Sir Jasper Carew: His Life and Experience. Lever Charles James

ill suited to the task before him. A man of more shining abilities, one who possessed in a higher degree the tact of winning over his opponents, might have awakened suspicion and distrust; but his was precisely the stamp and temperament which suggest confidence; and in his moderate capacity and easy nature there seemed nothing to excite alarm. “Bonhomie” – shame that we must steal a French word for an English quality! – was his great characteristic; and all who came within the circle of his acquaintance felt themselves fascinated by his free and unpretending demeanor.

      To him was now intrusted the task of sowing schism among the members of the Irish party, – the last and only resource of the English Government to thwart the progress of national independence. The Opposition had almost every element of strength. Amongst them were the first and most brilliant orators of the day, – men trained to all the habits of debate, and thoroughly masters of all Irish questions. They possessed the entire confidence of the great body of the people, asserting, as they did, the views and sentiments of the country; and they were, what at that time had its own peculiar value, men of great boldness and intrepidity. There was but one feature of weakness in the whole party, and this was the almost inevitable jealousy which is sure to prevail where many men of great abilities are mixed up together, and where the success of a party must alternately depend upon qualities the most discrepant and opposite. The very purest patriotism is sure to assume something of the character of the individual; and in these varying tints of individuality the Irish Government had now to seek for the chance of instilling those doubts and hesitations which ultimately must lead to separation.

      Nor was this the only artifice to which they descended. They also invented a policy which in later days has been essayed with very indifferent success, which was, to outbid the national party in generosity, and to become actual benefactors where mere justice was asked at their hands, – a very dangerous game, which, however well adapted for a critical emergency, is one of the greatest peril as a line of policy and a system of government. In the spirit of this new tactic was it that Mr. Bagenal’s motion to confer some great mark of national gratitude on Mr. Grattan was quickly followed by an offer of the Viceroy to bestow upon him the Viceregal palace in the Phoenix Park, as “a suitable residence for one who had conferred the greatest services on his country, and as the highest proof the Government could give of their value of such services.” A proposal of such unbounded generosity was sure to dim the lustre of the popular enthusiasm, and at the same time cast a shadow of ministerial protection over the patriot himself, who, in the event of acceptance, would have been the recipient of royal, and not of national, bounty. And when, in fact, the grant of a sum of money was voted by Parliament, the splendor of the gift was sadly tarnished by the discussion that accompanied it!

      Enough has here been said to show the general policy of that short but eventful administration; and now to our story.

      My father’s reception of the Viceroy had blazed in all the ministerial papers with a kind of triumphant announcement of the progress the Government were making in the esteem and confidence of the Irish gentry. Walter Carew was quoted as the representative of a class eminently national, and one most unlikely to be the mark for Castle intrigue or seduction. His large fortune was expatiated on, and an “authentic assurance” put forth that he had already refused the offer of being made a Privy Councillor. These statements were sure to provoke rejoinder. The national papers denied that the hospitalities of Castle Carew had any peculiar or political significance. It was very natural that one of the first of the gentry should receive the representative of his Sovereign with honor, and pay him every possible mark of respect and attention. But that Walter Carew had done any more than this, or had sacrificed anything of his old connection with his party, the best contradiction lay in the fact that his guests contained many of the very foremost and least compromising men of the Liberal party; and “Curtis” was quoted in a very conspicuous type as the shortest refutation of such a charge.

      It was, unfortunately, a moment of political inaction – a lull in the storm of Parliamentary conflict – when this discussion originated; and the newspapers were but too happy to have any theme to occupy the attention of their readers. The Castle press became more confident and insulting every day, and at last tauntingly asked why and how did this great champion of nationality, – Curtis, – take leave of Castle Carew? The question was unreplied to, and consequently appeared again, and in larger capitals, followed by an article full of innuendo and insinuation, and conveying the most impertinent allusions to the antiquated section of party to which Curtis belonged.

      It is notorious that a subject totally devoid of any interest in itself will, by the bare force of repetition, assume a degree of importance far above its due, and ultimately engage the sympathies of many for or against it. Such was the case here; certain personalities, that occasionally were thrown out, giving a piquancy to the controversy, and investing it with the attraction of town gossip. “Falkner’s Journal,” “The Press,” “The Post,” and “The Freeman” appeared each morning with some new contribution on the same theme; and letters from, and contradictions to, “A Visitor at Castle Carew,” continued to amuse the world of Dublin.

      The fashionable circles enjoyed recitals which contained the names of so many of their own set; the less distinguished were pleased with even such passing peeps at a world from which they were excluded; and thus the discussion very soon usurped the place of all other subjects in public interest.

      It was remarked throughout the controversy that the weight of authority lay all with the Castle press. Whatever bore the stamp of real information was on that side; and the national journals were left merely to guess and surmise, while their opponents made distinct assertions. At last, to the astonishment of the town, appeared a letter in “Falkner’s Journal” from Curtis. He had been ill of the gout; and, as it seemed, had only become aware of the polemic the preceding day. Indeed, the tone of the epistle showed that the irritability consequent on his malady was still over him. After a brief explanation of his silence, he went on thus:

      “The Castle hacks have asked, Why and how did Curtis take his leave of Castle Carew? Now, without inquiring by what right these low scullions presume to put such a question, I ‘ll tell them: Curtis left when he discovered the company by whom he was surrounded; when he found that he should sit down at the same table with a knavish pack of English adventurers, bankrupt in character, and beggars in pocket.

      “When he saw the house where his oldest friend in the world was wont to gather round him all that was eminently Irish, and where a generous hospitality developed a hearty and noble conviviality, converted into a den of scheming and intriguing politicians, seeking to snare support by low flattery, or to entrap a vote, in the confidence of the bottle; when he saw this, and more than this, – that the best names and the best blood in the land were slighted, in order to show some special and peculiar attention to vulgar wealth or still more vulgar pretension, Curtis thought it high time to take his leave. This is the why; and as to the how, he went away in the same old conveniency that he arrived by; and, though drawn by a sorry hack, and driven by a ragged Irishman, he felt prouder as he sat in it than if his place had been beside a duke in the king’s livery, with a coach paid for out of the pockets of the people.

      “This is the answer, therefore, to your correspondent. And if he wants any further information, will you tell him that it will be more in accordance with the habits of Irish gentlemen if he’ll address himself personally to Mr. Curtis, 12, Ely Place, than by any appeal in the columns of a newspaper.

      “And now, Mr. Editor, a word for yourself and the others. I know nothing about the habits of your order, nor the etiquette of the press; but this I do know: I am a private gentleman, living, so far, at least, as you and the like of you are concerned, out of the world; I am very unlikely to fill a paragraph either among the marriages or the births; and if – mark me well, for I am not joking – you, or any of you, print my name again in your pages, except to announce my decease, I will break every bone in your body; and this ‘without prejudice,’ as the attorneys say, to any future proceedings I may reserve for your correspondent.”

      None who knew Curtis doubted for an instant the authenticity of this letter, though many at the time fancied it must be a queer quiz upon his style. The effect of it was, however, marvellous; for, in the most implicit confidence that he meant to keep his word, his name entirely dropped out of the discussion, which, however, raged as violently,