One evening he was enjoying the society of two or three convivial friends. He had taken a drive that day, accompanied by me, and had halted so long in Christ Church Place, that the hackney carmen might almost have suspected that he meditated an invasion of their stand. He enjoyed his drive and his dinner, and having attained to his second glass of whiskey-punch, he commenced, at the instance of his companions, the narration of one of his "Skinner Row" reminiscences.
Dick Tudor was a goldsmith and jeweller. He had the reputation of being the wealthiest man in the locality. He neither lent nor borrowed. His intercourse with his neighbours was very limited. He was a widower, and had an only child, of whom he was excessively fond. His tastes were in his business; he had a love for his art, and would execute a beautiful design for a smaller comparative profit than would satisfy him for second-hand plate or mere repairs; but his affections excluded every other worldly object, and were concentrated in his daughter, Mary Tudor.
She was about eighteen years of age at the time to which the commencement of the narrative refers, and although reared in a city, was as simple and unaffected in her manner as if her life had previously been passed on mountain heather or in mossy dell. She was a brunette of perfect features, and small but symmetrical figure. Her disposition appeared to be gay, and almost puerile, and none would suppose that in a trader's daughter, whose jocund smile and sparkling eyes seemed to seek and spread mirth around her, there was a latent intensity of feeling, and a determination of character, worthy of the noblest cause or of the highest lineage.
Skinner Row had its attachments, jealousies, and little diplomacies as fully as ever they existed even in more important localities. In one respect, it possessed a material for civic intrigue greater than could be found in any other part of Dublin in the last century. The Row commanded, in the Common Council, one seat for the Stationers' Guild, and two for the Goldsmiths. As to those objects of ambition, there was a certain fixed understanding—there should be no division outside their own precincts, and the members chosen should be men of the Row. Amongst themselves, intrigues, insinuations, or open opposition might be freely practised; but once they had determined on the man to be supported, every vote should go to him. Dick Tudor and James Wilson were the goldsmiths chosen for the Common Council, and the distinction thus conferred excited great envy in the mind of Tom Delancy, whose discontent was kept fully alive by his son, not on account of civic honours, but because young Christian Wilson had contrived to stand between him and the sun in the rays of which he wished to bask, namely, the eyes of pretty Mary Tudor.
Old Tudor and James Wilson were friends, not very intimate, but perhaps liking and respecting each other more on that account. Tudor's daughter and Christian Wilson were lovers, and the infrequency of their meetings only rendered their occasional interviews more delectable. The neighbours observed the attachment of the young people before their parents suspected its existence; but the moment Tudor perceived a preference evinced by his daughter for young Wilson, he sedulously endeavoured to prevent all future communications between them. He became suddenly anxious that Mary should visit some relatives in the County of Wexford, about whom he had for years expressed no interest. He thought change of air would materially serve her health, although no other eye could notice the slightest indication of illness, or even delicacy of constitution. Accompanied by an elderly female attendant, she left Dublin by a conveyance termed Good's Long Coach, which the proprietor, William Good, advertised as the perfection of cheap and expeditious travelling. It left the Ram Inn, Aungier Street, Dublin, on each Monday morning, at an early hour, so as to ensure reaching Wicklow town on the succeeding night. Tuesday saw the vehicle achieve a further progress to Gorey, and on Wednesday evening it reached Wexford. It returned to Dublin in the three succeeding days, and thus enabled the public to have a cheap, safe, and comfortable communication, to and fro, between two places about ninety English miles asunder, within the short space of six days.
Three or four weeks elapsed, and Tudor mentioned, in answer to some kind enquiries, that Mary was enjoying herself wonderfully at Kilmore, in the County of Wexford, and that she had written him a very interesting description of the Saltee Islands, St. Patrick's Bridge, and the Lady's Island. She was very comfortable with a worthy cousin and his wife, both arrived at an age which made them appreciate a life of quietude. They were very kind to her, and they had no family or nearer relations than himself and Mary. Her visit was likely to lead to considerable advantages. He would never have disclosed his daughter's temporary residence if he had not believed Kilmore to be as difficult of access to Christian Wilson as Madeira or Malta would be to a gallant of the present time. The lover was a youth of very peculiar character—clever and active, but rash and inconsiderate. Having ascertained that the smacks which traded between Wexford and Dublin, if favoured by a fair wind, could make the run in a few hours, he determined on seeing Mary Tudor. His father had allowed him as a perquisite the profits arising from making "balloon guineas" into rings, and he had thereby acquired a few pounds, as it was a very prevalent custom for females of the humbler classes to invest a guinea in a ring, and carry their money on their fingers. Savings-banks were then unknown.
Christian informed his father that he wished to go, for a few days, to a friend in Drogheda, and obtained his consent. He left home in the evening, ostensibly to go by the mail, but he sojourned to Hoey's Court, and was seen there in company with some young men whose characters were unknown, or worse. They left Hoey's Court about ten o'clock, and Wilson betook himself to Sir John's Quay, and went out of the river in the smack "Selskar," of Wexford, on the night-tide. After midnight Dick Tudor's workshop was robbed; but the guilty parties did not all escape. Two were apprehended leaving the premises, and were recognised as having been seen in Christian Wilson's company in Hoey's Court for some time after his own father supposed him to have left Dublin for Drogheda. A letter was posted to the latter place, and, to old Wilson's astonishment, he received a reply that his son had not gone there. Where was he?
Whispered malice is most intense. Delancy and his son added assertion to suspicion, and revelled in the idea of a broken-hearted father, and a disgraced, degraded son, being forced by the awkward circumstances, magnified and industriously disseminated, to abandon, one, the coveted representation of the Goldsmiths' Guild, and the other, the pursuit in which all the affections of his heart and the energies of his mind were concentrated—the love of Mary Tudor.
In a few days Christian Wilson returned to Dublin. His father's reproaches were fierce and unmeasured, and became a perfect storm of rage when the young man refused to state where he had been, or for what purpose he had left home. Old Tudor aggravated the quarrel between the father and son, by accusing them of a design to entrap his daughter into a clandestine union, to which James Wilson replied that he would sooner transport his son than consent to his marriage with Tudor's daughter. The circumstances of the robbery were fully investigated. They did not directly inculpate Christian; but enough appeared to sully his reputation, and to prove that he was not sufficiently guarded in his associations. Old Delancy expressed his good-natured regret that the son of one "Wainscot man"[2] should be strongly suspected of robbing another. Young Delancy, with affected benevolence, expressed his sincere gratification that Christian had not been caught; and there were not wanting some kind-hearted individuals to convey his observations to the unhappy subject of them. The young men casually met in Christ Church yard; an explanation was demanded; and the demand was answered by the sneering remark, that the affair explained itself. Christian was maddened by his rival's taunts, and gave Delancy a fearful beating. A blow or fall produced concussion of the brain. The assailant had to fly; and his father determined to send him, banished and unforgiven, to the West Indies, consigning him to the care of a relative who had been for several years in Barbadoes.
Mary Tudor received a letter written at Liverpool, and announcing the immediate departure of Christian Wilson for his tropical destination. In it he simply stated the circumstances which led to his expatriation, and renewed his vows to her of deep affection and fidelity. The young woman at once determined on departing from Kilmore; and on her arrival in Dublin placed Christian's letter in her father's hands. She insisted on the examination of the master and crew of the Selskar; and they proved that they dropped down the river with Christian on board, two hours before the time of the robbery. But this was not all. The guilty parties confessed that the young man was not with them, and accounted for having sought his society in Hoey's Court, for the purpose of eliciting some information as to Tudor's premises into which they were desirous of effecting an entrance. Young Delancy had recovered. Tudor and James Wilson had been reconciled; but Christian had sailed in the ship "Hyacinth," of Liverpool, and he must see Barbadoes before he can become aware of Mary's truth and her determined exertions to remove all aspersions from her lover's character.