Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 2. Lever Charles James

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      TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN, No. 2,

      October 5, 1810.

      My Dear O’Malley, – Nothing short of your death and burial, with or without military honors, can possibly excuse your very disgraceful neglect of your old friends here. Nesbitt has never heard of you, neither has Smith. Ottley swears never to have seen your handwriting, save on the back of a protested bill. You have totally forgotten me, and the dean informs me that you have never condescended a single line to him; which latter inquiry on my part nearly cost me a rustication.

      A hundred conjectures to account for your silence – a new feature in you since you were here – are afloat. Some assert that your soldiering has turned your head, and that you are above corresponding with civilians. Your friends, however, who know you better and value your worth, think otherwise; and having seen a paragraph about a certain O’Malley being tried by court-martial for stealing a goose, and maltreating the woman that owned it, ascribe your not writing to other motives. Do, in any case, relieve our minds; say, is it yourself, or only a relative that’s mentioned?

      Herbert came over from London with a long story about your doing wonderful things, – capturing cannon and general officers by scores, – but devil a word of it is extant; and if you have really committed these acts, they have “misused the king’s press damnably,” for neither in the “Times” nor the “Post” are you heard of.

      Answer this point, and say also if you have got promotion; for what precise sign you are algebraically expressed by at this writing, may serve Fitzgerald for a fellowship question. As for us, we are jogging along, semper eadem, – that is, worse and worse. Dear Cecil Cavendish, our gifted friend, slight of limb and soft of voice, has been rusticated for immersing four bricklayers in that green receptacle of stagnant water and duckweed, yeleped the “Haha.”

      Roper, equally unlucky, has taken to reading for honors, and obtained a medal, I fancy, – at least his friends shy him, and it must be something of that kind. Belson – poor Belson (fortunately for him he was born in the nineteenth, not the sixteenth century, or he’d be most likely ornamenting a pile of fagots) ventured upon some stray excursions into the Hebrew verbs, – the professor himself never having transgressed beyond the declensions, and the consequence is, he is in disgrace among the seniors. And as for me, a heavy charge hangs over my devoted head even while I write. The senior lecturer, it appears, has been for some time instituting some very singular researches into the original state of our goodly college at its founding. Plans and specifications showing its extent and magnificence have been continually before the board for the last month; and in such repute have been a smashed door-sill or an old arch, that freshmen have now abandoned conic sections for crowbars, and instead of the “Principia” have taken up the pickaxe. You know, my dear fellow, with what enthusiasm I enter into any scheme for the aggrandizement of our Alma Mater, so I need not tell you how ardently I adventured into the career now opened to me. My time was completely devoted to the matter; neither means nor health did I spare, and in my search for antiquarian lore, I have actually undermined the old wall of the fellows’ garden, and am each morning in expectation of hearing that the big bell near the commons-hall has descended from its lofty and most noisy eminence, and is snugly reposing in the mud. Meanwhile accident put me in possession of a most singular and remarkable discovery. Our chambers – I call them ours for old association sake – are, you may remember, in the Old Square. Well, I have been fortunate enough, within the very precincts of my own dwelling, to contribute a very wonderful fact to the history of the University; alone, unassisted, unaided, I labored at my discovery. Few can estimate the pleasure I felt, the fame and reputation I anticipated. I drew up a little memoir for the board, most respectfully and civilly worded, having for title the following: —

      ACCOUNT

      Of a remarkable Subterranean Passage lately discovered in the

      Old Building of Trinity College, Dublin;

      With Observations upon its Extent, Antiquity, and Probable Use.

      My dear O’Malley, I’ll not dwell upon the pride I felt in my new character of antiquarian; it is enough to state, that my very remarkable tract was well considered and received, and a commission appointed to investigate the discovery, consisting of the vice-provost, the senior lecturer, old Woodhouse, the sub-dean, and a few more.

      On Tuesday last they came accordingly in full academic costume.

      I, being habited most accurately in the like manner, conducted them with all form into my bed-room, where a large screen concealed from view the entrance to the tunnel alluded to. Assuming a very John Kembleish attitude, I struck this down with one hand, pointing with the other to the wall, as I exclaimed, “There! look there!”

      I need only quote Barret’s exclamation to enlighten you upon my discovery as, drawing in his breath with a strong effort, he burst out: —

      “May the Devil admire me, but it’s a rat-hole!”

      I fear, Charley, he’s right, and what’s more, that the board will think so, for this moment a very warm discussion is going on among that amiable and learned body whether I shall any longer remain an ornament to the University. In fact, the terror with which they fled from my chambers, overturning each other in the passage, seemed to imply that they thought me mad, and I do believe my voice, look, and attitude would not have disgraced a blue cotton dressing-gown and a cell in “Swift’s.” Be this as it may, few men have done more for college than I have. The sun never stood still for Joshua with more resolution than I have rested in my career of freshman; and if I have contributed little to the fame, I have done much for the funds of the University; and when they come to compute the various sums I have paid in, for fines, penalties, and what they call properly “impositions,” if they don’t place a portrait of me in the examination hall, between Archbishop Ussher and Flood, then do I say there is no gratitude in mankind; not to mention the impulse I have given to the various artisans whose business it is to repair lamps, windows, chimneys, iron railings, and watchmen, all of which I have devoted myself to with an enthusiasm for political economy well known, and registered in the College Street police-office.

      After all, Charley, I miss you greatly. Your second in a ballad is not to be replaced; besides, Carlisle Bridge has got low; medical students and young attorneys affect minstrelsy, and actually frequent the haunts sacred to our muse.

      Dublin is, upon the whole, I think, worse; though one scarcely ever gets tired laughing at the small celebrities —

      And so the Dashwoods are going too; this will make mine a pitiable condition, for I really did begin to feel tender in that quarter. You may have heard that she refused me; this, however, is not correct, though I have little doubt it might have been, – had I asked her.

      Hammersley has, you know, got his dismissal. I wonder how the poor fellow took it when Power gave him back his letters and his picture. How you are to be treated remains to be seen; in any case, you certainly stand first favorite.