16 - The Dead, part 2

is listening to a thought tormented music. Miss Ivor had praised the review. Was she sincere? Had she really any life of her own? Behind all her propagandism. There had never been any ill feeling between them until that night, and unnerved him to think that she would be at the supper table looking on but him while he spoke with her critical, quizzing eyes. Perhaps she would not be

sorry to see him fail in his speech. An idea came into his mind and gave him courage, he would say, alluding to Aunt Kate and Aunt Julia, Ladies and gentlemen, the generation which is now on the wane among us may have had its faults, but for my part, I think it had certain qualities of hospitality, of humor, of humanity, which the new and very serious and hyper educated generation that is growing up around us seemed to me to lack.

Very good That was one for Miss Ivers. What did he care that his aunts were only two ignorant old women. A murmur in the room attracted his attention. Mister Brown was advancing from the door, gallantly escorting Aunt Julia, who

leaned upon his arm, smiling and hanging her head. An irregular musketry of applause esque ordered her also as far as the piano, And then as Mary Jane seated herself on the stool, and Aunt Julia, no longer smiling, half turned so as to pitch her voice fairly into the room,

gradually ceased. Gabriel recognized the prelude. It was that of an old song of Aunt Julia's, arrayed for the bridle, her voice, strong and clear in tone, attacked with great spirit the runs which embellished the air, and though she sang very rapidly, she did not miss even the smallest of the grace notes. To follow the voice without looking at the singer's face, was to feel and share the

excitement of swift and secure flight. Gabriel applauded loudly with all the others at the close of the song, and loud applause was borne in from the invisible supper table. It sounded so genuine that a little color struggled into Aunt Julia's face as she to replace in the music stand the old leather bound song book that had her

initials on the cover. Freddy Malins, who had listened with his head perched sideways to hear her better, was still applauding when everyone else had ceased, and talking animatedly to his mother, who nodded her head gravely and slowly in acquiescence. At last, when he could clap no more, he stood up suddenly and hurried across the room to Aunt Julia, whose hand he seized and held in both his hands, shaking it when words failed him or the catch in

his voice proved too much for him. I was just telling my mother, he said, I have never heard you sing so well. Never. No, I never heard your voice so good as it is to night. Now, would you believe that? Now? That's the truth, upon my word and honor, that's the truth. I have never heard your voice sound so fresh and so so clear and freshh never Aunt Julius smiled broadly and murmured something about compliments. As she

released her hand from his grasp. Mister Browne extended his open hand towards her and said, to those who were near him, in the manner of a showman introducing a prodigy to an audience, Miss Julia Morcombe my latest discovery. He was laughing very heartily at this himself when Freddy Malins turned to him and said, well, brown if you're serious, you might make a worse discovery. All I can say is I never heard her singing half so well as long as I am coming here, And that's the honest truth.

Neither did I said, mister brown I think her voice has greatly improved. Aunt Julius shrugged her shoulders and said, with a meek pride, thirty years ago I hadn't a bad voice, as good voices go, I often told. Julia, said Aunt Kate emphatically, that she was simply thrown away in that choir. But she never would be said by me. She turned, as if to appeal to the good sense of the others against a refractory child while Aunt Julia gazed in front of her, a vague smile of reminiscence

playing on her face. No, continued Aunt Kate. She wouldn't be said or led by any one slaving there in that choir night and day, night and day, six o'clock on Christmas morning and all for what well? Isn't it for the honor of God? Aunt Kate asked Mary Jane,

Twisting round on the piano'spaduel and smiling. Aunt Kate turned fiercely on her niece and said, I know all about the honor of God, Mary Jane, but I think it's not at all honorable for the Pope to turn out the women out of the choirs that have slaved there all their lives and put little whipper snappers of boys over their heads. I suppose it is for the good of the church if the Pope does it, but it's

not just Mary Jane, and it's not right. She'd worked herself into a passion and would have continued in defense her sister, for it was a sore subject with her, but Mary Jane, seeing that all the dancers had come back, intervened pacifically. Now, Aunt Kate, you're giving scandal to mister Brown, who's one of the other persuasion. Aunt Kate turned to mister Brown, who was grinning at this allusion to his religion, and said, hastily, Oh, I don't question the Pope's being right.

I'm only a stupid old woman, and I wouldn't presume to do such a thing. But there's such a thing as common every day politeness and gratitude. And if I were in Julia's place, i'd tell that father heally straight up to his face. And besides, Aunt Kate, said Mary Jane, we really are all hungry, and when we are hungry, we are all very quarrelsome, and when we are thirsty, we are also quarrelsome, added mister Brown. So that we had better go to supper, said Mary Jane, and finish

the discussion afterwards. On the landing outside the drawing room, Gabriel found his wife and Mary Jane trying to persuade Miss Ivers to stay for supper. But Miss Ivers, who had put on her hat and was buttling her cloak, would not stay. She did not feel in the least hungry, and she had already overstayed her time, but only for ten minutes. Mollie said missus Conroy. That won't delay you. Take a pick itself, said Mary Jane. After all your dancing,

I really couldn't, said miss Ivers. I'm afraid you didn't enjoy yourself at all, said Mary Jane hopelessly, ever so much, I assure you, said Miss Ivers. But you really must let me run off now. But how can you get home, asked missus Conroy. Oh, it's only two steps up the key. Gabriel hesitated a moment and said, if you will allow me, Miss Ivers, I'll see you home, if you are really obliged to go. But Miss Ivers broke away from them. I won't hear of it, she cried. For goodness sake,

go into your suppers and don't mind me. I'm quite well able to take care of myself. Well, you're the comical girl, Molly, said missus Conroy. Frankly. Benach Live, cried Miss Ivers with a laugh as she ran down the staircase. Mary Jane gazed after her, a moody, puzzled expression on her face, while missus Conroy leaned over the banisters to listen for the hall door. Gabriel asked himself was he the cause of her abrupt departure, but she did not seem to be an ill humor. She had gone away laughing.

He stared blankly down the staircase. At the moment, Aunt Kate came toddling out of the supper room, almost wringing her hands in despair. Where is Gabriel, she cried, Where on earth is Gabriel? There's everyone waiting in there stage to let and nobody to carve the goose. Here I am, Aunt Kate, cried Gabriel, with sudden animation, ready to carve

a flock of geese if necessary. A fat brown goose lay at one end of the table, and at the other end, on a bed of creased paper strewn with springs of parsley, lay a great ham, stripped of its outer skin and peppered over with crust crumbs, a neat paper frill round its shin, and beside this was a round of spice beef. Between these rival ends ran parallel lines of side dishes. Two little ministers of jelly red and yellow, A shallow dish full of blocks of blamange

and red jam. A large green leaf shaped dish with a stalk shaped handle, on which lay bunches of purple raisins and peeled almonds, a companion dish, on which lay a solid rectangle of smyrna figs, a dish of custard topped with grated nutmeg, a small bowl full of chocolates and sweets wrapped in gold and silver papers, and a glass vase in which stood some tall celery stalks. In the center of the table, there stood as sentries to a fruit stand which upheld the pyramid of oranges and

American apples. Two squat old fashioned decanters of cut glass, containing port and the other dark sherry. On the closed square piano, a pudding in a huge yellow dish lay waiting, and behind it were three squads of bottles of stout and ale and minerals, drawn up according to the colors of their uniforms, the first two black with brown and red labels, the third and smallest squat and white with

transverse green slashes. Gabriel took his seat boldly at the head of the table, and, having looked to the edge of the carver, plunged his fork firmly into the goose. He felt quite at ease now, for he was an expert carver and liked nothing better than to find himself at the head of a well laden table. Miss Furlong, what shall I send you, he asked, A wing or a slice of the breast, Just a small slice of the breast, Miss Higgins, What for you, oh, anything at all,

Mister Conroy. While Gabriel and Miss Daly exchanged plates of goose and plates of ham and spice, beef, Lily went from guests to guess with a dish of hot, floury potatoes wrapped in a white napkin. This was Mary Jane's idea, and she had also suggested apple sauce for the goose. But Aunt Kate had said that plain roast goose without any apple sauce had always been good enough for her,

and she hoped she might never eat worse. Mary Jane waited on her pupils and saw that they got the best slices, and Aunt Kate and Aunt Julia opened and carried across from the piano bottles of stout and ale for the gentlemen, and bottles of minerals for the ladies. There was a great deal of confusion and laughter and noise, the noise of orders and counter orders, of knives and forks of corks, and glass stoppers. Gabriel began to carve second helpings as soon as he had finished the first round,

without serving himself. Everyone protested loudly, so that he compromised by taking a long draft of stout, for he had found the carving hot work. Mary Jane settled down quietly to her supper, but Aunt Kate and Aunt Julia were still toddling around the table, walking on each other's heels, getting in each other's way, and giving each other unheeded orders.

Mister Brown begged of them to sit down and eat their suppers, and so did Gabriel, but they said there was time enough, so that at last Freddy Malins stood up and, capturing Aunt Kate, plumped her down on her chair amid general laughter. When everyone had been well served, Gabriel said, smiling, now, if anyone wants a little more of what vulgar people call stuffing, let him or her speak.

A chorus of voices invited him to begin his own supper, and Lily came forward with three potatoes, which she had reserved for him. Very well, said Gabriel amiably, as he took another preparatory draft. Kindly forget my existence, ladies, and gentlemen for a few minutes. He set to his supper and took no part in the conversation with which the table covered Lily's removal of the plates. The subject of talk was the opera company, which was then the Theodore Royal.

Mister bartel Darcy, the tenor, a dark complexioned young man with a smart mustache, praised very highly the leading contralto of the company, but miss Furlong thought she had a rather vulgar style of production. Freddy Malin said there was a negro chieftain singing in the second part of the Gayety Pantomime who had one of the finest tenor voices he had ever heard. Have you heard him, he asked

mister bartell Darcy across the table. No, answered mister bartel Darcy carelessly, because Freddy Malin explained, now, I'd be curious to hear your opinion of him. I think he was a crand voice. It takes Teddy to find out the really good thing, said mister Brown familiarly to the table. And why couldn't he have a voice, too, asked Freddy Malin sharply. Is it because he's only a black? Nobody answered this question, and Mary Jane led the table back

to the legitimate opera. One of her pupils had given her a pass for Mignon. Of course it was very fine, she said, but it made her think of poor Georgina Burns. Mister Brown could go back further still to the old Italian companies that used to come to Dublin. Tietjens, Ilma, du Murska, Cappanini, the great Trebelli, Guillini, Ravelli, Aramburo. Those were the days, he said, when there was something like

singing to be heard in Dublin. He told too, of how the top gallery of the Old Royal used to be packed night after night, of how one night an Italian tenor had sung five encores to let me like a soldier fall, introducing a high sea every time, and of how the gallery boys would, sometimes, in their enthusiasm, unyoke the horses from the carriage of some great prima donna and pull her themselves through the streets to her hotel.

Why did they never play the grand old operas now, he asked, Dinora Lucrezia Giorgia, because they could not get their voice sing. That was why, Oh, well, said mister Bartell, Darcy. I presume there are as good singers to day as there were then? Where are they, asked mister Brown defiantly in London? Paris Miland said mister Bartell Darcy warmly. I suppose Crusoe, for example, is quite as good, if not better,

than any of the men you have mentioned. Maybe so, said mister Brown, But I may tell you I doubt it strongly. Oh I'd give anything to hear Crusoe sing, said Mary Jane. For me, said Aunt Kate, who had been picking a bone. There was only one tenor to please me. I mean, but I suppose none of you ever heard of him. Who is he, miss Morgan, asked mister Bartell Darcy politely. His name, said Aunt Kate, was Parkinson.

I heard him when he was in his prime, and I think he had then the purest tenor voice that was ever put into a man's throat. Strange, said mister Bartell. Darcia never even heard of him. Yes, yes, Miss Morgan is right, said mister Brown. I remember hearing of old Parkinson, but he's too far back from me. A beautiful, pure, sweet, mellow English tenors, said Aunt Kate with enthusiasm. Gabriel having finished, the huge pudding was transferred to the table. The clatter

of forks and spoons began again. Gabriel's wife served out spoonfuls of the pudding and passed the plates down the table. Midway down they were held up by Mary Jane, who replenished them with raspberry or orange jelly, or with blancmange and jam. The pudding was of Aunt Julia's making, and she received praises for it from all quarters. She herself said that it was not quite brown enough. Well, I hope, Miss Morgan, said, mister Brown, that I'm brown enough for you,

because you know I'm all brown. All the gentlemen except Gabriel, ate some of the pudding out of compliment to Aunt Julia, as Gabriel never ate sweets. The cell had been left for him. Freddy Malins also took a stock of celery and ate it with his pudding. He'd been told that celery was a capital thing for the blood, and he was just then under doctor's care. Missus Mallins, who had been silent all through the supper, said that her son was going down to Mount Mellory in a week or so.

The table then spoke of Mountain Mellory, how bracing the air was down there, how hospitable the monks were, and how they never asked for a penny piece from their guests. And do you mean to say, asked mister Brown, incredulously, that a chap can go down there and put up there as if it were a hotel, and live on the fat of the land, and then come away without paying anything. Oh, most people give some donation to the

monastery when they leave, said Mary Jane. I wish we had an institution like that in our church, said mister Brown candidly. He was astonished to hear that the monks never spoke, got up at two in the morning and slept in their coffins. He asked what they did it for. That's the rule of the order, said Aunt Kay firmly. Yes, But why, asked mister Brown. Aunt Kate repeated that it was the rule, that was all. Mister Brown still seemed

not to understand. Freddy Malins explained to him as best he could that the monks were trying to make up for the sins committed by all the sinners in the outside world. The explanation was not very clear for mister Brown, grinned and said, I liked the idea very much, but wouldn't a comfortable spring bed do them as well as a coffin. The coffin, said Mary Jane, is to remind

them of their last end. As the subject had grown lugubrious, it was buried in a silence of the table, during which Missus Mallins could be heard saying to her neighbor in an indistinct undertone, they are very good men, the monks, very pious men. The raisins and almonds and figs and apples and oranges, and chocolates and sweets were now passed about the table, and Aunt Julie invited all the guests

to have either port or sherry. At first, mister Bartell Darcy refused to take either, but one of his neighbors nudged him and whispered something to him, upon which he allowed his glass to be filled. Gradually, as the last glasses were being filled, the conversation ceased, a pause, followed broken only by the noise of the wine and by unsettlings of chairs. The Missus Morcan all three looked down

at the tablecloth. Someone coughed once or twice. Then a few gentlemen patted the table gently as a signal for silence. The silence came, and Gabriel pushed back his chair. The padding once grew louder in encouragement, and then ceased altogether. Gabriel leaned his ten trembling fingers on the tablecloth and smiled nervously at the company, meeting a row of upturned faces. He raised his eyes to the chandelier. The piano was playing a waltz tune, and he could hear the skirts

sweeping against the drawing room door. People perhaps were standing in the snow on the quay outside, gazing up at the lighted windows and listening to the waltz music. The air was pure. There in the distance lay the park, where the trees were weighted with snow. The Wellington Monument wore a gleaming cap of snow that flashed westward over

the white field of fifteen acres. He began, ladies and gentlemen, it has fallen to my lot this evening, as in years past, to perform a very pleasing task, but a task for which I am afraid my poor powers as a speaker are all too inadequate. No, no, said mister Brown. But however that may be, I can only ask you to night, to take the will for the deed, and to lend me your attention for a few moments while I endeavored to express to you in words what my

feelings are on this occasion. Ladies and gentlemen, it is not the first time that we have gathered together under this hospitable roof, around this hospitable board. It is not the first time that we have been the recipients, or perhaps I had better say, the victims, of the hospitality of certain good ladies. He made a circle in the air with his arm and paused. Everyone laughed or smiled at Aunt Kate, and Aunt Julia and Mary Jane, who

all turned crimson with pleasure. Gabriel went on more boldly, I feel more strongly with every recurring year, that our country has no tradition which does it so much honor, and which it should guard so jealously as that of its hospitality. It is a tradition that is unique as far as my experience goes, and I have visited not a few places abroad among the modern nations. Some would say, perhaps that with us it is rather a failing than

anything to be boasted of. But granted, even that it is to my mind a princely failing, and one that I trust will long be cultivated among us. Of one thing at least, I am sure as long as this one roof shelters the good ladies aforesaid, and I wish from my heart it may do so for many many a long year to come. The tradition of genuine, warm hearted, courteous Irish hospitality, which our forefathers have handed down to us, and which we in turn must hand down to our descendants,

is still alive among us. A hearty murmur of assent ran round the table. It shot through Gabriel's mind that Miss Ivers was not there, and that she had gone away discourteously. And he said, with confidence in himself, ladies and gentlemen, a new generation is growing up in our midst, a generation actuated by new ideas and new principles. It is serious and enthusiastic for these new ideas, and its enthusiasm, even when it is misdirected, is I believe, in the

main sincere. But we are living in a skeptical and, if I may use the phrase, a thought tormented age. And sometimes I fear that this new generation educated or hyper educated, as it is, will lack those qualities of humanity, of hospitality, of kindly humour, which belonged to an older day. Listening tonight to the names of all those great singers of the past, it seemed to me I must confess that we were living in a less spacious age. Those

days might, without exaggeration, be called spacious days. And if they are gone beyond recall, let us hope at least that in gathering such as this we shall speak of them with pride and affection. Still cherish in our hearts the memory of those dead and gone great ones whose fame the world will not willingly let die. Hear hear, said mister Brown loudly, but yet continued Gabriel, his voice

falling into a softer inflection. There are always, in gathering such as this, sadder thoughts that will recur to our minds, Thoughts of the past, of youth, of changes, of absent faces that we miss here to night. Our path through life is strewn with many such sad memories, and were we to brood upon them always, we could not find the heart to go on bravely with our work. Among the living. We have, all of us living duties and

living affections which claim and rightly claim, are strenuous endeavors. Therefore, I will not linger on the past. I will not let any gloomy moralizing intrude upon us here to night. Here we are gathered together for a brief moment from

the bustle and rush of our every day routine. We are met here as friends, in the spirit of good fellowship, as colleagues, also to a certain extent, in the true spirit of camaraderie, and as the guests of what shall I call them, the Three Graces of the Dublin musical world. The table burst into applause and laughter. At this illusion, Aunt Julia vainly asked each of her neighbors in turn to tell her what Gabriel had said. He said, we

are the three Graces, Aunt Julia, said Mary Jane. Aunt Julia did not understand, but she looked up smiling at Gabriel, who continued in the same vein, ladies and gentlemen, I will not attempt to play to night the part that Paris played on another occasion. I will not attempt to

choose between them. The task would be an invidious one, and one beyond my poor powers, for when I view them in turn, whether it be our chief hostess herself, whose good heart, whose too heart has become a byword with all who know her, or her sister, who seems to be gifted with perennial youth, and whose singing must have been a surprise and a revelation to us all to night, or last, but not least, when I consider our youngest hosted, talented, cheerful, hard working, in the best

of nieces, I confess, ladies and gentlemen, that I do not know which of them I should award the prize. Gabriel glanced down at his aunts, and, seeing the lard smile on Aunt Julia's face and the tears which had risen to Aunt Kate's eyes, hastened to his clothes. He raised his glass of port gallantly, while every member of the company fingered a glass expectantly, and said, loudly, let us toast them all three together. Let us drink to

their health, wealth, long life, happiness and prosperity. And may they long continue to hold the proud and self warm position which they hold in their profession, and the position of honor and affection which they hold in our hearts. All the guests stood up, glass in hand, and turning towards the three seated ladies, sang in unison, with mister Brown as leaders, for they are jolly good farelows. For they are jolly good fellows. For they are jolly good fellows,

which nobody can deny. Aunt Kate was making frank use of her handkerchief, and even Aunt Julius he move. Freddy Malins beat time with his putting fork, and the singers turned towards one another, as if in melodious conference, while they sang with emphasis unless he tells a lie, unless he tells a lie. Then, turning once more towards their hostesses, they sang, for they are jolly gay fellows, for they are jolly gay fellows. For they are jolly gay fellows,

which nobody can deny. The acclamation which followed was taken up beyond the door of the supper room by many of the guests and renewed time after time. Freddie Malins, acting as officer with his fork on high. The piercing morning air came into the hall where they were standing, so Aunt Kate said, close the door. Somebody, missus Malins, will get her death of a cold Brown is out there, Aunt Kate said, Mary Jane. Brown is everywhere, said Aunt Kate,

lowering her voice. Mary Jane laughed at her tone. Really, she said archly, he is very attentive. He has been laid on here like the gas, said Aunt Kate, in the same tone, all during the Christmas. She laughed herself, this time good humoredly, and then added quickly, but tell him to come in, Mary Jane, and close the door. I hoped to goodness he didn't hear me. At that moment. The hall door was opened, and mister Brown came in from the doorstep, laughing as if his heart would break.

He was dressed in a long green overcoat with mock Astrakhan cuffs and collar, and worn his head an oval fur cap. He pointed down the snow covered key, from where the sound of the shrill prolonged whistling was borne in teddy. We'll have all the cabs in Dublin out, he said. Gabriel advanced from the little pantry behind the office, struggling into his overcoat and looking round the hall, said Gretta, not down yet, she's getting on her things, Gabriel said,

Aunt Kate, who's playing up? There, asked Gabriel. Nobody they're all gone. Oh no, Aunt Kate, said Mary Jane, Bartel Darcy and Miss O'Callahan aren't gone yet. Some one is fooling at the piano anyhow, said Gabriel. Mary Jane glanced at Gabriel, and mister Browne said with a shiver, it makes me feel cold to look at you two gentlemen muffed up like that. I wouldn't like to face your

journey home at this hour. I'd like nothing better this minute, said mister brown stoutly than a rattling fine walk in the country, or fast drive with a good spanking goer between the shafts. We used to have a very good horse and trap at home, said Aunt Julius, sadly, the never to be forgotten Johnny, said Mary Jane, laughing. Aunt

Kate and Gabriel laughed too. Why what was so wonderful about, Johnny, asked mister brown The late lamented Patrick Morcombe, our grandfather, that is, explained Gabriel, commonly known in his later years as the Old Gentleman, was a glue boiler. Oh now, Gabriel, said Aunt Kate, laughing. He had a starch mill. Well glue or start, said Gabriel. The old gentleman had a horse by the name of Johnny, and Johnny used to work in the old gentleman's mill, walking round and round

in order to drive the mill. That was all very well, but now comes the tragic part about Johnny. One fine day, the old gentleman thought he'd like to drive out with the quality to a military review in the park. Lord, have mercy on his soul, said Aunt Kate compassionately, Amen, said Gabriel. So the old gentleman, as I said, harness Johnny, and put on his very best tall hat and very best dark collar, and drove him out in grand style

from his ancestral mansion somewhere near Back Lane. I think everyone laughed, even missus Mallin, said Gabriel's manor, and Aunt Kate said, oh, now, Gabriel, he didn't live in back Lane, really, only the mill was there, out from the mansion of his forefathers, continued Gabriel. He drove with Johnny, and everything went on beautifully until Johnny came in sight of King Billy's statue. And whether he fell in love with the horse King Billy sits on, or whether he thought he

was back again in the mill. Anyhow, he began to walk round the statue. Gabriel paced in a circle around the hall in his goloshes, amid the laughter of the others. Round and round he went, said Gabriel. And the old gentleman, who was a very pompous old gentleman, was highly indignant. Go on, sir, what do you mean, sir, Johnny, Johnny, most extraordinary conduct. Can't understand the horse. The heel of laughter which followed Gabriel's imitation of the incident was interrupted

by a resounding knock at the hall door. Mary Jane ran to open it and let in Freddy Malins. Freddy Malins, with his hat well back on his head and his shoulders humped with cold, was puffing and steaming after his exertions. I could only get one cab, he said, Oh, well, we'll find another along the key, said Gabriel. Yes, said Aunt Kate. Better not keep missus Mallins standing in the draft. End of the Dead, Part two