  (Mace 
by  King,  for  example),  did  occur  in  the  prize  ring  from  time  to  time. 
Captain  Edgeworth  Johnstone's  treatise  is  noteworthy  in  comparison  with 
the  earlier  Badminton  handbook  of  sparring  by  Mr.  E.  B.  Michell  (one  of 
the  Queensberry  champions)  as  throwing  over  the  old  teaching  of  prize-ring 
boxing  with  mufflers,  and  going  in  frankly  for  glove  fighting,  or,  to  put  it 
classically,  cestus  boxing. 


336  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

under  the  Queensberry  rules  either  to  lose  or  else  stagger 
to  his  feet  in  a  helpless  condition  and  be  eagerly  battered 
into  insensibility  by  his  opponent  before  he  can  recover 
his  powers  of  self-defence.  The  notion  that  such  battery 
cannot  be  inflicted  with  boxing  gloves  is  only  entertained 
by  people  who  have  never  used  them  or  seen  them  used. 
I  may  say  that  I  have  myself  received,  in  an  accident,  a 
blow  in  the  face,  involving  two  macadamized  holes  in  it, 
more  violent  than  the  most  formidable  pugilist  could  have 
given  me  with  his  bare  knuckles.  This  blow  did  not 
stun  or  disable  me  even  momentarily.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  have  seen  a  man  knocked  quite  silly  by  a  tap  from 
the  most  luxurious  sort  of  boxing  glove  made,  wielded  by 
a  quite  unathletic  literary  man  sparring  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life.  The  human  jaw,  like  the  human  elbow,  is 
provided,  as  every  boxer  knows,  with  a  "  funny  bone  "  ; 
and  the  pugilist  who  is  lucky  enough  to  jar  that  funny 
bone  with  a  blow  practically  has  his  opponent  at  his 
mercy  for  at  least  ten  seconds.  Such  a  blow  is  called  a 
"knock-out."  The  funny  bone  and  the  ten  seconds 
rule  explain  the  development  of  Queensberry  sparring 
into  the  modern  knocking-out  match  or  glove  fight. 

This  development  got  its  first  impulse  from  the  dis- 
covery by  sparring  competitors  that  the  only  way  in 
which  a  boxer,  however  skilful,  could  make  sure  of  a 
verdict  in  his  favor,  was  by  knocking  his  opponent  out. 
This  will  be  easily  understood  by  any  one  who  remembers 
the  pugilistic  Bench  of  those  days.  The  "judges" 
at  the  competitions  were  invariably  ex-champions  :  that 
is,  men  who  had  themselves  won  former  competitions. 
Now  the  judicial  faculty,  if  it  is  not  altogether  a  legal 
fiction,  is  at  all  events  pretty  rare  even  among  men  whose 
ordinary  pursuits  tend  to  cultivate  it,  and  to  train  them 
in  dispassionateness.  Among  pugilists  it  is  quite  cer- 
tainly very  often  non-existent.  The  average  pugilist  is 


Modern  Prizefighting  337 

a  violent  partisan,  who  seldom  witnesses  a  hot  encounter 
without  getting  much  more  excited  than  the  combatants 
themselves.  Further,  he  is  usually  filled  with  a  local 
patriotism  which  makes  him,  if  a  Londoner,  deem  it  a 
duty  to  disparage  a  provincial,  and,  if  a  provincial,  to 
support  a  provincial  at  all  hazards  against  a  cockney. 
He  has,  besides,  personal  favorites  on  whose  success  he 
bets  wildly.  On  great  occasions  like  the  annual  com- 
petitions, he  is  less  judicial  and  more  convivial  after  dinner 
(when  the  finals  are  sparred)  than  before  it.  Being  seldom 
a  fine  boxer,  he  often  regards  skill  and  style  as  a  reflection 
on  his  own  deficiencies,  and  applauds  all  verdicts  given  for 
"  game  "  alone.  When  he  is  a  technically  good  boxer, 
he  is  all  the  less  likely  to  be  a  good  critic,  as  Providence 
seldom  lavishes  two  rare  gifts  on  the  same  individual. 
Even  if  we  take  the  sanguine  and  patriotic  view  that 
when  you  appoint  such  a  man  a  judge,  and  thus  stop 
his  betting,  you  may  depend  on  his  sense  of  honor  and 
responsibility  to  neutralize  all  the  other  disqualifications, 
they  are  sure  to  be  exhibited  most  extremely  by  the 
audience  before  which  he  has  to  deliver  his  verdict. 
Now  it  takes  a  good  deal  of  strength  of  mind  to  give 
an  unpopular  verdict  j  and  this  strength  of  mind  is  not 
necessarily  associated  with  the  bodily  hardihood  of  the 
champion  boxer.  Consequently,  when  the  strength  of 
mind  is  not  forthcoming,  the  audience  becomes  the 
judge,  and  the  popular  competitor  gets  the  verdict.  And 
the  shortest  way  to  the  heart  of  a  big  audience  is  to  stick  to 
your  man  j  stop  his  blows  bravely  with  your  nose  and  return 
them  with  interest ;  cover  yourself  and  him  with  your 
own  gore  ;  and  outlast  him  in  a  hearty  punching  match. 
It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  the  competitors 
for  sparring  championships  concluded  that  they  had  better 
decide  the  bouts  themselves  by  knocking  their  opponents 
out,  and  waste  no  time  in  cultivating  a  skill  and  style 

z 


338  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

for  which  they  got  little  credit,  and  which  actually  set 
some  of  the  judges  against  them.  The  public  instantly 
began  to  take  an  interest  in  the  sport.  And  so,  by  a 
pretty  rapid  evolution,  the  dexterities  which  the  boxing 
glove  and  the  Oueensberry  rules  were  supposed  to  sub- 
stitute for  the  old  brutalities  of  Sayers  and  Heenan  were 
really  abolished  by  them. 

Let  me  describe  the  process  as  I  saw  it  myself. 
Twenty  years  ago  a  poet  friend  of  mine,  who,  like  all 
poets,  delighted  in  combats,  insisted  on  my  sharing 
his  interest  in  pugilism,  and  took  me  about  to  all 
the  boxing  competitions  of  the  day.  I  was  nothing 
loth  ;  for,  my  own  share  of  original  sin  apart,  any  one 
with  a  sense  of  comedy  must  find  the  arts  of  self-defence 
delightful  (for  a  time)  through  their  pedantry,  their 
quackery,  and  their  action  and  reaction  between  amateur 
romantic  illusion  and  professional  eye  to  business. 

The  fencing  world,  as  Moliere  well  knew,  is  perhaps 
a  more  exquisite  example  of  a  fool's  paradise  than  the 
boxing  world  ;  but  it  is  too  restricted  and  expensive  to 
allow  play  for  popular  character  in  a  non-duelling  country, 
as  the  boxing  world  (formerly  called  quite  appropriately 
"the  Fancy")  does.  At  all  events,  it  was  the  boxing 
world  that  came  under  my  notice ;  and  as  I  was  amused  and 
sceptically  observant,  whilst  the  true  amateurs  about  me 
were,  for  the  most  part,  merely  excited  and  duped,  my 
evidence  may  have  a  certain  value  when  the  question 
comes  up  again  for  legislative  consideration,  as  it  assuredly 
will  some  day. 

The  first  competitions  I  attended  were  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  eighties,  at  Lillie  Bridge,  for  the  Queensberry 
championships.  There  were  but  few  competitors,  in- 
cluding a  fair  number  of  gentlemen ;  and  the  style  of 
boxing  aimed  at  was  the  "  science  "  bequeathed  from  the 
old  prize  ring  by  Ned  Donnelly,  a  pupil  of  Nat  Langham. 


Modern  Prizefighting  339 

Langham  had  once  defeated  Sayers,  and  thereby  taught 
him  the  tactics  by  which  he  defeated  Heenan.  There 
was  as  yet  no  special  technique  of  glove  fighting  :  the 
traditions  and  influence  of  the  old  ring  were  unquestioned 
and  supreme ;  and  they  distinctly  made  for  brains,  skill, 
quickness,  and  mobility,  as  against  brute  violence,  not  at 
all  on  moral  grounds,  but  because  experience  had  proved 
that  giants  did  not  succeed  in  the  ring  under  the  old 
rules,  and  that  crafty  middle-weights  did. 

This  did  not  last  long.  The  spectators  did  not  want  to 
see  skill  defeating  violence  :  they  wanted  to  see  violence 
drawing  blood  and  pounding  its  way  to  a  savage  and 
exciting  victory  in  the  shortest  possible  time  (the  old 
prizefight  usually  dragged  on  for  hours,  and  was  ended 
by  exhaustion  rather  than  by  victory).  So  did  most  of 
the  judges.  And  the  public  and  the  judges  naturally 
had  their  wish  j  for  the  competitors,  as  I  have  already 
explained,  soon  discovered  that  the  only  way  to  make 
sure  of  a  favorable  verdict  was  to  "knock  out"  their 
adversary.  All  pretence  of  sparring  "  for  points  "  :  that 
is,  for  marks  on  an  examination  paper  filled  up  by  the 
judges,  and  representing  nothing  but  impracticable 
academic  pedantry  in  its  last  ditch,  was  dropped  ;  and 
the  competitions  became  frank  fights,  with  abundance  of 
blood  drawn,  and  "knock-outs"  always  imminent.  Need- 
less to  add,  the  glove  fight  soon  began  to  pay.  The 
select  and  thinly  attended  spars  on  the  turf  at  Lillie  Bridge 
gave  way  to  crowded  exhibitions  on  the  hard  boards  of 
St.  James's  Hall.  These  were  organized  by  the  Boxing 
Association  ;  and  to  them  the  provinces,  notably  Bir- 
mingham, sent  up  a  new  race  of  boxers  whose  sole  aim 
was  to  knock  their  opponent  insensible  by  a  right-hand 
blow  on  the  jaw,  knowing  well  that  no  Birmingham 
man  could  depend  on  a  verdict  before  a  London  audience 
for  any  less  undeniable  achievement. 


340  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

The  final  step  was  taken  by  an  American  pugilist. 
He  threw  off  the  last  shred  of  the  old  hypocrisy  of  the 
gloved  hand  by  challenging  the  whole  world  to  produce 
a  man  who  could  stand  before  him  for  a  specified  time 
without  being  knocked  out.  His  brief  but  glorious 
career  completely  re-established  pugilism  by  giving  a 
world -wide  advertisement  to  the  fact  that  the  boxing 
glove  spares  nothing  but  the  public  conscience,  and  that 
as  much  ferocity,  bloodshed,  pain,  and  risk  of  serious 
injury  or  death  can  be  enjoyed  at  a  glove  fight  as  at  an 
old-fashioned  prizefight,  whilst  the  strain  on  the  com- 
batants is  much  greater.  It  is  true  that  these  horrors 
are  greatly  exaggerated  by  the  popular  imagination,  and 
that  if  boxing  were  really  as  dangerous  as  bicycling,  a 
good  many  of  its  heroes  would  give  it  up  from  simple 
fright ;  but  this  only  means  that  there  is  the  maximum 
of  damage  to  the  spectator  by  demoralization,  combined 
with  the  minimum  of  deterrent  risk  to  the  poor  scrapper 
in  the  ring. 

Poor  scrapper,  though,  is  hardly  the  word  for  a 
modern  fashionable  American  pugilist.  To  him  the 
exploits  of  Cashel  Byron  will  seem  ludicrously  obscure 
and  low-lived.  The  contests  in  which  he  engages  are 
like  Handel  Festivals  :  they  take  place  in  huge  halls 
before  enormous  audiences,  with  cinematographs  hard  at 
work  recording  the  scene  for  reproduction  in  London 
and  elsewhere.  The  combatants  divide  thousands  of 
dollars  of  gate  -  money  between  them  :  indeed,  if  an 
impecunious  English  curate  were  to  go  to  America  and 
challenge  the  premier  pugilist,  the  spectacle  of  a  match 
between  the  Church  and  the  Ring  would  attract  a  colossal 
crowd  ;  and  the  loser's  share  of  the  gate  would  be  a 
fortune  to  a  curate — assuming  that  the  curate  would  be 
the  loser,  which  is  by  no  means  a  foregone  conclusion. 
At  all  events,  it  would  be  well  worth  a  bruise  or  two. 


Modern  Prizefighting  341 

So  my  story  of  the  Agricultural  Hall,  where  William 
Paradise  sparred  for  half  a  guinea,  and  Cashel  Byron  stood 
out  for  ten  guineas,  is  no  doubt  read  by  the  profession  in 
America  with  amused  contempt.  In  1882  it  was,  like 
most  of  my  conceptions,  a  daring  anticipation  of  coming 
social  developments,  though  to-day  it  seems  as  far  out  of 
date  as  Slender  pulling  Sackerson's  chain. 

Of  these  latter-day  commercial  developments  of  glove 
fighting  I  know  nothing  beyond  what  I  gather  from  the 
newspapers.  The  banging  matches  of  the  eighties,  in 
which  not  one  competitor  in  twenty  either  exhibited 
artistic  skill,  or,  in  his  efforts  to  knock  out  his  adversary, 
succeeded  in  anything  but  tiring  and  disappointing  him- 
self, were  for  the  most  part  tedious  beyond  human  endur- 
ance. When,  after  wading  through  Boxiana  and  the 
files  of  BelPs  Life  at  the  British  Museum,  I  had  written 
Cashel  Byron's  Profession,  I  found  I  had  exhausted  the 
comedy  of  the  subject ;  and  as  a  game  of  patience  or 
solitaire  was  decidedly  superior  to  an  average  spar  for  a 
championship  in  point  of  excitement,  I  went  no  more  to 
the  competitions.  Since  then  six  or  seven  generations  of 
boxers  have  passed  into  peaceful  pursuits  ;  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  my  experience  is  in  some  respects  out  of  date. 
The  National  Sporting  Club  has  arisen  ;  and  though  I 
have  never  attended  its  reunions,  I  take  its  record  of 
three  pugilists  slain  as  proving  an  enormous  multiplication 
of  contests,  since  such  accidents  are  very  rare,  and  in  fact 
do  not  happen  to  reasonably  healthy  men.  I  am  prepared 
to  admit  also  that  the  disappearance  of  the  old  prize-ring 
technique  must  by  this  time  have  been  compensated  by 
the  importation  from  America  of  a  new  glove-fighting 
technique  ;  for  even  in  a  knocking- out  match,  brains 
will  try  conclusions  with  brawn,  and  finally  establish  a 
standard  of  skill ;  but  I  notice  that  in  the  leading  contests 
in  America  luck  seems  to  be  on  the  side  of  brawn,  and 


342  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

brain  frequently  finishes  in  a  state  of  concussion,  a  loser 
after  performing  miracles  of  "  science."  I  use  the  word 
luck  advisedly  ;  for  one  of  the  fascinations  of  boxing  to 
the  gambler  (who  is  the  main  pillar  of  the  sporting  world) 
is  that  it  is  a  game  of  hardihood,  pugnacity  and  skill,  all 
at  the  mercy  of  chance.  The  knock-out  itself  is  a  pure 
chance.  I  have  seen  two  powerful  laborers  batter  one 
another's  jaws  with  all  their  might  for  several  rounds 
apparently  without  giving  one  another  as  much  as  a 
toothache.  And  I  have  seen  a  winning  pugilist  collapse 
at  a  trifling  knock  landed  by  a  fluke  at  the  fatal  angle. 
I  once  asked  an  ancient  prizefighter  what  a  knock-out 
was  like  when  it  did  happen.  He  was  a  man  of  limited 
descriptive  powers  ;  so  he  simply  pointed  to  the  heavens 
and  said  u  Up  in  a  balloon."  An  amateur  pugilist,  with 
greater  command  of  language,  told  me  that  "all  the  milk 
in  his  head  suddenly  boiled  over."  I  am  aware  that  some 
modern  glove  fighters  of  the  American  school  profess  to 
have  reduced  the  knock-out  to  a  science.  But  the  results 
of  the  leading  American  combats  conclusively  discredit 
the  pretension.  When  a  boxer  so  superior  to  his  opponent 
in  skill  as  to  be  able  practically  to  hit  him  where  he 
pleases  not  only  fails  to  knock  him  out,  but  finally  gets 
knocked  out  himself,  it  is  clear  that  the  phenomenon  is 
as  complete  a  mystery  pugilistically  as  it  is  physiologically, 
though  every  pugilist  and  every  doctor  may  pretend  to 
understand  it.  It  is  only  fair  to  add  that  it  has  not  been 
proved  that  any  permanent  injury  to  the  brain  results 
from  it.  In  any  case  the  brain,  as  English  society  is 
at  present  constituted,  can  hardly  be  considered  a  vital 
organ. 

This,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  is  the  technical 
history  of  the  modern  revival  of  pugilism.  It  is  only  one 
more  example  of  the  fact  that  legislators,  like  other 
people,  must  learn  their  business  by  their  own  mistakes, 


Modern  Prizefighting  343 

and  that  the  first  attempts  to  suppress  an  evil  by  law 
generally  intensify  it.  Prizefighting,  though  often  con- 
nived at,  was  never  legal.  Even  in  its  palmiest  days 
prizefights  were  banished  from  certain  counties  by  hostile 
magistrates,  just  as  they  have  been  driven  from  the  United 
States  and  England  to  Belgium  on  certain  occasions  in 
our  own  time.  But  as  the  exercise  of  sparring,  conducted 
by  a  couple  of  gentlemen  with  boxing  gloves  on,  was 
regarded  as  part  of  a  manly  physical  education,  a  conven- 
tion grew  up  by  which  it  became  practically  legal  to 
make  a  citizen's  nose  bleed  by  a  punch  from  the  gloved 
fist,  and  illegal  to  do  the  same  thing  with  the  naked 
knuckles.  A  code  of  glove-fighting  rules  was  drawn  up 
by  a  prominent  patron  of  pugilism  ;  and  this  code  was 
practically  legalized  by  the  fact  that  even  when  a  death 
resulted  from  a  contest  under  these  rules  the  accessaries 
were  not  punished.  No  question  was  raised  as  to  whether 
the  principals  were  paid  to  fight  for  the  amusement  of 
the  spectators,  or  whether  a  prize  for  the  winner  was 
provided  in  stakes,  share  of  the  gate,  or  a  belt  with  the 
title  of  champion.  These,  the  true  criteria  of  prize- 
fighting, were  ignored  ;  and  the  sole  issue  raised  was 
whether  the  famous  dictum  of  Dr.  Watts,  "  Your  little 
hands  were  never  made,  etc.,"  had  been  duly  considered 
by  providing  the  said  little  hands  with  a  larger  hitting 
surface,  a  longer  range,  and  four  ounces  extra  weight. 

In  short,  then,  what  has  happened  has  been  the  virtual 
legalization  of  prizefighting  under  cover  of  the  boxing 
glove.  And  this  is  exactly  what  public  opinion  desires. 
We  do  not  like  fighting ;  but  we  like  looking  on  at 
fights  :  therefore  we  require  a  law  which  will  punish  the 
prizefighter  if  he  hits  us,  and  secure  us  the  protection  of 
the  police  whilst  we  sit  in  a  comfortable  hall  and  watch 
him  hitting  another  prizefighter.  And  that  is  just  the 
law  we  have  got  at  present. 


344  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

Thus  Cashel  Byron's  plea  for  a  share  of  the  legal 
toleration  accorded  to  the  vivisector  has  been  virtually 
granted  since  he  made  it.  The  legalization  of  cruelty 
to  domestic  animals  under  cover  of  the  anesthetic  is  only 
the  extreme  instance  of  the  same  social  phenomenon  as 
the  legalization  of  prizefighting  under  cover  of  the  boxing 
glove.  The  same  passion  explains  the  fascination  of 
both  practices  ;  and  in  both,  the  professors — pugilists  and 
physiologists  alike — have  to  persuade  the  Home  Office  that 
their  pursuits  are  painless  and  beneficial.  But  there  is 
also  between  them  the  remarkable  difference  that  the 
pugilist,  who  has  to  suffer  as  much  as  he  inflicts,  wants 
his  work  to  be  as  painless  and  harmless  as  possible  whilst 
persuading  the  public  that  it  is  thrillingly  dangerous  and 
destructive,  whilst  the  vivisector  wants  to  enjoy  a  total 
exemption  from  humane  restrictions  in  his  laboratory 
whilst  persuading  the  public  that  pain  is  unknown  there. 
Consequently  the  vivisector  is  not  only  crueller  than  the 
prizefighter,  but,  through  the  pressure  of  public  opinion, 
a  much  more  resolute  and  uncompromising  liar.  For 
this  no  one  but  a  Pharisee  will  single  him  out  for  special 
blame.  All  public  men  lie,  as  a  matter  of  good  taste, 
on  subjects  which  are  considered  serious  (in  England  a 
serious  occasion  means  simply  an  occasion  on  which 
nobody  tells  the  truth)  ;  and  however  illogical  or  capri- 
cious the  point  of  honor  may  be  in  man,  it  is  too  absurd 
to  assume  that  the  doctors  who,  from  among  innumer- 
able methods  of  research,  select  that  of  tormenting 
animals  hideously,  will  hesitate  to  come  on  a  platform 
and  tell  a  soothing  fib  to  prevent  the  public  from  punish- 
ing them.  No  criminal  is  expected  to  plead  guilty, 
or  to  refrain  from  pleading  not  guilty  with  all  the 
plausibility  at  his  command.  In  prizefighting  such  men- 
dacity is  not  necessary  :  on  the  contrary,  if  a  famous 
pugilist  were  to  assure  the  public  that  a  blow  delivered 


Modern  Prizefighting  345 

with  a  boxing  glove  could  do  no  injury  and  cause  no 
pain,  and  the  public  believed  him,  the  sport  would  in- 
stantly lose  its  following.  It  is  the  prizefighter's  interest 
to  abolish  the  real  cruelties  of  the  ring  and  to  exaggerate 
the  imaginary  cruelties  of  it.  It  is  the  vivisector's  interest 
to  refine  upon  the  cruelties  of  the  laboratory,  whilst  per- 
suading the  public  that  his  victims  pass  into  a  delicious 
euthanasia  and  leave  behind  them  a  row  of  bottles  con- 
taining infallible  cures  for  all  the  diseases.  Just  so,  too, 
does  the  trainer  of  performing  animals  assure  us  that  his 
dogs  and  cats  and  elephants  and  lions  are  taught  their 
senseless  feats  by  pure  kindness. 

The  public,  as  Julius  Caesar  remarked  nearly  2OOO 
years  ago,  believes,  on  the  whole,  just  what  it  wants 
to  believe.  The  laboring  masses  do  not  believe  the 
false  excuses  of  the  vivisector,  because  they  know  that 
the  vivisector  experiments  on  hospital  patients;  and 
the  masses  belong  to  the  hospital  patient  class.  The 
well-to-do  people  who  do  not  go  to  hospitals,  and  who 
think  they  benefit  by  the  experiments  made  there,  believe 
the  vivisectors'  excuses,  and  angrily  abuse  and  denounce 
the  anti-vivisectors.  The  people  who  "love  animals," 
who  keep  pets,  and  stick  pins  through  butterflies,  support 
the  performing  dog  people,  and  are  sure  that  kindness 
will  teach  a  horse  to  waltz.  And  the  people  who  enjoy 
a  fight  will  persuade  themselves  that  boxing  gloves  do 
not  hurt,  and  that  sparring  is  an  exercise  which  teaches 
self-control  and  exercises  all  the  muscles  in  the  body  more 
efficiently  than  any  other. 

My  own  view  of  prizefighting  may  be  gathered  from 
Cashel  Byron's  Profession,  and  from  the  play  written  by 
me  more  than  ten  years  later,  entitled  Mrs  Warren's 
Profession.  As  long  as  society  is  so  organized  that  the 
destitute  athlete  and  the  destitute  beauty  are  forced  to 
choose  between  underpaid  drudgery  as  industrial  pro- 


346  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

ducers,  and  comparative  self-respect,  plenty,  and  popu- 
larity as  prizefighters  and  mercenary  brides,  licit  or 
illicit,  it  is  idle  to  affect  virtuous  indignation  at  their 
expense.  The  word  prostitute  should  either  not  be 
used  at  all,  or  else  applied  impartially  to  all  persons 
who  do  things  for  money  that  they  would  not  do  if  they 
had  any  other  assured  means  of  livelihood.  The  evil 
caused  by  the  prostitution  of  the  Press  and  the  Pulpit 
is  so  gigantic  that  the  prostitution  of  the  prize  ring, 
which  at  least  makes  no  serious  moral  pretensions,  is 
comparatively  negligeable  by  comparison.  Let  us  not 
forget,  however,  that  the  throwing  of  a  hard  word  such 
as  prostitution  does  not  help  the  persons  thus  vituperated 
out  of  their  difficulty.  If  the  soldier  and  gladiator  fight 
for  money,  if  men  and  women  marry  for  money,  if  the 
journalist  and  novelist  write  for  money,  and  the  parson 
preaches  for  money,  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  is 
an  exceedingly  difficult  and  doubtful  thing  for  an  indi- 
vidual to  set  up  his  own  scruples  or  fancies  (he  cannot 
himself  be  sure  which  they  are)  against  the  demand  of 
the  community  when  it  says,  Do  thus  and  thus,  or  starve. 
It  was  easy  for  Ruskin  to  lay  down  the  rule  of  dying 
rather  than  doing  unjustly  ;  but  death  is  a  plain  thing; 
justice  a  very  obscure  thing.  How  is  an  ordinary  man 
to  draw  the  line  between  right  and  wrong  otherwise  than 
by  accepting  public  opinion  on  the  subject  ;  and  what 
more  conclusive  expression  of  sincere  public  opinion  can 
there  be  than  market  demand  ?  Even  when  we  repudiate 
that  and  fall  back  on  our  private  judgment,  the  matter 
gathers  doubt  instead  of  clearness.  The  popular  notion 
of  morality  and  piety  is  to  simply  beg  all  the  most  im- 
portant questions  in  life  for  other  people  ;  but  when  these 
questions  come  home  to  ourselves,  we  suddenly  discover 
that  the  devil's  advocate  has  a  stronger  case  than  we 
thought :  we  remember  that  the  way  of  righteousness  or 


Modern  Prizefighting  347 

death  was  the  way  of  the  Inquisition  ;  that  hell  is  paved, 
not  with  bad  intentions,  but  with  good  ones  ;  that  the 
deeper  seers  have  suggested  that  the  way  to  save  your 
soul  is  perhaps  to  give  it  away,  casting  your  spiritual  bread 
on  the  waters,  so  to  speak.  No  doubt,  if  you  are  a  man 
of  genius,  a  Ruskin  or  an  Ibsen,  you  can  divine  your 
way  and  finally  force  your  passage.  If  you  have  the 
conceit  of  fanaticism  you  can  die  a  martyr  like  Charles  I. 
If  you  are  a  criminal,  or  a  gentleman  of  independent 
means,  you  can  leave  society  out  of  the  question  and  prey 
on  it.  But  if  you  are  an  ordinary  person  you  take  your 
bread  as  it  comes  to  you,  doing  whatever  you  can  make 
most  money  by  doing.  And  you  are  really  shewing  your- 
self a  disciplined  citizen  and  acting  with  perfect  social 
propriety  in  so  doing.  Society  may  be,  and  generally  is, 
grossly  wrong  in  its  offer  to  you  ;  and  you  may  be,  and 
generally  are,  grossly  wrong  in  supporting  the  existing 
political  structure  ;  but  this  only  means,  to  the  successful 
modern  prizefighter,  that  he  must  reform  society  before 
he  can  reform  himself.  A  conclusion  which  I  recom- 
mend to  the  consideration  of  those  foolish  misers  of 
personal  righteousness  who  think  they  can  dispose  of 
social  problems  by  bidding  reformers  of  society  reform 
themselves  first. 

Practically,  then,  the  question  raised  is  whether  fight- 
ing with  gloves  shall  be  brought,  like  cockfighting,  bear- 
baiting,  and  gloveless  fist  fighting,  explicitly  under  the 
ban  of  the  law.  I  do  not  propose  to  argue  that  question 
out  here.  But  of  two  things  I  am  certain.  First,  that 
glove  fighting  is  quite  as  fierce  a  sport  as  fist  fighting. 
Second,  that  if  an  application  were  made  to  the  Borough 
Council  of  which  I  am  a  member,  to  hire  the  Town 
Hall  for  a  boxing  competition,  I  should  vote  against  the 
applicants. 

This  second  point  being  evidently  the  practical  one, 


348  Cashel  Byron's  Profession 

I  had  better  give  my  reason.  Exhibition  pugilism  is 
essentially  a  branch  of  Art :  that  is  to  say,  it  acts  and 
attracts  by  propagating  feeling.  The  feeling  it  propa- 
gates is  pugnacity.  Sense  of  danger,  dread  of  danger, 
impulse  to  batter  and  destroy  what  threatens  and  opposes, 
triumphant  delight  in  succeeding  :  this  is  pugnacity,  the 
great  adversary  of  the  social  impulse  to  live  and  let  live  ; 
to  establish  our  rights  by  shouldering  our  share  of  the 
social  burden  ;  to  face  and  examine  danger  instead  of 
striking  at  it ;  to  understand  everything  to  the  point  of 
pardoning  (and  righting)  everything ;  to  conclude  an 
amnesty  with  Nature  wide  enough  to  include  even  those 
we  know  the  worst  of :  namely,  ourselves.  If  two  men 
quarrelled,  and  asked  the  Borough  Council  to  lend  them 
a  room  to  fight  it  out  in  with  their  fists,  on  the  ground 
that  a  few  minutes  hearty  punching  of  one  another's 
heads  would  work  ofF  their  bad  blood  and  leave  them 
better  friends,  each  desiring,  not  victory,  but  satisfaction, 
I  am  not  sure  that  I  should  not  vote  for  compliance.  But 
if  a  syndicate  of  showmen  came  and  said,  Here  we  have 
two  men  who  have  no  quarrel,  but  who  will,  if  you  pay 
them,  fight  before  your  constituency  and  thereby  make  a 
great  propaganda  of  pugnacity  in  it,  sharing  the  profits, 
with  us  and  with  you,  I  should  indignantly  oppose  the  pro- 
position. And  if  the  majority  were  against  me,  I  should 
try  to  persuade  them  to  at  least  impose  the  condition  that 
the  fight  should  be  with  naked  fists  under  the  old  rules, 
so  that  the  combatants  should,  like  Sayers  and  Langham, 
depend  on  bunging  up  each  other's  eyes  rather  than, 
like  the  modern  knocker-out,  giving  one  another  con- 
cussion of  the  brain. 

I  may  add,  finally,  that  the  present  halting  between 
the  legal  toleration  and  suppression  of  commercial  pugil- 
ism is  much  worse  than  the  extreme  of  either,  because  it 
takes  away  the  healthy  publicity  and  sense  of  responsi- 


Modern  Prizefighting  349 

bility  which  legality  and  respectability  give,  without 
suppressing  the  blackguardism  which  finds  its  opportunity 
in  shady  pursuits.  I  use  the  term  commercial  advisedly. 
Put  a  stop  to  boxing  for  money  ;  and  pugilism  will  give 
society  no  further  trouble. 


LONDON,  1901. 


THE  END 


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ECONOMIC. 

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PR  Shaw,    Bernard 

5365  Cashel  Boon's  profession 

G3  C2d  rev.   ed.D 

1905 


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