Charles Tyrrell; or, The Bitter Blood. Volumes I and II

by G. P. R. James

A smile ran over the countenances of the other magistrates at this exhortation; but Charles, who felt that he had indeed given way more than he ought to have done, instantly regained his temper, and replied, "I beg your pardon, sir; I have done wrong; but the man was insolent."

That insolence was but increased from the treatment he had met with. But Charles, who found that his own temper was not sufficiently placable to endure much more, left the matter to his father, on whom the constable speedily turned; and Sir Francis, whose powers of endurance were considerably less than those of his son, was in less than two minutes in such a state of excitement, that the other magistrates were obliged to interpose, and authoritatively to send the man out of the room.

The baronet was then speedily calmed, and the business before them proceeded in; but each of the persons present carried away their own version of the scene which had taken place. A thousand stories were built upon the foundation thus afforded, and the violence, rashness, and intemperate passion of the Tyrrell family became, perhaps for the hundredth time, a nine days' wonder in the county.

It was a peculiar feature in the character of Sir Francis Tyrrell, that any irritation which he endured left an impression on his mind, which lasted long in a sort of subdued and smothered state. If nothing occurred again to blow it into a flame, the fire became gradually extinct. But it showed itself, if that were not the case, by bursting forth upon slight causes, and aggravating every motive of offence. It also, even while kept under, made him bitterer, more severe, and more sarcastic than at other times; but, on the present occasion, his calmness only lasted for a very short period.

When the fisherman, John Hailes, was brought up to the table, with the other person whom Morrison had set apart, the young lawyer immediately commenced another method of proceeding, saying to the magistrates, "Now, gentlemen, against these two men there is not a shadow of evidence, as far as I can learn; and the accusation against them, when stripped of its exaggerations, is, that the man, John Hailes, and this other, named Henry Wilson, live upon the seashore, within a mile of the place where the smuggled goods have been seized. Hailes, it is true, is the brother of William Hailes, who lives nearer to the spot, and who was seen, we are told, with a barrow-full of the shingles, such as the goods were covered with; but even if it were proved--and there is not a shadow of proof that such is the case--that William Hailes smuggled the whole cargo with his own hands, that is not in the slightest degree a proof that his brother had anything to do with it. Unless, then, sufficient evidence be brought forward to show that Hailes and his companion were immediately and directly implicated in the transaction, I shall not only request you to discharge them immediately, but shall also bring before your notice, when the case is disposed of, the question of the assault committed upon them by the constables who apprehended them."

Sir Francis Tyrrell fired up immediately. "You are aware, sir," he said, with a frowning brow, "that they were apprehended in virtue of a warrant signed by me upon information on oath."

"Then I have only to say, sir," replied Morrison, "that the person who swore that oath committed perjury; and farther to observe, that the fact of the warrant was not notified to them till after the assault had been committed. It can be proved, that the moment the warrant was produced, and the officers made their authority known, they met with not the slightest resistance."

This was too much for Sir Francis Tyrrell, who answered with domineering and angry contempt, which was only aggravated by another cool but decided reply from the young lawyer. Everything that was sarcastic, everything that was violent, everything that was insulting, poured from his lips; and Charles, equally pained both for his father and his friend, could hardly make himself heard through the torrent of the baronet's eloquent vituperation. The moment that he did so, however, his father turned upon him as an object on which he had very frequently practised the peculiar sort of oratory in which he was indulging; and nothing that could gall or mortify him was left unsaid in the presence of the number of people who were then collected.

There was a terrible struggle in Charles Tyrrell's heart, and every one present saw it in the changing of his colour from fiery red to deadly pale, and the reverse, which took place two or three times while his father went on. Every word that he himself uttered seemed to lash the baronet into greater fury. He put no restraint upon himself of any kind; his eyes were seen gleaming forth from under his overhanging brows like live coals. His lips quivered, his nostrils expanded, his hands clinched, and after going on for five or six minutes without interruption, piling upon his son's head the wildest and falsest accusations, insinuations, and reproaches, he actually was forced to stop for want of breath and utterance.

Charles knew that his father would go on again as soon as he recovered power; but he felt that he could endure no more, for he too trembled with a struggle against himself; and taking advantage of the pause, he rose from the table to quit the room. The baronet, however, could hardly bear to lose the object of his indignation; and screaming, rather than speaking, he exclaimed, "Speak, sir, speak. What have you to say for yourself?"